WeChat remained silent. Diao Zhiyu had added her but hadn't sent a single message. Combined with having her eyes teased earlier, Hu Xiu felt somewhat embarrassed.
Rushing upstairs left her breathless, her hands and feet icy cold from nervousness, her stomach cramping as if she'd just run a marathon.
Such exhaustion must stem from tension, much like the mental drain during simultaneous interpretation.
Suppressing the urge to message Diao Zhiyu, Hu Xiu paced around the living room. Going straight to bed now might leave her utterly drained or even cause sudden collapse.
Opening the fridge, the delicate GODIVA box steadied her nerves.
Right—Diao Zhiyu hadn't walked away because she was lacking; he was... jealous.
What did she have to feel embarrassed about? The seesaw was still swaying—she wasn't at a disadvantage at all.
The twelve chocolates, each uniquely shaped and plump, possessed the refinement of artworks while exuding the rich aroma of cocoa.
The intensely sweet chocolate soothed her tension, though it made her throat ache. Hu Xiu carefully opened Diao Zhiyu's Moments, wary of accidentally liking or commenting and getting caught snooping.
He didn't hide his posts—there were plenty, enough to browse all night. In contrast, her own Moments held no concerns: recent shares were all medical summit forum posters and highlights from the Medical Simultaneous Interpretation Salon, so dull that Diao Zhiyu would either fall asleep after a glance or think he'd added the wrong person.
Diao Zhiyu's profile picture was a still from "A Street Cat Named Bob"—James feeding the cat by the canal in Little Venice, the mist and lingering sunlight blending into a gentle sky, a heartwarming scene of man and cat.
His Moments painted the image of an artsy youth not yet outgrown his boyish charm: self-drawn comic storyboards, satisfying photographic works (in Araki Nobuyoshi's style), promotional photos taken while acting as Qin Xiaoyi (back view), watching film study materials in Snowpiercer settings during free time...
Not aloof or mysterious, just a passionate young man documenting life. What satisfied Hu Xiu most was the abundance of his photos in Moments—
Polaroids, film shots, staged portraits—flaunting his handsomeness without reserve. Hu Xiu saved all the photos into an album titled "Qin Xiaoyi" and scrolled through them one by one, then froze.
The night scene in one photo looked familiar—an orange figure positioned slightly right of center, spacing out in the rain. It was her.
Before Qin Xiaoyi held an umbrella for her, he had quietly photographed her and posted it as a photographic work in his Moments, captioned "I-s."
Hu Xiu instantly grasped the letters' meaning—it referred to Katsura Masakazu's shōjo manga. That night, she had stood in the rain with bare calves and worn leather shoes, indeed resembling Yoshizuki Iori from Katsura Masakazu's works.
A guy born in '96 liking Katsura Masakazu—so retro. Hu Xiu thought this, as if hearing rainfall drizzle past her ears.
Don't overthink it—this isn't proof he likes her. Frequent posts are meant to attract female players' attention; perhaps besides her... many others have his contact info.
It's just a photo; maybe he simply found the composition appealing and pressed the shutter.
But—him seeking her out was real, escorting her home was real, almost kissing her outside REGARD was real.
He wouldn't escort every female player home. Diao Zhiyu was flirting with her, interested in her—this fact was undeniable.After eating half, Hu Xiu finally snapped out of it and checked the price, her eyes widening to twice their size—490?
Twelve pieces of chocolate for 490? She could get twelve pan-fried buns for just thirty-six yuan!
She had just eaten two hundred and fifty yuan's worth while scrolling through her social media feed. The only thought running through Hu Xiu's mind was: trading pan-fried buns for expensive chocolate—just how high is Pei Zhen's salary?
She wasn't foolish enough to think Pei Zhen actually had any real interest in her; she just felt the favor she owed was too costly.
But a voice kept echoing in her mind: her luck in romance had indeed improved lately. Could it be that her fortunes were finally turning?
Since she was too excited to sleep anyway, she might as well work. Lying in bed, she took notes while listening to a medical report on obstetrics and gynecology—embryo implantation in IVF, complex postpartum scar removal, and C-section care...
She needed to find someone in the specialized field to carefully explain the technical treatment terms. She didn't take her senior colleague's words over the phone to heart—staying employed long-term depended on ability, not romantic relationships; relying on the latter would earn her a lasting reputation as someone who slept her way to the top. Career choices were a two-way street; even if the hospital thought she was a good fit, she wasn't necessarily going to enjoy working there.
In the past, she had been timid in her work and overly cautious in her relationships. But once she started taking initiative, she found that the things she cared about weren't so easily taken from her.
Surprisingly, all of this was something she had gradually learned aboard the Snowpiercer.
Hu Xiu had spent three days preparing translation materials but was utterly bewildered by terms like "GnRHa Abdominal Wall Hematoma VASCPP." She took a screenshot and sent it to her senior colleague, hoping to find someone with expertise to consult.
At noon, she crossed the street and knocked on the office door at the infertility clinic. Two people were inside.
One had slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the words "Attending Physician" on his ID badge were prominent. He wore glasses and a white coat, sipping coffee by the window with a serious expression. The other was Pei Zhen, holding a coffee cup, legs crossed, leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed.
On the coffee table were takeout containers that hadn't been thrown away yet. The two seemed to be friends. Pei Zhen opened one eye: "What are you doing here?"
"I have a translation job this weekend and need to consult Doctor Jin. My senior colleague mentioned it to you..."
Doctor Jin pointed to the sofa: "Have a seat..."
Instead, Pei Zhen stood up: "Should I step out?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Doctor Jin pulled up a chair and sat opposite the sofa, taking the materials from Hu Xiu. "She's here to discuss a case. What's going through your mind?"
"Fair enough, especially since your girlfriend is next door." Pei Zhen made no move to leave, instead sitting at Jin Junming's computer and moving the mouse.
Amid the sound of mouse clicks, Hu Xiu earnestly asked about treatment plans for Endometriosis and listened to solutions for Ovarian Cyst surgery. She went from completely confused to fully understanding, occupying the entire lunch break.
Just as she was about to ask a few final questions about suturing and scars, Doctor Jin stood up: "Consultation hours are starting. Ask him."
"But you're in completely different departments..."
"Isn't Reconstructive Surgery more specialized for scars?" Doctor Jin tapped the file folder lightly on Pei Zhen's head. "Do a good job..."
Pei Zhen raised an eyebrow, as if this was their usual banter. "Let's talk while we walk. It's about time anyway."
The five-minute walk back to the main building across the street was filled with Hu Xiu listening to Pei Zhen explain C-section scar repair—so much so that it left her fearing marriage and childbirth.Pei Zhen's hands remained tucked in his white coat as he walked, shielding Hu Xiu on the inner side of the road. His tone was calm, as if discussing the most ordinary treatment plan: "Ordinary scars can be treated with scar removal injections. If there's adhesion, we need to reopen the wound and perform layered precision suturing.
The abdominal wall has many layers. If recovery isn't proper, the wound can liquefy directly, which would be troublesome.
This typically occurs in postpartum patients with anemia, obesity, or diabetes. Childbirth itself carries significant risks."
"Sounds like quilting. I thought you only did cosmetic procedures—didn't expect you to study these things too."
"Reconstructive Surgery is quite extensive. Cosmetic procedures are just one part of it, though they're very popular now.
Precision suturing is used in many procedures. Do you know about cleft lip? Last week, I performed surgery on a three-year-old."
"That's impressive..."
"Being a translator is impressive too. We don't have many in-house interpreters at our hospital, and even fewer who take the initiative to learn. You're quite diligent."
Before they knew it, they had reached the office. She suddenly remembered: "About the chocolates last time... my pan-fried buns weren't that expensive. Receiving such an expensive gift in return is really too much."
"It's nothing. Consider it me bribing you. Next time the head nurse tries to set me up on a blind date, just give me a copy of the schedule so I can avoid it."
As if the schedule didn't come from the head nurse herself—this made Hu Xiu laugh: "You make it sound like the head nurse is trying to set you up every day."
"Pretty much. Her favorite pastime seems to be introducing me and Lao Jin to potential girlfriends—like Doctor Jin you just met.
Unfortunately, he suddenly went and got himself a girlfriend, hiding in his office where the head nurse can't find me."
"If you don't want a girlfriend, you could just refuse."
"That's the thing—I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of dating."
Everything was implied just enough, with intelligent subtlety. Hu Xiu was momentarily stunned, too awkward to respond. Pei Zhen didn't press further, skillfully changing the subject: "Your name—'Xiu' as in shyness. What were your parents thinking?"
"Probably because I started speaking later than most children. My mother always thought I was shy—she's quite a romantic person.
Your name is interesting too. Let me guess—'The stars scatter over Wing and Zhen, the earth connects Heng and Lu'—from 'Preface to Prince Teng's Pavilion,' right?"
Pei Zhen, who had been somewhat nonchalant, now looked genuinely surprised: "In all my life, you're the first person to directly identify the reference—and get it right."
With that, Pei Zhen went upstairs without even saying goodbye. Watching his retreating figure, Hu Xiu felt there should have been a conclusion to that statement, as if it were left unfinished.
And Pei Zhen didn't message her on WeChat either. The entire afternoon passed with only documents to write and venue arrangements to handle—no personal messages.
What's with men lately, always speaking in half-sentences, leaving everything hanging with a "to be continued" vibe.
Zhao Xiaorou's explanation for this was that it's just a man's tactic. Just like when Ning Zechen claimed she was the first beautiful woman he'd ever dated—until she accidentally saw his phone gallery while he was showering, filled with countless girls arranged like playing cards: Hong Kong style, Japanese style, sexy, sweet—and she was just one among them.At this point, Li Ai wasn't in the shop. Only scattered customers wearing headphones tapped on keyboards, oblivious to the unfamiliar barista's gaze. Zhao Xiaorou remarked, "Men can probably conjure up all sorts of lies with their eyes closed just to sleep with you."
Hu Xiu was momentarily speechless. The two sat having afternoon tea at REGARD over the weekend—one radiant from returning from a brand event, the other bare-faced after slogging through two days of translation conferences.
Zhao Xiaorou still smiled when mentioning Ning Zechen, but it wasn't entirely out of happiness. It felt more like emotions had faded with time, leaving her unable to appreciate only his physique when faced with such a shallow, hollow man.
Ning Zechen was indeed like a piece of chewing gum—refreshing and chewy at first, but quickly losing its flavor. Even if you kept chewing it, there was no urgency to spit it out.
Zhao Xiaorou rested her cheek in her hand. "I've noticed lately that Li Ai is often not in the shop."
"Maybe he has other things to attend to, not just the café."
"Probably dealing with lawsuits. After I paid the rent, he started going out frequently. Once, I even saw him hailing a taxi with a crutch."
"I wonder what's wrong with his leg. It might have gotten worse. I only knew before that it ached on damp, rainy days."
"How many things about him do we not know?" Hu Xiu sipped her coffee while watching Zhao Xiaorou, whose concerned expression was almost gritted with frustration. "I don't know. He says we're important, but in reality, he doesn't share any secrets with us. We're supposed to be friends, but it's all about sharing the good times, not the hardships. It's so pointless."
"You're not still hung up on Li Ai, are you?"
Zhao Xiaorou didn't look at her, instead staring out the door. The autumn afternoon was warm and golden, exactly where Li Ai often stood to smoke. "Did anything happen between you and Diao Zhiyu that night? Did he go upstairs?"
"No..." Hu Xiu didn't want to bring up the night she tried to kiss him and missed. "He took me home and left."
"Last time I heard the name 'Pei Zhen' on the phone, I saw Diao Zhiyu's face turn green."
"Hu Xiu, your love luck is turning. Whether it's the handsome young guy or the wealthy doctor, they're both way better than your ex-boyfriends or blind dates."
"Nothing happening the other night was for the best. Next, you need to carefully script a plan for yourself—from what to wear and how to speak, to how your relationship with him should develop. Map it all out clearly, list every possible scenario you can think of, then set the scenes and guide Diao Zhiyu into acting them out with you."
"Is that really necessary...?"
"Absolutely. I used to think that when love comes, you should go with the flow. Wang Guangming had a flash marriage, Ning Zechen was a fling—neither turned out well."
"But when I played the victim to gradually cut Wang Guangming out of my life, and now with Ning Zechen, where I've set clear boundaries, I've realized how important it is to steer the people around you in the direction you want."
"Acting impulsively leads to regret, and being unprepared leaves you flustered. Understand?"
"It's much better to plan and prevent problems before they happen than to be caught off guard and not know what to do."
"Just like in ice hockey—you have to chase the puck and constantly change direction to score. If you let it slide freely on the ice, the chances of scoring are slim."
But it's not that easy. Relationships aren't like playing ice hockey, and it's not a solo performance either. It's a back-and-forth game—like hitting the puck with a stick, a dialogue of words and actions, a duet between two people.Once, Qin Xiaoyi had been merely a solitary protagonist nursing an unrequited love in the theater of life. Now, he had barged into a one-act play, truly becoming part of his own existence. If one had to call it acting, it was only in striving to catch every pass and delivering each line without sounding too dull. Those dating guides and tutorials were essentially just that.
Li Ai pushed the door open and greeted them, "When did you get here?"
"Not long ago, just chatting."
"I brought back some new beans." Li Ai held a bag, and indeed, he had a cane in his hand—his leg was clearly giving him trouble.
Before Zhao Xiaorou could ask, he spoke first, "Diao Zhiyu might be coming over later."
"Huh?"
"He's here to help me shoot a promotional video for the café."
Having just returned from a translation job and not having properly tended to herself for two days, Hu Xiu checked her reflection in her phone screen. After mentally scanning all the shops on the street, she steeled herself and ducked into the restroom, bending over to start... washing her hair.
As she squeezed out the hand soap, she thought, "And here I was saying I didn’t want to act. This strange pride is just like this sticky, fragrant liquid—nothing more than the mischief of ambiguous feelings."
Crouching halfway against the wall with her head under the hand dryer, Hu Xiu’s legs trembled. "Please don’t let him come now. It’ll take at least half an hour to dry my hair like this."
Zhao Xiaorou snapped a photo with her phone, laughing so hard she nearly crowed. "You two don’t even text each other, waiting for the other to say hello first. So reserved. If you’d just talk properly, you’d probably know he was coming early on and wouldn’t have gone out without makeup."
"No..." Remembering Diao Zhiyu’s challenging gaze outside the apartment building, Hu Xiu found herself... stubbornly competing.
Li Ai turned his head and said, "Hu Xiu, stop crouching. There’s a hairdryer on the shelf behind me."
Why didn’t you say so earlier? Her hair was a tangled mess all over her face. Hu Xiu pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the storage room, spotting a pair of sneakers on the floor. Wondering why Li Ai would leave shoes in the middle of the open space, she tripped over them and fell.
Even with her vision blocked, Hu Xiu knew there was a person on the floor. And when she caught the scent of mint candy, she froze on the spot—how could Diao Zhiyu be lying on the beanbag sofa in the storage room?
And now she was lying on top of him?
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