Hu Xiu gazed at Diao Zhiyu, recalling that she had never seen such an expression on his face before. This look—one of despair and anguish—had only ever appeared on Qin Xiaoyi's face: when he loved Lin Qiumei but couldn't have her, when Lin Qiumei slapped him, when he raised his gun to kill Lin Qiumei. Love was supposed to be sweet, yet now he was suffering because of her.
"Are you really thinking this way?"
There was no hesitation in Diao Zhiyu's eyes: "I'm serious..."
"Do you... still like me?"
He didn't answer, only turned his face away. Standing there, Hu Xiu thought, perhaps this was for the best—better than constantly living in anxiety over this relationship.
With that thought, Hu Xiu took a step back: "Well then, that's it. Goodbye, Diao Zhiyu. Thank you for everything you've given me. In the future, whether as an actor, celebrity, artist, or director, I hope you can always be yourself."
In this relationship, what you gave me far exceeded what I could give you. So the only thing I can do is let you go to become someone who illuminates more people.
I didn't use clever calculations to play with your youth, nor did I selfishly keep you by my side out of possessiveness.
Therefore, my only greed is hoping you'll remember me. If I can leave an unforgettable mark in your life, then I, Hu Xiu, didn't like Diao Zhiyu in vain.
The boy behind her didn't chase after her. Surprisingly, she didn't feel as heartbroken as she'd imagined, nor was she utterly devastated.
Perhaps it was because the rain was too heavy. Back in her teenage years, when she experienced growing pains and didn't know how to express her crush on the boy she liked, she would recklessly run into the rain during breaks, getting completely drenched and covered in mud. That time, the boy she secretly liked had followed her out, tapped her shoulder from behind, and chased and played with her in the rain. That feeling was quite similar to how she felt now.
The aching joints, the rain-obscured vision, and the boy before her who felt like an illusion—not hers yet bringing boundless joy—remained the most unforgettable memories of her youth.
Running back to her apartment and closing the door, Diao Zhiyu's large gray slippers caught her eye. The V-neck T-shirt and shorts hanging on the balcony, the black and white toothbrushes standing side by side in the cup—finally made her acutely aware that she had truly lost him.
And this was only the first step she had to face—the clock had just passed midnight. What a coincidence, why did it have to be April Fool's Day?
Hu Xiu arrived at the hospital early in the morning. Without makeup, she looked pale as she took her seat, immediately facing emails from the head nurse and the external affairs department.
Her senior colleague passing by Hu Xiu's office was startled by her appearance: "Xiao Hu, what's wrong? Are you sick?"
"Just not wearing makeup."
"Don't look so haggard. If something's bothering you, talk to Xiao Pei. Since he returned, the head nurse has been setting him up with countless blind dates—he's probably suffocating too. He likes you; you can at least be friends. If you two could actually be together, it would be the icing on the cake."
"Blind dates?" Hu Xiu looked at the schedule before her. Pei Zhen was on duty tonight—perfect timing as she had some matters to discuss with him.
"Exactly..." her colleague lowered her voice, "I heard he recently went on a blind date with a PhD from Zhongshan Hospital. I happened to be there for my daughter's follow-up appointment and saw them. The female doctor wasn't even tall enough to reach Xiao Pei's chest, with teeth overlapping in multiple layers."
"Where exactly did you two go wrong? I really think it's such a pity. Such a talented man and beautiful woman—you would have been a perfect match.""Of course, you also have a young boyfriend. What I'm about to say might not sound pleasant, but as someone who's been through it, I must tell you this - stability is crucial. Once you're past thirty, it'll be too late to find a man like Xiao Pei. This opportunity only comes once."
Hu Xiu smiled, not finding her senior's words harsh. A year ago, she would have firmly believed this sentiment, desperately craving stability and thinking that having someone like Dr. Pei was more than she could ask for.
But after going through this past year, her ambitions had fermented to the point where she was no longer satisfied with just the stability of marriage.
Moreover, her experience with the broken engagement had taught her that using marriage as an ultimate destination was nothing but self-deception.
Naturally, she wouldn't mention breaking up with Diao Zhiyu to complicate matters. As work time approached, Hu Xiu looked up: "Senior, can I ask you a question? Did you know the hospital isn't recruiting any positions this year?"
"Of course I know. No doctors are retiring this year, and not just that - there are no establishment positions either. Chen Yang and you probably won't have opportunities this year, which is quite unfortunate. Several overseas returnees submitted resumes but couldn't get in either. Positions at our hospital are highly valued - you were lucky last year that I needed to fill the position urgently, otherwise it wouldn't have been so easy to get in."
Her senior winked at her and left. At the doorway, she greeted Pei Zhen, who had been leaning against the doorframe waiting. He came in to get the shift schedule, bringing a caramel macchiato with him.
This felt strangely familiar - during their first meeting, he had also brought a caramel macchiato to exchange for the shift schedule. The identical circumstances perfectly overlapped, as if fate was playing its joke on her at just the right moment.
"Senior just told me you went on a blind date and she saw you."
"Gossip..." Pei Zhen placed the coffee on the desk. "It was an oncologist I consulted with about a nasal cavity cancer case - we just had a meal together. What blind date? Why do you look so pale today?"
"No makeup and no breakfast."
"Woke up late?"
Hu Xiu smiled at him, her lie seamless: "The neighbors are renovating, couldn't sleep from the noise."
Pei Zhen smiled understandingly, seeing through but not exposing her, simply taking the shift schedule before leaving.
Hu Xiu suddenly called out to him: "Dr. Pei, about that Shen Zhimin from last time - could you arrange for us to meet? There's something I'd like to consult him about."
This surprised Pei Zhen.
Zhao Xiaorou's school district apartment in Shenzhen had reached its lease end. While she could have seamlessly rented it to another student's parent, she instead grabbed her crutches and flew to Shenzhen on a whim.
Staying at the JW Marriott in Qianhai, she looked out the window at a landscape half-filled with undeveloped construction sites and deep pits, half with oddly-shaped skyscrapers. Sitting in the executive lounge soaking up the sun, the afternoon tranquility temporarily made her forget the busyness waiting in her phone.
There were young couples carrying sleeping infants upstairs, entrepreneurs discussing business in low voices, and Internet celebrities busy taking photos and editing pictures - just like her usual self in Shanghai. But at this moment, she only wanted to sit still and enjoy this peace.
A young man approached her - tanned with that standard overseas returnee look, as if he'd just showered after gym and was waiting for happy hour: "Alone? Mind if I join you?"
The usual Zhao Xiaorou would challengingly invite him to sit, ready to engage in verbal sparring. But today, she just smiled and waved her hand: "Sorry, I'm waiting for someone."The man sat in the distance occasionally glancing at her. After finishing her latte, she returned to her room and climbed into the bathtub, watching workers construct a building far below.
From the 27th floor, people appeared miniature-sized, the yellow-green construction site resembling a game of Red Alert. She spent the entire afternoon staring blankly at the scene.
The bathtub remained dry, the air conditioning cranked up high. The brilliant afternoon sunlight faded into dusk and then darkness. In Shanghai, she was particularly cautious about prolonged sun exposure—it would undermine the effects of her previous hydrating injections.
This wasn’t her first time in Shenzhen. Years ago, she’d frequently crossed from Luohu to Hong Kong for concerts, often encountering migrant workers at the border.
Men and women wearing safety helmets and slightly disheveled clothes, dampened by summer winds, would stick to her side as they headed to Hong Kong. They carried a musty scent like stale biscuits, their exhaustion evident, yet their eyes flickered with something fiery.
Shanghai was polished and elegant, its residents cleverly maintaining dignity through effortless grace. Shenzhen was different. After 10 p.m., waves of overtime workers rushed to catch the last metro, squeezing in alongside grimy laborers—their survival instincts raw and direct. Everyone was fighting tooth and nail, with no room for pretense.
Even Shenzhen’s Internet celebrities were like this: sourcing from European and American counterfeit factories, sporting trendy inflated doll faces, speaking with middle-school education levels, yet profiting from everything. Dignity and reputation meant nothing here.
When you proudly believe your stunning looks and business acumen make everything—including romantic pursuits—effortlessly attainable, reality delivers harsh lessons: people still mock your rags-to-riches story as mere luck, still idolize silver-spoon heirs, and some couldn’t care less about your appearance or even your most prized Fake Cup—their focus singularly fixed on money.
Those with clear, unwavering goals succeed far faster than those entangled in emotional baggage.
Zhao Xiaorou leaned against the window. Night had fallen with no distant city lights, only stark white construction beams and persevering workers.
She wondered if changing environments—becoming an emotionless money-making machine, or simply relocating to escape rehearsed routines—might not be so bad.
On the day she received the property keys, she noticed idol trainee stickers left by previous tenants—apparently popular among elementary and middle schoolers.
She snapped photos and messaged Li Ai: "Can you help design the interior?"
They’d reconnected on WeChat after her hospital visit, yet neither had initiated conversation until now. The crutch she used still belonged to Li Ai.
When Zhao Xiaorou finally broke the silence, Li Ai replied: "If you’re renting it out, renovations seem unnecessary."
"I want to live here myself. A change of scenery. After all these years, Shanghai might not suit me anymore. A new city could bring fresh perspectives and material."
A long pause followed. "You’re serious?"
"Considering it."
The old Zhao Xiaorou would’ve sent enthusiastic lengthy texts. Now, she typed brief replies before setting her phone aside, slowly surveying the empty rooms.The two-bedroom apartment had the most ordinary simple furniture, with torn wallpaper, scratched tabletops, and sofa corners frayed by cat claws. If it really needed renovation, it would likely be a major project. Li Ai’s call came through: "When are you coming back?"
"Tomorrow evening..."
"Come to REGARD, let’s talk in detail." After a moment, Li Ai added two words: "Renovation..."
After a three-hour flight to Shanghai, Zhao Xiaorou went straight to the shop. Li Ai’s café was empty except for him.
He pulled down the rolling shutter and returned to the coffee machine to meticulously brew a pour-over. The new beans had citrus and berry notes, and he calmly discussed renovation with Zhao Xiaorou, their conversation polite and measured.
The once-chatty Zhao Xiaorou suddenly seemed as if her soul had been drained. Li Ai said, "If you’re really thinking about renovating the house, you need to consider it carefully. Renting it out doesn’t really justify a major renovation."
"Besides, from start to finish, it’ll take at least a year. If you’re moving to another city, it might be better to just rent."
Zhao Xiaorou smiled and said, "I know, but living in a place renovated by an old friend might make it feel less lonely."
"There’s no need to leave. Don’t you have plenty of friends in Shanghai too?"
"I’m just thinking out loud. With all the flying around I do these days, it doesn’t really matter where I live."
"At least in Shanghai, we can meet up often."
"Friends you don’t keep in touch with regularly are the same no matter where they are." Zhao Xiaorou smiled. "We used to see each other almost every day, chatting about everything under the sun with Hu Xiu here. But we haven’t spoken in two months—it’s no different from being in Shenzhen."
Li Ai fell silent, only speaking again after a long pause. "You haven’t been in a good mood lately."
"A bit tired..." Zhao Xiaorou didn’t want to talk about herself. "How are things with your girlfriend lately?"
"What girlfriend?"
"The one at the basketball court."
"That’s the wife of the clothing store owner next door. She just helped me buy a bottle of water—do you really think I’m that promiscuous?"
"I just genuinely want the best for you."
Li Ai stayed silent, simply placing the coffee in front of her. Zhao Xiaorou’s words held no ulterior motive as she said lightly, "I think I’ve finally understood the feeling of ‘more haste, less speed.’ Ma Liang may be a bad person, but he suddenly made me start reminiscing about the past."
"When I first came to Shanghai for my job, I accompanied a model to a photoshoot for a magazine. Mid-shoot, she needed to change outfits, so she just stripped right in front of the photographer and assistants. No one even glanced—it was as if she were just an object."
"Back then, I felt pity for her. But now, looking back, maybe I’ve been diligently turning myself into an object too, thinking it’s something to be proud of to be admired and judged by others—so shallow."
Li Ai still didn’t speak, only observing Zhao Xiaorou’s expression. She smiled wistfully. "I used to arrogantly think, since you were in a low place too, why not come into my well? Then you’d only see my piece of the sky."
"Later, I realized that when I wanted to return to the well, there were no companions left. The sky you can see is just that small patch, but it doesn’t mean you can’t climb out."
She didn’t seem to expect any response from Li Ai, simply raising her cup in a toast-like gesture.
Li Ai smiled understandingly and clinked his cup with hers. "Come find me again when you have a renovation style in mind. It’s too early to talk about this now."There was no ulterior motive in inviting Shen Zhimin—it was simply to discuss his research topic: mental health relief.
The three of them sat in a small tavern, speaking freely. Initially, Hu Xiu felt a bit apologetic for having scheduled the meeting with Pei Zhen and Shen Zhimin as late as 10 p.m., but Shen Zhimin suddenly spoke up: "Don’t feel sorry. I usually don’t sleep until four in the morning."
Pei Zhen exchanged a knowing glance with Hu Xiu, who immediately understood: those involved in the medical field were all night owls.
"Mental health relief is part of public healthcare abroad. When treating patients, psychologists assist with counseling. If children are abused or lack proper guardianship, social workers step in. But domestically, this topic hasn’t yet entered the public discourse."
Shen Zhimin spoke about these matters tirelessly, showing no signs of fatigue. "These are actually very common issues here: families of patients being ostracized and marginalized, excessive workplace pressure on young people, postpartum depression that’s mentioned but seldom taken seriously, left-behind children, empty-nest elders…
Behind what seem like just lighthearted social media anecdotes, there are many underlying mental health risks."
He had originally hoped to secure a position at a mental health center, where he could interact directly with patients on the front lines, but so far, he hadn’t been able to land a job.
He pulled out a cigarette and smiled wryly: "It’s probably because those of us returning from overseas aren’t as familiar with the domestic medical training system as our locally trained peers. It’s only natural."
"I have a question: if patients need this kind of support, would their treatment and daily lives go more smoothly if hospitals offered specialized mental health services or if there were community volunteers?"
"Only first-tier cities in China consciously provide such services. Occasionally, you’ll see braille paths on sidewalks that are crooked, buses rarely have ramps for wheelchair access, and ordinary people tend to steer clear of psychiatric patients…
This is a very long-term process that requires guidance. It’s not easy to promote, especially since people are often reluctant to confront negative information."
Pei Zhen simply sat nearby, watching her. Hu Xiu and Shen Zhimin chatted animatedly, mixing Chinese and English in their enthusiasm, completely forgetting they were in a small izakaya.
Around two or three in the morning, Pei Zhen checked his watch: "Hu Xiu, it’s been five hours. Don’t you need to rest? You have work tomorrow."
"It’s fine. I haven’t been sleeping much lately."
In just a few words, Pei Zhen suddenly understood. Shen Zhimin, however, was still puzzled: "Pei Zhen, you said this colleague just wanted to chat. I thought you were introducing me to a potential girlfriend and was a bit troubled, but it turns out she just asked a bunch of work-related questions?"
"Wronged…" Pei Zhen raised his hands in surrender. "She didn’t tell me what she wanted to discuss with you. You assumed that yourself."
Hu Xiu continued her line of questioning: "My reason for consulting Dr. Shen was to understand what his work actually entails.
My thinking might be a bit idealistic, but after hearing you speak, I feel your dedication to medicine is far nobler than mine.
I work as a translator in a hospital, but I know very little about medical knowledge. I’m just occupying an administrative position, waiting for a permanent placement to secure a stable job. It all feels rather meaningless.""But if you were in this position, it would be different. Administration and foreign affairs offer many opportunities to connect with international hospitals. In the vice dean's office, you'd be the first to know about the hospital's developments. When the national medical insurance network was recently established, all I could do was fill out forms."
"If it were you, you might even be able to push for some initiatives addressing marginalized patients—even just through advocacy would be valuable."
"I believe professional matters should be handled by professionals, so you're probably more suited for this role than I am."
"What do you mean..."
"I've been considering resigning anyway. Conference interpreting doesn't require holding a formal position. You're more suitable for this job than I am."
"I don't mean anything else by this—I have absolute respect for medicine—but purely from the perspective of who's better suited for the position, I think Dr. Shen should come to the hospital. It would be best if she could practice medicine..."
"What are you talking about? That's so naive. Administrative positions and medical practice are completely different."
Shen Zhimin was amused but bewildered as she looked at Pei Zhen: "How does such a woman exist?"
"She's always been like this." Pei Zhen simply smiled tenderly at her.
Shen Zhimin, who had been insisting she'd sleep by 4 AM, went out to buy cigarettes to sustain herself through the ongoing conversation, leaving only Pei Zhen and Hu Xiu at the table.
People at the neighboring table were still chatting, seemingly about the costs of opening Escape Rooms and Live Action Role Playing Game venues. Hu Xiu smiled after hearing just a couple of sentences.
As perceptive as ever, Pei Zhen keenly understood everything without spelling it out: "Staying up so late—you're clearly more suited to be a doctor than Shen Zhimin."
"What a pity, I chose the wrong major. Is it very difficult to transition from administration to practicing medicine?"
"Worlds apart. Do you think it's like planting radishes that can be casually transplanted? Though, if it were Shen Zhimin, it would indeed be very possible—she just needs to get into the hospital first."
"Then there's still hope."
"Are you really resigning?"
"Yes. I'm struggling in this role—persisting in a field I'm not good at is too painful. If the hospital needs me for translation work, I'll gladly help without hesitation. But the regular duties should go to someone more passionate about healthcare—they'd be more suitable than me."
"There's something Li Ai once said that I'm understanding more now. He said you were an ideal that fell from the sky into this city. I originally thought you were just a girl who became passionate through Diao Zhiyu's radiance, but it turns out you're the luminous one yourself. In that case, it's him who shone through you."
Ripples stirred in Hu Xiu's heart: "It might be mutual fulfillment."
"You've broken up, haven't you?"
"Yes..."
"Your expression becomes terrible whenever he's mentioned." Pei Zhen clinked glasses with her: "But it's impressive—even your senior colleague didn't notice. You've hidden it well."
Hu Xiu thought to herself: Still couldn't escape your notice.
"I can't do anything for you, nor can I hug you or hold your hand. Making such gestures in this situation would be meaningless."
"But if you're lonely, I'll be here with you—in the name of friendship."
"Thank you..."
"May I ask one more thing—why did you break up? You two seemed so sweet together, I once thought it would last forever. After all—he's the man who outshone me."
"Don't say that..."
"Nothing wounds a man's pride more than rejection." Pei Zhen said with a laugh."Perhaps we both have more important things to pursue." Hu Xiu's eyes sparkled as she wiped them with her finger. "Adult relationships are so tedious."
Before Shen Zhimin returned, Pei Zhen concluded the conversation with a light laugh: "Who says it isn't so?"
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