Chapter 27

WeChat was silent. Diao Zhi Yu added Hu Xiu on WeChat but didn’t say a word. Coupled with the teasing earlier when he played with her eyes, Hu Xiu felt a bit embarrassed.

She rushed upstairs, still trying to calm her breathing. Her hands and feet were cold, and her stomach cramped like she had just run a marathon.

The tension had drained her, just like when translating, where it takes a lot of mental effort.

Suppressing the urge to text Diao Zhi Yu, Hu Xiu paced around the living room. She thought she might collapse and die if she went straight to bed.

She opened the fridge, and the exquisite GODIVA box caught her attention.

That’s right, Diao Zhi Yu didn’t walk away because she wasn’t good enough. He was jealous.

She had nothing to feel embarrassed about; the seesaw was still rocking, and she wasn’t at a disadvantage.

There were twelve pieces of chocolate, each uniquely shaped, full and glossy, both an artistic creation and rich in cocoa fragrance.

The sweetness of the chocolate eased her tension. Hu Xiu carefully opened Diao Zhi Yu’s Moments, worried she might accidentally like or comment and get caught stalking him.

His posts were all public, and there were enough of them to keep her entertained all night. On the other hand, her Moments were entirely about medical conferences and the latest forum recaps—so boring that Diao Zhi Yu would probably fall asleep after a few glances, or maybe think she added the wrong person.

The profile picture of Diao Zhiyu is a still from A Street Cat Named Bob, showing James feeding a cat by the river in Little Venice. The soft light from the mist and sun blends into a warm, peaceful scene with the man and cat, radiating a gentle atmosphere.

His Moments are a perfect embodiment of a youthful, artistic spirit: self-drawn comic panels, photography shots in the style of Nobuyoshi Araki that he’s proud of, promotional photos of him playing Qin Xiaoyi (with his back turned), and in his free time, he watches film study materials from Snowpiercer…

He’s not aloof or mysterious at all; rather, he’s a passionate young man who simply enjoys documenting his life. What pleases Hu Xiu most is that there are many photos of him in his Moments—instant photos, film shots, and stills from costume fittings. He doesn’t hide his handsomeness. Hu Xiu has saved all of them into an album called “Qin Xiaoyi” and looks through it, one photo at a time, until she is stunned.

The night scene in one photo is very familiar. An orange figure stands in the slightly right-center of the frame, staring absentmindedly through the rain. It’s her.

Before Qin Xiaoyi held an umbrella for her to shield her from the rain, he quietly took a photo of her and posted it in his Moments, with the caption “I’s.”

Hu Xiu immediately understands the meaning of the letters; it’s a reference to the shoujo manga by Kei Yoshizawa. That night, she had been standing in the rain with bare legs and old shoes, looking just like the character Iori Aizuki from Kei Yoshizawa’s work.

It’s retro for a boy born in 1996 to like Kei Yoshizawa, Hu Xiu thinks, the sound of rain almost ringing in her ears.

But she reminds herself not to overthink it. This isn’t proof that he likes her. He probably uses frequent posts in his Moments to catch the attention of other female players. Maybe his contact info isn’t just limited to her… maybe many players have it.

It’s just a photo. Perhaps he simply liked the aesthetic and pressed the shutter.

However—he did come to find her, really did drop her off at her building, and almost kissed her outside REGARD.

He probably doesn’t escort every female player home. Diao Zhiyu is clearly flirting with her, and it’s certain that he’s interested in her.

Halfway through eating, Hu Xiu suddenly realizes the price of the chocolate—490 yuan?

Twelve pieces of chocolate cost 490 yuan? Twelve of her own pan-fried buns cost only 36 yuan!

While browsing his Moments, she ends up eating 250 yuan worth. The only thought on her mind is, how high must Pei Zhen’s salary be if he’s buying such expensive chocolate instead of cheap buns?

She won’t be foolish enough to think Pei Zhen is actually interested in her. She just feels that the favor he owes is too expensive.

But a voice keeps echoing in her mind: recently, her luck with romance has been better. Could it really be that her fortunes are changing?

She’s too excited to sleep, so she decides to work instead, lying in bed while listening to a medical report from the obstetrics and gynecology department, taking notes on IVF embryo implantation, complex post-surgery scar removal, and cesarean section care...

She needs to ask someone more specialized in these medical terms. She doesn’t take her senior’s words to heart either; getting promoted relies on her skills, not relationships, and staying in the hospital by relying on romantic connections will earn her unwanted labels forever. Career choices are a two-way street: even if the hospital thinks she’s a good fit, she might not enjoy working there.

In the past, she would follow orders meekly, worried about interpersonal relations. But after learning to take control, the things she cares about are not so easily taken from her.

This, she’s slowly learning in Snowpiercer.

After preparing three days’ worth of translation materials, Hu Xiu is still baffled by terms like GnRHa abdominal wall hematoma VASCPP. She screenshots the information and plans to ask her senior for help.

Around noon, she runs across the street to the infertility clinic and knocks on the office door, finding two people inside.

One is a doctor with slightly wrinkled eyes, clearly marked as a chief physician, wearing glasses and a white lab coat while drinking coffee, leaning against the window with a stern look; the other is Pei Zhen, sitting on the sofa with his coffee cup, eyes closed, lounging with one leg crossed over the other.

On the coffee table are takeout boxes they didn’t throw away, suggesting they are friends. Pei Zhen opens one eye and asks, “What are you here for?”

“I have a translation project this weekend. I need to speak with Dr. Jin; my senior spoke with you…”

Dr. Jin gestures to the sofa. “Sit.”

Pei Zhen stands up. “Should I leave?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dr. Jin pulls up a chair and sits across from Hu Xiu, who hands over her materials. “She’s here to ask about cases, what are you thinking?”

“Right, since your girlfriend is next door.” Pei Zhen doesn’t leave, instead sitting at Dr. Jin’s computer and moving the mouse.

Listening to the sound of the mouse clicking, Hu Xiu seriously asks about the treatment plans for endometriosis, and learns about surgical solutions for ovarian cysts. She gradually understands, and the entire lunch break is spent discussing.

When she tries to ask about suturing and scarring, Dr. Jin stands up. “It’s time for my consultation, you can ask him.”

“But you’re in completely different departments…”

“Scarring issues are better addressed by plastic surgery, right?” Dr. Jin smacks a file folder on Pei Zhen’s head. “Behave well…”

Pei Zhen raises an eyebrow, clearly used to these jokes between them. “Let’s walk and talk, time’s almost up.”

Crossing the street back to the main building in five minutes, Hu Xiu listens to Pei Zhen explain the treatment for cesarean section scars and repair throughout the entire walk, hearing about his fear of marriage and childbearing.

Pei Zhen keeps his hands in his lab coat, guiding Hu Xiu on the inner side of the street as he calmly talks about ordinary treatment plans: “Regular scars can be treated with scar injections. If there’s adhesion, we need to carefully reopen the wound layer by layer and reseal it with fine sutures.

The abdomen has many layers. If it doesn’t heal well, the wound could liquefy, and that would be troublesome.

This usually happens with women who are anemic, overweight, or diabetic; childbirth itself is already a huge risk.”

“It sounds like stitching a quilt. I thought you only did plastic surgery, didn’t know you also research this.”

“Reconstructive surgery is a broad field, and plastic surgery is just one part of it. It’s just the most popular right now.

Fine suturing techniques are used in many areas. Do you know about cleft palates? Last week, I did a surgery for a three-year-old.”

“Impressive...”

“You’re impressive at translation too. There aren’t many interpreters in our department, and even fewer who actively ask questions. You’re diligent and eager to learn.”

Before they knew it, they had arrived at the office. She seemed to suddenly remember, “About the chocolate... My pan-fried buns weren’t that expensive. It’s a bit embarrassing to receive such an expensive return gift.”

“It’s nothing, consider it my way of buying you off. Next time the head nurse tries to set me up on a blind date, just give me the schedule and I’ll avoid it.”

It was clear that the schedule came from the head nurse—this remark made Hu Xiu laugh: “It sounds like the head nurse is always trying to set you up on blind dates.”

“Pretty much. Her hobby is probably introducing me and Dr. Jin to girlfriends, like the Dr. Jin you just saw. Unfortunately, he suddenly went and got himself a girlfriend, so now he’s hiding in his office and the head nurse can’t find me.”

“If you don’t want a girlfriend, you could just refuse.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t really want to refuse dating.”

Everything was left unsaid, with a subtle understanding between them. Hu Xiu was momentarily stunned, unsure of how to respond. But Pei Zhen didn’t continue; he cleverly changed the subject: “Your name, Hu Xiu, with the character for ‘shy’—how did your parents come up with it?”

“Probably because I spoke late as a child, and my mom always thought I was shy—she’s quite the romantic.”

“Your name is also interesting. Let me guess... ‘Xingfen Yizhen’, ‘Dijie Henglu’—it’s from The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng, right?”

Pei Zhen, who had been speaking casually, now looked genuinely surprised. “This is the first time someone has directly pointed out that reason, and got it right.”

After saying this, Pei Zhen went upstairs without even saying goodbye. Hu Xiu watched his back, feeling that his words seemed unfinished, like a conclusion that was left unsaid.

Pei Zhen didn’t message her on WeChat either. The whole afternoon passed with no personal messages, just work documents and venue arrangements to manage.

What’s going on with men lately? They always speak halfway, leaving things hanging.

Zhao Xiaorou explained that this was just one of their tricks. Just like Ning Zechen claiming it was his first time dating such a beautiful woman like Zhao Xiaorou, when Hu Xiu accidentally saw Ning Zechen’s phone gallery while they were showering, it was filled with countless women—some in Hong Kong style, others in Japanese style, all varying in sensuality and sweetness. Hu Xiu was just one of many.

Zhao Xiaorou smiled when she mentioned Ning Zechen, but her smile wasn’t purely happy. It seemed more like the passage of time had cooled her feelings. She couldn’t just admire his body in front of such a shallow, hollow man.

Ning Zechen was like a piece of chewing gum—refreshing and chewy at first, but the flavor fades quickly. If you keep chewing, you won’t necessarily spit it out immediately.

Zhao Xiaorou propped her cheek in her hand. “I’ve recently noticed that Li Ai is often absent from the shop.”

“Maybe he’s busy with other things, not just the café.”

“Probably involved in a lawsuit. After I paid the rent, he kept going out. Once, I even saw him getting into a cab with a crutch. I don’t know what’s wrong with his leg; I just knew it hurt on rainy days before.”

“How many things does he have that we don’t know about?” Hu Xiu looked at Zhao Xiaorou as she asked. Her concerned expression almost seemed like she was gritting her teeth. “I don’t know. He says we’re important to him, but he never shares his secrets. He says we’re friends, but only in good times, never in hard times. It’s exhausting.”

“You’re not still thinking about Li Ai, are you?”

Zhao Xiaorou didn’t look at her, but kept staring outside. The autumn afternoon was warm and golden. It was the place 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 awkward night when she was rejected. “He just sent me home and left.”

“The last time I heard Pei Zhen’s name on the phone, I saw Diao Zhiyu’s face turn green.”

“Hu Xiu, your love life is taking off. Whether it’s a young, handsome guy or a wealthy doctor, they’re so much better than your past boyfriends and blind dates.”

“Nothing happened that night, and that’s the best part. Next, you need to carefully arrange a script for yourself. From what to wear, how to speak, to how your relationship develops, plan it out clearly. List all the possible developments you can think of, and then set up the scenes. Take Diao Zhiyu through it and perform.”

“Isn’t that going too far?”

“Not at all. I used to think love should be spontaneous, like Wang Guangming’s quick marriage or Ning Zechen’s one-night stand, but neither was a good result.”

“Now that I’ve carefully eliminated Wang Guangming from my life and set rules for Ning Zechen, I’ve realized how important it is to control the people around you and guide them in the direction you want.”

“Impulsive actions lead to regret. Not preparing mentally for something unexpected leaves you lost. Do you get it?”

“It’s like ice hockey—if you keep chasing and changing direction, you’ll score. But if you let it slide freely on the ice, the chances of scoring are very low.”

“It’s not that easy. A relationship isn’t like playing ice hockey. It’s not a solo performance. It’s a back-and-forth game, with you saying something, and me responding. It’s a duet.”

In the past, Qin Xiao was the lonely protagonist of a one-sided love story. Now, he’s part of a duet in his own life. He can no longer just focus on his own role; he’s now involved in the scene, where every pass is caught and every line is said with more meaning. Those dating guides and manuals? They all boil down to this.

Li Ai pushed open the door and greeted them. “When did you get here?”

“Not long, just chatting.”

“I brought back some new beans.” Li Ai said, holding a bag. He was indeed carrying a cane; his leg was clearly injured.

Before Zhao Xiaorou could ask, he spoke first: “Diao Zhi Yu might come over later.”

“Ah?”

“He’s coming to help shoot some promotional videos for the café.”

Having just finished translation, she hadn’t properly tidied herself up for two days. Hu Xiu looked at her reflection in her phone screen, then thought about all the shops in the street. She made up her mind and rushed into the bathroom, bent over, and began... washing her hair.

As she squeezed out the shampoo, she thought to herself, “I said I wouldn’t act, but this strange sense of pride, just like the sticky, fragrant liquid, is probably just my ambiguous feelings at work.”

She stuck her head under the hand dryer, half-squatting with her back to the wall, her legs shaking. “He’d better not come now, it will take at least half an hour to dry my hair.”

Zhao Xiaorou took a photo with her phone and laughed out loud, “You two don’t even send each other messages on WeChat, always waiting for the other to make the first move, so reserved. If you just chatted properly, you would’ve known he was coming, and you wouldn’t have left the house without makeup.”

“No...” Thinking of Diao Zhi Yu’s provocative gaze from outside her apartment door, Hu Xiu found herself... resisting.

Li Ai, who had turned his head, said, “Hu Xiu, stop squatting, there’s a hair dryer on the shelf behind me.”

He could’ve said that earlier. Her hair hung messily over her face, and she lifted the curtain to enter the storage room. She saw a pair of sneakers on the floor and was wondering why Li Ai had left shoes in the middle of the space when she tripped and fell.

Her vision blocked, Hu Xiu knew there was a person on the floor, and when she smelled the scent of mint candy, she froze—how could Diao Zhi Yu be lying on the lazy couch in the storage room?!

And she was now lying on top of him?