Chapter 22

Jealousy is an instinct even for those without emotions.

After several consecutive outdoor activities, Gu Yi’s relationship with Liang Daiwen was about 10% progressed, and she had gathered a lot of material for jokes. She, who was afraid of heights and terrified to the point of breaking down, had also encountered a ridiculously handsome guy. She felt like a gardener, with her garden recently yielding a bountiful harvest. On the day they returned from the escape room, she unabashedly stared at Liang Daiwen in the elevator, from the first floor to the 14th, carefully considering who was more handsome—the young boy from the escape room or Liang Daiwen. Even the faceless man seemed to have a face after being stared at by her, and he returned a smile with 200% of the attack power. Gu Yi flinched for a second before the elevator door opened. She followed behind him, saying, “Is this how you scare off female ghosts?”

“Fight poison with poison. She always wants me to react, so I’ll compete with her.”

Gu Yi seemed to catch a hint of a joke. Liang Daiwen, once a cold and sharp-tongued person, now seemed like a warm but still sharp-tongued person—like an artificial intelligence having gone through an upgrade. After they got off the elevator, Liang Daiwen suddenly turned back and asked, “Why were you staring at me just now?”

“I was thinking about which one of you, the priest or you, is more handsome.”

Liang Daiwen turned around, swapping positions with Gu Yi, who was leaning against the door. Was he going to corner her?

He slowly spoke, “Don’t compare me to others.”

“What, did you find someone else more sexy, more charming, more humane?”

“How do you know I’m not sexy?”

He said this and opened the door, walking inside. Gu Yi stood at the door, her blood rushing to her head—too many flirtatious words could be deadly. Would the insurance company cover that?

Gu Yi, who hadn’t received her year-end bonus, felt a bit tight on money even for going home. Actually, there wasn’t much to enjoy about staying at home. Since Uncle Yun and her mother moved in together, she had never felt at ease. Despite moving a few times, her mother still kept her room, so she stayed in there, sleeping, playing games, and turning her mother’s commanding style into jokes. She had enough material for jokes this year, to the point where she didn’t want to go back.

Unfilial.

The atmosphere at the office before the New Year was filled with a lack of motivation, except for Jacqueline, who remained steadfastly working hard, insisting that the content department pre-schedule Q2’s advertisements and content. Pony’s last article had great data, and they even secured a collaboration with a domestic diamond ring brand—Gu Yi couldn’t figure out how that distorted view of love was part of the deal, until she saw the slogan for the diamond ring: “Matching is the best proof of love.”

Jacqueline hadn’t let Gu Yi off the hook, asking her to redo a previously rejected topic, breaking it down into four parts, one for each week, and putting it on the front page, in deep collaboration with a Japanese brand. Beauty brands were the biggest spenders, and this client was especially fond of topics about thirty-year-old independent women. With Women’s Day approaching, they had a seven-figure budget, clearly an opportunity to get Gu Yi a raise.

So they had higher expectations of her. Gu Yi rubbed the back of her head—was Jacqueline considered an ally?

The intern with the eyebrow ring came up to her again: “Jacqueline really values you.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be the case? I researched a lot for this topic.” This was true—while Liang Daiwen was doing push-ups in the living room, she remained unmoved, sitting at the coffee table working on the drafts. The two were physically just a step and a half apart, and Gu Yi, holding a pen, made minor adjustments, all while seemingly working Liang Daiwen into the bedroom—she deserved to be single.

“But I heard you’re being kept by a man?”

“Huh?” Gu Yi, hearing this term again after several months, began to seriously wonder if she had the qualifications to be “kept.”

“I heard it while waiting for coffee with Pony and the others at MANNER. They said you live at a handsome guy’s place, and you’re not even dating, just casual, not proper.”

The intern, keen on gossip, liked hanging around groups of girls to spread rumors. Gu Yi had mentioned once that she was staying at a friend’s place in the city center, and somehow, it had spread everywhere. Her roommates had seen her stand-up comedy video, so her colleagues had no reason not to know. But cohabiting? Casual partners? She hadn’t even received a hug from Liang Daiwen yet!

In relationships between men and women, colleagues constantly weigh each other with the scales of gossip. Gu Yi had heard the gossip about Pony too, a 29-year-old still working as a new media editor, who had been in a relationship for six years before finally getting married—because her husband’s family in Huangpu District didn’t approve of her being from northern Jiangsu. She wasn’t blindly devoted to her husband either, as the man had no ambition, working in a government job with zero career drive, while Pony had switched jobs ten times in seven years and made much less money. Just like beauty brands were always the most generous clients, urban men, no matter how much they believed in love, were always more attracted to the partner with the biggest budget and the least talk.

Gossip has levels too. Although all of it was the same old tired gossip from a meddlesome aunt’s point of view, gossip about internet celebrities, rich second-generation heirs, and the new financial elite always sounded more “new school.” Media dogs with an average annual salary of 100,000 never entered that circle. The fact that a man like Liang Daiwen was involved with Gu Yi made the gossip even more suggestive—it couldn’t just be a casual fling. Gu Yi studied the jealousy underlying this, wondering if these people felt like they were unable to succeed at work, so they used their personal charm to win over handsome men.

It almost sounds like she’s complimenting her.

But Gu Yi wasn’t happy. The term “kept woman” had malicious connotations about her appearance and easily dismissed her hard work. The only thing she could do was keep focusing on her topics. Once her work was solid, others could spread rumors all they wanted.

In an office where one woman harshly criticizes another, the work atmosphere would only become more suffocating. Gu Yi found herself getting more frustrated the longer she stared at her computer screen. She looked up just as Jacqueline walked in, wearing all black, looking somewhat haggard, her face pale as paper. Gu Yi felt a sense of familiarity with Jacqueline—despite her harshness, she was always results-oriented and completely indifferent to her employees’ private lives…

Gu Yi had to nail this topic!

She needed to adapt her theme. The original topic focused on “youths pretending to be rich,” but now she just had to shift it to focus on independent urban women. She tweaked her viewpoints, adding and removing some ideas, and the result was starting to feel a bit outdated. She had faced similar situations when writing for a Japanese brand, where her clear opinions were met with criticism for being too stereotypical—too focused on “thirty-year-olds,” “being neglected by society,” and “seeking true love.” But the reality for women was different: at thirty, many still had low incomes, with some shifting their focus directly to “making money”; younger people crushed by work could only have fast-food type relationships; social neglect didn’t discriminate by age, and as the ceiling kept lowering, many simply gave up. The only commonality was that they would still click on articles about love, because deep down, they still had some empathy.

Love—it’s the last fortress in the hearts of city dwellers that they refuse to surrender easily.

Uncle Lu invited people to come to Furry Theatre to watch a play. Students from the Shanghai Theatre Academy came to rehearse—rather than practicing in a studio, they preferred to come to Uncle Lu’s fuzzy corner, which felt more like home. Afterward, they’d all sit in the yard drinking coffee, exchanging stories from their internships. Uncle Lu rented out his venue for a fee, but the performance itself was free, and it was promoted on WeChat to attract audiences. This time, a few students were rehearsing A Doll’s House, and everyone, except for Yu Dule, was attending.

Yu Dule was busy at Ounce, still writing for a new network show about stand-up comedy. Gu Yi had heard of it, but she enjoyed writing for herself more and didn’t feel like making more revisions for other clients. She had arranged to meet Liang Daiwen at his studio. From a distance, she saw Liang Daiwen walking out with a well-dressed woman, his face wearing a polite, dimples-showing smile, while the woman had her hair casually tied up, chatting happily. In front of the small villa hidden by the wutong trees, they made quite a picturesque scene. She overheard some of their conversation—the woman lamented that Liang Daiwen didn’t appreciate his current status and instead chose to work on thankless content, placing faith in things that weren’t very important, which seemed like a waste.

Liang Daiwen didn’t respond, and Gu Yi could tell that whenever he was uncertain or didn’t want to answer something, he would remain silent.

The woman’s gaze was a bit intense. Liang Daiwen noticed Gu Yi in the distance, politely sent the woman off in a Porsche Panamera, and watched her drive away without any reaction, his smile fading as if he had discarded an ill-fitting piece of clothing.

“Did you wait long?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’m sorry. I should’ve made you wait longer.”

Gu Yi was suspicious. What was going on with this guy? She followed him and asked, “Was that person your client?”

“She’s a fellow alumni from a different field, her dad’s a rich businessman. She handles domestic distribution for some international home decor brands. Occasionally, she visits me here.”

“Visiting... really?”

“What’s wrong?”

“You still say you don’t have many friends…”

“Oh.” Liang Daiwen raised his hand to stop a car. “I have female friends too, and ex-girlfriends.”

The vibe felt a little different from usual. Gu Yi pondered it for a while in the car, but with the traffic jam and her thoughts interrupted, she didn’t reach a conclusion until they arrived at their destination—went to an escape room, wasn’t scared by ghosts, but got excited by a handsome guy?

Liang Daiwen casually sat with Lu Ming in the corner, while Guan Xingxin pulled Gu Yi aside, “Girls have private chats, you two should stay away.”

The young actors were rehearsing seriously. Their average age was no more than twenty, but they had a lot of presence; occasionally forgetting lines, they cutely said “What was it?” blushing as they took out their little notebooks to knock their heads. Guan Xingxin chatted while watching, saying that the “Leila” account would be reactivated, even though people still sent abusive messages in private, she was determined to start fresh on the account. A music blogger went to a music festival, wrote new song reviews, and even included the celebrity’s trending hashtags, still earning traffic money; as for his wife, who adamantly refused to divorce, she used a burner account to attack Guan Xingxin because the blogger had divorced her.

Gu Yi couldn’t help but feel anxious just listening. Guan Xingxin said that it seemed like he had started seeing a new young girl recently, posting pictures together on Weibo. But the girl’s Weibo was a little melancholic, often meeting at hotels but never turning into a girlfriend. Gu Yi asked, “Isn’t that pitiful?” Guan Xingxin laughed, “I’m happy for him. I’m just waiting for him to get divorced. He’ll lose half of everything—this man loves money, so he’ll end up losing both the woman and his wealth.”

“So, are you happy or not?”

“Of course I’m happy. I’m waiting for him to get divorced. When he cheats and loses half, this love-for-money guy will lose both the wife and the property. That’s what he deserves.”

The play was reaching its climax. Guan Xingxin clapped, relieved, and said, “I’ve died once too, he can’t have it all. He won’t get everything.”

The actress playing Nora spoke the lines, “I’m willing to work day and night for you, to be poor and suffer for you. But a man cannot sacrifice his reputation for the woman he loves.”

Guan Xingxin just smiled and watched the stage. After a while, she changed the topic: “Can I ask, what kind of person is Yu Dule?”

“He’s... likes to joke around, his mind is weird. We met during our internship at the TV station. I left first, he stayed for another year and a half. Getting a full-time position wasn’t easy; even when he became permanent, he only earned about five to six thousand a month. His name sounds good, but it doesn’t mean much. He complained to me, saying that working at Weihai Road, looking down at the Yan’an Elevated Road and North-South Elevated Road, he felt like he was seeing his future—an overlapping vision of what seems like a happy life, but in reality, they’re not on the same level at all.”

“Did he say that?” 

“Yes.” 

She was so amused that she started to tear up. “Why didn’t he tell me?” 

“What did he tell you?” 

“He only talks about bad things, like how his electric scooter helmet broke, saying it was more fragile than his head.” 

“He’s probably just practicing his jokes on you.” 

“But I like it. I rarely feel like someone is trying to make me laugh just for the sake of it. He’s a boy who hasn’t been burdened by too much pressure but has experienced small pains. Coming out of the ICU after a serious illness and watching someone with a scraped knee smiling while wearing a band-aid makes you feel like ‘life is really good’—that’s what Yu Dule is like.” 

Gu Yi didn’t respond, his eyes on Liang Daiwen. Liang Daiwen was chatting with Lu Ming, and their eyes briefly met hers before quickly moving away. Guan Xingxin said, “A few days ago, I went to the company to help with another live broadcast. It finished at 1 a.m., and I didn’t dare to go home. Yu Dule came to pick me up on his electric scooter, and his helmet was warm and smelled nice. We had roasted meat and ate while blowing the night wind. He was going to wait for me to fall asleep before leaving, but he left first, shy. Before he left, he said he couldn’t imagine how Gu Yi could stay at Liang Daiwen’s house. He couldn’t last a minute. Isn’t that cute?” 

Damn, these gossipy men and women. Gu Yi gritted his teeth, thinking he definitely needed to rent a single room after the New Year. He couldn’t help asking, “But it seems like Uncle Lu likes you too?” 

Guan Xingxin blinked. “Uncle Lu is steady and solid, but he doesn’t say anything, so I’m not sure, right?” 

The play ended, and the actors and audience crowded together to eat takeout, chattering away in the courtyard. Gu Yi used the opportunity to stretch her hand out toward the college students, hoping to hear their views on love. After listening, she immediately felt anxious. These students from prestigious drama schools were talented, entering university with all sorts of ways to make money: acting, modeling, part-time scriptwriting, tutoring for the art exams, becoming influencers... The richest was a boy who created templates for Douyin videos, earning 1.5 million a year, but dressed in a simple gray-green cotton jacket, low-key, yet meticulous in rehearsals. But when she asked about love, their answers were completely different from what she expected. Most of the young people were at an age where they were carefree about love, with only a couple considering marriage, while the rest were so relaxed about relationships, no one would die for love. A girl who had been acting since high school said, “There are so many handsome guys on camera around me, too many to even have time to feel heartache.” 

Guan Xingxin clapped enthusiastically on the side. Gu Yi felt a bit melancholic. She had been too focused on the hardships and had thought life was full of difficulties, while those with advantages only struggled with whether their gold spoons or silver spoons looked better. 

The noise around Liang Daiwen was even louder—girls surrounded him, constantly exclaiming, “Ah,” “Really?” “That’s amazing,” and someone said, “So handsome! I thought you were an actor, but you’re a science genius! Your cultural scores could let two art students go to school...” 

So popular? 

Finally, when the crowd dispersed, Gu Yi walked over. “So, you’re a science student?” 

“I’m double-majoring, in human-computer interaction and information systems.” 

“I saw the chair you designed last time...” 

“That was a side job, designing for an Italian furniture brand. The payment was pretty high. There are too few companies in China doing barrier-free design, mostly relying on big corporations, and only with money can you talk about ideals, so I take on some freelance design work on the side.” 

“And this has nothing to do with computer science?” 

“I studied drawing. When I was younger, my mom sent me to a master after I was too mischievous. By the time I reached middle school, I gradually couldn’t feel any inspiration, and I understood what people meant by saying that art is ‘ethereal.’ I couldn’t grasp it, but my basic skills remained. In university, I wanted to learn something practical, but now the work I do isn’t seen as practical by my dad.” 

“…I thought you were one of those quirky designers working at a big corporation, but you’re a geek?” 

“Are you mocking me? I do barrier-free design, and not smiling doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Advanced technologies can shut out disabled people and old men, which isn’t very humane.” 

Gu Yi was left stunned by the series of rapid-fire replies, slightly at a loss for words. “You, you talk too fast, let me process it...” 

“It’s fine, the same way I can’t understand what you write every day on the computer. Have you used Siri? Google Assistant, Xiao Ai—those are all products you use every day. They’re all the result of excellent product development.” 

“And what else?” 

“I once participated in a domestic automatic transcription software for captions; it’s interesting, even normal people can use it. Does that count?” 

“I never knew you were so talented...” 

“Because you’re too focused on me being a patient. The problem with unanswered questions is because the question itself is faulty.” 

Gu Yi froze. 

“The culture society shapes is that people with illnesses are either pitiable or heroic. In TV shows, patients are always overcoming terminal illnesses and psychological burdens, and the media reports are all inspirational, just to push normal people to become more competitive,” Liang Daiwen slowly turned his head and said, “That’s why I don’t want anyone to know about my emotional disorder. It’s not a terminal illness; there’s no need to treat me specially.” 

Liang Daiwen stood up to discuss the script with Lu Ming. He took one of the middle scripts and flipped through it seriously, joking with Lu Ming from time to time. He playfully made a V-sign with his fingers at his lips, making Guan Xingxin burst out laughing. Guan Xingxin turned to Gu Yi and extended two fingers. “Gu Yi, did you teach him that?” 

When someone falls for you, they’re just “human.” That moment of subtle change in the dark room wasn’t just her speculation. What had changed in Liang Daiwen was his unwillingness to let someone steal his prized possession—a natural jealousy. Even someone without emotions can have this instinct. Liang Daiwen looked at her, moving his body slightly with the music, as if opening up a side of himself she hadn’t seen before. The message was clear—he wasn’t a static object, and it wasn’t so easy to get him. 

She had to fight for him.