Chapter 42

Tucking away—my pride, courage, and resolve.

Xu Guanrui didn’t continue the conversation. Instead, he pulled a long-out-of-print CD out of his bag. 

“The first one’s for you. The album you like—I found it.”

It was a 1996 R&B single. Gu Yi’s eyes widened with amazement when she saw it. 

“How did you manage this?”

“I found it second-hand on Amazon. Placed the order and waited for the seller to ship it to a nearby convenience store. But the shipping was too slow. I ended up canceling my flight and extending my stay at a guesthouse. Then, to get it to you sooner, I took a red-eye flight back on a budget airline.”

Holding the CD, Gu Yi felt a twinge of sadness. 

“Don’t treat me this well.”

“We’re comrades, aren’t we? Whatever you want, I’ll agree to it. Besides, golden-era CDs are worth the wait. The waiting feels like someone is entrusting you with the cherished memories of their golden years because they know you’ll treasure it. Every moment is filled with anticipation—like a meandering but overdue connection. Music and people work the same way.”

Gu Yi looked at Xu Guanrui. He could find poetic romance in anything, as if innocence was etched into his very being. Compared to before, he now hid his anticipation. Maybe Jacqueline had taught him restraint. Thinking of this, Gu Yi said, “My big boss—my personal demon king—hasn’t been feeling well lately. Took three days of sick leave and looks like they’ve lost a lot of weight.”

The person in front of her remained indifferent, busy typing on his laptop. 

“Oh, really? By the way, your comic idea is pretty interesting. Want to do illustrations for my music review column? Come up with a cool name for it.”

“You’d better find a professional illustrator. My drawing is terrible.”

“It’s the imperfections that make it unique. Don’t you realize how precious unique things are in this world? They have this uncanny ability to heal the moments when people grow weary of life.”

Gu Yi managed to escape the emotional moment with ease. 

“Alright, alright, enough with the roundabout way of calling me ugly.”

Close to midnight, Gu Yi was on the phone with Guan Xingxin. Her voice grew louder and louder as she tried to defend herself. 

“The thing with the chest stickers—it wasn’t intentional! I mean, in that moment, I wanted to kiss too! How could I have known something like that would happen…”

Halfway through her sentence, she suddenly realized something, opened the door to glance at the camera, and then went back to her bedroom, closing the door tightly. The old house had poor soundproofing; Liang Daiwen couldn’t overhear—who knew if he might be eavesdropping through the camera. 

The night-vision camera emitted a faint circle of light. It had indeed served as an effective deterrent; even the footsteps of delivery workers coming to the sixth floor had grown lighter. The small red glow in the darkness seemed like a patient presence from another world, endlessly watching. 

Back in her room, Guan Xingxin’s voice sounded a little downcast. She had just finished a live stream, probably got scolded again, and her tone felt distracted. Her voice was naturally low-pitched, perfectly matching her Showa-era features. But for her streams, she had to modulate her voice into a mix of seductive and innocent tones. Yu Dule, having heard too many of her streams during his visits, often felt uncomfortable. This time, he went out and didn’t come back. With the speakerphone on, Gu Yi, who was drawing comics, asked Guan Xingxin, 

“Do you really like this job?”

“I do. The hours are flexible. I can chat behind an animated character and make money without having to deal with office politics in person. Isn’t that simple?”

“But you’re so down after streaming…”

“Streaming is about providing emotional value. That’s my strength. Work is about exchanging skills for money, and this is what I’m good at. Once I turn off the stream, I’m practically useless. I even get rejected at blind dates.”

“So you know you’ll get married, but you’re just keeping Yu Dule and Lu Ming as friends while going on dates?”

“What are you saying, Bunny? Do you think I’d use such great guys as backups? Uncle Lu dropped out of the game long ago—he’s just assisting me. As for Yu Dule, I’m waiting for him. He’s always so indecisive about me; I can’t figure him out. He said something the other day that left me feeling uneasy.”

“Don’t take things to heart. Comedians always make offhand remarks.”

“No, he was spot on. He said: Maybe I’ve gotten used to having two sets of parents, so I’m also used to having options for everything. Even when it comes to boyfriends, I need two possibilities.”

He wasn’t wrong. Yu Dule had been in the director’s team during his internship, then switched to post-production, gaining vast experience with people and projects alike. Feeling a pang of sadness, Gu Yi asked, 

“With such a strict family, why didn’t your parents stop you from doing virtual streaming?”

“Because they think it’s just a delayed phase of rebellion. They believe I’ll settle down after getting married. It’s not like I haven’t met someone amazing on a blind date before. Just one glance made me flustered—a kind of excellence Yu Dule can’t compare to. Even my high heels brushing against his pants made me nervous for a long time. But later, I found out he wasn’t really interested. He just wanted to see if I was the kind of ‘mistress’ who had a leaked hotel video scandal. He wanted to see for himself if I was a seductress.” 

Guan Xingxin chuckled on the other end of the call. 

“I envy you, though. You’ve committed to waiting patiently for Liang Daiwen to come around. If my mom knew about someone like Liang Daiwen, who’s emotionally unavailable, she’d drag me straight to an electric chair—she’d be that mad. I can’t devote too much time to anything. Do you despise me for that? I hate this kind of unearned comfort too, but if I stop dating now, my mom will bring a parasol and a little stool to the People’s Park to camp out.”

“Is it that serious…”

“It’s not about finding me a partner in the park; it’s about pressuring me. She’s genuinely anxious about me getting married. She was the same when I was doing my master’s degree. Aunt Chen paid for my tuition, and for half a year, my mom kept urging me to repay her. On New Year’s morning, she made me deliver gifts to Aunt Chen, call my brother overseas… Aunt Chen’s been really kind to me, hasn’t she? She’s even rented a place for me in Shanghai for 15,000 yuan a month without batting an eye. She sends me pocket money every quarter. But all of this comes with a price. I used to think she truly cared about me until one day I heard her crying out her daughter’s name in her sleep, waking up needing heart medication. 

A substitute is always a substitute. When she mentions her daughter, she has nightmares—reasons too painful to articulate. 

Bunny, seeing the vast world isn’t always a good thing. The unbearable sights aren’t just things, but people—even the ones closest to you.” 

Gu Yi didn’t know how to respond. Guan Xingxin habitually put on her mask again, saying, “I need to figure out a way to cheer myself up. Liang Daiwen knows how to play squash—how about we play some tennis together?” 

After agreeing on the time and place in the group chat, Lu Ming excused himself, saying he needed to see his daughter. “Seeing his daughter” was a complete fabrication, a self-deceptive game that adults played. 

At midnight, with a gentle breeze blowing, Gu Yi opened the door to her room, pulled up a chair under the surveillance camera, and stared at its red light absentmindedly. The wind passed through the hallway, and she smiled foolishly at the camera: 

“Even though I know you probably don’t watch the camera every day, it’s kind of comforting... My sleep quality has actually improved, except… I’ve been sleeping facing the door, and now my neck’s stiff. I can’t help but sneak out to take a look sometimes. The camera feels different from texting—it’s like the odds of you seeing are completely random. Since moving out of your place, I haven’t felt lonely, but I do feel... isolated. Why do people have hopes for things and people that aren’t possible? Maybe it’s because… the more you like someone, the lonelier you get.” 

Gu Yi hugged her knees while sitting on the chair. The wind rustled her hair, and her clothes flapped lightly. A noise came from the neighboring room. 

“Stop being so dramatic and go to bed—it’s 2 a.m.!” 

At the tennis court, Liang Daiwen seemed a bit fired up. Holding his racket, he greeted her with, “Squash and tennis are not the same thing! The court size and the balls are different. You set up a tennis match after calling it squash? I only play indoor squash...” 

“Don’t be so contradictory—you play squash because you have no friends to play tennis with. The three of us aren’t total novices, so don’t act like we’re that unworthy.” 

A direct hit—Gu Yi had learned how to shut Liang Daiwen up quickly. Despite wearing shorts, his calves were perfectly straight, and his hair was neatly trimmed. Gu Yi thought, Good thing he’s got such a prickly personality—otherwise, his admirers would line up all the way out the court’s gates. 

The four of them split into pairs. Gu Yi, looking at Guan Xingxin and Yu Dule across the net, felt slightly uneasy. Any sport involving a ball was bound to hit her—over the years, she’d been hit by soccer balls, volleyballs, bowling balls, and even someone else’s head... 

The ball was already flying across the court. Yu Dule played in the back while Guan Xingxin took the front, their teamwork surprisingly smooth. Liang Daiwen was likely no stranger to squash; his reflexes were incredibly quick, and even on a tennis court, his athleticism was impressive. 

In comparison, Gu Yi seemed more like a mascot. After three minutes, she’d swung her racket three times: once into the net, once out of bounds, and once… straight into Liang Daiwen’s backside. 

Liang Daiwen turned his head and said, “Hit the ball over the net—not me. What’s with your tilted neck? Did you strain it?” 

The two on the other side were laughing so hard they were slapping their thighs. 

Gu Yi wasn’t completely unskilled at tennis; she’d taken it for her university P.E. class. It required crossing Handan Road to reach the southern field, where she trained hard and passed with an A+. Today, her lack of focus left her unable to shine—Liang Daiwen running across the court was brimming with youthful energy. Wiping sweat with his shirt exposed his abs, and his long legs made him swift. Meanwhile, Yu Dule and Guan Xingxin sent most of the balls to the middle, leaving no need for her help... 

While picking up balls, Liang Daiwen called out to the other side, “Try to spread the shots out more.” 

He was giving her opportunities... 

Liang Daiwen stepped back to let her take more shots. Gu Yi quietly observed. Yu Dule hit hard, so the balls mostly landed toward the back, while Guan Xingxin wasn’t as forceful but hit precisely, occasionally sending balls into the net... 

Five minutes later, Gu Yi collapsed onto the ground. Liang Daiwen handed her a water bottle. “You’re not bad.” 

“I’m done—my legs are jelly.” 

“Lack of exercise.” 

Yu Dule called out from across the net, suggesting they play a serious match, with the winner being the first to take six games. 

“Alright.” 

Why were they going all out… 

A few rounds later, Gu Yi’s arms were already sore. After being inactive for so long, she lacked strength in her arms. Liang Daiwen, meanwhile, gradually moved up to the front, playing like a relentless ball-retrieving machine. She exchanged a look with Guan Xingxin from afar, and the two competitive men were now locked in a head-to-head battle. 

Liang Daiwen, drenched in sweat, flexed the muscles in his calves as he ran. Gu Yi thought to herself, I just need to stick it out until the match is over, then I can rest. The scoring got serious, and the ball and players moved unpredictably. Feeling dizzy, Gu Yi looked up and suddenly took a blow—Liang Daiwen’s elbow struck her square in the face. 

Her front teeth and nose throbbed painfully, blood dripping steadily onto the court. Guan Xingxin yelled from the other side, “Oh no, bunny!” 

It took Liang Daiwen a moment to realize what had happened. “Are you okay?” 

“I…” Gu Yi thought, Did the nosebleed get into my mouth? Why do my front teeth hurt so much? She reached up to touch her teeth and her heart sank—a front tooth, along with its root, was gone, dripping with blood. 

Guan Xingxin fumbled with tissues and wet wipes, while Liang Daiwen immediately started calling for a car. Gu Yi couldn’t help but laugh through her tears. Why was it that others could collapse in exhaustion after a tennis match, but she had to be beaten to a bloody mess? Murphy’s Law never failed—the things you fear most will always happen, though this was worse than being hit by the ball… 

They ended up in the ER, where the diagnosis ruled out a concussion or nasal injury. The only treatment needed was for her tooth, requiring a visit to a dental clinic. While waiting in line, Guan Xingxin clutched her hand tightly. Yu Dule finally couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Can I write this into a story?” 

“No way.” Gu Yi covered her mouth and, before saying a word, air whistled through her missing tooth. “This is my story.” 

The doctor remained remarkably calm as he wiped the blood from her mouth with a cotton ball. “It’s common. You can get it replaced, but you’ll have to wait for the gum to heal—come back in a week.” 

Looking at the bill on their way out, Gu Yi wanted to cry but had to hold it in. A porcelain crown cost 18,000 yuan, instantly draining her of all pride, courage, and resolve. She couldn’t help but ask, “Can we just put my original tooth back? No charge for materials…” 

Liang Daiwen calmly said, “I’ll pay for it since it was my fault.” 

Guan Xingxin and Yu Dule, who had a live stream to host, left in a hurry. Liang Daiwen hovered around Gu Yi, who was too tired and frustrated to talk. “Don’t wait for me to speak. I’m not mad at you—it’s just that… I feel like such a joke right now.” 

“Are you hungry? What do you want to eat?” 

“I’m starving. I want pasta, mussels, Boston lobster…” As she listed her cravings, she grew increasingly despondent. “Am I a walking comedy now? Xu Guanrui just joked that ugly people have more personality, and now here I am—with all the personality in the world…”

Liang Daiwen didn’t dare say a word. He obediently found a restaurant and picked a quiet corner to shield Gu Yi from view, not even daring to meet her eyes. Gu Yi felt a pang of sympathy as she noticed this—this person, who rarely avoided eye contact, now seemed overwhelmed with guilt.

The meal was completely silent, the oppressive atmosphere giving Gu Yi a headache. She put her fork down with a clatter. “Talk.”

“Oh…”

“Are you not the one with alexithymia? Why the sudden silent treatment when guilt hits? Two people sitting face to face and not saying a word—is this the end of our friendship?”

The awkward duck sniffled. “I was afraid you didn’t want to talk.”

“Well, it’s just seven days; it’s just another experience. I’ll write an open mic set about it to commemorate the occasion.”

The person across from her seemed to finally relax. The plate in front of him was full of mussel meat, giving Gu Yi an opening. As she ate, she started asking questions about the hotel’s accessibility renovations, the progress being made, and any new projects. Liang Daiwen answered truthfully. The updates had been perfect, earning praise online from users who shared photos. Other hotels had even reached out to him for collaboration. Everything was going well, except that his studio wasn’t financially sustainable. He was also pursuing opportunities tied to his profession because once industry standards were established, there wouldn’t be much need for his niche skills…

Gu Yi listened as he spoke about work, noting how he seemed to relax and even maintain eye contact. She asked if he’d consider leaving Shanghai if another city offered better opportunities. Liang Daiwen nodded but then hesitated—a rare sight from him. Taking advantage of the calm moment, Liang suddenly asked, “Do you mind talking about the person you liked? The one you mentioned in your Ounce stand-up?”

Gu Yi froze momentarily. Was he curious about her past?

There wasn’t much she couldn’t share.

“He was also a stand-up comedy fan, an excellent finance professional with a great upbringing. He had U.S. citizenship and was one of those privileged elites. He said he loved my stand-up and thought I was special, but then he ghosted me. I tried reaching out a few times, and after a long delay, he finally picked up the phone and said it was all a misunderstanding. Turns out everyone at Ounce already knew he’d gone back to the U.S. to get married—I was the only one who didn’t. I guess I felt embarrassed at the time. I really shouldn’t have gotten involved with someone out of my league. It was a silent defeat. But he did say something to me that I’ve never forgotten.”

“What was it?”

“He said I smile like a lunatic and make such a fool of myself. He claimed that while American girls are outgoing, women shouldn’t behave like that. Spent all that time abroad and still had the mindset of a bound-foot relic.”

“Idiot. If I ever meet him, I’ll beat him up for you. When I was a kid, I punched through a classroom window, and I’ve fought with bricks before. I’ve even blocked a beer bottle for you and knocked out your tooth…”

Liang Daiwen’s ears turned red as soon as he finished speaking. She smiled at him. “I know. You’d definitely avenge me.”

The person in front of her stared, eyes slightly red. His double eyelids were narrow but didn’t obscure his pupils, revealing all his sincerity. She kept questioning him: “Didn’t it hurt? Is your alexithymia linked to a lower pain threshold?”

“Of course it hurt. I’m human. But if it’s for your sake, I can endure it.”

“You’re impressive. You can feel emotions now—next, you need some major highs and lows, intense pain, and euphoric joy. Then you’ll be like a normal person.”

“But let’s avoid knocking out any more teeth.”

“Stop feeling guilty. I don’t blame you.”

The gap-toothed guy smiled slightly, his lips pressed together, his brows furrowed in regret. Gu Yi nearly wanted to cry. “Do you know you’re showing expressions now?”

“I don’t. But I feel very sad.”

“Hold still. Let me take a picture—this has been a costly price to pay. But I think it’s worth it, even if a single front tooth costs eighteen thousand… You’re not upset about the money, are you?”

“No.”

Gu Yi waved her phone screen in front of him. A piece of spaghetti dangled halfway out of her mouth, unbitten. Missing a front tooth was a reality she’d have to get used to overnight.

On the way home, Gu Yi dozed off in the car, leaning against Liang Daiwen’s shoulder. Her front tooth and nose throbbed dully, the pain causing her to clench her fists. She seemed to feel a gentle shift as Liang’s head leaned closer to hers, his gaze resting on her. The light and shadow played across him, then over her, as if they had formed one complete canvas. Gu Yi reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box. “This is for you.”

A perfectly intact front tooth. Liang Daiwen clenched it in his hand, biting his lip. “What’s this for?”

“Take care of it. It’s my pride, courage, and resolve. Being friends with you is different from being friends with anyone else. You have to be mentally strong, able to endure pain and hardship. I’m giving it to you as a reminder. Is my voice weird now? I feel like I’m lisping…”

Before she could finish, Liang Daiwen cupped her face and gently kissed her lips. Her eyes forgot to close, and neither did his. His gaze was direct, though at this distance, his focus seemed blurred, slowly filling with warmth. Gu Yi wasn’t great at describing feelings; her heart pounded as if it would explode. He was probably the same—why else would his arm, still holding her cheek, tremble? Maybe he was exhausted from tennis earlier in the day, or perhaps the posture was just too awkward. Her clenched fist slowly relaxed, and a single word floated into her mind: like.

“We’re here. Time to get off.”

Liang Daiwen opened the car door and stepped out. Gu Yi followed behind him. Was this for real? He seemed even more nervous than she was. If he weren’t seeing her home, he might have dashed straight to the Van Gogh Café. Awkward—this was awkward. She didn’t know what to say to break the silence. Finally, Liang spoke first: “Kissing you feels different from kissing anyone else.”

“What’s different?”

After a long pause, Liang Daiwen muttered, “You… have one less tooth than other people.”