Chapter 11: Can You Dare to Speak Your Desires?

“Come on, is wanting sex really that hard to admit?”

Brushing his hair back to reveal his forehead, Jian Zhaowen’s features—from his browbone to his nose, chin, and Adam’s apple—were undeniably sensual. Up close, his eyes had a beautiful curve, his lips a captivating hue, and his smile was lethal. Most unsettling was how his fingers traced the steps of his own hair, climbing upward, trailing down his back, lingering on his collarbone, brushing against his cheek and ear, then finally resting on his eyelids. With his other hand gripping her waist, Yu Zhimei thought, Who’s afraid of whom? We’re modern men and women—it’s just a kiss.

The next moment, Jian pulled her off the sofa and onto the floor, and she realized he was serious. Instinctively, she crawled backward, trying to distance herself. But Jian grabbed her leg and yanked her forcefully toward him, pressing her against his body—exactly what she feared. Every movement of his body was unmistakable.

As the gentle Jian leaned down, his lips damp, Yu Zhimei closed her eyes completely. His sweat smelled intoxicating, his tongue soft as if melting. Her body’s excitement in front of someone she liked was uncontrollable. Most importantly, Jian was very skilled. Before Yu Zhimei could react, he scrambled up and pulled a pink 003 condom from his wallet: “I… came prepared. You don’t mind, do you…?”

Yu Zhimei’s body trembled as she opened her eyes to see a furry face. Her lips were indeed wet, but her cat stared at her with disdain, smacking its mouth. Looking at the sunlight filtering through the curtains and glancing at her phone, it was 10:37 AM on a bright, warm weekend morning—and she, Yu Zhimei, had been having a vivid dream.

Furious and embarrassed, Yu Zhimei descended the stairs barefoot, failing to notice Ruru’s toy ball on the steps. She slipped, landing hard on her lower back on the last two steps. Ruru, chasing the fallen ball, stomped heavily on her chest. Bruised front and back, she stared at the narrow, towering ceiling and sighed deeply.

Throwing on a random T-shirt without makeup, Yu Zhimei ducked into Miaolin Dessert Shop, planning to wait for He Jie and cool off with a bowl of brown sugar ice jelly. But as she walked through the courtyard and into the shop, she saw a young man emerge from the inner room, rolling up his shirt sleeves while saying goodbye. He Jie followed, radiant, and upon seeing Yu Zhimei, she froze for a second. After seeing the man off, she returned with a bright smile: “Do me a favor—pretend you didn’t see anything just now.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

He Jie smiled blissfully: “What do you mean?”

“This isn’t really appropriate…” Recalling the profile of He Jie on the app that she and Jian Zhaowen had seen earlier, Yu Zhimei shuddered: “You’re married. Aren’t you afraid of being discovered…?”

“No one comes for dessert this early. Besides, we came out from the kitchen just to check inventory. I’m not hiding anything from you because I consider you a friend. So? Do you think I lack morals? Or that my behavior in public is inappropriate? Or do you think someone my age with a young male companion doesn’t deserve it?”

“Wouldn’t a hotel be better? Being so bold in a dessert shop…”

“Are there cameras in hotels that I can control?”

Yu Zhimei froze.

“So, just pretend nothing happened and come have morning tea. I’ll order takeout for you, alright?”

“This isn’t friendship—it’s being an accomplice…”

“What’s wrong with being an accomplice? Relationships built on unconditional solidarity are the most stable. If it were a stranger, you might even laugh it off.”

Seeing He Jie’s aggrieved expression, Yu Zhimei suddenly felt like she was the one who’d done something wrong, deflating instantly: “I didn’t say anything, and I don’t think badly of you. It’s just… next time, lock the courtyard gate, okay?”

A sports car roared past outside, its soundwave drowning out the awkwardness in the room. He Jie stretched lazily: “So why did you come here so early? Don’t you usually only come for drinks at night?”

Before she could answer, the lonely Jian Zhaowen arrived, weaving through the cluttered tables and chairs in the courtyard, holding a cake box: “He Jie, I brought your cake. Why did I see a man leaving just now? A new chef?”

“He was making a delivery.”

“What kind of cake?”

“My birthday.” Jian waved the box in front of Yu Zhimei: “He Jie messaged me around 8:30 AM, saying she wanted to celebrate my birthday and invited you too. I knocked on your door, but you weren’t home.”

The entrance to Miaolin Dessert Shop was narrow, but the courtyard inside was square and spacious. The first floor extended upward to the second, adorned with a luxurious chandelier, while the third floor had a loft with small rooms used as lounges. The staircase was tucked away in the narrowest corridor, hidden and discreet. It was said that this property was the first real estate investment He Jie and her husband made after marriage. Though not very expensive when purchased, its value had skyrocketed over time. Who knew how He Jie’s husband would feel knowing his first love was cheating in their own house—and deliberately involving Jian Zhaowen as an alibi while befriending him? Too clever by half. While pretending to look for something behind the wine rack, Yu Zhimei caught He Jie’s knowing glance—success. Turning around, she locked eyes with Jian, who was fully aware of everything. Caught in the middle, Yu Zhimei watched Jian feign ignorance as he picked up chopsticks. She thought to herself that perhaps the only affair in the world that wouldn’t be discovered was the one confined to her mind—a vivid dream.

Gulping down the brown sugar ice jelly, Yu Zhimei still felt uneasy and had no desire to eat with Jian. He Jie loved playing mellow rock music, its melody lingering and beats seductive. Across the table, Jian chewed, licked his lips, and every move made Yu Zhimei bury her head in her phone to avoid blushing ears. Listening to the rhythm of his breathing quickened her heartbeat, and when Jian pinched her ear: “Yu Zhimei, what’s wrong with you? Do you have a fever?”

“Nothing!” Yu Zhimei nearly jumped up: “I wore too much.”

“Come on. You’re just wearing a T-shirt, and your hands are still cold.” Jian earnestly rubbed her fingers: “Work not going well?”

“Must be her springtime,” He Jie raised an eyebrow: “Either she’s had a steamy dream or just finished a passionate night.”

“Not everyone is as dirty-minded as you.”

“Just that you won’t admit it. Come on, is wanting sex really that hard to say? Sitting right next to you is the great architect of casual hookups.”

Jian’s face reddened awkwardly. Yu Zhimei rallied: “So, Jian Zhaowen, what’s your plan next? Still thinking about entrepreneurship?”

“I’m sending out resumes. Tying a company’s fate to myself is exhausting, and starting a business just for the sake of it feels meaningless.” Suddenly, Jian slapped Yu Zhimei’s shoulder, lifting her hair before quickly pulling back: “Mosquito.”

In the air-conditioned room, Yu Zhimei felt like she was burning up.

“What about your algorithm? Will you still use it?”

“My future work will probably still involve algorithms.”

“I think your algorithm is pretty good.” He Jie held a cigarette between her fingers, exhaling smoke.

“What?” Jian didn’t look up.

“I mean, a talented boy like you should aim for something big.”

“Of course.” Jian smiled. “But I’ll need to optimize it—the previous version wouldn’t have matched me with someone like Yu Zhimei.”

“Do you think your algorithm is invincible?” Yu Zhimei suddenly fired back.

“Absolutely. There aren’t many people in the country like me—people who can come up with ideas, implement them personally, and generate revenue projections. Ask any investor in the industry if I’m not famous nationwide for my algorithms. How many people go blank when asked for ideas in meetings? And how many have technical skills but no brains, or brains but no technical ability?”

“I suggest that next time you start a business, focus on something tangible. Avoid ambiguous things like emotions, which are elusive, and trying to force them into an algorithm is like asking AI to produce breast milk. Or, do projects with clear boundaries—don’t leave things vague and let people harbor fantasies and expectations.”

Jian pointed at Yu Zhimei: “He Jie, is she alright?”

“She’s already abnormal eating desserts here. If she drinks some alcohol now, she’ll probably calm down.” Pretending to be oblivious, He Jie pulled out a bottle of gin from behind the counter: “Yu Zhimei, drink up.”

Her phone rang, and Yu Zhimei stood up, needing to return for overtime work. Jian followed her out to open the courtyard gate. A line of little yellow hats flowed past their legs, blocking their path—about forty kindergarten children walking hand-in-hand in two rows, cheerful chatter filling the air. Their steps were wobbly, and He Jie gazed longingly at the gate, as if trying to send her affection through the iron bars. She forgot the bottle of alcohol in her hand, her fingers sliding unconsciously from the cap to the body of the bottle, then dropping onto the table.

On the way back, Jian Zhaowen couldn’t figure out what he had done to upset Yu Zhimei and make her so furious. When he returned and saw her standing on the balcony, he followed her over and tapped her shoulder: “What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?”

“I have something to say to you.”

“Go ahead, suddenly so formal?”

“I like you. Do you want to date me?”

Jian’s legs buckled under him as he leaned against the railing, nearly toppling over: “What did you just say?”

“I said, I like you. Do you want to date me?”

The surroundings fell silent. Though her voice was soft, in the close quarters of the old residential complex, people across the way could likely hear. If any neighbors saw this young couple on the balcony, they would surely think them a perfect match—handsome and talented man, beautiful and poised woman. But Jian straightened himself, his tone serious: “Can you give me some time? I mean… I need a little time.”

“Time?”

“It’s complicated to explain, but I do like you. However, I really can’t start a relationship right now. I hope you’ll wait for me…”

“Because your feelings fade quickly?”

“Because of something in Beijing…”

Yu Zhimei waved dismissively with a smile: “Never mind, I’m going inside.”

“No, Yu Zhimei, wait until I finish…”

What was the point of listening to reasons after a confession was rejected? Yu Zhimei rushed into her room and quickly shut the door. Jian stood frozen, wondering if what he’d just said even made sense—”I can’t date right now, but I hope you’ll wait for me”—this was the first promise he’d ever made in his life.