Chapter 17: Heartbreak Never Happens Just Once

Love is so cunning—it begins to sprout in your heart without being told how to feel, and in moments when you don’t know how to protect yourself, it distorts into something you believe is natural. By the time you finally grow up, it clings to the wrong person, growing wildly, and just as the other person prepares to leave, you become irretrievably entangled.

Yu Zhimei looked at the image, her emotions complex: “I’ve seen this quote before. But I never imagined the person who made this image lived next door to me.”

“How does it feel? Isn’t it amazing?”

“I have a premonition.”

“What?”

“I like you, so—if I don’t sleep with you tonight, I’ll regret it.”

Yu Zhimei had imagined countless scenarios for confessing again—at the dessert shop, in the car, on the sofa—but she never expected their kiss would happen on the narrow staircase. Like clicking “export,” the video progress bar slowly moved toward 100%. Watching the percentage climb, Yu Zhimei realized that her feelings for Jian Zhaowen had fully exported themselves from her heart. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fall for someone; love, if described, is ineffable. But Yu Zhimei was certain she fell in love with Jian Zhaowen the moment he said heart-fluttering was like a nebula. Alcohol swirled between their lips, intoxicating them both, and wherever their fingers touched, wildfire spread. Both adults, who feared nothing, five years without a relationship left Yu Zhimei unable to stop thinking about the next step, though she kept skipping steps, only pushing Jian forcefully against the wall. The seasoned lover Jian let out a pained grunt, and unfamiliar hands revealed his expertise, only for Yu Zhimei to counter his moves. Jian was thinner without clothes than she imagined—his flesh grew from his bones, hard to the touch, yet he had thick, soft lips. As they kissed, Yu Zhimei quietly opened her eyes, her upward-tilted eyelids still closed, her breathing pleasant to hear. Jian’s beauty stood up to scrutiny—his long, elegant frame, round skull, aging skin firmly supported by his facial structure, thinness merely a sign of weariness, his youthful charm seemingly eternal. Yu Zhimei saw all of Jian’s good qualities the first time she laid eyes on him.

“Will I regret sleeping with you afterward?”

“I don’t know. Do you think something terrible will happen?”

“This is already the second time I’ve said I like you—I won’t say it a third time.”

“If you want to love, don’t be afraid of being a villain.”

“Of course not. Worst case, we’ll go to hell together.”

Jian covered her eyes and chuckled: “Thankfully, I didn’t drink too much today, otherwise I might not even get it up.” Yu Zhimei pulled off his blanket and relentlessly questioned him. Finally, Jian confessed as if admitting fault: “I like you—I really like you. But I’m going back to Beijing. Is this some kind of sad metaphor? I haven’t even realized whether these feelings will fade, and I have to fly away from Shanghai.”

“So… is this a farewell gift?”

“Yu Zhimei, you’re such an idiot. Of course, it’s because I’m drunk.” Jian avoided her gaze, only holding her close and whispering in her ear. Yu Zhimei caught the trace of sadness in his words—their expiration date was tonight.

After their passionate encounter, Jian Zhaowen was still sound asleep. Yu Zhimei’s heart raced wildly in her throat, her ears burning. Jian’s arm was still draped around her waist. Recalling his words, she searched for his ID on Weibo. Jian was indeed a popular entrepreneur with many followers, often posting about product updates and algorithm insights while remaining highly active in open-source communities. However, what garnered the most attention were his views on relationships, which drew both fervent admiration from girls in the comments and harsh criticism.

“My feelings often fade, but I’ve never considered it a problem. Urban men and women think alike—clothes are mass-produced trends, life squeezes them into corporate drones. Occasionally, when I overhear conversations at nearby tables, their values feel clichéd. People sleep around, scheme endlessly, and drown in drunken lovers like corpses littering the streets. This monotonous posture infuriates me; those who willingly succumb to mediocrity depress me. I try hard to restrain myself from becoming a bad person, yet everyone labels me as ‘scum’—I’m merely laying everything out on the table. Confessing your feelings to me is fine, but I don’t see why I should be responsible for someone who isn’t particularly unique.”

“To be honest, beer bellies and Polo shirts disgust me. Wearing basic plaid shirts and khaki pants without any sense of style yet thinking you’re sophisticated and special—these people are vulgar and oblivious fools. They don’t deserve beautiful women or promising futures. I know surviving in this world is already difficult, but can’t they spare a few seconds to improve their atrocious aesthetics? It’d be a relief for others’ eyes. And dragging their partners down into the mud with them—those who say things like ‘Why are you dressing so provocatively? Who are you trying to impress?’—are all despicable hypocrites.”

“What do you think love is? Forums, chatrooms, matchmaking groups, corners of parks—don’t pride yourselves on the lofty conditions you list. Refusing to offer even a shred of sincerity, weighing everything on a scale—perhaps we should pity ourselves. We haven’t learned to discern good from evil, haven’t mastered mutual respect, and have barely scraped by learning survival before rushing out to find mates and hurriedly reproduce. Perhaps no one truly cares if our love should be self-aware and free. What is your version of love? Exchange and reproduction, houses, cars, money, breasts, children—all paired with mundane terms and material concerns. But love should be madness, cowardice, bravery, selfishness yet ferocity, pain and self-doubt, alienation or rallying others, willing sacrifice to protect a loved one, and that tiny flicker of fire deep inside that refuses to extinguish… Without experiencing such love, I lament for myself. Without realizing this is what love could be, I pity you.”

Yu Zhimei scrolled through his posts one by one, his arm still wrapped around her waist, while Jian slept deeply behind her. His latest post was from last night, even containing a typo:

“I seem to finally understand that there are people in this world worth falling for. Having experienced this once, I wouldn’t regret it. Love is too beautiful—I want more people to know. One day, I’ll return to the track and pave another romantic path for all those seeking love…”

Who was he talking about? Yu Zhimei’s heart pounded. Behind her lay Jian Zhaowen, sleeping innocently like a lamb. These words couldn’t possibly apply to anyone else but her. Once you possess someone, selfishness and possession take over. Unable to resist, she clicked on Jian’s following list—only one person appeared: an account named Qiu Nuo. With three million followers, Qiu Nuo interacted exclusively with cultural elites and celebrities. Her photo album featured lavish meals, travels, and countless pictures of Jian Zhaowen: gaming, coding, sleeping, and even throwing tantrums.

Her body suddenly turned cold. If Jian still had a girlfriend, then what she had done was unforgivable. It wasn’t just sleeping with him—it made her the other woman.

A colleague’s call came like thunder, the boss’s voice urgent: “Yu Zhimei, hurry up! Don’t forget today’s live stream!”

Jian groggily opened his eyes and rolled over: “My head feels like it’s splitting.”

“You leave this afternoon, don’t forget.”

“Okay. Where are you going?”

“Overtime.”

“I’ll wait for you to come back.”

She bit her lip, unable to ask about Qiu Nuo. Sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Ruru stare at her, she showered carefully and dressed before heading to the office, only to realize she hadn’t applied makeup. Jian hadn’t accepted her confession because he still had a girlfriend in Beijing. Last night’s intimacy was simply her overwhelming enthusiasm he couldn’t refuse. After today, he’d return to Beijing, and they’d no longer be neighbors. This was nothing more than a one-night stand… Staring at the ad release countdown, helping colleagues clean up until evening, Yu Zhimei watched time tick by. At exactly 7 p.m., Jian would already be at the airport, taking off punctually from Pudong, officially leaving. Despite being neighbors for months, living so close, they hadn’t exchanged contact information beyond the Weibo account she’d just discovered.

Did his “I like you” from yesterday even count? If he still had a girlfriend, how could she face the consequences of her actions?

Suddenly, the phone rang. As soon as Yu Zhimei answered, Shi Rui’s trembling voice came through, almost sobbing: “Mei, help me! I’m hiding in the bathroom—he insists on taking me home…”

“Where are you?”

“After Brother Zhaowen rejected my confession, I went on a blind date. He invited me to his house…”

“Send me the address!”

Yu Zhimei rushed to Miaolin Dessert Shop, shouting for He Jie: “He Jie, where are you? Lend me your car—I have an emergency!”

As her foot steadied on the second-floor step, a sharp slap echoed from inside the room. He Jie greeted her with flushed cheeks, a well-dressed man standing behind her, his hand still raised from delivering the blow. Expressionless, he ordered Yu Zhimei to leave. He Jie shoved the motorcycle keys into her hands, practically pushing her out the door: “It’s family business—you go first.”

Stumbling backward, she retreated to the stairs, fleeing downstairs like a refugee. In the courtyard, she grabbed He Jie’s BMW motorcycle. Upstairs, the argument continued—perhaps escalating further, as the sounds of chairs being smashed and plates shattered pierced the air. By the time Yu Zhimei started the motorcycle, her fingers were ice-cold. The sudden rainstorm felt eerily fitting.

The taillights ahead stung her eyes for a moment. As she passed by her house, she came face-to-face with Jian Zhaowen dragging his suitcase out of the neighborhood. Jian didn’t have an umbrella and was anxiously trying to hail a cab. He didn’t recognize her in the helmet—perhaps the rain was too heavy. On the left lane, she drove another few dozen meters before weaving between two cars separated by barely a meter. The vehicles were a BMW 535 and a GTR. Yu Zhimei glanced at the time carefully: 6:20 PM. She got on the elevated highway and transferred to the outer ring road. The rain blurred her vision, and at this speed, she felt as though she were plunging into a cruel reality. It all felt so surreal, like a dream. The motorcycle sped recklessly down the ramp at a fork in the road. Three hundred meters ahead, she encountered a massive traffic jam caused by an accident, stretching back a kilometer. She raced past the line of stationary cars, racing against time.

When she finally saw Shi Rui, the girl was standing under a bus stop sign, completely drenched. Yu Zhimei practically leapt off the motorcycle. Shi Rui’s eyes were squeezed shut: “Mei, you’re here.”

“Are you okay?”

Shi Rui’s tears mingled with the pouring rain: “He took me to his house… my clothes are ruined… but thankfully, I didn’t sleep with him—I’m still clean…”

“Why did you rush into blind dating?”

“I want to get married. In six months, if I can’t marry, I’ll have to go back to my hometown. I don’t want to go back…”

Shi Rui had met a seemingly decent man on an old-fashioned BBS forum. Desperate for romance, a few sweet words and daily greetings easily won her over. After being rejected by Jian Zhaowen, Shi Rui, feeling indignant, went to meet the man in the suburbs. She was lured to his house, where he groped her roughly. Frightened, she resisted, earning herself a slap before managing to escape. Her wallet and vest were still in his house. Yu Zhimei trembled with anger: “If he uses your belongings to harass you again, call the police.”

“Did I do the right thing? By not sleeping with him… does that mean I wasn’t sincere enough?”

“Don’t listen to his nonsense.”

“I just wanted to fall in love… This city is so big, there’s nowhere to settle down. I want to be loved…” Shi Rui’s body was ice-cold. Yu Zhimei rubbed her hands continuously: “You’re still young. No one will look down on you.”

“But I…”

When Shi Rui looked into Yu Zhimei’s eyes, Yu froze for a second. She understood the despair reflected in them—the kind of despair that comes from narrowly avoiding something dirty and then despising it. But in Shi Rui’s eyes, it was the fear of having already been tainted. The shock of not running fast enough, of being truly dirtied, and then blaming oneself for not running sooner or even standing near the puddle in the first place. Men wouldn’t easily let a girl locked in their room go free, nor would they apologize after rejection and resistance. Violence and coercion were their twisted sense of justice when fueled by anger. These so-called experienced, mature men believed “no” meant “yes” and interpreted fear as victory. And now, here sat Shi Rui, shivering cold, blurting out words before thinking, her first instinct to assure others that she hadn’t been defiled.

Yu Zhimei stood frozen, waves of anger and coldness washing over her, yet she couldn’t feel her own temperature. It was Shi Rui who nudged her awake. Memories surged forward, and the rain began to ease. The sound of droplets hitting her helmet felt like movie soundtrack music. Yes, it reminded her of Bai Ling in 2046 , hopelessly waiting for Zhou Muyun. Zhou moved on, but she never received even ten yuan—only the emptiness of her body piecing together her shattered self. Now, years later, another girl had been hurt in her search for love on this rainy night.

Where was the kind of mad, passionate love Jian Zhaowen spoke of? If he meant the madness of falling in love only to be hurt immediately, without knowing how to process it—yes, that existed. Love was indeed cunning—it sprouted in the heart without guidance, distorting into something people mistakenly believed was natural. Once grown, it clung to the wrong person, growing wildly, and just as the other person prepared to leave, one became irretrievably entangled.

Yu Zhimei found herself laughing bitterly. A life without love was the freest, but the moment one became aware of love, greed set in, followed by pain. With Shi Rui behind her, she no longer dared to drive recklessly. In the drizzle, she relied on her body heat to fend off the cold, heading toward a place that no longer felt like home.