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Most of the girls he had met were either beautiful or stylish. Innocence was often an act, carefully crafted and presented with calculated charm, while flattery was masked by shyness. Women who held themselves above others would only invite him into their homes after three dates, their flaws meticulously concealed, much like how they refused to remove their makeup in front of him.
His shoes were neatly arranged, yet the DVD case was nowhere to be found; the movie had kept his neighbor awake while he himself fell asleep within five minutes. Yu Zhimei stretched out her hand to take the disc: “Your place is nicely decorated.”
“Is that so? Some of my friends think it’s ugly—they just have no taste.” The man’s voice carried a slight Beijing accent: “I’ve rented this place for a long time, but I don’t live here much. Lately, I’ve been thinking about whether to move back to Beijing. Now that you mention it, I’m starting to feel a bit reluctant.”
The man talked more than she had expected. The air grew slightly awkward, and Yu Zhimei thought she heard Ruru jump onto the floor: “Well… let’s talk again when you have time.”
The man adjusted the cap on his head: “Sure.”
Two hours later, she heard the sound of his door opening. Yu Zhimei was trimming flowers on her balcony when she heard some clattering from next door—the man was back. He appeared on the balcony, spotted Yu Zhimei, and sighed irritably: “Why do I always run into you?”
“I’m your neighbor. What do you expect?”
The man spoke with a heavy nasal tone, enunciating each word forcefully, as if laced with frustration: “I’m starving.”
“I haven’t eaten yet either. Why don’t you come over for dinner?”
Pan-fried fish, grated radish, and sliced lemons arranged neatly on the plate—Yu Zhimei transformed into a multitasking whirlwind in the kitchen, and dinner was ready in under ten minutes. The ice cubes in the beer glasses cracked and melted, keeping Ruru busy as he tried to sneak sips of water. After wolfing down a bowl of rice, the man gradually relaxed and smiled: “Your balcony looks like a garden. I can’t believe I never noticed.”
“Do you not use your balcony?”
“No time. I’ve been traveling between Beijing and Shanghai. A friend helped me rent this place. I only had one requirement: find a cultured house in the city center. But so far, I haven’t managed to ‘live culturally.’ Maybe I’m just not meant for Shanghai.”
“It’s hard to absorb culture when you barely live here—you’re being too picky.” Yu Zhimei thought carefully before continuing, connecting the dots mentally—her neighbor before him had been a stunning beauty, young, fashionable, and impeccably dressed, aligning perfectly with this man’s refined tastes.
The man and the cat locked eyes. Ruru watched him warily, slowly raising his paw. From the kitchen, Yu Zhimei called out: “Ruru, put your paw down. No fighting.”
Ruru ignored her, his fur bristling as he stared at the man. After a moment’s thought, the man sat down on the floor, perhaps realizing his towering height might intimidate the cat. Ruru tilted his head, studied Jian Zhaowen for a while, then crouched motionless in front of him, ears perked up—a clear sign of hostility. The man shifted his gaze elsewhere, spotting a red shirt, denim jacket, and… leather pants hanging on the coat rack by the door. As Yu Zhimei brought over a plate, she caught the man’s sidelong glance and rolled her eyes: “I didn’t invite you to dinner so you could stare at everything. I know what you’re looking at—the leather pants.”
“It’s nothing. I like leather pants.” The man glanced at Yu Zhimei’s legs but quickly averted his eyes under her sharp gaze, retreating to focus on his wine glass instead. Yu Zhimei shook her head—despite her wit and charm, men’s eyes inevitably landed on those leather pants. She had bought them for 80 yuan on a small street near the subway station. They were too tight to wear often, and she hung them up to avoid wrinkles, yet they received more compliments than any other piece of clothing she owned.
Her phone rang. Yu Zhimei sat cross-legged on the floor, balancing the device between her shoulder while pouring soy sauce: “Why are you suddenly calling me? Oh… heartbreak? Don’t be too upset. You want to change cars? That previous one really wasn’t good enough. I understand you wanting to move on from your last relationship, but I suggest you don’t stick to the same price range. If you’re already spending 200,000 yuan, why not add a bit more and go for a BBA brand? Let’s be practical—luxury cars help speed up new romances. Trust me, sis. Call me if you need anything else.”
Jian Zhaowen stared at Yu Zhimei’s composed demeanor, utterly perplexed. Noticing his confusion, she smiled: “It’s my buddy.”
“What does he want now?”
“Don’t worry. He learned his lesson last time. He’s decided to change cars.”
Jian Zhaowen relaxed: “Are you a car salesperson?”
“…Damn. If I were a salesperson, do you think I’d have this princess-cut hairstyle? I review cars—it’s a professional habit. But…” Yu Zhimei couldn’t resist adding: “Your friend earlier—accepting gifts while dating and then dumping someone like that was pretty cold-hearted. My buddy has never been in a relationship before; he genuinely liked your friend.”
“She didn’t ask for the gifts, and she returned them all later. Besides, relationships should be based on mutual respect, especially for men, who need to be gentlemen. Attacking someone verbally is just low.” The man’s Beijing accent was pleasant, his voice resonant and rhythmic, as if it traveled through his mouth before emerging: “I have my own professional quirks—I can’t stand verbal attacks in intimate relationships.”
Yu Zhimei pursed her lips, deciding not to press further. “Dinner’s boring. Want to watch a movie?”
“There doesn’t seem to be a TV in the living room.”
“Just wait a moment.”
Yu Zhimei fiddled around near the backrest of the sofa. The man stared at her legs for a long time, unsure whether she was setting up a movie or preparing to perform one, until a screen appeared on the white wall opposite. Straightening up, he looked at the sofa, noticing only a few circuit boards and a screen behind it: “How did you do that?”
“A second-hand projector lens, an LED screen salvaged from an old phone, and integrated light-emitting diodes.”
“You can actually make something like that?”
“Of course. Do you know how magnifying glasses work?”
“…Wouldn’t it be easier to just buy a projector?”
“A decent projector costs thousands of yuan. Do you know what money is?”
“You’ve already spent so much on decorating—surely you’re not short on a few thousand…”
“All my money goes toward rent—living downtown comes at a steep price.” Yu Zhimei casually started a movie, settling comfortably onto the floor: “Don’t underestimate this DIY projector. It only cost a few hundred yuan, but the screen is made from a high-quality phone display. A commercial projector with the same effect would cost four or five thousand yuan. Achieving big results with small investments—do you get it?”
“A better projector wouldn’t make you happier…?”
“No, being broke is the least happy I can be.”
As the movie began, a horror film flickered onto the wall. The man glanced at Yu Zhimei, unable to focus on the screen and instead fixed his attention entirely on her: “You drive so well—did you study automotive engineering?”
“Nope. My dad runs a driving school.”
“…What did you mean earlier when you said luxury cars help start new relationships?”
“It was just a joke. My buddy’s the type who buys into societal standards, so when I mention ‘societal norms,’ he listens. Sorry for bringing it up—we’ve only just met.”
“It’s fine. I already know how pragmatic you are.”
“Pragmatic?” Yu Zhimei chuckled. “Maybe. I’ve never hidden my ambition. In this era, everything’s about competition. Look at society: the college entrance exam is like crossing a narrow bridge, job hunting is a needle in a haystack, and even matchmaking favors those who are assertive and outgoing. People who hesitate don’t thrive. Just look at how management and economics bestsellers stay popular year after year. Those motivational authors preach ‘taking a break,’ but they’re really targeting the unmotivated who are always looking for excuses to quit—and making a quick buck while they’re at it.”
Impressive. Jian Zhaowen couldn’t help but laugh at Yu Zhimei’s sharp tongue as he skewered the grilled mackerel into three pieces and stuffed them into his mouth: “What kind of car do you think suits me?”
“I don’t know you well enough yet… But based on first impressions, if you can drive, I’d recommend a Jaguar.”
“Why?”
“It suits you.” Of course, I can’t say you’re handsome but have a bad temper, Yu Zhimei thought.
“I can’t afford it.” The man knew she was teasing him.
“Can’t take a joke, huh?” Yu Zhimei raised her wine glass, ready to banter: “Half my salary goes toward rent every month. All my furniture’s secondhand—I sanded and repainted it myself. The baseboards? Bought online. Like the wallpaper? Snagged it on sale. When you first saw me, did you think I was some pampered woman? But my bank account balance has only four digits. Guess where I used to live? A cramped partitioned room. Step inside, and there’s just enough space for a bed. Walk to the back: on the left, a stove; on the right, a toilet. Outside the building, the road connects directly to the Jinghu Expressway—I ate dust every day. After years of that, I decided I had to live somewhere decent.”
“I’ve never lived in a place smaller than 100 square meters. Even renting, I won’t settle for less. And… I have a sound system worth 100,000 yuan, but cars? I won’t spend that much.” Jian Zhaowen countered playfully.
Yu Zhimei laughed: “Then I suggest you go for a BBA brand—or maybe an Alphard.”
“Why?”
“You’re vain.”
As she stood up, Yu Zhimei slipped, and Jian Zhaowen instinctively reached out to steady her. She met his gaze for a second, flustered, and quickly smoothed her hair: “Sorry.”
His hand lingered mid-air, watching her fix her hair. The dimly lit living room felt charged with unspoken tension. To break the awkwardness, Jian Zhaowen spoke first: “Your footing’s not very stable.”
“How would you know?” Yu Zhimei had already turned on the lights. “Want to play a game? Watching movies alone together might not be the best idea. Let me see what games suit someone with your aesthetic standards… What’s your name? I’ll set up a gaming account.”
“Jian Zhaowen. Jian as in ‘simple,’ Zhao as in ‘megahertz.’”
“Yu Zhimei. Yu as in ‘metaphor,’ Mei as in ‘beauty.’” At the word “beauty,” Yu Zhimei locked eyes with him, daring him to object.
The living room had two light sources, but the room glowed with cold white light during gaming, leaving no trace of romantic ambiance. Entering her home, exchanging names, and stopping there—she genuinely seemed intent on playing games. Jian Zhaowen stayed until nightfall, losing repeatedly. By the final round, his character was obliterated within moments. He suddenly laughed. Yu Zhimei asked, “What’s so funny?”
“I just remembered why I started my business. I worked in Xierqi for a few years, leading programmers on software projects. One day, I’d had enough of plaid shirts—they were just too ugly.”
“You’re brutally honest.”
“You talked about being broke at our first meeting, so why can’t I admit I care about aesthetics?”
“It’s obvious—the brands you wear aren’t cheap.”
“I just love beauty, things that look good. This game’s visuals are terrible—I can’t keep playing.”
And yet, he hadn’t realized her leather pants were bought from a street stall. Yu Zhimei gave him a sidelong glance, crouching in front of the fridge to add ice cubes to their beer glasses: “Places that are too beautiful can feel suffocating.”
“True. That’s why I breathe easier here.”
“Don’t mock me. If I hadn’t told you the truth, you’d think I lived in a fancy downtown villa.”
Jian Zhaowen looked at Yu Zhimei, a fresh sense of intrigue washing over him. Most of the girls he’d met were either beautiful or stylish, their innocence carefully curated, their flattery masked by shyness. Women who held themselves above others would only invite him into their homes after three dates, their flaws meticulously concealed, much like how they refused to remove their makeup in front of him. Yu Zhimei, however, was straightforward and unpretentious, like riding a cable car to the clouds, the wind naturally refreshing against her face. After much deliberation, Jian Zhaowen finally spoke: “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before—as a friend, or someone I’ve chatted with, or maybe we’ve crossed paths… I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met.”
“I’m the kind of poor friend you don’t want too many of.”
Jian Zhaowen leaned back on the couch: “So… how many gaming accounts have you created recently?”
Yu Zhimei gave him only her back: “I’m not that kind of woman. And—don’t put on airs with me. It doesn’t work on me.”
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