Chapter 35: If You Want to Love, Don’t Be Afraid to Be the Villain

I once told you, if you want to love, don’t be afraid to be the villain. Maybe this will make things difficult for you, but Dou Yu really isn’t good enough for you. Does my confession still count now?

The first thing Jian Zhaowen did when he got home was review reports and complaints—late at night, some users would continuously send explicit photos to harass others. If offended, one could directly file a complaint. With 15,000 registered users and 3,000 active ones, Jian received 500 to 600 reports daily. Alone in front of his computer, his eyes filled with explicit images, making him feel as though he were watching uncensored adult films. These were minor issues; he simply adjusted the parameters so that accounts flagged multiple times would automatically be suspended. After all, most explicit photos were exchanged between consenting adults—it was just urban youth having fun late at night. Jian processed them in batches, his eyelids heavy with fatigue, when suddenly, he noticed a familiar profile picture.

The profile showed a hand with cross tattoos on the index and middle fingers, veins visible on the back. While an online image might not have drawn his attention, he had seen this exact hand earlier today. He checked the user’s registration details and messaged Yu Zhimei: “Can you send me your boyfriend’s phone number?”

Within seconds, the number arrived: “What’s wrong?”

It matched perfectly. Jian froze for three seconds, confirming that the man being reported for sending explicit photos indiscriminately was indeed Dou Yu. Disgusted, he glanced again at the photos—Dou Yu wasn’t particularly handsome. Despite Jian’s sense of justice, his immediate reaction was bewilderment—where did this guy get so much energy?

Jian, who handled core data and operations, couldn’t disclose user privacy. Yet here was the man next door—a blatant harasser preying on women. Pacing in his living room, stepping out to smoke on the balcony, crawling into his sleeping bag only to climb out again, Jian felt an urge to pound on Yu Zhimei’s iron door in the middle of the night.

The next day, encountering Yu Zhimei, Jian blurted out: “Have you had a check-up recently?”

Yu Zhimei looked at him as if he were insane. Bound by professional ethics, Jian turned and walked away, feeling both pity and frustration toward her. On Friday, after working overtime, he drove back downtown with some younger colleagues. The girls hadn’t removed their work badges yet and were changing clothes in his car, preparing to hit the bars. The backseat was a flurry of movement as they warned him not to peek in the rearview mirror. Feigning curiosity, Jian felt a pang of melancholy—young women born in the mid-’90s finished work at ten and headed straight to clubs. Here he was, only thirty years old, with a face more attractive than Dou Yu’s, yet every day he pined for Yu Zhimei, whose mind seemed clouded by love. Everyone else enjoyed romance—why did he feel so buried alive?

“Where are you going?”

“44. Brother Jian, come with us! We’ve never seen you dance!”

“Alright.” Jian pressed the accelerator, causing the two girls in the backseat to tumble. They laughed and scolded him, reaching forward to pinch his ear. Though his heart still lingered on Yu Zhimei, Jian knew how to remain charming.

The roads near Jing’an Temple were still lined with luxury cars. Just as he imagined Yu Zhimei showing up surrounded by expensive sports cars, she appeared across the street with Dou Yu. She wore a white down jacket over a snakeskin-patterned skirt, a neon green sock paired with blocky flat heels, glowing under the lights—clearly Dou Yu’s styling masterpiece. Spotting Jian startled her, but seeing the two young women in stilettos with him made everything clear. Neither acknowledged the other; they entered the bar separately, barely drinking before heading to the dance floor.

Jian danced alongside the young women while keeping an eye on Yu Zhimei nearby. Her movements were awkward, her limbs moving in sync rather than rhythmically. Dou Yu’s teeth sparkled unnaturally bright under the disco ball, complementing his exaggerated grins as he smoothly wrapped an arm around Yu Zhimei’s waist, shamelessly taking liberties. Jian’s blood boiled, especially when another girl draped herself over his shoulder. If anyone was playing around, no one had the right to judge.

Exhausted from dancing, Jian sat beside Yu Zhimei’s booth, listening as she chatted with new friends. Dou Yu’s circle included straightforward men, playful girls, and a few older “sisters” who mingled casually, discussing gossip about dance studios and auditions. New dancers often flirted with studio leaders to secure slots or pass auditions. Someone joked that Dou Yu had finally “settled down,” escaping the messy relationships of the dance world. Another mentioned that Yu Zhimei resembled a dancer—few could pull off such a figure-hugging snakeskin skirt. When Yu Zhimei excused herself, Jian rose to follow, only to hear Dou Yu’s tone shift: “We’re completely financially independent. She’s the most economical girlfriend I’ve ever dated, but she’s not exactly wealthy. I thought living in Xintiandi meant she was rich, but turns out, not quite.”

“Are you still following your ‘six-to-one’ principle?”

“Yes. I spend six days with my girlfriend and one day with strangers. I love my girlfriend more, obviously. Any problem with that?”

Unbelievable. Jian stepped out through the emergency exit. Knowing Yu Zhimei well, he guessed she’d head to the rooftop for fresh air. Sure enough, she stood in a corner, lips trembling slightly, likely thirsty. Jian approached casually, pressing a cold can of Coke against her face: “Crashing someone else’s scene, is it fun?”

“And what, you think it’s unsafe for me to go home late?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re an adult—I’m not your babysitter.”

Yu Zhimei laughed bitterly: “Jealous again? Jian Zhaowen, you didn’t agree to date me back then. Besides, those two girls came with you—you’re not exactly losing.”

Jian, a master of words, replied: “It’s not just you who has a love life, okay?”

A gust of wind chilled the air. Watching Yu Zhimei crouch and gulp down the Coke without caring about her appearance, cheeks flushed and gasping for breath, Jian realized she was hyperventilating from dancing too intensely. Nearby, other young people milled about. Jian positioned himself to shield her from view until she regained composure. Gently, he said: “Do you want to sit?” Once she did, he draped his coat over her shoulders, marveling at how small and fragile she seemed when curled up.

“Should I call your boyfriend?”

“No, I just want to be alone for a bit.”

He sat behind her, careful to avoid mentioning Dou Yu: “Shi Rui told me the other day she met a boy she likes on my app, Day & Night . I was pretty proud—it felt like doing something good.”

“I’m happy for her. She’s been through a lot.”

Jian thought bitterly: And what about you? “How did you end up dating Dou Yu?”

Yu Zhimei glanced at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry: “Do you want the truth, or a lie?”

“The truth, of course. We’re close enough—you shouldn’t lie to me.”

“A secret,” she said, half-covering her face with her hand, smiling.

“Then tell me a lie.”

“He’s decent in bed, aside from being a bit stingy. He knows how to eat, play, and stay cheerful.”

“Forget it. If it’s just about eating and playing, why not date Xiao Ma Ge instead? What do you need him for?”

Yu Zhimei merely smiled, her eyes brimming with unspoken secrets. Jian grabbed the Coke and gulped it down: “Mature women can be wolves in the wild. Dou Yu isn’t as great as you think.”

“Whatever you say.” She reclaimed the Coke: “It’s not like we’re getting married. Relationships can end.”

Unable to mention the explicit photos Dou Yu had been reported for, Jian hesitated before saying: “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“When I rejected your confession, it wasn’t just because my name was fraudulently registered in Beijing. There’s more. That apartment in Beijing you visited—it was where I lived with my ex-girlfriend. If you want to know, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Apartment 302 was originally rented by Qiu Nuo. She stayed there for three years, mostly in Beijing. She works in entertainment, prefers Beijing’s cultural circles, and finds Shanghai uncomfortable. We had two dogs, Bibi and Bibo. Bibi passed away due to illness, and Bibo stayed with her. I was too busy with work. She’s… particular. We weren’t suited, so I ended things. But she doesn’t let go easily, so I kept the Beijing apartment. Whenever she needed me, I’d go back. About six months ago, she got a new boyfriend and finally agreed to break up… By the time I met you, I considered myself officially done with her. But I couldn’t guarantee she felt the same. When you confessed, to prevent you from becoming the other woman, I declined.”

“Is she the perfect match your algorithm found? Twenty-five to twenty-seven years old, innocent, playful, and into missionary-style romance?”

“She’s a good person. Even though she started dating someone else before fully letting go of me, I don’t hold it against her. Women are naturally indulged—it’s proof they’re well-protected. I can’t destroy that just because I stopped loving her.” Jian squeezed the soda can: “Qiu Nuo’s relationships were exhausting. After working on Lovedate, I saw too much and didn’t want to date anymore. You weren’t part of my algorithm, but I genuinely fell for you. When I learned she moved on with someone else in Beijing, I was thrilled and rushed back to Shanghai… I know I hurt you, and I wanted to apologize sincerely. But I never expected…”

Jian licked his lips, his face devoid of hope, only sadness remained. Yu Zhimei brushed her hair back and gently pinched his fingers. Her gestures might have been habits from past relationships, soon to change with new lovers. Her confession had already been redeemed. After a bitter smile, Jian stood and extended his hand: “I once told you, if you want to love, don’t be afraid to be the villain. Maybe this makes things difficult, but Dou Yu isn’t good enough for you. Does my confession still count now?”

As Yu Zhimei stood, she stumbled and fell into Jian’s arms—a déjà vu moment, the lights spilling into her eyes: “You really like me?”

Surprised, Jian stared at her. Their eyes and lips were separated only by a shoulder, their hearts beating beneath layers of winter clothing. Suddenly, a shadow passed—Dou Yu pulled Yu Zhimei away: “Baby, my friends are waiting downstairs. Why’d you suddenly run up here?”

Yu Zhimei was tugged away, her fingers secretly linking with Jian’s pinky before slipping free. Abruptly, Jian grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers and pulling her behind him, staring directly at Dou Yu.

“What the hell are you doing, pulling my girlfriend?”

“If you mistreat her, I won’t forgive you.”

“Are you crazy?” Dou Yu pried Jian’s fingers loose and shoved him away, turning to Yu Zhimei: “Let’s go home.”

The words “let’s go home” pierced Jian deeply. Standing there, he listened to the sound of Yu Zhimei’s heels fading, surrounded by onlookers treating him like a shameful third party. Jian lunged forward, blocking their path, gripping Yu Zhimei’s hand firmly—it felt like declaring war.

“I’m sorry, but I also love Yu Zhimei. Right now, we’re both here. Let her choose—whom does she love more?”