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Psst! We're moving!
By the bonfire, Jin Gang was using a small stick he’d found somewhere to chase after a lizard on the ground. Beibei, panting with his mouth open, lay lazily near the barbecue grill, waiting to be fed.
Zhou Yan had just pulled a skewer of beef without chili and was about to toss it to Beibei when she spotted Cheng Simin and Shi Ying approaching. Quickly, she clenched her fist, hiding the meat behind her back, and forced a laugh. “Been waiting long? Besides the flatbread, I’ve also grilled some lamb chops and chives—they’ll be ready soon. I’ll bring them in shortly.”
“No rush, Sister Zhou. We’re going to check out the rabbits first—you take your time.” Cheng Simin snatched the ice bucket and glasses from Shi Ying’s right hand, tucking them behind her back as well.
The two walked past the area illuminated by the firelight and circled around to the side of the winery. On the overgrown path littered with dry grass, Shi Ying fumbled in the dark for Cheng Simin’s wrist once more, reclaiming the heavy ice bucket into his own hands.
“What are you hiding? It’s not like we’re underage—drinking isn’t banned.”
Cheng Simin followed Shi Ying step by step. Beside the main building of the winery was an artificial pond that, due to lack of funds for regular water refills, had turned into a muddy swamp. Towering reeds grew densely within, rustling softly in the wind.
Amidst this fine white noise of rustling leaves, Cheng Simin’s voice was both light and crisp.
“It’s not that—it’s just… us sneaking off alone to drink looks kind of…”
“Kind of what?”
Shi Ying turned his head. In the dim backlight, only a vague silhouette was visible. His shadow enveloped a tiny Cheng Simin, like a black-and-white paper-cut artwork—you within me, me within you, quite artistic.
Cheng Simin looked up, her gaze still blurry. Realizing Shi Ying was blocking the way forward with his tall frame, she playfully pushed him with a hint of reproach. “Keep moving!”
His suit jacket was thin, as was his shirt. The palm of her hand struck his waist, and instead of softness, she felt neatly arranged muscles—firm, almost springy.
Her neurons sparked in rapid succession. Instantly, images of those provocative half-nude photos from Shi Ying’s social media feed flashed in her mind.
She swore to heaven—she wasn’t the type to obsess over others’ social media posts. But on the ride to the winery, feeling bored, she’d casually clicked on Shi Ying’s profile, the person she chatted with most often. Discovering his feed was no longer a three-day visibility line but filled with new content, she figured she might as well take a peek. She zoomed in repeatedly on his chest until the pixels blurred.
That creamy, toned physique was indeed beautiful, and his nipples were a cherry pink—worthy of a like. However, his teasing methods weren’t particularly generous. Those photos were all half-covered by arms or clothing; his abs were fully visible, but his pecs were only partially revealed at the edges.
Judging by the dates, most of the photos were taken during his graduate studies in the UK, along with pictures of whale watching in Iceland and a safari in Tanzania.
What was Cheng Simin doing during those days? Either working overtime or on her way to do so.
Below her company building was a large fitness center.
On workdays, when she was out on business trips, lugging her laptop and files, dressed uncomfortably in professional suits, stockings, and chunky-heeled leather shoes, every time she passed the fitness center, she could see women in colorful yoga outfits leisurely exercising with personal trainers through wide floor-to-ceiling windows.
Cheng Simin never fantasized about carrying Hermès bags, wearing Bulgari jewelry, shopping at Lululemon every few days, or taking private lessons to maintain her figure.
After starting work, especially knowing how hard-earned money was, such luxuries were never on her wish list.
She lived in Jicheng for four years, but because it took three hours to reach the wildlife park, making a round trip a full-day affair, she never visited—not even once.
But occasionally, when she was extremely tired—when her suit strained painfully on her shoulders, her heels rubbed red marks on her ankles, and she stood swaying in the subway car while waiting for her boss’s reply—she would close her eyes briefly to rest, and feel envious. Envious of those people in the gym who didn’t have to work on weekdays.
They were just like Shi Ying.
Fortunately, Cheng Simin had rested and recuperated for a long time now. Her weary body had recovered, and her spirit harbored less resentment.
At this moment, she stood frozen, having “touched” Shi Ying’s incredibly toned muscles.
And Shi Ying? The spot where Cheng Simin touched him felt as if hit by a numbing palm strike. An itch spread from his waist upward toward his chest, leaving him completely stiff.
Holding his breath for a few seconds, waiting for his abs to regain sensation, Shi Ying stretched his body slightly and turned back to continue walking.
The ice bucket swayed, like the surrounding withered reeds, dancing in the wind. Shi Ying led the way, his voice carried by the breeze, addressing their unfinished conversation with a self-answered question: “I understand.”
“You mean we look guilty, right? Sneaking off like this seems immoral, doesn’t it?”
Guilty your ancestors—what immorality are you talking about? Learning a word online and misusing it recklessly.
Cheng Simin cursed inwardly, her eyes burning. She wanted to push him into the reeds, let him fall into the mud and experience what true rebellion against morality felt like. But seeing the rabbit cage nearby, she restrained her mischievous hands.
Smiling warmly, she adjusted her blue-light-blocking glasses with great patience, speaking in a melodious tone as if coaxing a child: “Shi Ying, let’s play a game.”
“Sure, what game? A drinking game?” Shi Ying, ever the cooperative one, stepped aside, his narrow phoenix eyes glinting mischievously under the moonlight, fox-like as they gazed at Cheng Simin.
With her hands behind her back, Cheng Simin walked to the rabbit hutch, squatting down to pick up a plastic bag containing a few remaining carrot sticks. Looking up, she said, “One, two, three—statue! Whoever speaks first is a dog!”
About twenty minutes later, after feeding the rabbits, the two returned to the bonfire in a peaceful harmony.
Someone else had taken over the barbecue grill. Zhou Yan had gone back to the kitchen to clean crayfish, leaving only Lao Zhao sitting on a plastic stool, cigarette dangling from his lips, threading meat onto skewers made from sharpened red willow branches.
In front of the winery steps, Beibei squinted at the skewers, resembling a plush version of the Sphinx.
Jin Gang, exhausted from playing, lay on the stone platform. Upon seeing Cheng Simin, he exclaimed, pointing upward at the stars. “Bright! Stars, so bright!”
Another bottle of sparkling wine had been finished, and now two bottles of higher-alcohol rosé were chilling in the ice bucket. Under the influence of alcohol, everyone relaxed, temporarily forgetting past troubles and future worries. The ice bucket sat on rough gravel as Cheng Simin and Shi Ying sat beside Jin Gang and Beibei, gazing up at the starry sky.
The stars tonight were truly bright.
The night curtain fell low, with distant undulating mountains and deserts stretching far beyond. Above the peaks, constellations like Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, and Orion unfolded before their eyes, clear and vivid.
Especially with the bonfire burning high and strong, its flames shooting sparks upward like meteors.
At first glance, it seemed as if time had reversed—the earthly dust rising to the mountaintops, turning into comets blown by the wind into the Milky Way.
Nothing was more relaxing than sitting by a bonfire and stargazing on a brisk autumn night. Such an ordinary yet clear night bestowed a touch of vast poetic grandeur upon this rough, desolate little town in the northwest.
Cheng Simin rested her chin in her hands, staring blankly at the sky, carefree.
The stars were beautiful, but Shi Ying wasn’t as focused as Cheng Simin. From the corner of his eye, strands of her hair kept drifting over her ear, soft like silken threads, layering and piling atop his shoulder, transforming into an agitating medium.
The sound of blood rushing beneath his skin grew louder, and the words pressing against his teeth became equally impatient.
Shi Ying poured himself a full glass of wine, downed it in one gulp, wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand, and barked like a dog: “Woof! I lost—I’ll punish myself with another drink. Let’s switch games.”
In the distance, an unknown bird called—perhaps an owl hunting at night. Cheng Simin nodded fairly and impartially, combing her scattered hair with her fingers, stretching it out, curling it, and pinning it back atop her head.
“Alright, what game?”
“The classic—Truth or Dare.”
As Shi Ying spoke, his phone vibrated again on the steps. Cheng Simin had noticed earlier—even during their alone time, he was constantly replying to messages.
It was late. Who would still be contacting Shi Ying at this hour? Could it be another person he was pursuing?
Just as she once had only Shi Ying as a sincere friend, he always seemed surrounded by groups of other friends.
Unable to discern whether the bittersweet emotion in her heart could be called jealousy, perhaps this was the consequence of a small fry getting tangled up in ambiguous flirtations. Cheng Simin glanced at his phone, secured her hair neatly, and fearlessly said, “Alright.”
“But whoever loses this time has to drink a whole bottle. Are you up for it?”
Shi Ying, of course, accepted, offering her the first choice.
“Ladies first.”
Between them, the phone continued to vibrate intermittently.
Cheng Simin lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening slightly in her palm. Her voice was like a dry leaf about to decompose into the earth.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Shi Ying, is there anyone else besides me? Someone you’re currently pursuing?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that?” Shi Ying was surprised by the question. Following Cheng Simin’s gaze to his phone, he quickly turned it over and unlocked the screen for her. “You mean the WeChat messages? They’re from clients. This afternoon, someone ordered wedding banquet wine from the winery. I’m thinking about hosting a couples’ event next month and am negotiating commission rates with several wedding photography shop owners.”
“These people—rich or poor, they’re all stingy. They keep pushing boundaries, complaining my barbecue lacks novelty and asking me to prepare an 80-pound roasted whole lamb for the event. Roasted lamb should use Tan sheep, or at least Albas—if they insist on the cheapest Chixia variety, one case of wine barely nets a few hundred yuan. Do they know how much it costs to find a lamb in pastoral areas these days? They’re treating me like an idiot!”
“They keep nagging me if I don’t reply!”
On the phone screen, beneath chat boxes labeled with names like “So-and-so Wedding Photography,” were endless messages from various “Managers” and “Brothers/Sisters.” But the topmost pinned message with urgent reminders? It was Cheng Simin herself.
No fancy titles, just simply—Cheng Simin.
Their eyes met, and subtle sparks flickered between them.
Amidst his complaints, the indescribable barrier between them suddenly vanished.
Shi Ying had once been Cheng Simin’s good friend, rival, and now he was her neighbor and part-time employer. But aside from these personal relationships, Shi Ying had always belonged to the category of elite individuals she could never catch up to.
Yet now, even this elite had to grovel before clients, handling customer relations on WeChat late into the night.
Was the gap between them really so insurmountable?
Opposite her, Shi Ying’s gaze was as fluid as water. He liked that Cheng Simin cared enough to question him seriously. Though he shouldn’t grin in such a solemn situation, his damn features couldn’t help but radiate joy—his lips curled into a toothpaste-commercial smile, his eyes dripping sweetness. “Really, it’s just you.”
“Don’t believe me? See for yourself.”
Shi Ying handed his phone to Cheng Simin, placing it gently on her lap. “My phone password is my birthday—you know my birthday, right? Feel free to check anything: browser history, QQ Space, transaction records, bank balance—whatever you want. Xiao Shi, transparent as they come, no secrets, okay?”
Cheng Simin’s awkward little thoughts had been caught red-handed. The paper tiger was once again flattened by a mighty wave. But she wasn’t his girlfriend, so why would she snoop through his phone? This time, Cheng Simin was genuinely thirsty. She poured herself a glass of wine, took a hearty sip to moisten her throat, and grumbled in a low tone, “Take it away. Your turn.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
Shi Ying held his phone in his left hand while his right rested on the step behind Cheng Simin. The distance between them was no more than a fist. Cheng Simin held her wineglass in one hand, her wrist supported by the other, and both her feet pointed slightly toward him. Their postures were undeniably intimate.
This was an opportune moment—perfect timing, perfect setting, perfect mood.
Many ideas flitted through his mind, questions he could seize upon: Do you really feel nothing for me? When did you start liking me in the past? Or even more direct: Can you be my girlfriend? Can you accept my feelings and respond honestly?
But ultimately, these questions felt superficial to him, mere ripples on the surface of deeper currents. After some thought, he asked the question that truly mattered to him.
“Cheng Simin, have you thought about me over these years?”
The way he often thought about her.
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