Chapter 88: I Find You : )

As the plane landed, Wen Li was still dreaming. The jolt of the landing woke her up. How many times had she tried to meet Duanmu Xuan in her dreams? She had lost count. But this time, she was lucky—she had dreamed of watching fireworks with him, though she hadn’t seen his face before waking up.

Damn it.

She was now the boss of WL PRESS. There was no need to dwell on past hardships. Wen Li hated being looked down upon, but after losing her magic, her struggles with unemployment and poverty were bitter indeed. Once, she had so much money to spend freely, only to find herself reduced to a penniless, unemployed woman with just a few ten thousand yuan to her name. Her resume was rewritten countless times, and everywhere she went, people would mention that she was unmarried and childless, as if she had failed at life. Only one boss appreciated her. Since he managed affairs from abroad, Wen Li built her network, promoted herself across multiple platforms, and pretended to be an executive-level boss. With thick skin and bold moves, she earned a seven-figure income within a year. Through fierce competition with plagiarists, she even caught the attention of TV stations, gaining opportunities to appear on shows and in magazines. Former colleagues and subordinates who once worked with her during her magical days were baffled by her current competence. They asked, “Sister Wen Li, have we met before? You look so familiar, and your working style feels the same. It’s like we’ve worked together before…”

Wen Li couldn’t explain everything clearly, so she simply smiled and handed them her business card, promising deeper collaboration someday. Finally, six months ago, her former subordinates and collaborators came knocking: “Sister Wen Li, let’s give it a try! Create the first PR team for young domestic designers. I believe you can do it!”

WL PRESS was established again on the same floor in Yanqing. Wen Li stood among a group of eccentrically dressed young people, watching them chatter and move things around. It felt like time had returned to three years ago when she was still enjoying her magical days. She had fought hard here, and Duanmu Xuan had been here too, even witnessing her moments of vulnerability and breakdown. After everything was set up, Wen Li felt a bit dazed.

She had also moved to a new home. A year after leaving the parking garage, she rented a loft with a terrace overlooking the Oriental Pearl Tower. Boxes of various sizes were moved in, but there were still many old items left behind in the parking garage that she hadn’t unpacked. She was too busy working. Meeting with emerging designers often kept her up all night. At 3 a.m., overwhelmed by stress, she went to a small park nearby and sat on a swing, swaying back and forth. Feeling too cold, she slowly stopped. She didn’t want to leave, and for the first time, the swinging swing seemed to echo in her mind.

“Staying up so late, could it be that you’re thinking of me?”

She was too tired; otherwise, how could she imagine Duanmu Xuan sitting on the swing next to her, wearing the red short top and jeans she had bought him? He swung the swing hard, making it soar high. Seeing Wen Li lost in thought, Duanmu Xuan stopped and leaned over to look at her. “What’s wrong? No reaction upon seeing me? Don’t you want to see me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why the gloomy face? Haven’t you already got a new house and started your company?”

“You know about that?”

“Of course. I know how hard you’ve worked. It would be a shame if your talent went unnoticed. I need to keep an eye on you.”

Wen Li didn’t move. This vivid feeling must have been caused by exhaustion. In her happiness, such illusions wouldn’t occur. Duanmu Xuan was more mischievous than before, fitting the trope of a tsundere puppy. Still swinging, he muttered, “Love me, don’t love me, love me, don’t love me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Three years have passed. I’m guessing whether you still love me or not. Your current expression is confusing me.”

“So what conclusion will you land on? After all, you’ll stop in the middle…”

Duanmu Xuan leapt forward lightly. “Nonsense! Of course, I’ll fly out when it lands on ‘love me’! If it’s ‘don’t love me,’ you’re dead…”

She stood by the swing for a long time.

The topics in the office were always lively. After her first hallucination due to sleep deprivation, she brought up the theme of otome games in a meeting. Some young girls agreed, while others mocked her. “Isn’t that just dream-girl nonsense?”

Wen Li frowned, choosing not to join the argument but merely listening. The debate continued from the meeting room into lunchtime. One eloquent subordinate named Qi Bangs, sticking receipts while ranting, said, “Are you crazy? Who would believe in such two-dimensional stuff? Otome games are just scams to fool women. This kind of thing can never come true. It’s like those fanatics who used to chase celebrities—they’re just clowns seeking attention. Celebrities at least exist in real life, but these paper-thin characters are just commodities. If you don’t realize that, go browse through Bailian or Diyi Department Store, or check out second-hand auctions. Look at how fools throw away their money.”

Wen Li didn’t refute him, but she skipped lunch with her subordinates and wore a grim expression all afternoon. As dinner approached, she checked her messages, then left the office with a dark look. The employees exchanged puzzled glances, unsure who had angered the boss.

She used to be like them, firmly opposing virtual characters invading reality. But now, whenever someone criticized virtual lovers, she felt her teeth grind with anger. For three years, she had held onto something, and she was no longer hurt by the harsh words of those stuck in reality.

She arrived at a special education school where unhealthy children studied—those with albinism, autism, crippled legs, or blindness. Many volunteers and donors regularly visited. Wen Li found the place after researching and connecting with social workers. Over two years, she donated clothes and daily necessities five or six times and made a monetary donation this time. As she signed her name, she paused for a few seconds, hearing a voice in her ear.

“Can’t we write both our names?”

“I already exist, so just bring me along.”

“Why care about others’ opinions? They lack taste.”

“I don’t care, but I feel I should work harder to deserve your affection.”

“Not everyone needs ambition. You can slow down.”

“But you’re still protecting so many unrelated people as the Red Phantom, always ready to help, never late.”

“It’s my mission—to protect the vulnerable and let them live without fear of judgment. Why should I care what others think of me?”

Wen Li smiled and wrote “Duanmu Xuan” in the donor’s section. Putting down the pen, she said, “Thank you.”

“Is this your name?”

“It’s my boyfriend’s.”

“Didn’t he come?”

“He’s busy.”

After leaving, she was greeted by a group of children calling her “Auntie” or “Sister,” mixing up the titles. She didn’t mind. After visiting several times, everyone liked her, and she was happy. Wen Li squatted down to receive hugs. The children wore the clothes she had donated and would soon eat McDonald’s funded by her. Yes, being the “Red Phantom” was good. The name sounded mysterious and awe-inspiring, but those who had seen ghosts could only fall in love with them.

She could perceive Duanmu Xuan many times through imagination, feeling secretly proud. If she spoke about it, some might think she was mentally unstable, just as her colleagues reacted. The swing swayed back and forth, as if Duanmu Xuan were joking, saying with each sway, “Love me, don’t love me, love me, don’t love me.”

In her new home, boxes were stacked three layers high. Wen Li hadn’t had time to sort them out. There were still many things in the old parking garage that she hadn’t gone back to organize. She was tired of tidying up the remnants of her past self—so many things her mother had dismissed, calling her a hopeless failure who only knew how to waste money, unable to plan her own life, poor to the bone. On an international flight, she had planned to take a taxi straight to the company but inexplicably went home instead. Perhaps to see the first rays of sunrise spill onto the sofa, or maybe because she was so tired, her feet felt unsteady, and intuition told her she might see Duanmu Xuan again. Sitting on the sofa, she adjusted the blinds, dissatisfied with the dimness, and pulled them all the way up. Pushing aside a nearby box, Duanmu Xuan appeared, sitting cross-legged in front of her, sorting CDs, complaining nonstop: “You left me so many boxes to sort through, and you ran off without a gift. Do you know what the price of summoning a servant is? Prepare yourself for spicy hotpot—we’re going down together. Hey, why are you hitting me? Mood swings are a disease. Miss me that much?”

He sat cross-legged, hunched over, sorting things. He looked up, touched the back of her head, and with a little force, pulled her toward him. When they kissed, sunlight bathed both of them. Wen Li closed her eyes, imagining herself from an observer’s perspective—a couple kissing, one sitting on the sofa leaning forward, the other sitting on the floor looking up. The window wasn’t large, but the light perfectly illuminated both of them.

Relying on delusions fueled by exhaustion, she began to doubt whether Duanmu Xuan had ever been there. Without new material or any further information about him, Wen Li started questioning herself: Was this kind of imagination really wrong?

After much hesitation, she finally met up with Jiang Huan at Renwu Road. As expected, she saw her with Bai Jingchuan, while Shan Di Meng sat nearby drinking tea. Everything seemed unchanged. The four people blessed by magic shared those special memories. But all the happiness on Renwu Road belonged to the woman who created the indie game—she had none. Magical, why could Bai Jingchuan stay for so long! Duanmu Xuan had only appeared for a dozen days, not enough time to remember the taste of an embrace, the fleeting touch of lips. She needed to wait for a rainy night to calm her mind to recall those moments.

Unfortunately, Shanghai had very little rain this year.

The four gathered around the dining table. Wen Li casually asked, “How many new male protagonists are there in 2028?”

“Currently, there might be three, but none of them are Duanmu Xuan.”

Shan Di Meng pushed his sunglasses up, quietly observing everything.

“I know, no need to tell me specifically.”

“But if you want, he will appear unexpectedly. Imagination and love can summon your lover—it’s your superpower.”

“Really?”

“Duanmu Xuan is a two-dimensional character. When you miss him, as long as there’s an electronic device nearby, you’ll hear a response. Otherwise, how do you explain those plot devices where a watch or computer can transport you? Don’t underestimate the power of artificial intelligence.”

The four fell silent. The wind blowing through the corridor rang the wind chimes. Wen Li asked again, “How do the male protagonists in your game celebrate birthdays?”

“Is your birthday coming up?”

“No, I’m just asking.”

“They’ll eat cake and blow out candles—that’s basic. There will be storylines revealing the protagonist’s past, confessions of love, and a detailed recounting of every day spent together. They’ll also hope to experience more future moments with you.”

“Sounds pretty cliché.” Wen Li blurted out.

“Why do you sound so much like Duanmu Xuan?” Jiang Huan thought she had misheard. “That tone—it’s like you’ve been possessed by him.”

“Anything else?”

“Each male protagonist has a different personality, so there will be unique storylines. The birthday card illustration is something every main character’s partner looks forward to each year, so neglecting it isn’t allowed. For your birthday, they’ll prepare gifts especially for you. In games with multiple male leads, they’ll strive to be the first to celebrate your birthday. It’s the most special day for players.”

“Will he genuinely be grateful for meeting the player?”

“Players are what we creators call them. You’re his lover—how can you refer to yourself as a player?” Jiang Huan said seriously. “In a cross-dimensional world, two souls don’t meet by chance. Bonds are predestined.”

These words stunned Wen Li. It felt like a flock of pigeons taking flight on a sunny day. Jiang Huan touched her hand. “Do you want us to celebrate your birthday together?”

“No, it’s not my birthday recently. I’m just curious.” Wen Li waved her hand sadly. “If it were my real birthday, I’d definitely ask for presents from you guys.”

After saying that, she quietly ordered a rose petal cake, 4 inches in size, enough for one person to finish.

On her birthday, Wen Li received the cake. She avoided her friends and sat on the floor of her new home, lighting the candles. Exhausted from work, she turned on the front camera. Beside her, it felt like there was a tall, black-haired boy. After she made a wish and reached out, he tried to kiss her before she could react but accidentally burned her bangs. He pouted, looking pitiful for a moment.

Indeed, a breeze blew through. Wen Li hadn’t been mistaken—it felt like Duanmu Xuan’s hair had been singed by fire. Looking at the front camera again, only she was left smiling foolishly at the lens. Perhaps it was just a figment of her longing imagination.

The doorbell rang. While she was dazed, thinking it was Duanmu Xuan again, a delivery guy appeared at the door with a red gift box. The reserved phone number was Jiang Huan’s. She had discovered her birthday after all. That made sense—she had once hosted a lonely werewolf party, inviting a house full of people. The gift was a box of preserved roses, quite simple compared to the PR gifts Wen Li usually received. The handmade quality was rough, showing traces of craftsmanship. The accompanying note made her heart skip a beat.

“Handmade, a bit rough. Duanmu Xuan said to pass this on to you and not to say too much, fearing you’d love him too much. Happy Birthday.”

Even though it was fake, Wen Li happily placed the card and flowers on the table. Having a friend who would indulge her fantasies was a source of happiness.

Surprisingly, the virtual world had given her a precious and lasting friendship. Now, it was time to look forward.

The boxes in the parking garage were no fewer than those currently in her new home, and organizing them was far more difficult. Fabrics and coils had become damp and discolored, unusable. Lace had yellowed with age, turning antique. A sausage dog fridge magnet bought in Spain, a bag chain purchased near Fifth Avenue, an out-of-print novel found in a London alley, a handmade headscarf bought at Granada Market—items resembling luxury goods but actually cheap. She had traveled to many places. Compared to the hardships she endured reporting on fashion week in 2016, the joy she gained seemed insignificant. Now, she couldn’t understand why, when her mother called her worthless, she had internalized it to the point of dragging the whole world down with her.

She couldn’t bear to throw anything away but eventually discarded most of it, tossing items randomly into pockets.

When she finally moved out completely, she looked back at the moldy, mossy life she was leaving behind. Goodbye to the dark version of herself who had tried to destroy the world from the bottom of the abyss.

Perhaps Duanmu Xuan was a beautiful memory, but imagining him alone couldn’t last forever. It was time to move forward.

After hastily packing, Wen Li went to a convenience store to buy beer and bread to stave off hunger. She had three hours before attending a new pop-up event and hadn’t figured out how to explain the musty smell on her. After cramming things into bags and taking a shower, she put on a black trench coat, slipped on high heels, and headed out. Something felt off about her clothes—an old phone was in her pocket, and she didn’t have time to put it back.

As she was about to close the door, she glanced at the old piano—the one that had been soaked in apocalyptic weather and later rescued by her and Duanmu Xuan, holding his memories. Her heart ached again. Should she really forget Duanmu Xuan?

The theme of the pop-up party was retro. Wen Li was relieved that her all-black outfit wouldn’t reveal she hadn’t dressed up specially. After mingling with designers at the registration area, she cleverly borrowed colorful earrings and bead necklaces, adding a thematic touch around her neck. She stepped onto the stage: “Welcome to the pop-up event for the emerging brand Oude. I am Wen Li, the planner of this event. From conceptualizing this retro-themed exhibition to officially presenting it today, two months have passed. Oude is an outstanding designer I met in London. His graduation collection was directly picked up by a record company, becoming the clothing sponsor for their top singer. All pieces sold out immediately, showcasing immense talent. I hope everyone enjoys today’s event and experiences the charm of the Oude brand…”

Amid applause, she stepped off the stage. Her friends teased her: “Boss, your pocket looks stuffed. What’s inside?”

Wen Li didn’t know either. Reaching in, she pulled out… a red Nokia flip phone. It must have been her old phone from high school, well-preserved. Her friends shouted excitedly: “This relic! Are you using this to make calls today? So retro!”

One of Qi Bangs’ male friends ran into the exhibition area and returned with a power bank. “Since it’s retro, try turning it on.”

“How does it even have a charging port?”

“Because my power bank is from Huaqiangbei—it’s powerful. Give it a try!”

“If it turns on, I’ll only show you how obsessed I was with Big Bang back then, or how I got hit on by handsome guys on trains. Haven’t you experienced phones with physical keyboards? Being so curious just makes me seem much older than you.”

The screen lit up with an old-school handshake animation. Several people gathered around to peek. In the ultra-low-resolution photos in the gallery, Wen Li was already a stunning beauty, styled in the then-popular smoky eye makeup and bangs. Her aura remained the same, with a burning ambition visible in her eyes. As everyone grew curious about the text messages, Wen Li snapped the phone shut. “No SIM card—it’s probably long gone. Let’s get back to work.”

There were many women in their thirties working in PR, but few were considered creative and strategic, especially in emotional matters. Two magazines had already scheduled interviews with Wen Li. It seemed she was getting back on track. Even with a small label, she could accumulate connections, build a good reputation, and showcase creativity.

Even though it’s just imagination, I hope you stay by my side a little longer. Watch how excellent I can become.

The exhibition began. After finishing her socializing, Wen Li wandered around with a glass of champagne. The cleverly designed exhibition drew continuous laughter, and the music shifted to soothing love songs. People gradually quieted down, occasionally laughing. Wen Li squinted her eyes. Everyone turned into blurry silhouettes. Those in red clothes resembled Duanmu Xuan, weaving through the crowd, playing hide-and-seek with him. From afar, his gaze always followed her; up close, he snapped his fingers in front of her.

I thought being surrounded by noise would leave no room to think of you. But it’s not true. The busier and happier I should be, the more I miss you.

All the music had played through once, but everyone felt unsatisfied, sensing the atmosphere was still lacking. A boy with bangs raised his hand: “Can we play something sci-fi retro? Preferably with a futuristic vibe, like Back to the Future !”

The music changed to Golden Hour . Wen Li froze in the crowd. Outside, the previously cloudy night sky began pouring rain, heavy and relentless. The boy-who-cried-wolf trick had been pulled too many times, but this time, though it stunned her for a while, she wouldn’t easily think of Duanmu Xuan. Someone beside her asked, “What does Golden Hour mean?”

“The gentle light will eventually illuminate fragile bodies. Everyone will encounter their Golden Hour .”

“Sister Wen Li, you’re so talented! I love your explanation!”

The young girl smiled, placing her hands over her chest in admiration, satisfied with Wen Li’s interpretation. Wen Li briefly excused herself and walked in another direction. Moving was exhausting, and she prepared to slip home. Despite the beautiful exhibition, playing this song still didn’t fit the theme. She had seen the red string rolling down the stairs, the mischievous boy poking his head out of the dimensional wall, and the Red Phantom carrying him and the organ through the rain—all of which suited the theme better. Unless she had another chance to meet him.

She laughed mockingly, preparing to leave after listening to Golden Hour . The sad yet hopeful piano melody was nearing its end, signaling the end of her dream. The phone in her pocket kept vibrating. Fatigue slowed her reactions. Pulling out her phone, the black screen was silent and unresponsive.

The vibration persisted. Wen Li continued searching her pockets and found the old phone. Without a SIM card, it had somehow received a message.

Unsigned and without explanation, at the final second of Golden Hour , a line of text appeared on the signal-less phone.

“I find you : )”