[An entirely unexpected encounter.]

“You... you’re talking nonsense!”

“What Runyuan? What commission? I’ve never heard of it!”

In the quiet café, all eyes turned to Luo Siyu, who was now loudly shouting in panic. She looked like a chicken with its neck grabbed, somewhat comical.

Zhou Leqi felt even more certain now. A strong premonition sharpened her gaze as she pressed Luo Siyu: “Never heard of it? Then where did this money come from? What did you do for them?”

Luo Siyu stammered, “I...”

“Didn’t receive any money? Luo Siyu, food can be eaten carelessly, but words shouldn’t be spoken recklessly,” Zhou Leqi cut her off sharply, her tone quick and aggressive. “The transaction details are clear as day—do you think denying it will make it disappear? Or are you trying to cover up something unspeakable?”

Investment bankers were skilled negotiators, and at this moment, Zhou Leqi was unrecognizable from her usual gentle and quiet self—sharp and assertive. Luo Siyu was stunned, her face shifting through emotions before suddenly standing up and throwing a tantrum. Pointing at Zhou Leqi, she shouted, “Who the hell do you think you are? A cop or a judge? Am I a criminal? Why should I tell you anything? Zhou Leqi, don’t get cocky. Who gave you the right to interrogate me?”

With that, she snatched the receipt from the table, tore it into pieces, and stomped on it repeatedly before running out of the café without waiting for Zhou Leqi’s response. Somehow, despite her 9-centimeter heels, she managed to flee quickly.

Zhou Leqi didn’t attempt to chase her. Though she hadn’t obtained the answer she sought today, she was now more convinced that Luo Siyu had indeed been hired by Runyuan and worked for them, likely related to the case from seven years ago.

She was close to uncovering the breakthrough.

Meanwhile, Luo Siyu, who had hastily fled the café, ran two blocks away, constantly looking back to see if Zhou Leqi was pursuing her.

Only when she was out of breath did she realize she could have taken a taxi to escape. Finally, she flagged one down and jumped in. After settling into the seat, she hesitated for a while before pulling out her phone and dialing a long-unused number.

“Hello? Brother Zhong?”

“I... I have something to tell you...”

At 3 PM, Zhou Leqi returned to Luo Siyu’s apartment. After knocking for a long time with no response, Ding Peng finally emerged, his hair disheveled, wearing large headphones. Clearly interrupted mid-game, he looked extremely annoyed.

Zhou Leqi apologized politely and asked, “Is Luo Siyu here? I’d like to see her again.”

“No, no, no,” Ding Peng waved his hand impatiently. “She went out and hasn’t returned yet.”

Zhou Leqi listened carefully but heard no other sounds from inside the apartment. Accepting Ding Peng’s statement, she asked, “Alright, then do you know when she might return?”

“Who knows?” Ding Peng shrugged. “Maybe after midnight, maybe tomorrow morning.”

Zhou Leqi raised an eyebrow, nodded, and thought for a moment before asking, “Could I have your contact information? I must leave City A by tomorrow evening, and I need to see Miss Luo before I go. If she returns, could you let me know?”

Words like “you” and “please,” expressions of respect, were unfamiliar to Ding Peng outside of recorded phone messages. To have such politeness directed at him, especially from a beautiful woman, flattered him immensely. He immediately took out his phone to exchange WeChat contacts with Zhou Leqi, his eyes wandering over her suggestively, contemplating the possibility of a romantic encounter.

Unfortunately for him, Zhou Leqi quickly ended those thoughts. She nodded politely, thanked him, and swiftly turned to leave.

Unable to see Luo Siyu for now, Zhou Leqi found herself with some unexpected free time. But investment bankers were never truly idle; there was always work to be done. She returned to the same café, opened her laptop, and began working. By the time she finished sending the completed documents, it was past dinner time.

She wasn’t hungry, nor did she have much of an appetite. Watching the city outside the café window—a place both familiar and distant—she felt a mix of nostalgia and apprehension: warmth tinged with pain, memories laced with reflection.

Deciding to skip dinner, she wandered through the city she had left behind seven years ago before returning to her hotel that night.

Perhaps the best way to explore was by car.

Zhou Leqi had initially considered taking the bus, a nostalgic choice, but worried about limited routes and wanting to visit multiple places, she hailed a taxi instead. She asked the driver to take her around the city.

Neon lights flickered across the skyline. The city had indeed developed significantly, though not with Beijing’s rapid pace. Changes were visible, yet traces of her childhood remained.

She passed familiar landmarks: the chain supermarket her family frequented, the small bookstore where she bought study guides, the restaurant known for its delicious braised pork, the youth center where she learned painting, and Butterfly Bay, the home she once shared with Yu Qing but now belonged to someone else.

So many places brought back memories.

She also passed her old high school, the site of her greatest joys and sorrows. But strangely, she couldn’t bring herself to look, averting her face as the taxi drove by—a mix of lingering resentment and cowardice.

The taxi driver asked, “Miss, shall we keep going? Where to next?”

It was almost 8 PM after over an hour of driving. Zhou Leqi thought for a moment and said, “Sorry to bother you, but could you take me to the development zone?”

She wanted to see... that small house.

The old neighborhood where she and Yu Qing had lived for a year still stood, unchanged amidst its surroundings. The once dark streets now had bright lampposts, and the roads were wider—evidence of improved municipal planning.

She paid the driver and got out, dragging her small suitcase along the narrow paths within the complex. It was much the same as she remembered: little greenery, cars parked haphazardly, leaving barely any space to walk.

But revisiting old places softened her judgment. Even these flaws, which she might have criticized before, now seemed less irksome. Zhou Leqi’s mood was calm, even joyful as she recalled pleasant memories while walking along the narrow paths.

For instance, she thought of him .

It was impossible not to think of him here, as he had walked this road with her countless times—far more often than Yu Qing ever had. Those nights, once so terrifying, became peaceful and safe because of him. There was even a faint sweetness.

He would always walk beside her, their shadows overlapping. After they got together, he held her hand tightly, claiming it was to warm her hands in winter. But even in May and June, he persisted, despite the heat causing their palms to sweat.

He would speak to her at just the right moments, saying things she loved to hear—praising her, expressing affection, or sharing interesting stories. He never let her feel lonely or sorrowful.

Those were the most beautiful days of her youth.

The memories made her smile softly. The sweetness of the past didn’t fade with their separation. In fact, Zhou Leqi realized she cherished those memories even more now. Perhaps she had grown stronger, or perhaps she understood something profound: even though they had broken up, he would always love her. She would forever possess his devotion and had already received all of his sincerity.

That was enough, wasn’t it?

Her mood lightened, and her steps became quicker. Seven years later, she still easily found the old, dilapidated building where she once lived. As she approached the final corner, she wondered if she should go upstairs. She wanted to, but the house had been sold. Would it be impolite to barge in?

Lost in thought, she turned the corner.

The wheels of her suitcase brushed against the ground, making a soft rustling sound. She looked up and saw a familiar figure.

It was him.

Leaning casually against a lamppost, he tilted his head slightly, gazing upward at the building. The bright light elongated his shadow and cast sharper contrasts on his profile. He seemed both real and a figment of her imagination.

He must have heard the sound of her suitcase, as he stirred and glanced toward her. Their eyes met, and both froze, unable to believe they were encountering each other in a place neither had anticipated.

A completely unexpected meeting.

“You...”

“You...”

They spoke simultaneously, then paused upon hearing each other’s voices.

What a tender night.

Like a dreamy midsummer night.

He was already walking toward her—a tall, handsome man just as she remembered. His presence was familiar, though his expression was now harder to read. There was a hint of joy, but also a subtle awkwardness and unease.

“...Why are you here?”

He stopped two steps away, looking down at her. Their shadows overlapped.

Zhou Leqi smiled faintly and countered, “You’re asking me?”

Clearly, he was the one who shouldn’t have been there.

He touched his nose, his embarrassment deepening after being called out. It was as if a secret had been exposed, leaving him awkward and guilty. Still, he couldn’t remain silent, so he reluctantly offered, “I... I was just passing by...”

What a lame excuse. Who could believe that?

As expected, she didn’t buy it. But she graciously let it slide, turning her gaze from his face to look up at the fifth-floor window. The light was on, and the smell of stir-fried dishes wafted out.

“I’m just passing by too, feeling nostalgic,” she said with a smile. “Luckily, not much has changed here—it still feels familiar.”

Her relaxed demeanor put him at ease, making him feel spared. He exhaled in relief, but just as he was about to say something, she spoke first: “I’ve seen what I came to see, so I’ll be going now—goodbye.”

He: “...”