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Lumi spent the night at the hospital and by morning was so exhausted she could barely walk straight. Aunt Lu arrived to relieve her, and as Lumi left the hospital, she spotted Zhang Qing at the entrance of her apartment complex—his face bruised and swollen from the beating she had given him. Zhang Qing blocked her path: “I was drunk that day.”
“Fuck off!” Lumi shot back. “Try touching me again, and I’ll kill you! Look at yourself—what a disgrace!”
“Go ahead, yell all you want. Then we can talk calmly. Everyone has their moments, don’t they? I’ll stop drinking from now on.”
“What kind of alcohol were you drinking? Cat piss?” Lumi shoved his hand away as he reached for her. “Don’t touch me! If I see you again, I’ll beat you up every single time—I swear!” She turned around to find something to hit him with, eventually picking up a stick someone had left behind. Swinging it at Zhang Qing, he jumped out of the way: “Lu Mi, are you crazy? Who else would put up with your shit except me?”
“So you think I care about your approval? Get lost!”
Lumi’s fiery personality didn’t allow her to suffer in silence. She wasn’t one to dwell on pain either—she’d just curse it off and move on, knowing life always found a way to heal. She went home and collapsed into bed, while Shang Zhitao, oblivious to her exhaustion, showed up in the evening.
It was Saturday, and after finishing her French class nearby, Shang Zhitao decided to visit Lumi. Seeing that Lumi seemed slightly better, she felt relieved.
“So, what did you do today?”
“Today, this bitch beat the crap out of that loser,” Lumi recounted her encounter with Zhang Qing. When she mentioned “one swing almost hitting his balls,” Shang Zhitao burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Do you still feel upset?”
“Hell no. On Monday, after my dad gets discharged, I’m going clubbing. Aren’t men everywhere?”
“Exactly.”
Lumi was undeniably the queen of nightlife—men flocked to her effortlessly. But she wasn’t there to hook up; she just loved the energy. As she often said: “Why would I need to chase men? Don’t I have enough money myself?”
Shang Zhitao stayed with Lumi for a while, walking her to Jishuitan Hospital to check on her father before leaving.
Shang Zhitao thought to herself that if Zhang Qing’s betrayal had happened to her, she wouldn’t have handled it as gracefully as Lumi did. Reflecting on it, she realized that if her boyfriend cheated, she’d probably cry for days and struggle to end things decisively. It might drag on for a while.
Lumi was truly impressive. Shang Zhitao resolved to learn from her.
It wasn’t until she boarded the subway that she saw Wan Jun’s message: “Will you treat me to dinner?”
After pondering for a long time, Shang Zhitao replied: “Sorry, I just saw your message. Sure, where do you want to eat?”
“How about a buffet? I never lose at buffets.”
“Alright.”
They chose a spot a few stops away from Shang Zhitao’s place and met around eight o’clock. Wan Jun had been busy all weekend and was carrying an ice hockey bag. He greeted her: “Just finished a class.”
“Ice hockey stick?”
“Wanna see it?”
“Sure.”
Wan Jun unzipped his bag and handed her the stick. “Give it a try.”
Shang Zhitao mimicked a stance: “Like this?”
Wan Jun adjusted her posture: “Like this.”
She tried again and then handed it back. Wan Jun wasn’t picky about food—they opted for a 198-yuan buffet. While Shang Zhitao went for seafood like shrimp and crab, Wan Jun grabbed some steak. They had plenty to talk about, with Wan Jun doing most of the talking. He was a simple guy who often joked about not being the sharpest tool in the shed. Pointing to his head, he said, “I hate using my brain.”
“That’s funny—I don’t use mine either,” she quipped, suddenly recalling how Luan Nian used to criticize her:
“Are you incapable of thinking?”
“What do you even use your brain for?”
“Did you leave your brain at home today?”
Shang Zhitao didn’t know why, but the mention of Luan Nian suddenly killed her appetite. The steak here wasn’t nearly as good as the ones Luan Nian cooked. After eating a few shrimp, she stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Wan Jun asked.
“I’m full.”
“You ate so little—are you dieting?”
Shang Zhitao quickly shook her head: “No, no. I snacked a bit at a colleague’s place before meeting you.”
“That’s good.” Wan Jun smiled. “Don’t get too skinny. Being healthy is better.”
“I think I’m overly healthy.” Her stats weren’t a lie—171 cm tall and 108 pounds, relatively healthy. Back in school, the saying “a good woman shouldn’t weigh over 100 pounds” was trendy, and she had seriously dieted for a while. At the time, she starved herself without any scientific methods, feeling dizzy and weak. Once, while walking with Xin Zhaozhou on the track field, she nearly collapsed. He got angry and gave her a stern lecture.
Wan Jun took a closer look at Shang Zhitao’s physique and said, “You’re very healthy.” He even analyzed her muscle-to-water ratio like a sports expert.
They ate until ten o’clock, and Wan Jun walked her home. Being an athlete, he was straightforward in everything he did. While crossing the street, he naturally held her wrist. When they reached the other side, Shang Zhitao gently pulled her hand away. She felt it was moving too fast. Having experienced the messy relationship with Luan Nian, she knew that proper beginnings led to better outcomes. She didn’t want to repeat that pattern with anyone else.
Seeing Shang Zhitao’s serious expression, Wan Jun chuckled: “Did I scare you?”
“No.”
“Sorry, I tend to be direct. When I like someone, I go for it.”
“So you must do that often.”
“Not really.” Wan Jun shook his head. “I don’t usually act like this.”
They were standing outside Shang Zhitao’s apartment complex, facing each other. Wan Jun continued: “When we sat together in Dali’s ancient town eating mushroom hot pot, I secretly looked at you and thought, ‘This girl is so cute.’ You might not realize it, but all our ‘coincidental’ encounters in Dali were actually planned by me. Even on the day I left, I was still worried about not having your contact information. Later, I went to the bar owner and got your details from him. You didn’t know that—it’s not important. If you feel it’s too fast, I’ll slow down. But you should know, I really like you.” Wan Jun scratched his head, looking a little shy. He had dated before, but back then, it was the girl who pursued him. This was his first time chasing someone, and his lack of finesse made him seem a bit brash.
“I’m honored,” Shang Zhitao said sincerely. “I don’t dislike you, and I find it easy to be around you. But I think it’s too soon—we don’t know each other well enough yet.”
“I’m willing to slow down.”
“Good.” Wan Jun smiled. “Then let’s take it slow. Tomorrow I have an ice hockey game—wanna come watch?”
“Sorry, I can’t. Tomorrow morning I need to prepare work materials and pack. In the afternoon, I’m flying to Shenzhen. We have three major clients there, and I’ll be staying next week.”
“Alright, next time then.”
Shang Zhitao waved goodbye and headed upstairs.
Strangely, despite traveling for work for years, she had never been to Shenzhen. This trip felt special because of someone named Xin Zhaozhou.
People are peculiar—they always remember their firsts vividly: first love, first breakup, first trip.
When they parted ways, one headed south, the other north, both preparing to never see each other again.
Later, Shang Zhitao heard from classmates that Xin Zhaozhou had secured government policies to start a foreign trade company in Shenzhen. Initially, business was tough, and his parents had to dip into their savings to support him. Last year, things improved—he closed several big deals and suddenly became “General Manager Xin.”
Xin Zhaozhou had called her once, late at night. He had gotten her number from a classmate and sounded like he’d been drinking. His voice was slurred as he said, “Shang Zhitao, I have money now. Why don’t you come to Shenzhen and be my wealthy housewife? You won’t need to work—I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”
But Shang Zhitao was no longer the person she used to be. She had fallen in love with someone else and found joy in her work. She could never be the kind of housewife who stayed home doing yoga and beauty treatments because she loved working too much.
“I’m sorry, Xin Zhaozhou. I can’t come to Shenzhen to marry you, but I’ll contact you when I visit,” she replied.
They could meet, reminisce about old times—after all, they had shared the purest and most innocent years of their lives together.
Yet, Shang Zhitao never contacted him.
While packing her luggage, she received a message from a Shenzhen phone number: “Are you coming to Shenzhen for work? This is Xin Zhaozhou.”
Shang Zhitao remembered that she had planned to meet two university classmates working in Shenzhen for dinner—it was likely that Xin Zhaozhou had heard about it.
She replied simply: “Yes.”
“If I show up, will you leave right away?”
“No.”
“Then let me treat everyone to dinner.”
“My treat.”
Shang Zhitao recalled how, during their school days, neither of them had much pocket money. On weekends, Xin Zhaozhou would take her out for meals—sometimes barbecue, sometimes hot pot, sometimes buffet—anything to ensure his girlfriend didn’t suffer.
She cherished those memories of being loved by Xin Zhaozhou.
When boarding the plane, she saw Luan Nian and greeted him: “Hi, Luke.” She then sat a few seats away in the same row, pulling out a book to read. People came and went around her, but she didn’t look up. Luan Nian bought coffee and returned, yet her posture hadn’t changed at all.
After boarding, everyone headed toward economy class. The Airbus 330 was spacious, with two seats by the window. Shang Zhitao had checked in late, so her seat was toward the back. It struck her as odd that Luan Nian wasn’t sitting in first class—even in economy, he could’ve chosen a seat near the emergency exit or in the front row. But instead, he kept walking further back until he stopped at her row to stow his luggage.
Shang Zhitao glanced at her seat, worried she might’ve made a mistake. Their seats were next to each other. Luan Nian watched silently as she struggled to lift her bag into the overhead compartment. When her shirt rode up, revealing her pale waistline, he finally stood up, wordlessly taking the bag from her and placing it inside.
Luan Nian couldn’t understand why, with so many beautiful clothes in the world, she had chosen one that exposed her waist. He stepped aside to let her pass, while she held her breath, tilting her head slightly backward to avoid any physical contact. Once seated, she exhaled quietly, relieved. Luan Nian remained silent, taking the aisle seat.
Neither of them spoke. Luan Nian pulled out his phone to reply to messages, while Shang Zhitao messaged her Guangzhou colleagues to confirm their schedule—they would arrange a car to pick them up at the airport. She was riding on Luan Nian’s coattails this time. Plugging in her earphones, she closed her eyes to sleep. Perhaps Xin Zhaozhou’s message had disrupted her thoughts; she hadn’t slept well last night and felt drowsy now. By the time the plane took off, she was already asleep.
As the plane ascended, bright light poured in through the windows. Luan Nian leaned over to close the window shade, and as he withdrew his hand, he noticed Shang Zhitao’s eyes open. Their faces were less than ten centimeters apart, and she caught the familiar scent of his aftershave.
Pretending to remain calm, she adjusted her seat backward, trying to escape the oppressive closeness of his presence. His gaze was deep, tinged with a faint coldness, as if she had somehow offended him.
Luan Nian settled back into his seat, ignoring the fleeting moment of distraction.
The metaphorical fighting roosters in both their hearts began squabbling again. Shang Zhitao’s internal struggle was particularly fierce. She curled her body tightly, determined not to make any contact with Luan Nian—not even a brush of clothing.
When the plane landed, Shang Zhitao turned her phone back on, and a call came through immediately. The number had sent her a message just last night—it was Xin Zhaozhou. After some hesitation, she answered: “Hi.”
It had been years since she’d heard Xin Zhaozhou’s voice. His tone carried traces of the past: “Taotao.”
He called her Taotao—back then, he used to call her by various nicknames: Shang Zhitao, Taotao, Zhitao, Peach. Whatever suited his mood. Shang Zhitao didn’t speak.
“Have you landed?” Xin Zhaozhou asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll come to the airport to pick you up. Can we sit and talk for a bit?”
“Okay.”
Shang Zhitao wanted to refuse, but she felt there was no reason to avoid him. Their story had ended years ago, and they had both moved on with their lives and careers. Things had changed—there was no need to dwell on the past.
After hanging up, she called her Guangzhou colleague: “Lee, you can pick up Luke. I’ll handle myself.”
“Got it. Are you meeting someone in Shenzhen?”
“Yes, a friend is picking me up at the airport.”
“Alright. We’ll meet in the parking lot—I’ll bring Luke along.”
After ending the call, Shang Zhitao spoke her first words to Luan Nian since boarding: “Lee has arranged a car for you—it’s waiting in the parking lot. I’ll guide you there once I get the location.”
“Mm.”
Fine, he acknowledged—but he didn’t move. As passengers disembarked one by one, Shang Zhitao grew impatient and finally asked him, “Aren’t you getting off the plane?”
“What’s worrying you?”
Shang Zhitao fell silent. Once most of the passengers had left, Luan Nian finally stood up, grabbed his luggage, and walked ahead without waiting for her.
Shang Zhitao knew he was doing it on purpose. She tiptoed to retrieve her bag and jogged several steps to catch up with him.
“There’s no work scheduled for tonight, right? If not, I’ll go my own way—I have plans with a friend.”
“A friend?”
“My ex-boyfriend.” Shang Zhitao enunciated the three words clearly, then smiled faintly at Luan Nian.
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