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Shang Zhitao couldn’t quite recall what Xin Zhaozhou looked like the last time they met.
She only vaguely remembered his jersey, which carried the scent of sunshine, and his sun-tanned face that revealed a set of gleaming white teeth when he smiled. He was the kind of guy many female classmates secretly admired.
As she led Luan Nian to find Lee, she heard someone call her name from behind: “Shang Zhitao.” She turned around and saw an odd fusion of the 20-year-old Xin Zhaozhou and the 25-year-old version standing before her—a figure who felt both unfamiliar and deeply familiar.
“Xin Zhaozhou.” She smiled.
Luan Nian turned around too, standing there with one hand in his pocket and the other resting on the handle of his luggage, showing no intention of speaking. Xin Zhaozhou, however, was polite and said to Shang Zhitao: “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“Oh, right.”
“This is my boss, Luke. And this is… my friend, Xin Zhaozhou.”
“Isn’t he your ex-boyfriend?” Luan Nian interjected deliberately, trying to make her uncomfortable.
Xin Zhaozhou was taken aback but nodded anyway: “Yes, ex-boyfriend.”
“Go catch up with your ex,” Luan Nian said coldly before turning to leave. “I’ll go find Lee myself.” With a nod to Xin Zhaozhou, he walked away. Shang Zhitao’s ex wasn’t bad—still in his twenties, at the prime of his life. But what did that have to do with him?
Lee picked up Luan Nian, assuming his stern expression stemmed from dissatisfaction with Guangzhou’s work progress. He explained: “Luke, the issues with these clients in the first half of the year were unexpected. The market shifted, and the product lines changed without giving us any preparation time. We take responsibility, though—moving forward, we’ll improve our predictions to avoid such situations.”
“Okay,” Luan Nian replied curtly. As they left the airport, he noticed the car beside them. Its driver was Shang Zhitao’s ex-boyfriend—what was his name again? Xin Zhaozhou.
Lee’s car paid the parking fee and exited first. Luan Nian glanced back and saw Shang Zhitao sitting awkwardly in the passenger seat next to her ex. Their body language suggested lingering feelings, as if some unresolved emotions still lingered between them.
Shang Zhitao couldn’t pinpoint how she felt about Xin Zhaozhou. Was this how others acted when meeting their exes? She dreaded him bringing up the past. Sneakily, she messaged Lumi: “If Zhang Qing were your ex, and you ran into him one day, what would you talk about? Would you feel nervous?”
Lumi replied: “I don’t know if I’d see Zhang Qing, but I do know I bumped into Will at a club last night. It was wild—he was dressed like a monk, buttons all the way up to his collar. I could barely breathe just looking at him.”
After a moment, Lumi sent another message: “Damn it, Will spotted me. He grabbed my collar and asked if my family member really was sick or if I was lying about going to the club. I told him my dad was supposed to be discharged tomorrow, but he went home today. You know what he said? He called me a liar!”
“How could I tolerate such disrespect? I told him to stop grabbing my collar, or I’d lose it. Turns out, the guy knows martial arts—he threw me out of the club.”
“Wahhh. All I wanted was to dance.”
“I went back in, and he kicked me out again. Then he said I had to explain to him at work tomorrow why I lied about taking leave. What lie?! I didn’t lie!”
Shang Zhitao read Lumi’s messages one after another and burst out laughing. Hearing her laugh, Xin Zhaozhou glanced over. In that moment, she looked like the girl from their school days—her eyes sparkling when she smiled. His heart dropped like a stone into a deep pool, splashing ripples everywhere.
“That was my colleague,” Shang Zhitao explained to him.
“Are your colleagues after graduation easy to get along with?” Xin Zhaozhou asked.
“Most are good, except for a few difficult ones.”
“The boss Luke you introduced earlier seems tough to deal with.”
Shang Zhitao thought of Luan Nian’s piercing, murderous gaze and nodded: “He’s okay as long as you don’t provoke him.” If you did provoke him, he’d strip you of your skin and bones—and even then, it wouldn’t satisfy him.
“Have you ever provoked him?”
“No.”
Xin Zhaozhou chuckled: “Looks like my Taotao is doing well at work.” When they dated, he often said things like, “My Taotao is amazing,” “My Taotao is adorable,” “My Taotao is smart.”
Classmates used to say Xin Zhaozhou had a face destined to attract women—countless younger female students pined for him, predicting he’d cheat sooner or later. Yet, Xin Zhaozhou had been devoted to her. He had wasted his handsome face on her.
It took Shang Zhitao a while to respond: “It’s been hard.”
She had endured countless sleepless nights, faced setbacks, endured grievances, and cried secretly more times than she could count. There were moments when she thought she couldn’t keep going.
“I know,” Xin Zhaozhou said. “You came to Beijing alone, with only Yao Bei as an old acquaintance. Making it to where you are today hasn’t been easy.”
“Sometimes I wonder—if I hadn’t come to Shenzhen but gone to Beijing with you instead, would I have made it this far too?”
“Yao Bei told me about your colleagues liking you, how you’ve made new friends, and how your work has been smooth. Every year, you’ve gotten promoted and received raises. She said you independently handled big projects and managed them brilliantly. Whenever she talked about these things, I thought about how the girl I once held so dearly in my hands has grown up. I pushed her out into the world, letting her face this hardship alone.”
Xin Zhaozhou pulled over by the roadside and rolled down the window. He didn’t want Shang Zhitao to see the wetness in his eyes because he knew they could never go back. Xin Zhaozhou felt sorry for Shang Zhitao. He regretted not being firm enough to stay by her side after graduation, choosing instead to return to his parents. Back then, he lacked confidence and courage. Though he claimed Shang Zhitao was the love of his life, during her moments of confusion, he chose to let her fight alone.
He was selfish.
“Let’s not talk about the past anymore,” Shang Zhitao said, gazing out the window. “This is my first time in Shenzhen, and I can see why you chose to come back here. This city is wonderful. Is it convenient to buy cosmetics? Do you often go to Hong Kong?”
“I used to go once a week, but now that the company has more employees, I go once a month. Did you apply for your Hong Kong-Macau travel permit? I can take you if you want.”
“To永利街 (Wing Lei Street)? I heard Time, The Thief of Youth was filmed there—I’ve always wanted to visit after watching the movie. For a while, I loved that film so much that when I went to Guangzhou for work, I even bought some double-yolk lotus seed mooncakes from莲香楼 (Lianxianglou) to send to Lao Shang and Da Zhai.”
“Sure. If you really want to go.”
“Just joking—I don’t have a permit.”
She wanted to go, but not with him.
Shang Zhitao had her boundaries. Meeting an old acquaintance, sharing a meal, taking a walk, chatting casually—that was enough. She didn’t ask for more.
Anything beyond that, she couldn’t give, nor could she take.
Xin Zhaozhou looked at her and smiled: “You’re still the same—you can’t lie. When you lie, you can’t look at me.”
“What do you mean I can’t!” Shang Zhitao looked at him, meeting his amused eyes, then quickly turned her head away.
“Your travel permit is in your backpack—I know. But I’d never force you to do anything, Shang Zhitao.”
Shang Zhitao laughed.
She had planned to spend the weekend in Hong Kong after finishing work on Friday. Grace had even asked her to bring back two cans of newborn formula.
Xin Zhaozhou took her to see the mangroves. The drive wasn’t far, and the scenery was pleasant. “I bring my parents here on weekends,” he said. “We bought a two-bedroom apartment nearby. My parents shop at the market in the morning and watch the sunset in the evening.”
“That’s nice. This is the life you dreamed of. You must feel great having achieved it.”
Xin Zhaozhou nodded: “The first two years were tough. The import-export business wasn’t easy. My parents had connections, but the orders were small. Later, they sold a bigger house to cover my inventory costs, which gave me new opportunities. After the Lunar New Year last year, I landed my first big order, and things started improving.”
“Did you return their house?” Shang Zhitao asked.
“Yes. Last month.”
“That’s great.”
Shang Zhitao genuinely felt happy for him. When she had discussed this with Sun Yu, Sun Yu wished her ex-boyfriend would die alone. But Shang Zhitao harbored no such thoughts because their breakup wasn’t due to betrayal—it was a matter of choice. They had each chosen the lives they wanted, so there was little resentment. Still, in the early days after their breakup, Shang Zhitao had thought Xin Zhaozhou didn’t love her enough.
Xin Zhaozhou bought her an ice lolly, picking her favorite red bean flavor from their school days. He remembered all her preferences: crayfish, red bean popsicles, milk-soaked bread slices, cherries, strawberries.
Shang Zhitao took the ice lolly and thanked him. Xin Zhaozhou’s treat cooled the sultry summer night in Shenzhen, sweet and refreshing—it was truly wonderful.
“Are you going to the class reunion tomorrow?” Shang Zhitao asked.
“Yes, to settle the bill.”
“Alright. Mr. Xin.”
“Don’t call me that. Compared to your clients, I’m far behind. Hopefully, with relentless effort, I can become one of your clients. Then I’ll request you to personally handle my account.”
“I think that day won’t be too far away.”
The two deliberately avoided many topics from the past, both feeling reluctant to disrupt the beauty of the evening.
Shang Zhitao felt like Xin Zhaozhou was an old friend—a different kind of old friend. This friend shared a deeply intimate past with her, yet now stood at just the right distance. No matter what, that past could never be erased.
At the hotel entrance, Shang Zhitao said to Xin Zhaozhou: “Xin Zhaozhou, I know everyone at tomorrow’s reunion will bring up the past. I want to tell you that I’ve never regretted dating you, but there was a time when I resented you for not coming to Beijing with me. Back then, I was young and immature.”
Xin Zhaozhou nodded and patted her head: “I know. What’s past is past.”
“Can I give you a hug tonight? I’m afraid I’ll drink too much tomorrow and won’t be able to hug you then.” Xin Zhaozhou knew that after tomorrow, Shang Zhitao wouldn’t see him again. This meeting was his own hard-earned chance because he so desperately wanted to see that once pure, happy, and carefree girl again. After her, no other girl seemed quite like her, yet every girl seemed to carry a trace of her shadow.
Shang Zhitao didn’t answer him but reached out to pinch his shirt. Look, the boy who once wore sports T-shirts now wore dress shoes and a shirt—people always grow up, don’t they?
She stepped closer to Xin Zhaozhou, resting her head against his chest.
Shang Zhitao wasn’t heartless; this was someone she had loved. Though that love hadn’t been overwhelmingly intense back then or even now, it had seeped into her heart slowly, like a gentle stream.
After a long while, Xin Zhaozhou finally wrapped his arms tightly around her.
He vividly remembered their first embrace, when neither of them knew where to put their hands. Seven or eight years had passed in the blink of an eye.
With all his strength, he held Shang Zhitao close and said: “Shang Zhitao, no matter when, no matter what difficulties you face, as long as you ask, I will help you.”
“Thank you.”
Shang Zhitao watched Xin Zhaozhou get into his car, then turned and entered the hotel. A familiar figure stepped into the elevator—who else could it be but Luan Nian?
Shang Zhitao waited in the elevator lobby for a moment. She could bid farewell to Xin Zhaozhou openly, but she didn’t even have the courage to share an elevator ride with Luan Nian.
Luan Nian felt like he had recently stirred up a hornet’s nest of men in Shang Zhitao’s life—her roommate, the athletic guy, and now her ex-boyfriend. How amusing. Back in his room, after replying to emails, he suddenly didn’t know what to do.
He turned on the stereo and listened to old Cantonese songs.
Occasionally romantic, Luan Nian found inspiration in different places. For instance, now he called room service for ice, opened a bottle of spirits from the mini-fridge, lit a cigar, and filled the air with a retro Hong Kong vibe.
A-Lam’s Dare to Love, Dare to Do perfectly matched his mood. With the cigar pinched between his fingers, he swayed slightly on the floor, singing loudly along with the music, amusing himself. The doorbell rang, and he went to open the door, hand outstretched to receive the ice—but instead saw a somewhat startled Shang Zhitao.
An awkward silence fell.
Shang Zhitao had spent years around Luan Nian but had never seen him like this. No, wait—he had sung on stage during his first year in office, just as unrestrained and carefree. And it was that same day, in Luan Nian’s home, that Shang Zhitao had completely broken down.
Luan Nian hadn’t expected it to be Shang Zhitao—he thought it was the server delivering the ice. He casually closed the door, only to reopen it a few seconds later, restoring order: “What is it, Flora?”
“You said we needed to rehearse before meeting the client?”
“When did I say that?”
“Last Friday.”
“Will the client die before tomorrow?”
“No, Lee just informed me that the client has moved the meeting to tomorrow morning. In the afternoon, they want to show us around their factory.”
Luan Nian stepped aside, leaving the door open: “Come in.”
The music was still playing, and A-Lam continued to sing: “Hold tight, kisses without rest, without needing to breathe…”
Shang Zhitao hesitated, unsure whether to retreat or enter.
“What’s wrong, Flora? Not rehearsing anymore?”
“Oh.”
Her hand still on the doorknob, she heard Luan Nian say: “The door’s open.”
His tone carried an air of confidence and guiltlessness. Shang Zhitao nodded and followed him inside. His accommodation standards were different; the secretary had booked him a suite. Luan Nian turned off the music and sat on the sofa. In front of him was a coffee table. He gestured casually: “Sit wherever you’re comfortable.”
The cigar wasn’t finished yet. He took a puff, extinguished it, and placed it on the ashtray. The faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air. Shang Zhitao dared not breathe deeply, fearing the smoke might be toxic—or worse, fearing she might lose control and tear off Luan Nian’s clothes.
Human relationships are like taming pets; over time, people start to resemble each other. Take Shang Zhitao, for example—her mind was filled with thoughts of tearing Luan Nian apart or biting him fiercely. She was becoming more and more like him.
The arrival of the server with the ice disrupted Shang Zhitao’s sensual thoughts. Luan Nian stood up to pour the ice into a glass. Even while traveling, he maintained his cleanliness obsession, bringing his own cup. Recently, Chen Kuannian had gifted him a skull-shaped glass for drinking spirits, which he had packed into his luggage.
He poured the ice in, then the liquor, gripping the rim of the glass with his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head back for a large sip. He casually bit into an ice cube, chewing it.
The crisp sound of the ice breaking and Luan Nian’s mischievous demeanor made Shang Zhitao feel as if she had stepped into a gangster’s lair, where the mob boss was about to torture a traitor. She grew inexplicably tense, her knees pressed tightly together, and something surged within her.
Damn it. Shang Zhitao mimicked Lumi’s inner voice: Why am I so pathetic?
Though she thought this, she refused to admit defeat. I have a fighting rooster in my heart—I can’t lose! She opened her laptop, staring at the screen: “Shall I begin?”
“Go ahead.”
Luan Nian placed the glass on the coffee table, the glass clinking against the surface. He sat back on the sofa, which sank slightly under his weight. Shang Zhitao nearly lost her balance and glanced back at him. He had already leaned back against the sofa: “Begin.”
“Flora, don’t waste time. Don’t delay my nightlife.”
“What nightlife?”
“A colorful, vibrant nightlife. Hurry up.”
Shang Zhitao stared at the PowerPoint, trying to recall: How was I supposed to present this?
After a long pause, she finally spoke: “First slide…”
Luan Nian’s phone rang, and a woman’s voice came through: “I’m downstairs at your hotel.”
“Alright. I’ll be right down.” Luan Nian stood up, drained the remaining liquor in one gulp, and rose to his feet: “Rehearse on your own. If you screw up tomorrow, leave the planning department.”
Shang Zhitao sat there, slamming her laptop shut, her temper flaring.
She stormed toward the door, with Luan Nian following behind to close it as they headed to the elevator. Her face flushed with anger, looking rather charming. Watching her reddened cheeks, Luan Nian suddenly spoke: “Flora, why didn’t you properly catch up with your ex-boyfriend?”
“What do you mean by ‘properly catching up’?”
“Relive old memories? Sleep together?”
Shang Zhitao paused, thinking: “I’m nervous about tomorrow’s presentation. I don’t have the mood. But after tomorrow’s dinner, we’re meeting.”
She spoke earnestly, looking directly at Luan Nian. She wasn’t lying—they really were meeting the next day.
Luan Nian’s lips twitched into a forced smile as he stepped into the elevator.
Shang Zhitao followed him into the elevator, but her room card malfunctioned, preventing her from accessing her floor. She looked at Luan Nian.
“Ask me for help.”
Shang Zhitao refused to ask for help. She got off at the lobby, heading to the front desk to verify her information and have a new card made. From the corner of her eye, she saw a woman approach Luan Nian. The woman was about 178 cm tall, wearing a delicate spaghetti strap top, paired with thin denim jeans and exaggerated earrings—wildly beautiful, strikingly so.
Luan Nian walked out with her but suddenly turned back, catching Shang Zhitao’s prying gaze head-on. He raised an eyebrow at her, then pulled out his phone and asked: “What do you think of my ex-girlfriend?”
...
Once outside the hotel, the woman said to Luan Nian: “Where do you want to go, little brother?”
“Don’t call me that,” Luan Nian shot her a glare.
“If not ‘little brother,’ then what?” Luan Siyuan teased with a smirk. “Don’t put on airs with me. If you piss me off, I’ll tell Uncle. It’s not like this is your first time in Shenzhen—why should I treat you to late-night snacks? Can’t you afford it yourself? Do you know how much I lose by babysitting you? You owe me compensation!”
Luan Nian listened to her rambling without responding.
He was in a foul mood, his mind swirling with thoughts of wanting to throttle Shang Zhitao. But he also felt he should restrain himself. She was a good girl—why did she have to dangle herself in front of him when she could date anyone else?
Seeing that he wasn’t speaking, Luan Siyuan asked: “Have you gone mute?”
...
Luan Nian had always been no match for her sharp tongue—she was even more cutting than him. The elders of the Luan family were all refined and elegant, but their generation was rebellious through and through.
Luan Siyuan found it amusing to see Luan Nian looking like a defeated rooster, head drooping. She teased: “Where’s my proud and confident little brother?”
“Where’s my arrogant little brother who thinks he knows everything?”
“Where’s my conceited little brother who looks down on everyone?”
“Where’s my self-righteous little brother who thinks he’s better than everyone else!”
“Where’s my…”
“Sister!” Luan Nian finally broke his silence, knowing that if he didn’t intervene, Luan Siyuan would continue listing every negative idiom she knew, endlessly chattering and driving him insane.
Luan Siyuan burst into laughter: “Aha! My sweet little brother! Let’s go have some porridge!”
Cheap porridge—what was there to enjoy? Luan Nian cursed her stinginess in his heart. His phone lit up, and he opened it to see a message from Shang Zhitao:
“Your ex-girlfriend is really pretty, and her figure is great too. But I have my own strengths, like...”
“I have big boobs.”
Damn it! Luan Nian finally cursed out loud!
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