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“I never expected you to be so bad.”
“What about men who have no money but still try to cling to me? Isn’t incompetence and stupidity just another form of being bad?”
During the tennis match, Jian Zhaowen grew increasingly irritated as he watched Yu Zhimei and Zheng Zeyan on the opposite side. Zheng played professionally, while Yu Zhimei assisted from the corners. Jian, distracted and overthinking, struggled to keep up physically, exhausting Shi Rui in the process. After several rallies, Zheng remarked: “It’s rare to have so many friends around. Yu Zhimei, you’re still as good as ever.”
Sweating profusely, Yu Zhimei playfully poked Zheng Zeyan’s muscles with her racket: “I’m nowhere near your level.”
Jian felt like his lungs were about to explode.
After the game, the group sat by the entrance drinking coffee. While Yu Zhimei went to the restroom, Shi Rui hurriedly followed to reapply her lipstick. Yu Zhimei chuckled: “Shi Rui, it’s just a casual outing—don’t try too hard.”
“I’ll be 26 soon, just four months left.”
“Don’t act like it’s the end of the world.”
“Blind dates are really tough, Sister Meizi. When you go on seven or eight dates a month and meet short, ugly, picky men, you’ll appreciate what you have now.”
“Aren’t you dating someone? That guy you mentioned earlier—the screenwriter or poet?”
“Yes, we haven’t broken up yet. But… he has too many flaws—he’s not marriage material.”
“What do you mean?”
“At first, I wanted to support his dreams. But later, I realized he spends most of his time at home playing video games. He got scammed out of money and even bought spam messages to harass people—he’s completely unmotivated to write. When he calls me over saying he loves me, the subtext is that he’s broke. I want to get married, stay in Shanghai—but I don’t want to live a life of financial stress.”
Folklore had it—27 was a turning point. If you hadn’t achieved what you wanted by then, it meant you lacked talent. Yu Zhimei didn’t say this aloud to avoid hurting feelings, instead smiling: “I never expected you to be so bad.”
“What about men who have no money but still try to cling to me? Isn’t incompetence and stupidity just another form of being bad?”
Helping her find a cat might’ve been the most charming moment Yu Zhimei had seen from Shi Rui. Otherwise, her constant obsession with marriage held little appeal. She recognized the lipstick on Shi Rui’s lips—a popular but hair-sticking “man-slaying” shade. As Shi Rui applied it in front of the mirror, she calmly asked: “Sister Meizi, which one do you like?”
“Huh?”
“Zheng Zeyan or Jian Zhaowen—if you choose Jian, let me have Zheng.”
Yu Zhimei paused: “Zheng Zeyan and I are just classmates. If you like him, go for it—no need to consider my feelings.”
“How can I not? Didn’t you take Jian from me before? Why do things always come so easily to you? You have everything, friends included. Meanwhile, I have nothing—my mom keeps pressuring me to move back home.”
“Everyone has their past. Stop selling your misery and stop obsessing over marriage—can’t you just be happy?”
“I’d love to. Without parents nagging about marriage, I’d love to let loose. Sister Meizi, can you understand how pitiful I am?” Shi Rui finished applying her lipstick and walked out of the restroom. Standing in the corridor, Yu Zhimei stared at the picture frame where Shi Rui had checked her reflection moments ago. That shy smile carried layers of meaning within such a short span of time. At moments like these, Yu Zhimei couldn’t tell if Shi Rui was an enemy or a friend.
The café in Xintiandi wasn’t just about coffee. Life-sized Gundam figurines stood by the windows, and miniature McLaren cars decorated the floor—all priced in the thousands. Outside, a red Jarre AeroBull speaker blasted energetic future house music. Jian Zhaowen, sunburnt and headachy, stared blankly at the real estate ads scrolling across the street. Two strangers who disliked each other could sit silently for hours. Shi Rui sat across from Jian, suddenly pretending to be affectionate by holding his hand. Jian gently pulled away; Yu Zhimei noticed Shi Rui glancing her way while Jian remained engrossed in his phone, looking awkward as if awaiting execution.
Only Zheng Zeyan seemed unfazed by having more friends around. One by one, he added everyone’s contact information: “I’ve never had many close neighbors. Most of my peers are getting married and having kids now. Watching them leave feels lonely. With new friends, weekends won’t feel so empty. I thought it’d just be you today—with others here, some questions became inconvenient to ask.”
“No problem—we’re all friends.” Yu Zhimei glanced at Jian.
“I’ve always wondered—how did you and Zhang Yao break up? Everyone in college thought you two would marry. Was it because of Xu Xuer?”
Hearing her ex-boyfriend’s name alongside Xu Xuer’s, Yu Zhimei felt Jian’s gaze burning into her. She turned to look out the window: “I’d like to know too. If I ever see him again, I’ll ask—but—” she sighed—”it’s been five or six years since he disappeared without a word.”
Zheng Zeyan looked at her gently: “My guess is, when a couple’s mutual best friend commits suicide, seeing each other reminds them of their friend’s death—they both live under its shadow forever.”
“Do you still keep in touch with him?”
“Yes, he’s back in our hometown and about to get married. Once, while drunk, he told me he knew you’d hate him but didn’t know how to face you. Do you… hate him?”
“More than hatred, I couldn’t understand why he despised me so much. But after hearing what you said, I think I’ve finally let go. Zhang Yao is a coward, just as I thought. Our breakup wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough—it was because he was too weak. Looking down on someone might be the true way to let go—you can pass that along.”
Zheng Zeyan rested his chin on his hand, watching Yu Zhimei with interest but also a hint of disappointment—he’d been waiting to see her hurt. Shi Rui pointed at Zheng Zeyan’s arm: “That’s quite a long scar.”
“Oh, this? Overtraining caused a bone fracture. Thanks to that injury, blood tests showed I was close to rhabdomyolysis—exercise should be moderate.” Zheng laughed as he explained, but his eyes stayed on Yu Zhimei: “Can I keep inviting you out?”
Yu Zhimei glanced at Jian, casually deflecting: “We have other friends nearby—it’s kind of our base camp, called ‘Miaolin Dessert Shop.’ The owner is beautiful—you should drop by sometime.”
“Dessert shop? You mean… a place that sells sweets?”
“Yes. But her menu is a bit quirky—you might end up eating things like mango ramen or spicy sugar dumplings.”
“Take me with you next time, please.” Zheng Zeyan’s eyes sparkled with unmistakable excitement: “I’m really curious to meet this shop owner.”
Watching the Toyota series of Car Talk featuring Jian Zhaowen quickly surpass one million views, Yu Zhimei couldn’t help but marvel at Jian’s smug smile on the cover. If he wasn’t working in algorithms, she mused, he’d probably thrive in any other profession too. Still, she didn’t forget to send Monkey Brother a late-night message to comfort his wounded ego. His reply came tinged with self-pity: “Sister Meizi, don’t bother comforting me. He’s just a temporary actor—I’m the eternal leading man.”
Meanwhile, Boss Xing excitedly sent a voice message to Yu Zhimei: “Xiaomei, Jian Zhaowen is so handsome—can we hire him full-time?”
Her phone buzzed quietly—Jian had messaged her. She walked to the balcony and looked right; there he was, sitting on a stool with a box of neatly cut fruit and a Corona perched on the air conditioning unit. “Come sit and chat,” he called out. “Isn’t it fascinating? The water droplets are forming outside the window.”
His accent still carried a thick Beijing twang, and he traced words on the glass pane. Yu Zhimei teased him: “Because it’s 26 degrees Celsius outside. Are you telling me you know nothing about anything except algorithms?”
“To be precise, I’m just not interested.”
“Did you see your video’s click-through rate? It doubled—and it’s only been one night.”
“I told you—I’m a genius.”
“A face genius?”
“Don’t say what you already know. Credit goes to Monkey Brother—he taught me to treat myself as the protagonist and relax.”
Monkey Brother, who worked tirelessly for the company. Sitting amidst the flowers, Yu Zhimei became the subject of Jian’s phone camera. “It’s strange,” he said. “The first time I met you, I thought you were this sweet, sexy older sister radiating maternal warmth. But now, seeing you standing among the flowers, I feel a bit out of place.”
“Why?”
“You’ve ridden my motorcycle, driven your Ling Shuai, and even taken that roller coaster.”
“Am I drifting further away from your algorithms?”
Jian chuckled: “It doesn’t matter. After this year, I’ve finally realized that creating an algorithm for love is pointless—I feel like I’ve been deceiving myself.”
“It’s been a year since we met…”
“Yes.” Jian sighed heavily from a meter away: “No romance blossomed, not even a touch—I’m so lonely.”
“Don’t always try to take advantage of me with your words.”
Tilting his head back, Jian drained his Corona, bent down, and opened another bottle: “Can you tell me more about that modified car of yours?”
“Why?”
“After completing my first unintentional drift, I think I’ve found the joy of driving. I want to study it.”
“Let me ask you something first: is your driver’s license C1 or C2?”
“C2.”
“So what you’re experiencing isn’t the joy of driving—it’s just the thrill of operating a vehicle. Automatic and manual transmissions are two different things. I should count myself lucky that you got out of that Ling Shuai alive without triggering your BPPV again.”
“Come on, I’m not that bad. Besides, who drives manual cars these days? Even if you learn manual, you’ll still buy an automatic car—why intentionally make life harder for yourself? Stop doubting me and answer my question: how can I modify my Audi A4 to make it faster?”
“You want to modify your car?”
“Of course. The shifting feels clunky, and the throttle response is sluggish. Who wouldn’t want that exhilarating pushback when they floor the gas pedal? My commute is always congested, and people constantly cut me off while merging. So, can you turn my Audi into that Ling Shuai of yours?”
“Forget it. That car was completely overhauled—only the shell remains. Essentially, it’s no longer a Ling Shuai; it’s a full-fledged race car. Modifications exist, but they’re unnecessary for an Audi A4. Luxury brands aren’t meant for track racing in the city—a simple Stage 1 or Stage 2 tune-up will suffice.”
“Stage 1 and Stage 2? Explain it to me.”
Seeing Jian’s earnest expression, Yu Zhimei couldn’t help but laugh: “Are you serious about modifying your car all of a sudden?”
“When have I ever gone back on my word?”
“Well… how did you choose to buy an Audi in the first place?”
“Do you remember the first time we met? You recommended a car to a drunk friend.”
“I forgot.”
“You said, ‘Young, pragmatic people should go for BBA.’”
“That was a joke. Just pursue the brand you like.” Seeing Jian’s genuine interest in modifying his car, Yu Zhimei thought for a moment before speaking: “You can tweak the ECU to boost performance. Car manufacturers often use the same hardware across models but write different programs for different configurations, affecting the powertrain’s performance. Flashing a lower-tier car with a higher-tier program is like overclocking a computer—it improves performance, but the hardware remains mismatched. Overloading it could cause many issues, even danger. Do you understand?”
“I don’t have any other demands. I just want smoother acceleration, more speed, and an exhilarating overtaking experience. A year ago, I wouldn’t have dared to do this, but with you around, I feel reassured.”
Yu Zhimei glanced at Jian’s ears: “Let me think about it.”
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P.S.: I’m here early today! If possible, please vote for me—it means a lot. Thank you all, and I’m waiting for your chats today!
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