For a moment, Zhu Wenshu deeply regretted agreeing to help Zhu Qisen with this favor.
Or rather, regretted taking the easy way out and contacting Ling Chen directly.
Forget it.
Zhu Wenshu sighed and cut the topic off entirely.
[Zhu Wenshu]: Pretend I never asked.
Ling Chen didn’t reply again.
The autumn sun was bright, fine slivers of light spilling through the windows onto the desks. A teacher had gone downstairs to pick some osmanthus flowers, and now the whole office was steeped in a light, delicate fragrance.
In an atmosphere like this, even tedious work didn’t feel so irritating.
Zhu Wenshu hummed softly to herself as she finished grading homework, and checked off the first item on her to-do list.
Next up: post the National Day holiday Chinese-language homework assignment through the DingTalk group.
Her originally relaxed mood clouded over the moment she started typing the assignment for the parents.
Holiday homework was always assigned uniformly by the teaching group. This year’s National Day Chinese assignment was nothing special — just having the kids write a short travel journal.
But the moment she thought about how other children’s essays would mention their fathers, mothers, or grandparents, while Ling Siyuan likely had only a nanny watching over him, Zhu Wenshu felt a pang of pity for him.
If she remembered correctly, Ling Chen himself came from a single-parent household.
Though her knowledge of Ling Chen, back in high school, went no further than that. What she knew beyond that came from various unverified tabloid stories after he became famous.
Supposedly, his mother had died young, and his father was practically a local thug — drinking, gambling, violence, none of it spared. Not only had he never fulfilled a father’s responsibilities, but in the past couple of years he’d repeatedly demanded huge sums of money from Ling Chen for his upkeep.
This kind of family background wasn’t uncommon in the entertainment industry in earlier years.
So at one point, people thought this was a “beautiful, talented, tragic” persona his company had deliberately built for him.
Rumors swirled, but Ling Chen never responded to any of them.
But Zhu Wenshu knew these things were probably true.
Those bleak years of high school — his worn-out clothes, the fresh and old wounds on his face — those had likely been evidence backing up the rumors all along.
Given that, why hadn’t Ling Chen learned from it and become a responsible father himself?
Sigh.
Zhu Wenshu sighed, and with the conscience and sense of duty of a public educator, picked up her phone and sent Ling Chen a message.
[Zhu Wenshu]: Are you free during National Day?
[c]: No.
“…”
[Zhu Wenshu]: I understand you’re at the height of your career right now and very busy, but really, not even a little free time?
[Zhu Wenshu]: Even just one evening?
[c]: ?
[Zhu Wenshu]: ?
[c]: Sorry.
[c]: I sell my talent, not my body.
Zhu Wenshu: “…”
She really did clench her fists, over and over.
The Ling Chen from before was definitely not like this!!!
They hadn’t interacted much, but he was absolutely not this kind of person.
The entertainment industry really was a giant vat of dye — it stained everyone who stepped into it.
Zhu Wenshu didn’t want to keep talking to him, so she copied the homework assignment text and sent it straight over.
[Dear parents! We’re about to welcome the wonderful National Day holiday. On this crisp, golden autumn day, we encourage everyone to take your children outdoors to get closer to nature. The Chinese-language assignment for this holiday will be a travel journal, topic of your choosing, with zoos or botanical gardens recommended as subjects. Happy National Day from all the faculty and staff at Jiangcheng Experimental Elementary School!]
Before hitting send, Zhu Wenshu paused and deleted the last line.
You’d better not be too happy.
Since teachers had paid winter and summer breaks, Zhu Wenshu didn’t plan to squeeze into the crowds during the seven-day National Day holiday.
She’d originally planned to go home and stay with her parents, but the two of them had suddenly decided to go on a road trip with some colleagues instead, leaving Zhu Wenshu to spend the holiday alone in Jiangcheng.
Watching everyone else fight the crowds online every day wasn’t so bad, either.
Zhu Wenshu bought a mountain of snacks and fruit to stock up at home, binged all the variety shows and dramas she never had time for, wore pajamas from morning till night, and only opened her door for takeout and deliveries.
Thinking about it, she’d basically replicated her roommate’s entire lifestyle.
Speaking of her roommate Ying Fei — Zhu Wenshu had initially found her habits hard to understand. As a full-time illustrator, Ying Fei’s entire work and life took place in her side bedroom; she went out maybe once every two or three days, practically fused to her bed like she was paralyzed.
Now it was Zhu Wenshu’s turn, and she outdid Ying Fei — a full six days without anyone seeing her.
On the last day of the holiday, it was Ying Fei who couldn’t stand it anymore and dragged her out to a nearby park to sit in the sun.
Maybe because all the kids had been taken traveling by their parents, the park was unusually quiet today — not even many old folks playing chess or walking their birds.
Only the Ferris wheel — the most famous spot for viewing all of Jiangcheng — had any visitors.
Weather in the low twenties Celsius — there were only a handful of days like this each year.
Zhu Wenshu and Ying Fei each took a bench and idled away more than two hours doing nothing at all.
The sun’s rays shifted silently across the sky, and a fallen leaf drifting in the shaft of light brushed past Zhu Wenshu’s nose.
She opened her eyes, her gaze finding no target in the empty air, and it took a while for her thoughts to gather before she turned her eyes toward Ying Fei.
“It’s six o’clock. Should we head back?”
Ying Fei, newspaper covering her face, gave a muffled “mm” in response.
Then she stayed motionless for another five minutes before finally lifting the newspaper off.
“Let’s go.”
The sun was almost setting. The two of them, hands in their pockets, ambled out of the park, had dinner on the pedestrian street, and then finally turned back home.
Opening the door and bending down to change her shoes, Zhu Wenshu suddenly gave a little “ah.”
“What’s wrong?”
Ying Fei asked. “Slippers too hot?”
“No.”
Zhu Wenshu pulled up her sleeve, frowning. “My bracelet is missing.”
“Huh? Lost it? Did you maybe just not put it on before you went out?”
“No way, I wear it every day even when I don’t go out.”
Though she sounded certain, Zhu Wenshu still went into her room and checked her jewelry box.
Finding nothing inside, she searched around her bed and the bathroom too.
Not finding it in her own room, Zhu Wenshu shuffled hurriedly in her slippers to the kitchen and living room, even digging through the sofa cushions.
Seeing how anxious she was, Ying Fei helped look around too.
“What does it look like?”
“A beaded bracelet, pink crystal.”
The two of them searched the apartment without finding it, and basically concluded she must have lost it in the park or on the pedestrian street.
Ying Fei said, “Sounds like we need to go back to the park — just don’t know if someone’s already picked it up.”
“I’ll go look myself.” Zhu Wenshu sighed. “Don’t you still have a deadline? Go work on that first — if I can’t find it, I’ll just let it go.”
“It’s fine, I wasn’t going to start writing before nighttime anyway.” Ying Fei put on her coat and waved her over. “Let’s go.”
Zhu Wenshu didn’t really want to trouble Ying Fei with this trip, but she genuinely loved that bracelet and was worried someone would pick it up if she went too late.
So the two of them left the apartment and split up — Ying Fei went to check the pedestrian street, while Zhu Wenshu went back to the park.
Autumn days were short, and Zhu Wenshu walked extremely slowly, scanning the ground the whole way.
By the time she reached the park entrance, dusk had already swept across the horizon.
From a distance, the Ferris wheel at the center of the park was already lit up, neon lights flickering against the half-dark sky.
But the park’s usually open gate had inexplicably been closed off with barrier tape, and a few people wearing staff badges stood beside it.
Zhu Wenshu was a bit puzzled and cautiously stepped closer. Before she could even speak, a man came forward to stop her from getting any nearer.
“Sorry, the park’s been cleared for an event right now, no entry.”
“…”
Zhu Wenshu nodded, said okay, turned to take a couple of steps, then took out her phone to ask Ying Fei if she’d found anything.
[Ying Fei]: Nothing here. So many people on the pedestrian street, I’ve checked several times — if it really was lost here, someone’s definitely picked it up already.
Zhu Wenshu gripped her phone, hesitating as she turned around.
She took a few more steps, then, unwilling to give up, turned back to look at the park gate.
This bracelet wasn’t exactly valuable — just decorative-grade crystal.
But it was the gift she’d bought herself with her very first month’s salary when she started her job last year, to mark the fulfillment of her dream of becoming a teacher.
To Zhu Wenshu now, it meant a great deal.
Now that it was suddenly lost, Zhu Wenshu wasn’t willing to just give up.
And besides, the park being cleared out was actually a good thing — at least it meant fewer passing visitors, which lowered the chances of the bracelet being picked up.
After hesitating a moment, Zhu Wenshu turned and walked toward the barrier tape.
“Excuse me, when will your event be over? I need to go in and look for something very important.”
“This…”
The man glanced at his watch, then turned and whispered something to a colleague before finally looking at Zhu Wenshu with some difficulty. “Hard to say. We just started — if it goes fast, maybe two or three hours; if slow, could be until midnight.”
Two or three hours…
Thinking about having to go to work early tomorrow, Zhu Wenshu started to hesitate again.
“Miss, why don’t you just come back tomorrow?” Seeing her troubled expression, the man said, “Besides, it’s pitch dark — even if you got in now you wouldn’t be able to find anything. Better to come look in daylight.”
There was nothing else to do.
Zhu Wenshu dragged her heavy feet, nodding dejectedly.
“So will you be here all night—”
Before she could finish, Zhu Wenshu noticed that all the staff’s attention had suddenly turned to the same spot, and they went to pull the barrier tape open.
Following their gaze, Zhu Wenshu turned and saw a black business vehicle slowly approaching, so she immediately stepped back out of the way to let it pass.
But instead, the car slowed to a stop right beside her.
Zhu Wenshu froze for a moment, then took another step back.
The car still didn’t move.
A moment later, the window rolled down.
The night was hazy; only a small light was on inside the car.
But Zhu Wenshu could still clearly make out — sunk in the darkness — the silhouette of Ling Chen.
He was slouched in his seat, head tilted, looking out at her, his dark pupils striking in the faint light.
The face before her seemed impossible to reconcile with the memory of that boy from years ago, no matter how far it traveled across time.
Their eyes met abruptly, and Zhu Wenshu still felt a strange flicker of dazedness.
The breeze was cool, and the surroundings were silent except for the sound of insects.
“Teacher Zhu, if you keep staring, I’m going to start charging admission.”
Zhu Wenshu: “…”
Snapping back to herself, Zhu Wenshu turned her face away, expressionless.
Actually, Zhu Wenshu wasn’t surprised that Ling Chen would show up here — this park’s night view was famous, and quite a few celebrities came to shoot here.
The moment she’d seen the barrier tape, she’d known some celebrity team must be filming here.
She just hadn’t expected it to be such a coincidence — running into someone she knew right when she was at her wits’ end.
So, Zhu Wenshu took a moment to compose herself, forced an especially delighted expression, and turned her head. “Ling Chen? What are you doing here?”
Ling Chen glanced at her lightly, gave a knowing little huff, and tilted his chin at her.
“Get in.”
“Okay!”
Besides the driver, there was only Ling Chen in the car.
After Zhu Wenshu sat down, she looked up, about to say something to him—
The instant their eyes met, Ling Chen lazily withdrew his gaze and went back to slouching in his seat, eyes closed as if to sleep.
He didn’t say a single word the whole time, as if he were treating her like empty air.
Wasn’t he even going to ask what she was doing here?
The atmosphere turned oddly awkward.
Zhu Wenshu kept glancing at Ling Chen, wondering if speaking up first would bother him.
Just then, Ling Chen, seeming to sense her gaze, suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her.
“By the way, what are you here for?”
“…”
Zhu Wenshu said, “I’m looking for something.”
“Oh.”
Ling Chen showed no particular surprise, turning to look out the car window instead, his tone flat. “What kind of thing?”
“A bracelet. I probably lost it here this afternoon. I just came back to look and couldn’t get in.”
Zhu Wenshu said, “Thank you for letting me in.”
Ling Chen suddenly turned to look at her, but didn’t speak right away.
A moment later: “You’re still looking for it this late?”
Though Zhu Wenshu kept her eyes forward, she could feel that the moment she’d mentioned a bracelet, Ling Chen’s gaze had lost its drowsiness and was now fixed intently on the side of her face.
She felt a bit uncomfortable and lowered her head to fix her hair.
“Yeah. If I don’t find it, I can’t sleep.”
Ling Chen: “That special, huh?”
“Mm.”
Zhu Wenshu nodded. “Very expensive.”
“…”
The car slowly drove toward the Ferris wheel.
Zhu Wenshu studied the road outside, calculating where to get out to make her search easier.
The man beside her suddenly spoke. “A gift from your boyfriend?”
Zhu Wenshu’s attention was fully on the road, and she answered offhandedly, “What boyfriend, I bought it myself.”
In the small space of the car, every little sound was amplified.
After a beat of silence, Zhu Wenshu clearly heard him give a faint scoff.
“You’re still single, huh?”
What kind of tone was that?
Zhu Wenshu somehow picked up a mocking undertone of, “Wow, you’re really pathetic — still single after all these years.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Ling Chen: “What do you mean, ‘guess so’?”
Zhu Wenshu slowly turned to look at him.
“About the same as you — divorced last year with two kids.”
“…”