Over the following days, everyone noticed the change in Wen Tingli.

She had always been cheerful and quick to laugh, but these past few days, she seemed to be glowing all over—a radiance that even the most careless person couldn’t fail to notice.

Today, as usual, Wen Tingli hurried to the dressing room to change the moment she finished work. Huang Yuanshan stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching her.

The two women locked eyes, and Huang Yuanshan spoke first: “What, not coming with us for a late-night snack again tonight?”

Wen Tingli was busy sticking a fake mustache on her face. “Go with them yourselves. I’ve got something to attend to.”

Huang Yuanshan smiled knowingly. “In my opinion, there’s no one else it could be. Come on, be honest with me—when exactly did you two make up?”

“Reporter Huang.” Wen Tingli glanced left and right at herself in the mirror. “This isn’t interview time. I’m afraid I have no comment on your question. I’ll be going now—whatever you take them out to eat tonight, put it all on my tab.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you—this week we’re signing contracts with Xinghua Publishing House and Miss Ge, both top-priority deals. Put some real effort into it.”

“Hah! When have I ever neglected serious business?” Wen Tingli called back over her shoulder as she walked ahead.

Huang Yuanshan shook her head with a smile, then went into the studio and clapped her hands. “Boss Wen is treating everyone tonight. She told me to pass the word: don’t be polite when you’re ordering. You hear that? Tonight we’re going to fleece her good.”

The studio erupted in cheerful laughter.

At that moment, Wen Tingli had already gotten into a rented car. These past few days, she and Lu Shicheng had been having dinner together every night. Today they’d arranged to meet near Bei’anli again—a spot she had picked herself. According to Zhao Qingluo, several new late-night snack shops had opened nearby, with fresh, delicious food, and since not many people knew about the place yet, it was quiet enough to be perfect for a date.

But she had to make a detour to Xiao Taozi’s kindergarten first. That afternoon, the headmistress had called to say that several children had been selected to participate in an arts performance, and Kuang Weihang was one of them. There were some forms that needed a parent’s signature, and since Zhou Sao couldn’t read, she’d asked Wen Tingli to come by as soon as possible. Wen Tingli had agreed at once, and before finishing work, she’d specially asked Xiao Tian to help her buy some fruit and pastries.

When she arrived at the kindergarten, the headmistress was indeed still there. Wen Tingli respectfully placed two large gift boxes on the desk. “You and the teachers are always troubling yourselves to look after Xiao Taozi. Just a small token—please accept it.”

The headmistress stared blankly at Wen Tingli, took off her glasses, wiped them, put them back on, and looked her over from head to toe.

There stood Wen Tingli in a man’s Western suit, a flat cap on her head, two mustache strips still stuck to her upper lip. Looking and looking, the headmistress finally caught on. “Miss Wen must have come straight from the studio. My old eyes really are failing me—I took you for some young fellow who’d wandered in off the street, saying such odd things to me for no reason.”

Wen Tingli chatted with the headmistress for a few minutes, filled out the forms, and while she was at it bought a few children’s magazines for Xiao Taozi before taking her leave.

The moment she arrived at the meeting spot, she saw Lu Shicheng’s car parked beneath the shade of a tree.

He sat inside, looking toward the street corner.

Wen Tingli smiled, took out money to pay the fare, and crept toward Lu Shicheng’s car, planning to sneak up behind him and give him a scare.

But it was as if the back of Lu Shicheng’s head had eyes of its own—he happened to turn and look back at exactly that moment.

The two of them smiled at each other from a distance, and once they were close, Lu Shicheng glanced past her, a little curious. “Why’d you come from that direction?”

“Xiao Taozi’s kindergarten needed to sign her up for the arts performance, so I had the driver make a detour on the way.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Don’t even mention it. It broke down this morning right as I was leaving, and the foreign firm sent someone to tow it away. No idea when it’ll be fixed.”

As she spoke, she naturally took hold of Lu Shicheng’s hand, and he reached up and straightened the cap on her head.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked softly.

“Not long.”

“But I’m a full twenty minutes late.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t seem to mind at all, holding her hand as they walked forward. Wen Tingli lowered her eyes to watch their feet move in step—the two of them really were like two streams, each time they walked, happily merging into one.

The moment they entered the restaurant, the proprietress came forward warmly. “You’re back, sir! This must be the friend you were waiting for. The food will be ready soon, I’ll bring it right out to the two of you.”

People around them glanced their way, apparently trying to guess whether Wen Tingli was a man or a woman. One elderly grandmother even fixed Lu Shicheng with a look of alarmed disapproval.

Lu Shicheng, without so much as glancing sideways, studied the menu in his hands. Wen Tingli couldn’t help laughing, her two arms alternately resting on the table as she whispered to him, “Mr. Lu, that woman thinks you’re some kind of freak.”

He couldn’t care less. Without lifting his head, he said, “What do you want for dessert? I only ordered a few main dishes just now—take a look at the menu yourself.”

In the end, Wen Tingli shook her head. When the main dishes arrived, she took only two bites of each before setting down her chopsticks.

Lu Shicheng didn’t understand. “Don’t like it? Should we go somewhere else?”

“It’s delicious, no need to change places. I’m already full.”

Lu Shicheng took out his wallet from his jacket pocket and paid. Once outside, he asked her quietly, “Not feeling well? Or too tired?”

In the past, no matter what, she’d never eaten this little—even in a bad mood, she could dab at her tears with one hand while shoveling food into her mouth with the other.

“You know I’m shooting a labor film right now.” Wen Tingli patiently explained. “I’m playing the lead, Chunhong. I was originally quite confident about playing this role, but one day Miss Cao from our company took me to meet the women workers at the Hongmian Textile Mill, and only then did I understand what a real factory girl looks like.”

She paused, trying to keep her tone even. “Yao Jie and I both hope this film can awaken public concern and sympathy for women laborers. So as the lead, I have to make myself look as close to a real factory worker as possible.”

Lu Shicheng listened silently.

“A while back I’d already managed to lose about ten pounds, but unfortunately these past few days, every time I go out to eat with you, I end up eating a lot without meaning to. This morning on the scale, I’d gained a full two pounds. I need to find a way to lose it again quickly.”

So that was why she’d fainted from hunger that night. He looked worriedly at her arm, thinner than before. “How much longer until this film wraps?”

“We should finish the studio scenes before Mid-Autumn Festival, then it’s just a few location shoots in the countryside and we’ll be done.”

Without quite realizing it, they’d wandered somewhere with fewer people around. She reached up and peeled the two mustache strips off her lip, revealing her whole face, and seemed to breathe much easier.

“Once that’s over, you can go back to eating normally, right?”

“Of course. If this keeps up, I’ll end up malnourished.”

Lu Shicheng let out a small breath of relief and said nothing more, simply holding her hand and walking slowly forward.

Wen Tingli was glad he hadn’t simply urged her to take better care of herself, but instead tried to understand what she was doing.

“The moment this film wraps, I’m going to eat like crazy for days. First stop, Lao Zhengxing for braised pork belly, then Jindong Restaurant for eight-treasure duck—the whole duck is mine! Then Changxing Restaurant for braised fish and crab roe scrambled eggs, three plates of each—”

As he listened, Lu Shicheng couldn’t help pulling a small pocket notebook from his coat.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing it down for you, so we can eat our way down the list in order,” he said with perfect seriousness.

His speech impediment had been cured long ago, but he still kept the habit of carrying a notebook everywhere. She laughed and leaned her head over. “Let me see if you’ve written down any of my other secrets in there.”

She made as if to snatch the notebook from him. Lu Shicheng laughed and stepped back, but in the end let her grab it away. Wen Tingli didn’t open it, though—she simply pushed it back into his hands, and just then felt a sudden coolness on her forehead: a raindrop had fallen.

Both of them looked up at once.

“It’s raining? Wonderful, I love walking in the street on rainy days.”

Wen Tingli reached her hand forward to catch the silvery threads of rain.

Lu Shicheng walked behind her with his hands tucked in his trouser pockets.

To her, it seemed even the most ordinary little things could make her happy.

Last night, the sky had been full of stars, and she’d exclaimed to him joyfully, “Lu Shicheng, look, the stars are so big and bright tonight!”

The day before, it had been overcast—no stars or moon visible, only clouds filling the sky—and she’d chattered on excitedly, “Look, this really is a proper ‘dark and windy night for murder.’ No wonder there’s no one out strolling in the streets—perfect, no need to worry about anyone recognizing me.”

She truly understood how to treasure every single moment.

No matter what she faced, she always met it with the most optimistic attitude imaginable.

He thought, if every person’s soul had a different color, then Wen Tingli’s soul must be golden, like the rising sun—one couldn’t help being drawn into its light.

Wen Tingli walked a couple of steps ahead, then turned back and saw Lu Shicheng watching her intently. She grew quiet, and a little shyly returned to his side and took his hand.

The two of them wandered aimlessly. A peaceful atmosphere seeped, thread by thread, into their hearts.

Suddenly Lu Shicheng said, “Look.”

They had just passed a photo studio, and in the glass display window hung a half-length photograph of Wen Tingli. The shop owner must have thought her smile especially endearing, for he’d specially enlarged her photo and hung it in the most eye-catching spot.

“Did you take a photo at this studio?”

“No,” she said proudly. “There’s no telling how many photo studios use my picture to draw in customers. Actually, this is a candid shot from Southern Beauty. Look, there’s my photo across the street too.”

Across the street was a general goods shop, with a hot-water-bottle advertisement pasted beside the doorframe.

The smiling young lady on the poster—who else could it be but Wen Tingli.

“Frightening. You’re everywhere.”

“Frightening? Say that again.”

Lu Shicheng, having made sure no one was around, lowered his head and pecked a kiss onto her forehead. As luck would have it, just then two young girls happened to push open the door of the photo studio. Because of the dim light, they couldn’t quite tell whether Wen Tingli was a man or a woman, and let out a frightened yelp.

Then they caught sight of Lu Shicheng’s turning face, saw how young and handsome he was, and grew embarrassed, giggling as they ran off hand in hand.

In the darkness, Wen Tingli’s eyes burned bright as she looked at Lu Shicheng. “Well, now Mr. Lu will never wash this off, even jumping in the Yellow River.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His eyes burned just as bright, looking back at her. She smiled and reached up to brush his shoulder. The rain carried a cool wind that rustled the branches of the trees along the roadside, and leaves fell, one happening to land on Lu Shicheng’s shoulder.

She helped pick the leaf off him, but as she raised her arm, her bag tilted, and the new books she’d bought for Xiao Taozi fell out.

Lu Shicheng bent to pick them up for her, and his eyes fell on the cover, where the name “Kuang Weihang” was written.

“Xiao Taozi’s formal name?”

“Yes. Well?”

“It’s nice.” He suddenly grew curious. “What about you? Do you have a childhood name?”

Wen Tingli clamped her mouth shut and turned to walk on ahead.

He kept pace with her unhurriedly, saying thoughtfully, “By common sense, if the second child has a childhood name, the eldest usually does too.”

“I won’t tell you.”

“I’ll guess it myself, then. Wouldn’t happen to be Little Orange, would it?”

He’d only said it offhand to tease her, but her reaction told him he’d guessed right. He couldn’t help but laugh, lowering his head—what a strange pair of childhood names, the younger sister called Little Peach, the elder called Little Orange, practically a whole family of fruit.

“Still laughing!” She glared at him. “My mother said she’d heard from the old folks that the more casual a child’s name, the easier they are to raise. She loved eating oranges when she was carrying me, and craved peaches when she was carrying my sister. What’s wrong with that?”

She pretended to be angry and walked on ahead.

Ever since she’d started school, she’d never let her parents call her by her childhood name again. She’d once come across the phrase tingting yuli—”standing tall and graceful as jade”—in a dictionary and, thinking it beautiful, had taken it upon herself to change her name to that. Not understanding much back then, the young girl had simply hoped she’d grow up to be beautiful, and had changed the character li (立, “stand”) to li (丽, “beautiful”).

From then on, her name had officially become Wen Tingli. Except for the rare occasion when her parents slipped and called her by mistake, the name “Little Orange” never appeared in her life again.

Somewhere not far off, a child seemed to be hawking something, the calls drifting to her ears intermittently, though she paid it no mind.

Before long, she heard a soft patter of footsteps catching up behind them—not Lu Shicheng’s steps. Wen Tingli couldn’t help turning around out of curiosity, and from off to the side a pure white bouquet was suddenly thrust toward her—it turned out to be a flower-selling child who’d run to catch up.

“The gentleman behind sent these for you,” the child said. “He said to apologize, and asks you to forgive his offense toward you just now.”

The corner of Wen Tingli’s mouth curled up, and she slowly reached out to take the bunch of lily of the valley from the flower boy’s hands.

The flower boy stared curiously at Wen Tingli’s face, and only up this close could he be certain she really was a woman, just dressed in men’s clothes.

The child had his own patter, grinning cheekily. “Buy flowers from little me from Ningbo, and you’ll be together long and long. Sir, miss, wishing you a match made in heaven, may true love find its way!”

With that he darted off. Wen Tingli felt secretly delighted, but said aloud, “Don’t think you can win my forgiveness just by sending me a bouquet like this.”

Behind her came his earnest voice: “How can I earn Miss Wen’s forgiveness?”

“Unless—you tell me your childhood name too.”

Lu Shicheng’s expression froze slightly. Wen Tingli suddenly remembered his parents had died young, and regretted her slip of the tongue at once, resolving on the spot to ask nothing more. She hurried toward him, cradling the flowers.

But Lu Shicheng only bowed his head in melancholy for a moment before leaning close to her ear and saying two words.

“What?” Wen Tingli laughed in surprise.

“My childhood name.”

That evening he saw her home as usual. Once inside, Wen Tingli did nothing else, just sat on the sofa staring at the bunch of lily of the valley, smiling to herself.

The moment she thought of his childhood name, she felt like laughing.

“Xiao Cheng”—how fitting, how adorable, how childish. She didn’t believe Lu Shicheng had happily gone by that name past the age of five.

Zhou Sao came out for a glass of water and found Wen Tingli sitting in the living room grinning at nothing for no apparent reason. She asked, puzzled, “What are you sitting here daydreaming about? Did a fan send those flowers? Why so few, and such small blooms—looks rather shabby.”

“Shabby?” Wen Tingli felt a flash of displeasure. Whether flowers were beautiful had nothing to do with the flowers themselves, but everything to do with who sent them.

In her eyes, this bouquet was the most, most, most beautiful thing—more beautiful than any bouquet in the whole world.

What Wen Tingli hadn’t expected was that the next morning, the moment she walked into the office, a huge bunch of roses and jasmine sat on her desk, blooms as large as saucers, their fresh fragrance filling the air.

Wen Tingli walked over smiling and gathered the bouquet into her arms. Although she’d already guessed who’d sent it, she couldn’t help asking Xiao Tian to confirm: “Who sent these flowers?”

“No idea. They were already here first thing this morning.”

Wen Tingli smiled without answering. Tian Ling, though a little curious, could only suppress a smile and retreat.

At noon, Wen Tingli went to the school to take care of some business. Since her own car still wasn’t fixed, she’d called ahead to the Xiangsheng car rental company for a car. To her surprise, the moment she stepped outside, she saw an unfamiliar car parked outside the company.

The driver got out to greet her. “Miss Wen, Mr. Lu said your car broke down and specially instructed me to handle your pickup and drop-off for the next few days.”

It had only been an offhand remark, yet he’d taken it so much to heart. It was an unremarkable black old Ford—looking at it, no one would ever guess it belonged to the Lu family.

He’d thought of everything, in every direction, on her behalf.

Warmth spread through Wen Tingli’s heart, and she smiled at the driver. “May I ask your surname? Li? Then these next few days I’ll trouble you, Driver Li. Please take me to Hujiang University first.”