Jiang Wen finally passed out drunk over the table.
Upstairs, Min Yueyue held the microphone, singing aimlessly along to a song.
In the dim, low-lit room, Jiang Wen seemed to be in some kind of distress, his brow furrowing, muttering something in his sleep.
His face was close. Dark lashes, a fine, elegant nose bridge, thin but soft lips.
Everything about it was, in that moment, just right.
Feng Ning looked at the small brown mole beside Jiang Wen’s brow, raised her hand, let it hover in the air, and slowly drew closer. Just as her fingertip was about to touch him, she stopped, at the very last, tiny distance.
She pulled her hand back.
…
…
Min Yueyue only knew a few lines of Cantonese, humming along vaguely before turning on the original vocals and turning to talk to Bai Hongyi instead. “I used to love Faye Wong the most. People always said she wasn’t pretty, but I always thought she was beautiful. Especially in Chungking Express—she just had this spark to her.”
Bai Hongyi said, “Faye Wong’s songs aren’t exactly happy ones—they’ve broken plenty of hearts over the years.”
The faintly hoarse Cantonese lyrics repeated softly in the background, something about fearing love’s tragedies would repeat, about being unable to touch the most beautiful things.
Jiang Wen’s eyes were shut tight, but at the corners of his eyes and brows, a trace of pain still leaked through, impossible to hide.
Feng Ning’s breathing grew tight and restrained. She took a towel and slowly wiped the traces of liquor from around Jiang Wen’s lips and chin.
A grown man’s body was heavy, and her movements were slow, step by step, as she helped him back onto the sofa.
As she stood up, Feng Ning noticed something on the floor. From its shape, it looked like a brown leather wallet. She bent down to pick it up for him. A few dollar bills fell out.
Feng Ning opened the wallet, meaning to tuck the money back inside.
The wallet had three layers of pockets. Almost without thinking, she pried one open, and what was inside made her pause for a moment.
It looked familiar.
In an instant, an uncontrollable rush of feeling surged up. She stood frozen where she was, dazed for a few seconds.
Feng Ning took the items out.
—Two sticky notes and a lottery ticket, all sealed in plastic.
She recognized one immediately as her own handwriting, though her memory of it had grown hazy—she had no recollection at all of when she’d written this line for Jiang Wen.
[Happy New Year, Jiang Wen. May every year be a happy one!]
The other… was a note with a doodle of a peacock and a wine bottle. Feng Ning lowered her gaze slightly to look at the man sleeping soundly.
There was also a line written on the back of this note.
Jwaifn16-
It was Jiang Wen’s handwriting.
She immediately connected it to that odd, jumbled string in Jiang Wen’s WeChat name.
Once she realized what it meant, a subtle, sour ache in her chest instantly sharpened into real pain.
…
…
Inside the private room, the colorful spotlights swirled. Min Yueyue and Bai Hongyi were wrapped around each other.
They started kissing.
The song continued playing, something about history repeating itself, about whether cherishing someone again would be of any use, whether holding on tighter this time might not end in loss after all.
Feng Ning found a thin blanket and draped it over Jiang Wen.
His left hand hung loosely off the edge of the sofa.
She sat down in another small corner. Moonlight, clear and gentle, spilled in, cutting out a soft silhouette.
Feng Ning gazed at Jiang Wen’s shadow, her whole being filled with an inscrutable silence.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she got up, turned off the light, and left quietly.
…
…
The song’s final lines played out, something about having some kind of premonition, unable to keep her eyes open, watching fate arrive.
The lonely, mournful song had reached its end.
Time seemed to freeze on a single point. In the quiet room, Jiang Wen opened his eyes.
Min Yueyue woke up the next day around noon and found the space beside her empty.
Groggily, she picked up her phone from the pillow and messaged Feng Ning:
My: [Ningning, where’d you go?]
No reply.
After washing up and heading downstairs, she found only Bai Hongyi there. Min Yueyue asked, “Huh, where’s Handsome Jiang?”
Bai Hongyi was toasting bread. “He left early. Where’s your friend?”
“She left too.”
Something occurred to Bai Hongyi, and he said offhandedly, “Don’t you think there’s something weird going on between Ryan and your friend?”
“Hm?” Min Yueyue said, “You didn’t know? They dated in high school.”
Bai Hongyi froze for a second. “Feng Ning?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s the domestic ex-girlfriend of Ryan’s — the legendary one?!”
Min Yueyue looked a bit baffled. “Why are you so worked up about this?”
Bai Hongyi’s expression turned strange. “I’ve been curious about this legendary ex of Ryan’s for ages.”
Min Yueyue took a bite of her toast. “Curious about what?”
“What kind of woman…” Bai Hongyi shook his head slowly, drawing out the words, “could wound Ryan this badly.”
“Wounded him badly? I wouldn’t know about that.”
Min Yueyue thought it over. “And besides, Ningning doesn’t seem the type… maybe you’re talking about someone else?”
Bai Hongyi: “So is Feng Ning still single now? When did you two meet, has she ever mentioned Ryan?”
“Yeah, single. We met in grad school, I’ve barely heard her talk about the past.”
Min Yueyue leaned against the counter edge, tearing off another piece of toast. “Ningning’s never had anyone around her, and I figured Handsome Jiang and her would actually make a good match, so I dragged them both out on purpose, hoping to spark something.”
Just then, a WeChat message popped up on her phone.
Ning: [I already went back. You have fun with your romance. From now on, stay out of things between me and Jiang Wen.]
A month passed, and Feng Ning and Jiang Wen more or less lost touch again.
Apart, distant, each returning to a quiet, ordinary life. As if none of it had ever happened—that was what Feng Ning hoped to achieve.
Week after week, Shanghai began drifting into cold, damp rain.
On Christmas Eve, right around quitting time, Feng Ning suddenly got a call from Guan Tongfu.
“Ning-jie, can you do me a small favor?”
Feng Ning was in the middle of reviewing last quarter’s financial report. “What favor?”
“Xiaozhu and I are about to have dinner with a Maruko client. Can you deliver some documents to their office after work? I missed one when I was putting the files together this afternoon.”
Feng Ning glanced at the clock. “Deliver it to who?”
Guan Tongfu: “A manager surnamed Li. I’ll send you his contact.”
Feng Ning made a sound of agreement. “Send their company address to my phone too.”
Shuang Yao was coming to Shanghai for Christmas this year, landing at eight in the evening. Feng Ning was driving, thinking about it, when she got a message from her.
Shuang Yao A’Yao: [Delayed another half hour, but about to take off. Flight 3U8889. I want to see your face waiting at Hongqiao T2 when I land, got it?]
Ning: [Got it. Turn your phone off, safe flight.]
Maruko’s office was in a bustling office tower in the inner ring. Feng Ning told the front desk why she’d come.
The receptionist told her to wait nearby.
Feng Ning stepped aside and called Manager Li.
After a while, the call connected. “Hello, who’s this?”
Feng Ning explained, “Hi, Manager Li, I’m from Shuanggang Translation, here to deliver a document.”
“Oh, sorry about that, I’m in a meeting right now.”
There was a pause, as if he’d moved somewhere else. Manager Li said, “I can’t get away right now—if that’s alright, just leave it at the front desk.”
Feng Ning said, “This document’s fairly important. If you’re busy, could you let the front desk know, and I’ll bring it up to you?”
“Oh, sure, sure, thank you for the trouble.”
The elevator rose slowly, and when it reached the floor, the doors slid open.
Feng Ning walked through their office area, and Maruko’s gilded sign hung on the wall. As she passed, she glanced at it a few extra times, noticing their logo resembled something like a cherry.
Feng Ning suddenly felt an inexplicable fondness for the place.
A sweet-looking young woman brought Feng Ning a glass of water and led her inside, explaining, “We’re having our team meeting today, but it’s almost over—Manager Li asked me to bring you in first.”
Feng Ning thanked her and said, “No worries.”
They’d just rounded a corridor when a group of people suddenly appeared ahead.
The man walking at the front, dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, looked both dashing and mature.
Feng Ning froze for a moment.
As they approached, Jiang Wen’s steps suddenly slowed, his gaze shifting, locking onto Feng Ning’s without wavering.
She stepped to the side, making way.
A door up ahead opened, and Manager Li leaned out and called to her, “You must be Miss Feng from Shuanggang Translation?”
Feng Ning walked over quickly. “Yes, that’s me.”
While handing over the documents to Manager Li, countless threads suddenly connected in her mind. Feng Ning thought absently—so the multinational company Guan Tongfu had mentioned turned out to be Jiang Wen’s?
Her mood instantly turned complicated.
…
…
Right then, a call came in on her phone, and Feng Ning felt a wave of relief as she answered. She kept talking on the phone the whole time, eyes down on the path ahead, not looking to either side, as she walked out like that.
Waiting by the elevator, the floor number ticked from 17 up to 24. Once the call was finished, Feng Ning lowered her eyes, made a couple of acknowledging sounds, and hung up.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped in, and someone followed in right behind her.
Feng Ning turned her head.
Jiang Wen turned his head too.
This was the first time Feng Ning had seen Jiang Wen dressed this formally—white shirt, a dark blue Windsor knot tucked at the collar. She looked him up and down for a few seconds before turning her gaze away.
As the elevator began to descend, there was a brief second of weightlessness.
In the small space, it was just the two of them. Jiang Wen asked in a low voice, “Why did you run off just now?”
Feng Ning stayed calm and shot back, “Why would I need to run from you?”
“How would I know?”
The elevator went down three floors, stopped, the doors opened, and another group of people got in, separating the two of them.
So they stopped talking.
The elevator reached the ground floor, and everyone filed out. Feng Ning fell a few steps behind, then turned back to give Jiang Wen a polite goodbye. “I’ll head off first.”
Jiang Wen stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes lifting slightly, saying flatly, “Let me take you to dinner?”
Feng Ning heard the mere formality in it and declined. “No need.”
Jiang Wen said nothing.
After a pause, Feng Ning explained, “Shuang Yao’s here—I need to go pick her up from the airport soon.”
Jiang Wen suddenly asked, “Did you change your WeChat?”
Feng Ning said, “No.”
Jiang Wen glanced at her, said nothing further.
“I’m off.” Feng Ning bid him farewell.
Shuang Yao’s flight was delayed by half an hour. Feng Ning lived in Yangpu District, and driving would take too long, so she just took the subway instead.
By the time she’d picked up Shuang Yao, dropped her luggage off at home, and gone back out to eat, it was nearly midnight.
So they went for hotpot.
The whole way there, Shuang Yao kept grilling her about Jiang Wen, and Feng Ning ignored her.
Once they’d sat down at the hotpot place and ordered, Shuang Yao kept right on chattering. Feng Ning said, “Are you here to see me, or to see Jiang Wen?”
Shuang Yao clicked her tongue. “Isn’t this me caring about you? Do you know how anxious it makes me, watching you stay single all these years? Seriously, I’ve already thought it through—if you don’t get married eventually, I’ll just have two kids and give you one.”
Feng Ning was folding napkins and laughed at that. “Is it really that dramatic?”
“So did you and Jiang Wen ever actually talk it out? Has he moved on from you, or is there still something that could happen between you two?” Shuang Yao’s question came in a roundabout way.
“If there was going to be something, it would’ve happened in the last ten years already. Why would it wait until now?”
Shuang Yao said, “You can’t say that. Plenty of people are still chasing their first loves at seventy or eighty. You two aren’t even close to that.”
She got up from her seat and came to sit next to Feng Ning. “Unlock your phone, let me check something.”
“Check what?”
Shuang Yao picked up her phone. “Don’t argue, just unlock it.”
Feng Ning refused to cooperate.
Shuang Yao forcibly turned her face, aiming it at the camera for face unlock.
She scanned through with obvious intent for several minutes. Shuang Yao clicked her tongue in amazement. “Damn, Ning-jie, you’re brutal. A real old-school PUA queen.”
Feng Ning didn’t understand. “What’s PUA?”
“You don’t even know this? It’s all over Weibo lately—short for pickup artist, master seducer. When people PUA each other in relationships, usually one side ends up hopelessly wrecked.”
Shuang Yao set the phone down on the table, the WeChat interface open to Feng Ning’s most recent conversation with Jiang Wen:
October 9th, 20XX, 6:19 AM—
61nfiawJ: [I’m heading out.]
61nfiawJ: [Drank too much last night, sorry for the trouble.]
61nfiawJ: [Message me back once you’re awake.]
…
…
October 18th, 20XX, 9:09 PM—
61nfiawJ: [Feng Ning]
61nfiawJ: [?]
…
…
Friday, 11:51 PM—
61nfiawJ: [You still use this WeChat?]
…
…
Yesterday, 23:20—
61nfiawJ: [? Blocked me?]
…
…
17:18—
61nfiawJ: [When’s Shuang Yao leaving?]
19:02—
61nfiawJ: [Never mind, forget it.]
Shuang Yao threw herself down dramatically. “He sends you a dozen messages and you don’t reply to a single one? Could your heart get any colder?”
Feng Ning glanced over, then locked the screen, and the display went dark again.
Shuang Yao pondered for a moment, muttering, “Wait, wait, wait… something’s off.”
A sudden flash of insight hit her, and she urged, “Quick, Feng Ning, show me your chat history with Jiang Wen again, I think I just figured something out.”
—61nfiawJ
Shuang Yao mulled over that string of characters in Jiang Wen’s WeChat name.
The long message Jiang Wen had just sent Feng Ning made Shuang Yao suddenly sharpen her focus. She said, “Ningning, if I’m not reading too much into it, try reading his username backward.”
“J, w, a, i, f, n, 1, 6—”
Shuang Yao nearly leapt out of her seat. “Isn’t this—JiangWenAiFengNing—Jiang Wen loves Feng Ning?!”
Feng Ning said nothing.
Shuang Yao confirmed it to herself again. “Holy crap, it really is! Absolutely is!”
As though she’d uncovered some earth-shattering secret, she grabbed at Feng Ning excitedly. “Look, look at this.”
Feng Ning stayed perfectly still. “I already figured that out ages ago.”
“Then what about the leftover ’16-‘? What does that mean?”
Before Feng Ning could answer, Shuang Yao slapped her thigh. “I’ve got it—could it be, from age sixteen to…?”
She faltered, expression going a bit blank. “…to no more…”
Wouldn’t that mean—
Jiang Wen loves Feng Ning, from sixteen, to forever…
After a long moment, Shuang Yao finally snapped back to herself, eyes practically welling with romantic tears, and said, indignant, “I’m genuinely floored. That’s way too romantic. Feng Ning, what did you even do in a past life? Save the galaxy or something? This lifetime you land someone this handsome, this rich, and this devoted, and you’re just toying with him in the palm of your hand?”
By the time the broth came to a boil, her mood still hadn’t settled. While dipping tofu skin, she looked up and asked, “Why not give it another shot with Jiang Wen? He’s clearly not over you, the way he’s acting.”
There was an oddly long silence.
Feng Ning answered, “Have you heard the song ‘Undercurrent’? Sung by Faye Wong, written by Lin Xi.”
“Never heard it.”
“Look it up.”
Shuang Yao pulled out her phone and searched, scanning through a few explanations, reading aloud after a while, “It describes love that looks calm on the surface but is actually all undercurrents underneath. Loving without being able to have, and being helpless about it. Too afraid to get close, afraid the tragedy will repeat itself.”
Shuang Yao finished reading. “What kind of depressing song is this.”
Feng Ning looked at her. “I haven’t let go of Jiang Wen. I’m just afraid to.”
“Shuang Yao, I know it’s there—the undercurrent. I just don’t dare to touch it.”
—I know it’s there, I just don’t dare to touch it.
Seeing that Feng Ning wasn’t joking at all.
Shuang Yao’s expression turned serious. “There’s something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time.”
Feng Ning: “What?”
“Don’t become the kind of person who knows all the right principles but still can’t manage to live a good life.”
…
…
The rest of the meal passed rather heavily. Feng Ning lost most of her appetite.
While Shuang Yao went to the restroom, Feng Ning opened WeChat and tapped into her conversation with Jiang Wen.
Half an hour earlier, he’d sent two more messages—
61nfiawJ: [Not going to reply?]
61nfiawJ: [Fine, block me if you’ve got the nerve.]