“Why wear plain glass lenses? To look cool?” Chen Qingwu asked with a laugh.

“Exactly.”

“You think I’ll believe that?”

Only then did Meng Fuyuan seriously explain, “Wearing glasses easily puts people in an observer’s position.”

“Does it?” The glasses were a bit large on Chen Qingwu. She pushed them up with her fingers, grabbed the frames on both sides with both hands, and looked at Meng Fuyuan.

Perhaps because of the lenses, she seemed indeed more daring to meet his gaze directly.

“Observe what?”

“…Everyone.” But Meng Fuyuan was somewhat dazed, unsure whether it was because she was wearing his glasses, or because the way she looked wearing glasses, beyond her usual coolness, added a scholar’s rigorous restraint.

“You don’t want others to see through you, but you want to see through others,” Chen Qingwu said.

Meng Fuyuan nodded.

Chen Qingwu smiled. “Am I also a subject of your observation?”

“Trap question. I choose not to answer.”

This was the problem with talking to smart people—he never seemed to have his rhythm disrupted by her.

Except for that one time when she’d caught him off guard by asking if the person he liked was her.

Chen Qingwu removed the glasses and returned them to Meng Fuyuan. After hesitating for a moment, she said, “I’ve also discovered another secret of yours. I want to verify it with you.”

Meng Fuyuan put on his glasses, pushed them up with his finger, and was about to look up when he heard Chen Qingwu say:

“François Truffaut’s film, *Jules and Jim*.”

Meng Fuyuan stopped abruptly.

Chen Qingwu tilted her head slightly up, as if wanting to look directly through the lenses into his eyes. “Your WeChat profile picture. Is that it?”

Meng Fuyuan’s expression barely changed. “Yes.”

“I remember it was three years ago, or was it four years ago when you changed it…”

“Five years. No, almost six years.”

Chen Qingwu felt her heart shake at these words.

Her gaze meeting his faltered and unconsciously lowered.

Back then in his study, when she’d wanted to look at that François Truffaut film criticism collection and he wouldn’t let her, it was probably because that book contained content related to this film.

She suddenly wished she hadn’t sought verification from him.

Hearing him admit it brought no secret pleasure at having caught him out—only a vague, surging sadness.

Six years. So long.

Actually that long.

She realized that the truth beyond that warning line—she no longer dared to look.

Meng Fuyuan almost immediately detected Chen Qingwu’s emotional change.

In truth, standing in an observer’s position didn’t necessarily mean one could always see through people’s hearts—like this moment.

Why had her expression darkened in an instant?

After a long silence, just as Meng Fuyuan was about to speak, he suddenly heard a knock at the door.

Chen Qingwu jumped in fright, took two steps back, and said calmly and naturally, “Come in.”

It was Zhao Yingfei who entered.

Chen Qingwu immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

Meng Fuyuan said nothing, taking in all her reactions.

Zhao Yingfei looked inside, greeted Meng Fuyuan, then immediately said to Chen Qingwu, “I left a book at your place. I’m here to get it.”

“Oh… it’s on the bedside table in the bedroom.”

Zhao Yingfei walked straight inside.

Chen Qingwu felt her soul had just settled back—if it had been Meng Qiran who’d suddenly arrived…

Meng Fuyuan was very measured. Every time he came over, he’d give advance notice, so up to now, there had been no tragedy of the two brothers running into each other.

But over time, the truth would eventually come out.

“Qingwu.” Meng Fuyuan casually straightened his collar and said, “I should go now. Rest early tonight.”

Chen Qingwu nodded.

Meng Fuyuan looked at her one last time, then turned and walked out.

Chen Qingwu watched his figure leave through the main door, then went to sit on the sofa and lit a cigarette.

When Zhao Yingfei came out, she saw Chen Qingwu with her arm propped on the sofa armrest, cigarette in hand, staring blankly into space.

“I’m leaving, Qingwu.”

“…Mm.”

Seeing her as if she’d lost her soul, Zhao Yingfei couldn’t feel at ease. She walked over and sat beside her, turning to ask, “What’s wrong?”

Chen Qingwu came to her senses, took a drag of her cigarette, and asked in a muffled voice, “Are you busy right now?”

“Not really. What’s up?”

“Can you stay and talk with me for a bit?”

“Relationship problems?”

“Mm.”

“I’ll reluctantly listen then.”

Chen Qingwu laughed, lowered her gaze, and after another long silence, finally spoke. “Last time I told you someone I really respect likes me. Do you remember?”

Zhao Yingfei nodded.

“I just discovered today that person…”

“Can’t you just say who it is directly?”

Chen Qingwu steeled herself. “I just discovered today that Meng Fuyuan…”

Zhao Yingfei lost her voice. “Who?”

“…You told me to say it directly.”

“You’re saying the person who likes you is Meng Qiran’s older brother?”

“…I told you it would scare you to death, but you didn’t believe me.”

“I believe you now.” Zhao Yingfei pressed her chest. “…Let me digest this first. Go on.”

“Well, before boarding the plane today, I searched Meng Fuyuan’s profile picture. It’s a screenshot from a film called *Jules and Jim*.”

Zhao Yingfei said, “I’ve seen it. About a love triangle. I don’t like watching art films—too depressing. I almost fell asleep.”

Yes, the most superficial label people put on *Jules and Jim* was that it depicted a love triangle between two men and one woman.

Meng Fuyuan’s profile picture was a screenshot of Jules and Jim drinking in a tavern, where Jules used chalk to draw his lover’s portrait on the table.

Chen Qingwu said, “He’s had this profile picture for almost six years.”

“You mean…”

“Mm.”

He’d liked her for as long as six years, yet concealed it so flawlessly.

If not for their frequent contact after coming to Dongcheng, perhaps it would never have been exposed even now.

Zhao Yingfei thought for a moment before saying, “Does he know that you and Meng Qiran were never actually in a relationship?”

“He didn’t know before. Everyone in the family assumed Qiran and I were a couple.”

“Such a long secret crush—I could never do it. I’d last six days at most before laying it all out. No wonder President Meng succeeded in starting his business. You can tell he’s someone who does big things.”

Chen Qingwu was amused into laughing.

Zhao Yingfei said, “So why are you looking so worried? If you don’t like him, just reject him. His secret crush is his business—it has nothing to do with you.”

“…I don’t dislike him.”

“Then isn’t it even better if you like him? Mutual affection.”

“…Dr. Zhao, are you a single-celled organism when it comes to relationships? How can it be as simple as you make it sound? He’s Meng Qiran’s older brother. Those in the know understand that Qiran and I never dated, but outsiders don’t think that way.”

Sometimes when the two families held banquets for weddings and funerals and attended each other’s events, relatives from both sides would casually joke and ask when Qingwu and Qiran would have their wedding banquet.

Even she herself had previously firmly believed she would marry Meng Qiran—it was just a matter of sooner or later.

In such circumstances, how would outsiders view it?

No one would investigate the details. Two brothers fighting over one woman—that would be the ironclad judgment, because it fully satisfied everyone’s voyeuristic desires.

In the future, the three of them would inevitably become enduring gossip material.

After hearing this explanation, Zhao Yingfei nodded knowingly. “Indeed…”

“Actually, I think I’m quite despicable. When Meng Fuyuan said he wanted to pursue me, I knew clearly that I didn’t feel aversion toward him—or rather, I actually had quite a favorable impression, so I tacitly allowed his behavior. During this time getting along with him, I’ve enjoyed it immensely. I’m not someone who follows rules at all. This sneaking around feeling is actually very thrilling…”

Zhao Yingfei was dumbfounded. “Sister, you’re too honest.”

Chen Qingwu lowered her eyes. “…Just these past few days, I realized I might like him a bit. But this little bit of liking, compared to him liking me for six years, is hardly worth mentioning. I don’t have the determination to fight against all that gossip—not at all.”

She sighed. “…He can’t even pursue me openly. This is too unfair to him.”

“So…”

Chen Qingwu shook her head. “…I don’t know either.”

“How much do you like him now?”

“Hard to say…”

Wanting to see him, wanting to chat with him endlessly, wanting to further trace back those parts of his past she hadn’t paid special attention to.

Blushing and heart racing, testing the boundaries back and forth, and also feeling heartache for his rarely displayed vulnerability.

To what degree did this liking reach?

Compared to following Qiran for nine years, could it be presented?

She didn’t even dare to compare, because she knew it would be an offense to everyone.

Zhao Yingfei had only had some very direct, straightforward relationships that didn’t last long. She’d always felt that romance was actually quite boring—far less capable of bringing her pleasure than progress in experiments.

Therefore, it was hard for her to offer any constructive opinions. “From the perspective of a rational bystander, if you don’t like him that much yet, I actually suggest you just forget it. People really can’t help caring what others think. Once your situation is exposed, it’ll be overwhelming condemnation. Not to mention they’re brothers—the brothers will definitely turn against each other.”

Chen Qingwu fell silent for a while.

“Of course, I’m a practical person who fears trouble. If it were me, I’d definitely forget it. But my thoughts aren’t worth referencing. How you ultimately handle it is definitely your own decision.”

Chen Qingwu sank into thought, with only green smoke curling from between her fingers.

Zhao Yingfei still had to return to the lab, so after staying a while longer, she left.

Chen Qingwu had no desire to sleep anyway.

After lying in bed for a long time, she still got up.

She put on a jacket, preparing to get some clay from the freezer, when she suddenly thought of something.

Turning around, she walked toward the display rack.

Third shelf on the left side.

After drying sufficiently, she’d wrapped it in plastic wrap, so it had maintained just the right degree of dryness until now.

Though it was a beginner’s work, once glazed and fired, the finished product would certainly have a kind of casual, elegant charm.

Chen Qingwu took it down and set it aside, then went to flip through the test tiles on the shelf against the wall, looking for the most suitable glaze color.

The new generation of robotic arms entered the testing phase. Meng Fuyuan was so busy his days and nights were reversed. Whenever he had a bit of leisure and wanted to visit Chen Qingwu, he was told that unfortunately, Meng Qiran was at her place.

Unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want to escalate the conflict prematurely, or else Qingwu, caught in the middle, would definitely have a hard time.

So he gave up.

He went on a business trip to Beicheng. When he returned, it was almost Meng Qiran’s birthday.

Meng Qiran’s birthday was October 20th, Chen Qingwu’s was October 27th.

Close together, and with the two families on good terms, the parents simply combined the two birthdays. For “fairness,” if they celebrated on Chen Qingwu’s day this year, then next year they’d celebrate on Meng Qiran’s day, alternating like this.

It had been this way for over twenty years, and this year would probably be the same.

He didn’t want to return to Nancheng to see her again—with so many eyes watching, it would be too constraining.

So the first thing he did after landing was contact Chen Qingwu.

Unexpectedly, it was still inconvenient.

Meng Qiran was at Chen Qingwu’s studio helping assemble shelves.

His studio was close by, no more than three kilometers away. The specific business didn’t require his personal involvement, so whenever he was free, he’d go check on Chen Qingwu.

Recently she’d made many things. The original few shelves were almost unable to hold everything.

Chen Qingwu had ordered several sets of supermarket shelves. When Meng Qiran arrived, she was huffing and puffing, assembling them herself.

She seemed to really dislike troubling others. If it was within her capability, she’d definitely do it herself. Only if it was beyond her ability would she consider seeking help.

With one more person helping, the speed increased considerably.

Several large shelves stood up neatly. The next step was to reorganize the clay blanks from the original shelves.

Finishing everything took quite a long time.

Chen Qingwu took a broom and dustpan to do some light cleaning. After washing her hands, she picked up her phone, preparing to order two servings of late-night food.

Unexpectedly, there was a new message on WeChat.

Her last conversation with Meng Fuyuan had been two hours ago.

Meng Fuyuan had asked if it was convenient for him to come over. She’d replied that Meng Qiran was there.

Meng Fuyuan had simply replied, “Got it.”

The latest message, sent half an hour ago, said: Tell me when Qiran leaves.

Chen Qingwu’s heart sank, filled with bitterness.

She secretly took a breath, turned to Meng Qiran and said, “Can I order late-night food to be delivered to your studio? I need to go out—meeting a friend.”

Meng Qiran glanced at the wall clock. “Now?”

“Mm.”

Meng Qiran said with a smile, “You think I’m lacking one late-night meal? I want to have late-night food together with you.”

Chen Qingwu fell silent.

Meng Qiran studied her for several seconds, picked up his backpack from the sofa, and said, “You owe me one meal. Putting it on your tab.” With that, he turned and left.

Watching Meng Qiran’s figure disappear, Chen Qingwu picked up her phone and sent a message to Meng Fuyuan: “Are you at the company? I’ll come find you.”

Meng Fuyuan: At home. I’ll come over.

Chen Qingwu: No. Send me the address. I’ll come to you. Wait for me.

Chen Qingwu changed her clothes. Looking at her phone again, Meng Fuyuan had shared the address of an apartment.

That apartment required passing by their company and continuing forward—about forty minutes’ drive from her studio, much farther than she’d thought.

Before starting the car, Chen Qingwu sent Meng Fuyuan a message telling him she’d set out.

Meng Fuyuan told her to drive safely.

Just past nine o’clock was precisely Dongcheng’s most lively and prosperous time.

Yet she only felt desolate.

The car finally arrived at the apartment complex entrance. Chen Qingwu found a roadside parking spot, parked the car, and sent a message to Meng Fuyuan asking him to come down—she wanted to say a few words to him.

Meng Fuyuan: Cooking noodles right now, can’t turn off the heat. Can you come up?

Meng Fuyuan: Pei Shao is also here.

This last sentence seemed specifically meant to dispel her doubts.

After hesitating, Chen Qingwu replied that she could, and Meng Fuyuan sent her the building number.

High-end complex, one elevator per household.

Exiting the elevator and turning a corner, she saw the main door was open.

Chen Qingwu walked over, looked inside, and knocked on the door.

“Coming, coming!”

Pei Shao’s voice.

Pei Shao walked to the door and opened the shoe cabinet to find Chen Qingwu a pair of disposable cotton slippers.

So familiar with the place made Chen Qingwu wonder, “Are you roommates?”

“No, I live upstairs. I often come to mooch food and drinks from him.”

Chen Qingwu laughed.

After changing into slippers, Chen Qingwu followed Pei Shao into the living room.

This apartment should be rented—modern style, with the orderliness of a model home’s decoration.

A sliding door separated the kitchen from the dining room. Chen Qingwu looked inside and could only see Meng Fuyuan’s back standing in front of the stove.

She withdrew her gaze, placed the bag she was carrying on the coffee table, and sat down on the black leather sofa.

“Did you guys just get off work?” Chen Qingwu asked.

Pei Shao said, “No. Old Meng just got back from a business trip to Beicheng.”

“Why does it seem like he’s always the one on business trips?”

Pei Shao said with a laugh, “For things like negotiating financing, I can’t handle it. When I open my mouth, people think I’m unreliable.”

Chen Qingwu agreed with this. Pei Shao had a kind of directness that didn’t understand social niceties.

After sitting for just a short while, Chen Qingwu saw Meng Fuyuan walk out of the kitchen carrying a yukihira pot, steaming hot.

Meng Fuyuan took a heat-resistant pad and placed it on the table, set the yukihira pot on it, then turned back to the kitchen and brought out three bowls and three pairs of chopsticks.

Then he glanced toward the living room. “Come eat noodles.”

Pei Shao sprang up.

Meng Fuyuan’s gaze fell on Chen Qingwu. “You come too, Qingwu.”

This tone, like a parent’s, made Chen Qingwu involuntarily stand up.

The pot’s contents were rich—besides noodles, there were tomatoes, shrimp, eggs, and vegetables. Under the amber light, the colors alone looked exceptionally appetizing.

Meng Fuyuan served a bowl of noodles and handed it to Pei Shao first.

The second bowl was for Chen Qingwu.

“…I’m not very hungry. Just a little is fine,” Chen Qingwu said hastily.

“Mm.”

Taking that bowl of noodles, Chen Qingwu sat down next to Meng Fuyuan.

Across from them, Pei Shao was already wolfing down his food.

Chen Qingwu thought of the summer vacation in her second year of high school.

She and Meng Qiran had traveled to America and dropped by to visit Meng Fuyuan, who was then studying for his master’s in California.

At that time, Meng Fuyuan lived in a small apartment, sharing with another international student.

After eating Western food for several days, Meng Qiran said he was tired of it and really wanted to taste some tomato scrambled eggs.

Meng Fuyuan had coolly told him to go out, turn left—there was a Chinese restaurant across the street where he could order whatever he wanted.

However, that day, after she and Meng Qiran had played all day and returned to Meng Fuyuan’s apartment to get their things, Meng Fuyuan had silently brought out three dishes and a soup from the kitchen, including the tomato scrambled eggs Qiran had been thinking about.

At that time, she’d been so envious—Qiran actually had such a perfect older brother.

Chen Qingwu secretly glanced at Meng Fuyuan. He wore a set of dark gray loungewear. Having apparently just showered, she could smell a faint, clean fragrance on him.

Chen Qingwu withdrew her gaze and focused on eating her noodles.

Pei Shao said with a laugh, “Miss Chen, what have you been busy with lately? You must have quite a few orders?”

Chen Qingwu put down her chopsticks, swallowed her food, then answered, “It is a bit busy. Many clients were introduced by Sister An.”

“Last time at Sister An’s for tea, many people liked that tea set you made. They were all asking which shop it was from.”

Chen Qingwu said with a smile, “Then next time I should go to Sister An’s to hand out flyers.”

Seeing Chen Qingwu only talking and her bowl of noodles barely touched, Meng Fuyuan couldn’t help reminding her, “Eat first, chat later.”

The pot of noodles was just the right amount. Pei Shao added half a bowl more, with nothing wasted.

Chen Qingwu conscientiously helped carry the bowls into the kitchen.

And Pei Shao, afraid of being kept by Meng Fuyuan to wash dishes, immediately fled.

Chen Qingwu placed the bowls in the sink, rolled up her sleeves, and was about to turn on the faucet when Meng Fuyuan said, “I’ll do it.”

Both his tone and movements carried a sense of non-negotiability.

Chen Qingwu had no choice but to step aside.

After Meng Fuyuan rinsed the bowls and cookware and put them in the dishwasher, he cleaned the countertop and stove, then finally pumped out some hand soap.

While washing his hands, he asked, “What did you want to tell me?”

The words she’d been mulling over for days suddenly felt cowardly at the moment of speaking.

Chen Qingwu didn’t say anything for now. She turned and went to the living room to pick up the paper bag she’d brought.

Meng Fuyuan walked out of the kitchen, poured a glass of water at the island counter, and walked toward Chen Qingwu.

Chen Qingwu took the glass but only set it on the coffee table. Somewhat awkwardly, she handed the paper bag to Meng Fuyuan.

Meng Fuyuan took it and looked inside.

It was a cup.

Black glaze, somewhat matte, feeling exceptionally stable and comfortable to hold. It didn’t seem to be her usual level, because the cup wall was somewhat uneven.

He held it and turned it in a circle, suddenly realizing—this cup was the one he’d made.

He hadn’t expected she’d actually kept it. And the cup rim was smooth—the chip he’d accidentally pressed had been repaired.

Meng Fuyuan held the cup, looked up at Chen Qingwu, waiting for her to explain.

“You told me to dispose of it, but you know I never deliberately break anything. So… I fired it.”

Meng Fuyuan’s gaze became very still. “What do you mean, Qingwu?”

Her expression was so complex—it definitely wasn’t as simple as just giving him a gift.

A thought suddenly surfaced.

Before Chen Qingwu could speak, he spoke first: “Have you come to draw a line with me, Qingwu?”

Chen Qingwu suddenly looked up.

“Got together with Qiran?” Meng Fuyuan’s voice held a deliberately maintained calm.

“No!” Chen Qingwu said hastily.

“Then why? What did I do wrong?” Meng Fuyuan’s voice couldn’t help but turn bitter. “…Has it really been inconvenient this whole time, or have you been deliberately avoiding me?”

“…No. I wouldn’t avoid you. If there’s something, I’ll tell you honestly. That’s also why I came today.” Chen Qingwu took a deep breath and unconsciously reached out to grab Meng Fuyuan’s sleeve. “…Will you listen to my explanation?”

“Go ahead.”

“…You absolutely didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all my problem. You’re so good. Your feelings absolutely deserve to be open and aboveboard. It’s just… I don’t have the ability and determination to make them open and aboveboard.”

Her voice had a strained quality.

Meng Fuyuan instead breathed a sigh of relief. “Just for this?”

Chen Qingwu immediately looked up at him, saying in astonishment, “…You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Chen Qingwu found it incredible. “Having to sneak around to see me when Qiran isn’t there—even though he and I no longer have any relationship, you still can’t openly and honestly… This is too unfair to you.”

Meng Fuyuan bent down slightly, placed the cup on the coffee table, and in the same motion caught her wrist.

She seemed about to pull away but gave up in an instant.

Meng Fuyuan lowered his head, looking at her deeply. “Let me tell you, Qingwu. Over the past six years, my feelings for you were far from something the phrase ‘sneaking around’ can describe. They were much more sordid and despicable than you think. I was just good at concealing them, so they were never exposed.”

This honesty made Chen Qingwu’s heart ache and swell, making it somewhat difficult to breathe.

“…In the past, they couldn’t see the light of day, but now I can openly tell you. What do I have to be dissatisfied about?”

“But…”

“You said you don’t dislike me.”

“…Yes.”

“Then why push me away?” Meng Fuyuan stared at her intently. “My profile picture has never changed. The answer has always been in plain sight. Why did you suddenly think to look up what it meant?”

“I…”

“Mm? Why?” Meng Fuyuan lowered his head another two degrees, his voice and breath both heavy.

Chen Qingwu held her breath and closed her eyes in admission. “Because I was curious.”

“Only when you have a preference will you fight injustice on someone’s behalf.” Meng Fuyuan’s fingers tightened, feeling the pulse at her wrist. “…You’ve already exposed yourself, Qingwu.”

—

This work has no real-life prototypes. Please refrain from making associations. Any comments associating 3D celebrities/2D fictional characters will be directly deleted.