Ruan Yu asked one more question: “Are you heading back too?”

“Mm.”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there.” Xu Huaisong started the car, then after a brief pause turned his head and asked, “Or would you rather eat now?”

She shook her head. “I had afternoon tea at the mall — I’m not hungry.” As she spoke, she took out her phone and refunded her high-speed rail ticket.

Night had fallen completely. The streetlamps along both sides of the road cast a warm golden glow, and the red and green of the traffic signals projected onto the windshield, filling the interior of the car with a shifting play of light and shadow.

The rain came down in sheets. The windshield wipers swept back and forth in their mechanical rhythm, lending an even deeper quiet to the atmosphere between them — a quiet so profound that drowsiness began to take root and spread.

It wasn’t until they left the glittering city center behind that Ruan Yu, who had been on the verge of nodding off, suddenly drew a sharp breath and broke the tranquil stillness.

Xu Huaisong glanced at her. “What is it?”

“Are you driving without a license?”

Seeing her gripping her seatbelt in front of her as though her personal safety were under grave threat, Xu Huaisong appeared to smile slightly. “A bit late to be thinking about that now, isn’t it?”

It really was. Ruan Yu had only noticed the “new driver” sticker on the car ahead, which reminded her of the time Xu Huaisong had needed Liu Mao to take him to the hotel because he didn’t have a license.

She turned to look at him stiffly. “For a long drive… this isn’t exactly ideal, is it?”

Xu Huaisong let out a quiet breath. “I took the test.” Seeing the skepticism in her eyes, he explained, “With an American license, you only need to pass the written portion — no road test required.”

Oh. That explained how he’d gotten it so quickly.

Ruan Yu relaxed, and it was only then that she realized — had Xu Huaisong just been joking with her? Had this high and untouchable figure actually made a joke?

She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye, unable to read the true emotion behind his eyes through those gold-rimmed glasses. But he seemed to be in a good mood.

She turned and reminded him: “You still shouldn’t take the highway, though.” She remembered that in China, a new license had to be held for a full year before one was allowed on the expressway.

Xu Huaisong gave a quiet “mm,” then noticed her stifle a yawn while still forcing her eyes to stay fixed on the road ahead. He said: “I’ve been driving in America for eight years.”

“Hmm?” Ruan Yu turned her head, confused.

“So you don’t need to worry that closing your eyes right now means you won’t get to open them again.”

“…”

She let out a dry laugh — decided it hadn’t been quite enough to laugh away the awkwardness in the air — and let out another one.

Being on the receiving end of Xu Huaisong’s dry wit was truly a painful experience. How on earth did Liu Mao put up with this day in and day out?

But now Ruan Yu felt even less able to sleep. If she shut her eyes the moment her physical safety was guaranteed, wouldn’t that perfectly confirm the very suspicions she’d had about him?

So she took out her phone to fight off the drowsiness, thought for a moment, and posted a flattering message to her social circle to make up for her earlier offense: Rain may be merciless, but people are not — here’s to all the heroes who help others in need! [fist salute]

The accompanying photo was a screenshot from Meteor Garden: the scene where Dao Ming Si, after Shan Cai has left, stands pitifully in the pouring rain, getting thoroughly drenched until his hair turns into an instant-noodle mess.

A reply appeared almost immediately. It was Li Shican. After the mix-up from last time, he had re-added her on WeChat, though he hadn’t reached out to her on his own initiative since.

Reading that message — “Who have you given another ‘good person’ card to this time” — Ruan Yu felt something catch in her throat. Was a big celebrity really this free?

Not knowing what to reply, she sent back an emoji, then exited her social feed and noticed a new message in her inbox.

It was from an editor at Jinjiang Film and Television: Wen Xiang, are you really planning to give up this book? Huanshi has offered a new price, and they’re willing to purchase the currently unfinished version, bring in a professional screenwriter to complete it — you won’t need to worry about anything after that.

She glanced at Xu Huaisong sitting beside her, then quietly typed back: I’m sorry, I really don’t want to sell this IP.

The reply came quickly: You don’t even want to hear the new offer?

Soft Jade: How much?

A string of numbers appeared on the screen.

A string of numbers with a great many zeros.

Ruan Yu’s jaw nearly dropped onto her phone.

Xu Huaisong glanced at her but said nothing.

She turned and sent a screenshot to Shen Mingying, and received this reply: If you don’t sell this, you’ve lost your mind. Even setting aside the money, think about your future prospects. Can the web novel world really sustain you for a lifetime? Sooner or later you’ll need to branch out, reach a wider audience — or make the switch to screenwriting. Spending time on set, getting a real feel for the entertainment industry, wouldn’t that be more interesting than staying home all day?

Ruan Yu had to admit she was a little tempted.

She was as human as anyone — money mattered to her. She had already taken a significant financial hit from abandoning the serialization, and on top of that, she’d had to pay considerable breach-of-contract penalties for pulling out of her agreement with the publishing company. There was no way that hadn’t stung.

And besides, she genuinely couldn’t be a web novelist forever.

An opportunity to break through the bottleneck was right there in front of her.

She tightened her grip on her phone and looked at Xu Huaisong. “Attorney Xu, may I ask your opinion on something?”

“Mm.”

“Huanshi is interested in acquiring my IP. Do you think I should agree?”

Xu Huaisong was silent for a moment, then answered her question with a question of his own: “Is there any reason not to?”

Ruan Yu was momentarily speechless.

The only reason was her concern about him. But thinking it through carefully — he had remained completely oblivious to everything up until now. Would having the novel adapted into a film suddenly cause him to “recover his memory”?

Besides, by the time the film was released, the two of them would long since have become strangers with no connection to each other whatsoever. It wouldn’t matter anymore.

Ruan Yu gave a nod and made up her mind. “Alright then — I’ll sell.”

Once she had finished sending her replies, she heard Xu Huaisong bring something up on his own — which was rare: “If it’s adapted into a film, what’s the ending?”

Ruan Yu thought to herself that she barely knew herself, and said with a smile: “A lot of adaptations don’t respect the source material these days — I might not even have final say.”

“What about according to the original?”

Ruan Yu fell quiet.

According to her original vision, at the end of the story, the two arts-track brother classes arranged a graduation trip together, and the female lead had carefully planned a confession — intending to make her feelings known to the male lead during the journey. But despite her repeatedly sneaking off to confirm with the organizer that “the male lead would definitely come,” he still didn’t show up.

Exactly like what had happened in real life.

Except in the novel, the male lead’s absence would be given some kind of reason. In reality, Ruan Yu thought, the reason Xu Huaisong hadn’t come was simply that he had no attachment to Su Shi No. 1 High School — or to anyone there, herself included.

She laid out this ending and asked: “Is it a little bit heartbreaking?”

Xu Huaisong’s hands tightened slowly around the steering wheel. He parted his lips, then closed them again, and finally gave a quiet “mm.”

But Ruan Yu broke into a smile — one of genuine peace: “Actually, though, it’s a happy ending.”

“How so?”

“Because the female lead will move on from the male lead.”

The hardest thing in the world to heal was never heartbreak from a relationship — it was the heartbreak of a secret, unrequited love. Because in that kind of love, you had never truly tried, you had never been hurt by that person, and everything you had seen and known of them was only their most beautiful side. And so you would forever be trapped inside the cocoon you had woven around yourself.

But once you summoned every ounce of your courage to try — and were utterly defeated — then what had been a secret love that seemed impossible to recover from became an ordinary heartbreak that could, at last, be healed.

The world was vast, and life was long. The female lead would move on.

For a stretch of perhaps ten or fifteen seconds, Xu Huaisong forgot to breathe.

The speedometer climbed past one hundred kilometers per hour.

He suddenly recalled something he’d seen before — a fellow author’s assessment of Ruan Yu’s writing: In just a few words, she excavates decay from within romance, then ultimately transforms that decay into something radiant. This young woman’s writing sees through everything.

Yes. She herself saw through everything too clearly.

She seemed timid — yet knowing full well that he had been going to study in America, she had never treated it as some insurmountable obstacle.

She seemed sentimental — yet she had never truly felt regret or remorse over anything from the past.

“You’re speeding, Attorney Xu!” Ruan Yu’s sharp reminder cut through his thoughts.

He gave a quiet “oh” and eased off the accelerator. After a long pause he said: “The production company won’t accept that ending.”

Ruan Yu didn’t catch the undercurrent in his words and nodded in thorough agreement: “I think so too.”

The next time Ruan Yu opened her eyes, the world outside was calm and still. Hang Shi had not seen any rain. The car was parked beneath her apartment building.

She rubbed her eyes in a daze, and it took her a moment to realize she had fallen asleep — and that Xu Huaisong had been sitting quietly in the driver’s seat the whole time, without waking her.

She asked in surprise: “How long was I asleep? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I’d just put my foot on the brake and was about to.”

She looked at her phone in puzzlement and found the time was already very late — far beyond what the journey should have taken.

Xu Huaisong glanced at her and offered an explanation: “Traffic on the way.”

Oh. So that was it.

She unclipped her seatbelt and pushed open the car door. “Thank you so much, Attorney Xu. I’ll head up now — please drive safely on your way back.”

But Xu Huaisong said nothing in response. After a brief pause, he said: “I’m hungry.”

Ruan Yu stepped wrong and stumbled, then turned back to look at him, her expression baffled.

That “I’m hungry” — why did it land on her ears with the unmistakable weight of “I’ve been hurt”?

She caught herself: “Oh — I fell asleep and forgot all about you not having eaten yet… So, would you like to come up and have something?”

Xu Huaisong gave a nod and got out of the car with her.

As they were about to enter the apartment building, a group of aunties who had just finished their evening square-dance and were on their way home passed nearby. Xu Huaisong suddenly circled from her right side to her left, made a motion as though he were reaching up, and pressed his fingers lightly against his temple.

Ruan Yu was thoroughly baffled. She glanced at the group of aunties breezing past and asked: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He could hardly tell her that he was just hiding his face — for fear of being recognized as the drunk man from that evening.

As they say, the second time around is always easier than the first. This time, Ruan Yu was somewhat less stiff than before, and after inviting him in, she quite naturally slid open the shoe cabinet and pulled out a pair of house slippers for him.

Ever since Li Shican and then Xu Huaisong had both come by, she had picked up a pair of men’s slippers on one of her supermarket runs — better to be prepared.

A glimmer of amusement surfaced in Xu Huaisong’s eyes. As she turned to head to the kitchen, he said: “Go change your clothes first.”

Ruan Yu startled, then looked down at her dress, still covered in mud stains around the hem.

Fair enough — that wasn’t very hygienic.

She gave an “oh,” told him to make himself comfortable in the living room for a moment, and turned to go into her bedroom. The instant she shut the door, she suddenly realized she was being perhaps a little too relaxed about this.

There was a grown man just on the other side of this door, and here she was, changing clothes without a care in the world?

The thought gave her pause. She deliberately produced a series of coughs in quick succession, then, using the noise as cover, quietly turned the lock on the door.

But on the other side of the door, Xu Huaisong still heard the faint, soft click. He froze for a moment — then was struck by exasperated amusement — and got up from the sofa.

When Ruan Yu came out, she found the living room empty, and Xu Huaisong standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes.

They were the breakfast dishes she hadn’t had time to wash before leaving that morning.

A surge of sharp guilt welled up inside her. Look at that — this man was plainly a person of upright and unimpeachable character, clear as the sun and moon!

She hurried over: “Why are you washing dishes?”

Xu Huaisong set down a few clean bowls and plates, dried his hands, and said: “Payment for the meal.”

In light of his resolute refusal to take anything for free, Ruan Yu put genuine care into preparing a bowl of noodle soup — with greens, shredded pork, shrimp, and egg strips. The combination of colors was more eye-catching than a traffic light, and twice as sincere.

When Xu Huaisong finished eating, he made to wash his bowl again, and she stopped him: “Those hands of yours are far too precious for this — let me.”

“Precious?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t they always say in idol dramas that hands that play the piano must never be injured?”

“…”

Xu Huaisong did not ask her how she knew he played piano. He didn’t need to — there was surely something about it online.

Ruan Yu took the bowl and chopsticks to the kitchen. He sat in the living room, lost in thought, and typed a message on his phone to Chen Hui: Get a piano ready for me.

Chen Hui: Wow, Songe, you play piano? You really are a man of many talents.

Xu Huaisong didn’t reply, and leaned back against the chair with a quiet sigh.

He didn’t play anymore — eight years without touching one, and he could barely read sheet music now. With the driver’s license exam out of the way, it was time to pick up his old “Hanazawa Rui” pastime again, and on top of that he still needed to study and work through practice questions in preparation for China’s bar examination in September.

Which male lead from any of her novels had a life as grounded in reality as his?

He checked the time, got up, and walked to the kitchen doorway, giving a light knock on the door frame: “I’m heading out.”

Ruan Yu was in the middle of washing up. She turned to look at him, rinsed her hands, and said: “Oh, alright — I’ll walk you down.”

“…”

She really and truly had not placed him anywhere on her list of potential romantic prospects — her politeness made that perfectly clear.

He declined the gracious send-off: “No need.” Then, after a brief pause, he asked: “The hearing is the day after tomorrow, isn’t it.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I also have a court appearance that day — in San Francisco.”

Ruan Yu thought he seemed to be talking more than usual today, and after a moment worked out the roundabout meaning behind his words.

He was telling her he wouldn’t be able to attend her hearing.

But what did that matter? Even if he were here, he didn’t have a Chinese law license — he couldn’t stand at the counsel’s table regardless.

She said: “That’s alright — there’s Attorney Liu.”

Xu Huaisong gave a quiet “mm,” then turned, put on his shoes, and headed out the door and down the stairs.

Ruan Yu stood at the sink and continued washing up. She heard the sound of the car engine starting below, looked down, and watched the Cayenne ease slowly out of the residential street, dwindling into a small point in the darkness of the night, until it disappeared entirely from view.

A verse from a poem by Zheng Chouyu drifted up unbidden into her mind: “I passed through Jiangnan, and the face waiting in that season bloomed and fell like a lotus… The clatter of my horse’s hooves was a beautiful mistake — I was never the one returning home, only a passing traveler.”

Ruan Yu looked down at the bowl in her hands, the realization arriving slowly: Xu Huaisong was going back to America. Was this, then, their last meeting?

She put away the clean dishes and bowls, then went and curled up on the sofa, lying down — only to catch the faint, elusive trace of a masculine scent. She scrambled upright immediately and waved her hands, trying to dispel it.

After some effort it was finally gone. She picked up her phone — and found the persistent ghost of Xu Huaisong had liked her social circle post from earlier that day, in a manner that carried a distinct sense of “I accept your flattery” — timestamped one minute ago.

One minute ago?

She blinked, then went to the message box and sent him a message: Attorney Xu, please don’t use your phone while driving — they’ve been cracking down on that very strictly here.

Xu Huaisong: Noted.

Soft Jade: Then why are you still doing it?

Xu Huaisong: You messaged first.

Soft Jade: You could have waited to reply.

Xu Huaisong went quiet after that — no further reply.

Ruan Yu scratched her head.

The feeling of a message going unanswered was, it turned out, genuinely not great either…

She went to take a bath, and when she came out and checked her phone again —

There was a red “1” on the WeChat icon.

She tapped it open.

Xu Huaisong: Made it to the hotel.

She moved the cursor to the text box and deliberated for a long time. In the end, she sent back a single word: Okay.

Author’s Note: The last time they see each other? No such thing. Songsong is watching you.