After Xu Sui pushed the business card to Li Yang, she quickly deleted Zhou Jingze.
She could afford to be foolish for love during her youth, but not anymore. The more recklessly she had loved back then, the harder she had fallen.
It was best to avoid entanglements—this way was good enough.
After returning home, Xu Sui received a message from Li Yang.
Li Yang was always efficient in handling matters. He sent her a screenshot: [Live premiere screening, and afterward, staff will take you backstage to shake hands and take photos with your favorite actor. How’s that? Your big brother is reliable, right?]
Xu Sui replied: [Big brother is reliable.]
After a while, Li Yang said: [But the premiere is in two months, so you’ll have to wait. Wait, when did you become so literary? Watching Italian films now? First time I’ve seen you chase after a celebrity—do you like him that much?]
Xu Sui smiled slightly but didn’t reply.
If she had to give a reason, it was probably because of someone.
The weekend passed in a flash. Xu Sui quickly forgot about this little episode and became a tireless screw again, screwed into the surgery department. On Tuesday, there was a hospital meeting with a segment about how doctors should view their dependent relationships with patients.
The hospital director showed a series of short films, including examples of hospital doctors who fell ill from exhaustion while saving patients, and patients who fought cancer bravely but unfortunately passed away in the end.
All the doctors in the room were moved, some even had moist eyes.
Director Zhang sat across from Xu Sui, quietly observing her. Xu Sui sat on one side of the conference table, her gaze calmly watching the PPT on the projector without much expression, but she was listening carefully. Occasionally she lowered her head to take serious notes, her ponytail tied at the side of her head swaying slightly.
After the meeting ended, Xu Sui capped her pen, organized the meeting record book on the table, and walked out holding it. Halfway through, she heard someone calling her.
Xu Sui stopped and looked back—it was her teacher, Director Zhang.
Director Zhang walked up to her with his hands behind his back, smiling as he asked: “Little Xu, what were the main points of this meeting?”
Xu Sui thought briefly and clearly articulated them.
“Not bad,” Director Zhang nodded approvingly, then changed the subject. “The question I asked you before—have you found the answer?”
As her supervising teacher, Director Zhang had specifically sought her out for a private conversation some time ago. He said Xu Sui was diligent, serious, constantly improving her medical skills, and was responsible and patient with patients.
Everything was good, except she lacked the compassionate heart that a doctor should have.
In other words, Xu Sui was too rational in this profession.
Xu Sui shook her head and opened her mouth: “I’m sorry, teacher, I—”
Director Zhang sighed and patted her shoulder. Before leaving, he said: “Someone will tell you the answer.”
After finishing a busy day, Xu Sui returned home to complete silence. She pressed the switch and the room became bright as daylight. Xu Sui stood in the entrance changing her shoes and putting down her bag, also ordering takeout.
After washing up and drying her hair, the takeout arrived just in time.
Xu Sui took the takeout and casually turned on a variety show on TV, eating while watching. Midway through, Xu Sui’s phone on the table made a “ding dong” sound.
She put down her chopsticks and picked it up to see a message from Li Yang: Sweetheart, I’m so tired.
Xu Sui was very familiar with Li Yang’s pattern when he started with this phrase—it meant he had a pile of things to complain about. So she sent back an emoji, and Li Yang immediately launched into his complaints:
[Sui Bao, your friend is way too cold! I ask him five questions and he replies with one word. Just because he’s handsome, I have to endure him being such a cold bastard?]
Cold? Xu Sui thought carefully about the past—it seemed okay back then.
Xu Sui didn’t know what to reply, so she sent: [You’ve worked hard.]
Li Yang replied with a string of ellipses.
Two hours later, as Xu Sui was tidying her room, lighting a citrus-scented incense stick, and fluffing her pillow to prepare for sleep, Li Yang sent another message:
[I’ve decided to give up on this man.]
Xu Sui had just laid down, lying on her side with her head resting on her arm, and asked: [Huh?]
Li Yang replied with a long message: [It’s useless for someone to be good-looking if their personality is boring. He’s not fun at all, says he has no hobbies whatsoever. I checked his WeChat Moments and there’s not a single post, and his personal signature is just a dash.]
Soon after, Li Yang attached a screenshot.
Xu Sui clicked to open it, and her dark eyelashes trembled. His WeChat avatar had never changed—it had always been Kui the Great, but now it was changed to Kui the Great and 1017.
Looking at their photo together, Xu Sui felt her nose sting.
After all these years, they had become an old cat and an old dog.
Zhou Jingze’s WeChat Moments had nothing—very clean. His personal signature was still that dash.
Xu Sui remembered during their university days, not long after they had gotten together, they were playing games at his house. Summer was long, the sunlight outside the alley was intense, and cicadas chirped in waves.
Xu Sui and Zhou Jingze were at home watching a soccer match. They sat on the sofa, orange sunlight falling in one corner. Zhou Jingze held her as they lounged on the sofa. He was in good spirits and opened a can of ice-cold beer.
As the tab was pulled, countless bubbles eagerly rushed up.
Xu Sui watched enviously, wanting to drink some. Zhou Jingze wouldn’t let her, only allowing her to taste the beer foam in the end. Zhou Jingze pulled back the beer and set it aside, casually asking:
“Yiyi, who do you bet will win?”
Xu Sui looked at him and asked back: “Who do you think will win?”
“Neymar.”
“Then I’ll bet on number 16, the one in the red jersey,” Xu Sui said.
Zhou Jingze became interested, raising an eyebrow: “Oh? Why? Do you know him?”
“No, I just want to oppose you,” Xu Sui laughed.
After saying this, she forked a piece of iced watermelon into her mouth and fled like a bird from Zhou Jingze, sitting on the other end of the sofa, afraid he would retaliate.
That unusually sweltering afternoon, they watched a soccer match together. Who knew Xu Sui’s words would prove prophetic—number 16 in the red jersey actually scored a spectacular spinning goal of the century.
Neymar actually lost.
Xu Sui laughed with sparkling eyes: “This is called where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Zhou Jingze took a sip of ice beer and smiled: “What do you want?”
They had agreed beforehand that whoever lost could do one thing for the other.
Xu Sui thought for a moment, linking her arm with his, somewhat embarrassed: “Just… post something about me on your Moments? Or should I draw a turtle on your face?”
Zhou Jingze chose the former. He picked up his phone from the coffee table and directly posted on his Moments, also changing his personal signature. His Moments post was quickly seen by Da Liu.
Da Liu: [What is this weird thing? You like dashes?]
Zhou Jingze: [Mm-hmm.]
[? Don’t do that, you suddenly became girly.]
Xu Sui took his phone to look and frowned slightly: “Dash?”
Zhou Jingze rubbed her head like petting his dog, deliberately teasing her with an unserious tone: “Mm, doesn’t Yiyi look like a dash?”
“You do look quite similar.”
Xu Sui realized what he meant and got angry, reaching out to hit him. Even when throwing a tantrum, her voice was soft: “You’re the one who looks like a dash.”
Zhou Jingze’s chest vibrated with pleasant tremors. He was drinking beer when Xu Sui pounced on him, accidentally bumping his elbow, spilling beer on her.
She wore a white dress, now wet at the chest area with bubbles evaporating. Zhou Jingze’s gaze changed as he looked at her, and the room temperature seemed to rise.
He leaned down to kiss her, pressing her onto the sofa.
Black pants pressed against the white skirt hem, revealing a hint of forbidden color amidst the gasping sounds. Xu Sui tasted the beer he fed her—cool, with saliva mixing, creating a dizzying sensation.
Their legs intertwined and tensed. The sunlight streaming in was intense. With a “thud,” the beer can fell to the floor, the remaining half-can spilling with a “sizzling” sound before slowly dissolving.
The sweet words from back then seemed to echo in her ears. Looking at the screenshot, Xu Sui wondered what he meant by not changing his signature even now.
This wasn’t like Zhou Jingze’s style at all, since he wasn’t a sentimental person.
Over the years, one thing Xu Sui learned after starting work was to bypass things she couldn’t figure out. After thinking for a while without finding an answer, she concluded that Zhou Jingze was probably just too lazy to change it.
In the end, Xu Sui didn’t reply to Li Yang and fell into a deep sleep.
On Friday, Xu Sui got up a bit late. She grabbed a bag of bread and a carton of milk and hurriedly went to work. The hospital was as crowded as usual.
Xu Sui spent the entire morning running around the office, so busy that her back and waist ached. She had just sat down for a break and taken a sip of water when the deputy director came in with a stack of documents.
“Director,” Xu Sui quickly stood up, wanting to pour him water.
“Ah, sit down, don’t busy yourself,” the director pointed to the seat with his folder, indicating she should sit back down.
Xu Sui had to sit back down. The director handed her a document: “Little Xu, here’s the situation. Our hospital has a medical cooperation project with Zhongzheng Aviation Company. They want us to send medical personnel over to teach and instruct flight personnel on emergency medical knowledge, and also cooperate in filming promotional videos—a win-win situation.”
Upon hearing the word “aviation,” Xu Sui instinctively rejected it, but if she refused outright, the director would definitely be suspicious. She had to follow his lead and ask:
“Where is it?”
“Western suburbs of Beijing North, at one of their subsidiary companies—the Aviation Flight Training Base. You and a colleague from obstetrics and gynecology should pack up and go. There’s a car to pick you up and drop you off.”
Xu Sui symbolically flipped through the documents, her expression hesitant: “Director, I have quite a lot of work here, so…”
“Don’t worry, the organization is giving you leave. If not, I’ll have them adjust your shifts,” the director persuaded.
Xu Sui wanted to say more, but the director interrupted: “Little Xu, you’re the face of our department, and your medical skills keep improving. Who else would I send if not you? Besides, you should support this old man’s work, shouldn’t you?”
He had said everything there was to say, and the director had even put her in such a high position. Xu Sui could only nod: “Alright.”
At 2 PM, Xu Sui and her colleagues set off for the flight training base. Four people went—two men and two women. Xu Sui sat in the back seat and brought along a laptop, originally wanting to review some materials, but the road to the western suburbs was too bumpy. After a short while, she closed the laptop and sat quietly in the back.
A colleague complained: “This is way too far.”
The car drove for an hour and a half. The further back Xu Sui sat, the more nauseous she felt, her face turning pale in waves. She really couldn’t stand it anymore—her stomach churned with nausea. She pressed down the window and leaned against it.
A colleague handed her a bottle of water, voice full of concern: “Are you okay? Why is your motion sickness so severe?”
Xu Sui took it and drank a sip, feeling somewhat better: “It’s an old problem.”
The car drove further and further from the city center. Xu Sui leaned against the car window, watching the scenery flow backward. The sun blazed like fire, and the fragrance of green grass mixed with the moisture of wind poured in.
In the distance, Xu Sui saw the nearby base, built against mountains with a azure green sports field. Gray floors were marked with aircraft takeoff and landing directional signs arranged in rows. The roar of airplanes overhead became increasingly clear.
A stone monument on the left was carved with eight red characters: China Aviation Flight Training Base.
The car drove forward and stopped. After the guard checked their documents and opened the gate, the driver entered but hadn’t found a parking spot when Xu Sui indicated she wanted to get out.
After the car stopped, Xu Sui immediately rushed out the door, dizzy and nauseous. In her hurry, she asked a passerby:
“Excuse me, where’s the restroom?”
The person pointed: “Straight ahead, then turn left.”
Xu Sui ran all the way. The sun seemed to chase her shadow as she ran. When she reached the first intersection going straight, a clear, powerful, familiar voice called out:
“What’s our motto?”
A group of strong, powerful voices answered him: “Give our all, soar to the clouds!”
Xu Sui looked up to see Zhou Jingze wearing a pine-green training uniform, standing out particularly prominently in a sea of blue. Zhou Jingze led them running at the front, the golden embroidery on his shoulders glinting in the sunlight, a silver whistle between his teeth, sweat trickling down his temples.
Roguish yet unrestrained.
The blue formation passed in front of her. Xu Sui squinted and looked over, momentarily seeming to see his youthful appearance—spirited during training, shouting “Report, instructor, my girlfriend!”
As if it were yesterday.
After just two seconds of watching, Xu Sui covered her mouth, frowning as she ran toward the restroom.
Zhou Jingze was leading his team in training on the runway. When passing the east side, he seemed to see a familiar figure. His steps stopped, falling behind the group, breathing slightly hard, the whistle sound abruptly ceased as he stared thoughtfully in a certain direction.
Xu Sui rushed into the restroom with a pale, miserable face and vomited until she was dizzy and disoriented. Finally, she leaned against the sink, turned on the faucet, and cupped cool water to simply wash her face.
After resting for a while, Xu Sui walked out and turned right. Inadvertently looking up, she discovered a man casually leaning against the wall—a tall, slender figure casting a shadow. His hands were in his pockets, a piece of foxtail grass between his teeth. His profile showed a smooth Adam’s apple curve, exuding a roguish sense of restrained desire.
Xu Sui expressionlessly withdrew her gaze, lifting her foot to leave. Zhou Jingze called out to her, his voice low and light: “Motion sickness?”
She nodded. Zhou Jingze straightened up and walked over, holding a green mint candy, looking at her pale face: “Have a candy.”
“No need, thank you.” Xu Sui’s tone was indifferent as she refused.
After speaking, Xu Sui was about to leave when someone grabbed her arm. The warmth of his palm covered her—the man’s palm was rough with a thin layer of calluses, rubbing against her tender skin. This feeling was familiar yet distant. She only felt her arm burning hot, as if scorched by fire, and instinctively tried to break free.
No matter how she struggled, Zhou Jingze remained unmoved.
Xu Sui looked directly at him, speaking softly, word by word: “Do I need to remind you? We’ve already broken up.”
Zhou Jingze’s face showed a stunned expression. His arm loosened, and Xu Sui was able to break free. Just then, someone not far away called her. Xu Sui responded “Coming” and brushed past him, inadvertently bumping Zhou Jingze’s elbow.
After she walked away, the air still carried the faint camellia scent from her body.
Subtle yet present, like the person herself—gentle, yet with an extremely strong presence.
The mint candy in his palm fell onto the cement ground, instantly covered with dust. Zhou Jingze bent down to pick up the abandoned candy and walked to a nearby faucet, turning on the tap to rinse it with water.
Zhou Jingze unwrapped the candy paper, tossed the candy into his mouth, inserted his hands into his pockets, and looked up at the woman in the distance. Her skin was so white it seemed to glow. She smiled while talking to a male colleague, her dimples appearing.
He leisurely chewed the mint candy, his lips and teeth containing something like snow, incredibly cool. Suddenly, with a “crunch,” it shattered into powder. His turning tongue tasted it—slightly bitter.