That pot of chicken soup had been made with generous ingredients. Lin Shuang bought a bag of noodles and ate them with the chicken soup for a full three days.

Having lost the motivation to go out and find food, she holed up at home for three days without leaving.

[Shuangshuang, want to come out for a drink?]

Miao Cai sent a short video — from the cocktails on the table to the colorful lights sweeping across the venue, the roaring music mixed with several people’s laughter, a quick flash of a man’s features across the table.

[The drinks aren’t bad, strawberry mojito, you’ll definitely like it.]

[There’s also a handsome guy.]

Lin Shuang was curled up on the sofa watching a movie. She put down the RIO she was drinking.

[Address?]

Half an hour later, Lin Shuang showed up at a bar called SPACE.

Miao Cai had to admit that, in a certain fleeting moment, the jealousy welling up inside her far outweighed friendship. Even though Lin Shuang was wearing only a simple tank top with sweatpants, a loose silk white shirt thrown over the top, she strolled in nonetheless, standing at the door glancing left and right, the lights sweeping across her red lips and the corners of her eyes — every man in the place couldn’t help but turn to look at her.

Her features were clear and distinct, her face striking — she’d never had that fair, delicate, childlike look even as a kid. A single swipe of lipstick already carried its own vividness, more like a fresh, vibrant rose in full bloom, the kind that would outshine every girl around her in a contest of splendor amid the soft red dust of the world.

“Shuangshuang, over here.” Miao Cai waved, laughing as she introduced her to her boyfriend’s two colleagues.

“This is my old classmate Lin Shuang, the school beauty back in our day.”

Miao Cai’s boyfriend Zhao Feng had just returned from a business trip, bringing two out-of-town colleagues to Beiquan; playing the good host, he’d taken them out to eat and enjoy themselves. It was during the men’s chatting that one had remarked: “Beiquan City sure has a lot of beauties.” — and Zhao Feng had then egged Miao Cai on to invite Lin Shuang out to dazzle the whole room.

The two male colleagues Zhao Feng brought along were both single, and one of them stood out particularly — twenty-eight or twenty-nine, tall build, handsome enough to be called good-looking, full of charisma in conversation.

The man wore a black polo shirt; Lin Shuang could tell at a glance it was Ralph Lauren’s purple label, his watch a Jaeger-LeCoultre, his hair and skin both carefully groomed, his cologne Hugo — a fresh scent that would probably taste of money.

The bar had music playing, an atmosphere suited to idle chatting. Lin Shuang went to the bar to exchange for a prettily colored cocktail; by the time she returned, her seat had already been swapped out — there was now an empty seat beside Mr. Polo Shirt.

She sat down beside him as if nothing were amiss.

During a lull in the conversation, the man turned back casually, speaking to her in a low voice: “Miss Lin has a lovely name.”

“I was born on the day of Frost’s Descent, so I’m named Lin Shuang — Forest Frost.” She smiled.

He didn’t drink, but his eyes carried the cool clarity of wine nonetheless, rolling her name off his tongue: “So that’s it — Frost’s Descent… Shuangshuang.”

She tilted her ear to listen to him say her nickname, blinking her long, curled black lashes, curving her red lips toward the man in a radiant smile.

“It sounds better when you say it.” Lin Shuang’s voice went soft, striking a seemingly unconscious little pose, her arm propped against her body, the shirt sliding off her shoulder to reveal snow-white skin, her chin tilted slightly as she looked at him sideways, her rounded shoulder bones and collarbone rising and falling, her neck slender as a swan’s, tasseled earrings brushing her jawline, dimples showing at her cheeks.

The man laughed, a bass rumble muffled in his chest: “Is that so.”

A handsome man and a beautiful woman together drew too much attention; the people around them all sensed the faint, ambiguous tension between the two. Miao Cai was pulled away by her boyfriend to order drinks, and the other colleague made an excuse to go to the bathroom to give them space.

Miao Cai asked her boyfriend: “What’s the deal with this colleague of yours? The way he’s flirting is so… practiced.”

“He’s the regional manager who just took up his post in our department, sent down from headquarters to sort out personnel — I hear he’s a nephew of one of the board elders.”

Miao Cai stole a glance at the pair chatting so animatedly: “He’s not falling for Shuangshuang, is he?”

Zhao Feng put his arm around her and pulled her away: “Why worry about that? Come on, come on, what else do you want to drink?”

Lin Shuang’s gaze followed the hem of Miao Cai’s skirt disappearing behind the door, and she smiled, playing with her hair before pointing at his hand.

“I keep feeling like… you left something at home today.”

“Left what?” Mr. Polo Shirt was puzzled.

“A ring.” She curved her eyes, giggling, an indescribable coyness to her. “As far as I know, all outstanding men, without exception, marry young and successful.”

“Marry young and successful?” The man laughed heartily. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint Miss Lin — I’m unmarried.”

“Is that so?” She licked her lips, her tone lilting, unclear whether it was regret or relief. “And what about Miss Lin? So pretty, surely you can’t be single?”

Lin Shuang propped her chin, red lips curved, an innocent air about her: “Broke up ages ago.”

“I can’t imagine which man could fail to recognize such a gem.”

She laughed lightly: “Well, men — aren’t they all like that.”

Lin Shuang’s gaze drifted to the singer taking the stage, and she stopped talking, listening idly to the performance.

With the singer stirring up the atmosphere, the once quietly populated bar suddenly livened up. Miao Cai and Zhao Feng came back, cocktails in hand, and the conversation turned to local customs in Beiquan — it turned out Mr. Polo Shirt was passing through to investigate Beiquan’s investment and land policies, as the head office was planning to launch an investment project here.

It actually wasn’t that late yet, but Lin Shuang stood up, insisting on leaving — and the men’s conversation ended there too, since Mr. Polo Shirt was going to “pass by” and drop Lin Shuang home.

Lin Shuang didn’t refuse.

She waited outside the bar, taking the chance to smoke a cigarette, arms crossed, slowly and languidly blowing thin smoke rings toward the billboard. The early summer breeze was faintly cool, brushing against her water-white shirt, strands of hair sweeping across her cheek, the multicolored advertising lights washing over her like a neon-lit ad, plainly seducing you with “smoking is hazardous to health.”

The man drove around from the parking lot, pulling to a stop right in front of Lin Shuang, watching with interest as she exhaled her smoke, seemingly unaware of his presence. After finishing the cigarette, she turned her head, biting her plump, vivid lips, smiling with a hint of embarrassment: “Oops, caught in the act.”

Mr. Polo Shirt rubbed his chin, his eyes full of admiration: “You look beautiful smoking.”

Lin Shuang smiled radiantly, her eyes brimming with charm.

The car was a BMW 6 Series, a business-leaning model, with first-tier city plates — not flashy enough to draw stares from passersby, but distinct from the ordinary commuter cars filling the streets. It could satisfy the material desires of a girl invited into it, without carrying the psychological pressure of “riding a sugar daddy’s coattails.”

Mr. Polo Shirt got out of the car, opening the passenger door for Lin Shuang.

His hand hovered protectively near her shoulder, fingertips brushing her pale, smooth skin, making an inviting gesture.

Lin Shuang stepped back half a pace, arms crossed, hesitating, smiling: “I should ask first — would your girlfriend mind someone else sitting in the passenger seat?”

“She wouldn’t mind.” The man laughed heartily. “Rest assured, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She got into the passenger seat with a smile.

The car didn’t use navigation — Lin Shuang gave directions the whole way. Mr. Polo Shirt spoke up: “I never expected a small city like this to have such a beautiful night view… too bad I’m heading back to Linjiang City tomorrow, won’t get the chance to sightsee.”

“There’s a light show on the main road nearby, the city government spent a lot on it — if you’re interested, we could take a detour to see it.”

“That suits me very well.” Mr. Polo Shirt smiled back at her, and the car turned, driving slowly along the scenic boulevard, half sightseeing, half taking her home.

Lights washed over the car’s interior — red, blue, purple, yellow, sparkling in fragments.

“Has Miss Lin always lived in Beiquan City?”

“I spent a few years in Guangzhou, came back last October.”

The man feigned a thoughtful frown: “Strange — I’ve been to Guangzhou many times over the years myself, how did I never run into Miss Lin?”

“What industry does Miss Lin work in?”

“What do you think I look like I do?” She turned to look at him, giving him a puzzling smile.

“Maybe… a model? Actress? Office lady?”

Lin Shuang laughed heartily: “I studied fashion design in college. Started out in Guangzhou as a clothing assistant, then a display stylist, later teamed up with a friend to run a women’s clothing online store — unfortunately the store didn’t do well, so I simply came back home to live.”

She blinked: “Did that disappoint you?”

A smile rose at the corner of Mr. Polo Shirt’s mouth, clearly nowhere near disappointment.

The car passed by Fountain Plaza; the road ahead was harder to navigate, and Lin Shuang decided to get off here.

“I don’t know why, but I feel like Miss Lin and I hit it off right away.” Mr. Polo Shirt seemed reluctant to part, lifting his hand to check his watch. “It’s still early — how about I treat Miss Lin to another cup of coffee?”

She smiled at him, the smile carrying a hint of slyness: “Next time. I have to go out early tomorrow morning too, need to head back to pack.”

“Where’s Miss Lin headed? I’ll drive you.”

“Off to the provincial capital to handle some business.”

Their destinations were north and south, opposite directions.

Lin Shuang declined his offer: “If it’s meant to be, we’ll cross paths again.”

“True enough… I might come by Beiquan again from time to time.” Mr. Polo Shirt sounded a little wistful, then brightened. “Next time I come, I’ll treat Miss Lin to dinner.”

“Okay.”

Before getting out of the car, Lin Shuang exchanged WeChat with Mr. Polo Shirt.

Right before bed, Miao Cai called her: “Shuangshuang, are you home?”

“I’m home.”

“So… what about him? You two…” Miao Cai’s tone stumbled. “How did it go between you two?”

“He dropped me off downstairs and went back to his hotel.”

“Shuangshuang… ahem… I asked Zhao Feng — this guy was parachuted in from headquarters, his family’s got quite a background, has a family business over in Linjiang… Zhao Feng told me, guys like that usually already have a marriage arrangement lined up, they’re all playing around on the side — quite a few female colleagues at Zhao Feng’s company have fallen for him already…”

Lin Shuang made an “mm” sound: “I know.”

“Be careful, I’m worried you’ll get played…”

“I have no unrealistic expectations about him — you don’t need to worry about me on his account.” Lin Shuang comforted Miao Cai gently. “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

Just friends, that’s all. Lin Shuang traced her finger over her lips, a faint smile appearing.

The next morning, Lin Shuang packed her bags and took a shared ride to the provincial capital, Wancheng.

On the ride there, she received a WeChat message from Mr. Polo Shirt.

[Miss Lin, until next time.]

Lin Shuang didn’t enjoy chatting and was notorious for reading messages without replying. An hour later, she wrote back.

[Safe travels. Looking forward to meeting again.]

Mr. Polo Shirt was perhaps busy — this message, too, sank without a trace.