Lin Shuang’s new date was a promising young man, back from years abroad, the son of a local bank branch manager. The two of them had struck up a conversation at a café, and the bank manager’s son had invited her for freshly hand-poured coffee.
The bank manager’s son had opened a trading company nearby, equipped with its own private café for entertaining business partners and friends within his circle. The style was extremely refined, and the English words that slipped into his speech carried a deep, restrained British accent.
After a few encounters, the man proved to be top-tier — cultured, tasteful, playful, generous, warm and sincere — a flawless dating prospect. Not long after they started seeing each other, he confessed his feelings, but honestly laid out his conditions upfront: he wanted a fitting, unforgettable memory, and sincerely asked whether she could accept that.
The implication being: dating only, no future to speak of.
Lin Shuang had roughly explained her own situation. The man’s family background was upstanding, both sets of parents from powerful families with extremely high standards — otherwise he wouldn’t have come back to develop his career in Beiquan. There was also a childhood sweetheart still studying abroad, with both families harboring certain hopes.
Given Lin Shuang’s standards and expectations, the men she chose were one in a million — naturally, the men were also filtering women through their own one-in-a-million criteria, sorting and pricing them, quite clearly.
If Lin Shuang’s father hadn’t ended up behind bars, if the family company still existed, she would likely have been unstoppable in circles like this.
Not that she was entirely without footing even now — it was just that when strangers of the opposite sex first got to know each other, they were matched on their own conditions, needing time and emotional investment to gradually deepen into real intimacy. But Lin Shuang took the unconventional route, lacking the patience and temperament for deep social engagement — she only wanted the man to submit to her, never willing to try to win someone’s heart.
She had no intention of having a future with the man in front of her, but when he laid his cards bare so nakedly, some competitive urge stirred inside her, a bit unwilling to concede.
There were plenty of ways to tie a man down — with enough patience and skill, start with admiration, add a touch of playfulness, a hint of vague melancholy and loneliness, layer on an independent, strong-willed persona, and to be doubly sure, stake a heart on it too — let a woman’s every virtue unfurl slowly, offer up beauty and skill in bed, and a few months later, poke a hole in the condom, stage a heart-wrenching scene outside the OB-GYN — she didn’t believe she couldn’t step through the in-laws’ front door.
Even if she couldn’t, walking away with a breakup check worth millions would still be a clean profit.
But she really was lazy — she just wanted to lie flat, didn’t want to rack her brain or exert effort, didn’t want to play the chasing game between men and women.
She switched to a different approach.
The man spoke expansively: “I used to vacation along the Mediterranean coast every summer. Compared to Barcelona and Marseille, what left a deeper impression was Haifa in Israel — the Baha’i Terraced Gardens, and the secluded, empty beaches…”
“Speaking of the Mediterranean — there was recent news about African refugees risking their lives to smuggle themselves into Europe, and a whole boatload perishing at sea in a storm. What’s your take on Africa’s famine crisis? Is the EU’s aid to Africa just an empty promise?”
The man had a bit of trouble digesting that.
He talked about the slow life of Scandinavia and the dazzling aurora, strange sights encountered at sea. Lin Shuang asked him whether that meant he couldn’t sit the civil service exam, couldn’t pursue an official career path. He invited her to a private screening room to watch art films; Lin Shuang insisted on going to an internet café to watch horror films instead.
In short, she did the opposite of whatever he suggested, deflecting and derailing until he was left speechless.
The stranger the mood grew, the more helpless the look on the man’s face — yet he couldn’t quite tear himself away either, and in the end could only indulge her with tolerant affection.
“I know you’re doing this on purpose.”
Lin Shuang said, straight-faced, “That just shows you still don’t understand me well enough.”
Given this kind of dynamic, the bank manager’s son still kept up sporadic contact with her — proof enough of just how mild-tempered and deeply cultivated he was, admirably so.
The two of them dated every few days. At noon, the bank manager’s son invited Lin Shuang to a hotel for abalone and lobster — this establishment doubled as both a banquet hall and a regular restaurant, with an electronic scrolling screen on the lobby wall announcing which family was hosting which banquet. One line in particular caught Lin Shuang’s eye more than once.
It was a college celebration banquet — the guests had specially displayed the name of the university their child had been admitted to: a national Top-1 science and engineering school, extremely prestigious, the school’s name alone speaking to a boundless future.
It was already the scorching heat of July — time really did fly. The college entrance exam had already ended, and even the admission letters had already come out.
This time last year, she’d still been disheveled, scrambling to set up her own bubble tea shop.
The banquet hall for this college celebration was right next to the private room where they were eating. The waiter led the two of them past it, just as a soon-to-be college student was giving a speech on stage, thanking his parents, family, friends, teachers, and school.
Somehow, her steps slowed.
Were college celebration banquets this elaborate these days? Even staging little ceremonies now.
The young man was invited up on stage, took the microphone, and gave a brief toast, then was embraced by the students, choking up as he expressed his thanks.
She stood outside, watching the person on stage, a faint joy stirring in her heart too.
Hard work always pays off eventually — this year’s college exam bonus should be a decent one.
The man beside her asked, “What’s wrong? Someone you know?”
Her eyes carried a bright, glimmering smile. “That one up there — he’s my ex.”
There were only a few people up on stage, likely the students’ subject teachers. Among them stood a young man, upright and straight-backed, fine-featured, composed in bearing — at a glance, more eye-catching and pleasant than those around him. He stood on stage for a moment, then stepped down.
“Is that so? Your ex is a teacher?”
Lin Shuang looped her arm through his and walked on, her heels clicking crisply, her brows lifting unconsciously. “He’s quite something. Top scorer in math on the college entrance exam, specially recruited back by the school to teach — his lectures are excellent.”
“Quite something indeed.” The man said it dismissively — male teachers just weren’t very competitive.
Over the meal, Lin Shuang was unusually cooperative, smiling warmly, her mood pleasant, the conversation flowing well. The bank manager’s son watched her. “You’re in a good mood today?”
“Am I?”
“You are — you laughed at all my corny jokes, and genuinely too.” The bank manager’s son said meaningfully, “Is it because… you ran into your ex?”
He’d dated a few women before, and none of them had ever smiled while mentioning an ex — it was always gritted teeth, or quiet dejection, or wistful regret.
Lin Shuang didn’t agree, shrugged, and let the smile fade from her face. “The food here is especially good. Thanks for treating me today.”
They finished lunch and headed out. The college celebration next door was winding down, most of the guests already gone. She glanced sideways, then quickly walked past.
The car was parked in the open-air lot nearby. Lin Shuang hadn’t brought a parasol and didn’t want to walk in her heels under the blazing sun, so she stood waiting in the shade of a roadside tree.
People trickled out of the hotel in twos and threes, the crowd dispersing in waves.
She heard young people’s laughter and chatter, glanced sideways briefly, then quickly looked away again, pulling out her phone and scrolling back and forth across the screen.
The college celebration had invited quite a few students and teachers. Zhou Zheng was talking with a few students, standing by the road waiting for a taxi.
He looked up, glanced lightly at the person under the tree, and for a moment forgot what he’d just been discussing, his thoughts slowing by a beat before returning to the conversation with those around him.
The sound of high heels and that slender, graceful silhouette were easy to recognize.
The taxi pulled up to the curb, the group climbed in one after another, the door closed, and the car drove past in front of her.
She caught sight of the profile through the car window — the familiar bridge of the nose and lips, gone in a flash before her eyes.
“Teacher Zhou, what are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” Zhou Zheng calmly withdrew his gaze, falling into silence.
Seemed like it had been a while since they’d seen each other — a few months, maybe. After the exam rush ended, he’d gone straight into training sessions and meetings, and even spent some time back in the countryside.
She felt an inexplicable restlessness, her interest draining away — like an empty plastic bag under the blazing sun, accidentally caught in a car’s exhaust, swept up and sent tumbling, stumbling and scraping along, unable to settle back to the ground.
The sun really was scorching, the afternoon heat especially high. Lin Shuang checked her phone — 37 degrees Celsius. In her long dress, her made-up face was already beading with sweat.
The bank manager’s son’s car slowly pulled up in front of her.
Lin Shuang’s expression wasn’t the best.
“What’s wrong?”
“You drove too slowly. I waited ten minutes.”
Just ten minutes — not really excessive.
But the parking lot was only a two-minute walk away.
“I just took an important call, talking business with a client.”
“Better not let there be a next time.” She turned her head to look out the window, her tone cold, carrying a faint air of condescension.
“Understood, Your Highness the Princess.” The man’s temper really was good.
Princess, more like someone just here to keep her entertained.
Lin Shuang turned to look at him and gave a small laugh. “I couldn’t dare accept that title — I’m not worthy of a Prince Charming. What princess — at best I’m just some little maid carrying shoes.”
There was a certain Lin Daiyu-esque bite to the way she said it.