When she received this message, Cen Jin was sitting in a nail salon at a nearby mall.

She had been there for over two hours, watching her nails be stripped bare before being filled with a new color.

A Morandi-style green with subtle gradients. It reminded her of the layered mountains in Shengzhou’s mist—hazy, desaturated, yet easy on the eyes.

Her phone lit up, and she picked it up one-handed to open Li Wu’s message.

The words together were clearly expressing thanks, yet somehow they seemed to carry an unwilling, stubborn undertone.

Cen Jin wasn’t sure where this intuition came from, but it was enough to make her smile. Her eyebrows slightly raised, and she tapped out three characters in response: You’re welcome.

The owner had just returned from outside, and seeing her somewhat self-absorbed smile, couldn’t help teasing: “Chatting with your husband?”

Cen Jin paused, denying: “No.”

The owner had striking features, though artificial—someone who spent considerable effort on her appearance.

Stroking her waist-length curled hair, she smoothly continued: “I noticed Mr. Wu didn’t come with you, thought he might be making it up to you over WeChat.”

Cen Jin’s smile diminished slightly as she tried to maintain naturalness: “He doesn’t have time for that.”

“True, you’re all so busy. I have a friend at a 4A agency too, like someone who just had a baby—impossible to make plans with.”

“Which 4A agency is he at?” Cen Jin seized the opportunity to change the subject.

“BBDO.”

Cen Jin glanced down at her renewed fingernails: “That place… figures.”

“Your company’s not bad either,” the owner brought over a fruit box, placing it beside Cen Jin and urging her to eat, adding a compliment: “Your hands are so fair, this color suits you.”

“Really?” Cen Jin raised her right hand, examining it closely.

Gradually, her pupils lost focus, as if seeing through her skin to another scene entirely.

She and Wu Fu had met in university, the same major, the typical long-distance runner of romance. Their meeting was cliché, without the earth-shattering, soul-stirring moments of romantic movies—just ordinary campus life. She joined the external relations department where Wu Fu was director, their daily interactions were just that: superior and subordinate, assigning tasks, and chatting a bit during free time. It wasn’t particularly flirtatious, but there was some pink undercurrent of back-and-forth, though neither took the initiative to break through that paper-thin window. One evening, Wu Fu suddenly called her, asking to meet.

Wu Fu was handsome but spoke with steady decisiveness, confident and unwavering. He said: “If I don’t confess to you before graduation, I might regret it for life. Because you like me too.”

The wind was strong on the sports field that day, rustling through the grass, and billowing his shirt.

Cen Jin’s heart became a kite, effortlessly lifted high, then transformed into a star, twinkling brightly.

She felt like she was standing in an anime scene, her heart racing chaotically, her brain somewhat dazed. Pointing at him, wanting to cry yet laugh, her facial expressions were out of control: “Did you change into that white shirt on purpose? I remember you wore something else this morning.”

At that moment, the gesture was less pointing and more like reaching out to poke his chest, carrying that particular coquettishness of young women.

Wu Fu smiled too: “This is more formal.”

“Why so ceremonious, are you proposing?” Cen Jin played coy despite having the upper hand.

Wu Fu looked deep into her eyes: “If that’s how you want to interpret it, I don’t mind.”

Tch, she scoffed.

But he remained serious: “Do you like it?”

“I like it,” she was so excited she almost choked up: “I like it so much I want to hug you.”

The next moment, Wu Fu embraced her.

How naive to think that moment would be forever.

Leaving the mall, Cen Jin sat motionless in her car for a long time, directionless, not knowing where to go.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she watched vehicles come and go outside until there was nothing left around her.

The world seemed to contain only her, a sense of abandonment burying her like a fallen boulder, airless, inescapable.

Without realizing it, her eyes filled with tears. Before they could fall, Cen Jin quickly wiped them away with her fingertips and drove off.

Back home, Cen Jin took a thorough shower, then retreated to her bedroom.

She lit an aromatherapy candle by the bed, staying quietly by herself.

Before sleep, she remembered tomorrow would be Li Wu’s first day in class, and picked up her phone to check their messages.

The conversation had ended with that “You’re welcome,” the young man hadn’t replied further.

She typed intermittently, deleting and revising, always feeling the content wasn’t quite right. After a while, she finally sent the message:

“What time are classes tomorrow, don’t be late.”

This time Li Wu replied quickly: Seven o’clock.

Cen Jin continued the conversation: Did you eat dinner?

Li Wu: Yes.

Cen Jin: Cafeteria?

Li Wu: Mm.

Cen Jin: With your roommates?

Li Wu: Mm.

Cen Jin: How are your roommates?

Li Wu: Pretty good.

Cen Jin couldn’t think of what else to ask: Get some rest early.

Li Wu: Okay.

The surroundings grew quiet again, like a secluded valley, a dead pool of water.

That sense of emptiness returned, and Cen Jin sat with her legs bent, back against the headboard, feeling as if she’d been pushed to the margins of a book page, no longer within the text. She sadly discovered that when she wasn’t playing a role, wasn’t needed, she became transparent, invisible, and ceased to exist—no different from The Walking Dead.

Fortunately, she would return to work tomorrow.

Unfortunately, she would have to see Wu Fu again.

Like a severely wounded white snake, the woman slid back under the covers, wrapping herself tightly.

—

The next day, Cen Jin woke up early, carefully applying her makeup in front of the mirror.

Before leaving, she spent a long time preparing, spritzed some perfume on her inner wrist, and only after confirming she was impeccable did she leave home.

That same morning, Li Wu finished washing up and, under Cheng Rui’s guidance, packed his required textbooks one by one into his backpack.

His roommates pulled at each other, racing toward the cafeteria like sprinters, while Li Wu followed unhurriedly behind, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Wait for Li Wu!” Cheng Rui turned back to look. “He’s new here, where are your hosting manners?”

Ran Feichi also looked back, playfully waving the campus card between his fingers: “Sure, the last one there treats everyone!”

Li Wu’s expression froze as he sped up to catch them.

The young men’s laughter rang out clear and bright, like morning air, like the rising sun.

After breakfast, Li Wu parted ways with his roommates, following yesterday’s instructions from his homeroom teacher to visit the office early.

The teacher had just arrived herself, returning to her seat with a cup of water, not yet sitting down.

She blew away the steam, took a sip, then set down her thermos: “Today starts with English reading. I’ll take you to class first for you to introduce yourself.”

Li Wu stood by the desk with hands at his sides, nodding once.

The teacher looked at him a bit longer: “I heard your physics is quite good?”

Li Wu remembered what Cen Jin had said: “It’s okay.”

The teacher asked: “What do you usually score?”

Li Wu replied: “Above 140.”

“That’s excellent!” The woman’s attitude showed new respect: “Where were you in the curriculum?”

“Steady current.”

The teacher pursed her lips: “So you’re a bit behind our schedule, will that be alright?”

Li Wu said: “I’ll try to catch up.”

“Good,” the teacher screwed on her thermos cap: “If you’re behind in physics, you might be in other subjects too. Tell me if it’s too difficult, don’t just struggle through it.”

Li Wu nodded: “Okay.”

“Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to your new classmates.”

Following the teacher’s quick pace downstairs, reading voices could be heard from the corridor, not quite uniform, somewhat chaotic.

Students chatting by the windows hurriedly held up their books in pretense as people passed by.

Li Wu’s gaze slid over them, his heartbeat unconsciously quickening.

Stopping at Class (10)’s door, the noise inside gradually ceased as dozens of eyes turned toward them in unison.

Seeing this, the English teacher threw out a “What are you looking at, keep reciting” before walking to the door to inquire about the situation.

The English teacher was a man in his early thirties, wearing frameless glasses with a refined, fair face.

“This child is a transfer student, won’t take much of your time,” the homeroom teacher said concisely. “Just let him introduce himself.”

The English teacher nodded, gesturing Li Wu into the classroom.

The homeroom teacher followed, and the class quieted again.

Li Wu’s throat felt tight, his eyelids slightly lowered. Being new, he couldn’t help feeling nervous, finding it difficult to directly face all the strange faces below. Especially since they were all staring at him, their gazes examining, like rays scanning him from head to toe.

The homeroom teacher announced: “This is our new classmate, transferred from Nongxi High School,” she gestured to Li Wu: “The rest you can tell your classmates yourself.”

Li Wu’s hand curled into a fist, his voice unsteady: “I am…”

“Handsome guy!” Cheng Rui interrupted, speaking rapidly.

Scattered laughter arose in the class, especially among the girls.

“Cheng Rui, come up here, be his spokesperson, I’m giving you a chance, come on.” The homeroom teacher said with an ambiguous smile, beckoning him.

Cheng Rui shut his mouth tight, shrinking back like a whacked mole.

Thanks to this interruption, Li Wu’s anxiety eased considerably. He became more comfortable, briefly stating his name: “I’m Li Wu.”

“Li with the wood radical, Wu as in a mist.”

“I hope to get along well with everyone in the future.”

Applause thundered, wrapping around him like a tidal wave.

Li Wu felt he had already been accepted.

The homeroom teacher, seeing his height, temporarily arranged an empty seat in the back row for him. He was alone, sitting against the wall.

Two boys in front were very curious about him, watching him the whole way to his seat.

Before Li Wu could take out his English book, one of them eagerly struck up a conversation: “Hey!”

Li Wu paused to look at him.

“Where’s Nongxi?” he asked quietly.

Li Wu was silent for two seconds: “In Shengzhou.”

The boy made an “oh” sound, seeming uninterested, his gaze immediately shifting to Li Wu’s chest: “You like Real Madrid?”

“…” Li Wu was speechless.

This phrase seemed to be a secret password among the school’s male students—if you knew nothing about it, you couldn’t pass the organization’s screening.

Fortunately, as the teacher came down to patrol, his deskmate nudged his arm in warning, and the boy turned back around, pretending to read aloud enthusiastically.

Li Wu lowered his eyes to glance at the eye-catching gold team logo on his clothes, silently reminding himself that after finishing homework today, he had to learn everything about Real Madrid’s background, history, players, and achievements.

—

While some were wracking their brains trying to fit in with the group, others were already tired of being AWOL, consciously returning to camp.

After nine, Cen Jin arrived at the company. She wore a plain-colored long dress with a casual blazer over it, a saddle bag at her side, efficient yet somewhat casual.

The woman walked with her hands in her pockets, expression was neutral. But only she knew how this outfit had tormented her all morning, nearly driving her crazy.

She had also applied a lipstick that enhanced her complexion, also to prove to Wu Fu that she had risen from the ashes, in excellent condition, even if it was all false, even if she was just forcing herself.

So much for indifference—behind it all was a painstaking effort.

Unfortunately, entering the department, one glance showed nearly half the people missing, and she knew Wu Fu had again led his troops en masse to pitch ideas, probably not returning until afternoon.

All her bullets hit cotton, leaving Cen Jin with complicated feelings. She returned to her seat, opened her computer, and began catching up on work WeChat group chat records.

After just a few pages, Cen Jin’s temples began throbbing.

She screenshot an image and threw it in the group chat asking: They ended up going with the first draft? No way.

In their line of work, good temper was a fairy tale.

A designer in the group replied: Tell me about it, they made me revise until I threw up.

He continued: At first they even asked why we were charging more for using the original version. Thankfully Kiki argued with them day and night to get the additional fee.

Cen Jin said: Well, at least the revisions weren’t for nothing.

Returning with a cup of coffee, Cen Jin saw Kiki wasn’t at her desk and took the chance to ask: Where did Kiki and the others go?

The designer said: Where else, with your husband to Pinyou?

The formerly familiar form of address suddenly became two strange characters. Cen Jin ignored it, only asking about the key point: The yogurt project?

Designer: Yeah, left early this morning, the boss went too, even got an all-black business van, like they were going to rob a bank.

Cen Jin replied with a “laughing” emoji, but her face quickly fell.

Pinyou was a well-known domestic dairy enterprise, planning to launch a new zero-fat, sugar-free boxed yogurt with added cereal. At the end of last month, the company had tried to secure this project, working frantically. Despite facing marital problems, she had forced herself to help brainstorm proposals. Only when the framework was initially complete and everyone was confident of success did she dare to take leave to rest, temporarily handing over the work to another colleague to follow up.

Just a few days disconnected, and she had become an outsider, abandoned mid-way by the organization, selectively ignored on her first day back at work, without any thought of leaving a place for her.

Had to say, Wu Fu could be truly ruthless.

Others were one thing, but even he was like this, without feeling or principle.

Cen Jin had nowhere to vent her anger. After sitting blankly for a while, realizing that brooding here would only increase her chances of breast tumors without serving any purpose, she decided to distract herself by browsing Weibo and watching videos, enduring until noon before going down to eat alone.

Her company’s office building was located in the city center, the most prosperous area, a true concrete jungle with commercial high-rises packed together like fish scales, and restaurants as numerous as cow hairs.

Leaving the building and turning through two alleys, Cen Jin arrived at her usual Japanese restaurant.

More accurately, the Japanese restaurant she and Wu Fu usually frequented.

Their tastes aligned; they had never disagreed about food.

Cen Jin preferred the wall-side seat on the second floor, walking there with familiar ease, but as she crossed the last step, she suddenly froze.

A familiar figure came into view, sitting cross-legged behind the dining table, laughing and talking with the woman opposite him, his shirt forming relaxed wrinkles where it stretched across his shoulder blades.

Cen Jin recognized that woman.

She was also laughing, her eyes sparkling, the worship in her brow and eyes impossible to hide.

Just that the person was no longer herself. That was all.

Cen Jin stood expressionlessly for a moment, then walked toward them.

Without looking directly, using just her peripheral vision, she could feel the woman’s gaze landing on her, followed by the man’s, from bottom to top.

Their cheerful conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Before Cen Jin could judge the emotions within, she had already lost control of herself and walked past Wu Fu, directly sitting down at the same table, right across from him, next to the woman.