It was nearly one o’clock when Cen Jin emerged from Li Wu’s warm embrace on the couch where they’d been watching movies, returning to her bedroom to rest. Before putting on her eye mask, she planned to send Li Wu a goodnight message but saw Wu Fu’s new message instead, expressing apologies, saying his wife had used his phone to mass-send the invitations without his notice.

The word “wife” was slightly jarring. Cen Jin hadn’t planned to reply, but her ex-husband asked again: Would you like to come?

Cen Jin took a light breath, typing: You don’t think our previous marriage ended amicably, do you?

Wu Fu said: After several years, I thought even the worst ending would have faded. Are you still bothered by it?

Cen Jin quickly shot back: No, I’m not bothered, I just think the proper divorced state is to become strangers. Keep your wife’s hands in check, and don’t deliberately create these passive-aggressive things, trying to provoke trouble.

Wu Fu perhaps smiled: So would the great one be willing to come? This time I’m inviting you personally, don’t overthink it. It’s just a small gathering in the name of a wedding, no need to bring anything, after all, it’s been a long time.

The desire to win was like an intermittently acting drug addiction. Cen Jin felt herself being swept along again, wanting to crush back with grace and elegance. She agreed almost instinctively, with an almost bestowing tone: Sure.

―

A week later, Cen Jin attended Wu Fu’s wedding venue, accompanied by Chun Chang, who had also received their invitation.

Wu Fu’s wedding banquet was indeed small, arranged on the terrace of an upscale club. Unlike their previous elaborate flower sea decorations, this evening party was filled with simple, vintage French petite bourgeois style, set by the river, elegant in taste, with enchanting music. Guests sat amidst velvet candlelight, bathed in summer’s dim breeze.

Cen Jin saw many familiar faces; if not for the wedding sign posted at the entrance, she would have thought this was just an industry party plus a class reunion.

The bride and groom’s attire was equally understated. Wu Fu wore only a gray three-piece suit, with cropped trousers adding a touch of fashionable flair, while Bian Xinran wore a pure white ankle-length formal dress with bright thread crochet that reflected feather-like luster when she walked. She wore her hair in a low bun with just a white bellflower tucked in, her smile as pure as ever.

A perfect match.

Cen Jin sincerely felt this way. She had thought she would feel resentful, and uncomfortable, but after arriving, she realized she had truly become an outside observer, without any thought of investigating whether Wu Fu had cheated during their marriage or seamlessly transitioned.

She peacefully gave her blessings and presented her gift.

Cen Jin’s table was all university classmates, who were somewhat surprised to see her come.

But seeing the woman’s unchanged expression, they tactfully avoided the topic, just warmly greeting her and exchanging pleasantries about life and work.

During the meal, a female classmate from their year felt sympathetic and roundaboutly praised Cen Jin: “How come you haven’t changed at all? You look the same as in university.”

Chun Chang, peeling shrimp, was characteristically unfiltered: “She spends all day absorbing yang energy from young handsome guys, how could she age?”

“Wow… really?” The table burst into exclamations, asking for details.

“Don’t listen to her nonsense.” Cen Jin smiled faintly, straightening her back slightly.

Wu Fu and Bian Xinran happened to come to this table to host, seeing the particularly lively atmosphere, raised their champagne and asked what was happening.

The female classmate replied: “We’re asking Cen Jin how to catch young fresh meat.”

Wu Fu’s smile turned slightly bitter.

Bian Xinran raised an eyebrow, grinning and asking: “Wow, Sister Jin has a young guy? Is it someone we know?”

Cen Jin held her slender wine glass, looking at Wu Fu, her red lips curving to just the right degree: “Your husband knows him.” Then she lightly clinked her glass with his.

The woman’s expression was serene, with an impeccable calmness, impeccable to the point of coolness.

Wu Fu felt his heart clang like the struck glass, momentarily unsure how to react appropriately.

“Who is it, who?” The table was curious.

Wu Fu paused for two seconds, smiling and asking: “Why didn’t you bring him along?”

“He’s staying at school today, didn’t come home.” Cen Jin smiled sweetly, sitting back down.

The information was quite loaded, and everyone became more excited, asking questions and teasing: “Still in school?” “Wow, Cen Jin, you’re something else.” “Going that far?”

Two short sentences instantly reversed everyone’s view. Cen Jin upgraded from abandoned wife to queen, her casual attitude making these mature men and women, constrained by work and family, deeply envious.

Since she sat down, they had narrowly thought she was a hurt person, clingy, insignificant, not expecting she had already transformed into a free and light butterfly, fluttering with gold leaf-like light particles.

Wu Fu, accompanying Bian Xinran away from the table, couldn’t help looking back at his ex-wife.

Amid the clinking glasses and graceful shadows, the woman sat in an apricot-colored long dress, her skin fair, features elegant, beautiful as if all the moon frost had gathered on her face and flowed throughout her body.

She was glowing.

That night, Wu Fu didn’t achieve the effect he wanted. His self-perceived victory was utterly defeated before Cen Jin; instead, he had pushed her onto the pedestal of an ideal love.

He had entered another similar but limited nest, while she had become more open, more joyful, galloping freely in larger forests and prairies. She naturally wouldn’t look back, lingering at the edge of his territory—contrary to what he had firmly believed for over two years.

It was too sudden and unexpected.

She ended up with that penniless young student. Wu Fu couldn’t digest it.

Initially, he hadn’t taken it seriously, firstly wanting to cut ties with her quickly; secondly, he was certain that with Cen Jin’s competitive personality, she would never make such a pointless choice.

The aftereffect was unexpectedly strong.

Dissatisfaction and confusion filled Wu Fu’s heart, accumulating with every stolen glance at Cen Jin, making him overwhelmed. Near the end of the banquet, Wu Fu made an excuse to go to the bathroom alone, then called Cen Jin from the emergency stairwell.

When Cen Jin answered, she initially didn’t plan to engage, but when he said it was about work, she informed Chun Chang and left her seat.

At the meeting point, Wu Fu had already removed his suit jacket, wearing only a white shirt.

Cen Jin stopped in front of him, curving her lips: “What is it, having to discuss work on such a day?”

Wu Fu’s gentle smile, maintained all evening, completely disappeared: “You’re really with that kid?”

“Is this what you called work matters?” Cen Jin didn’t answer directly: “If this is what you wanted to ask, then I’ll leave first.”

Wu Fu’s gaze became forceful: “Isn’t it just to anger me?”

Cen Jin laughed mockingly: “Wu Fu, you think too highly of yourself,” she looked straight at him, casually stating: “Yes, I’m with Li Wu. Thanks to you, I found the kind of love I truly wanted.”

Wu Fu’s chest heaved once, unable to hold back a long-harbored secret: “He had improper thoughts about you before, did you know?”

“Improper thoughts?” Cen Jin slightly furrowed her brows, examining him: “You look more like the one with improper thoughts right now, groom. If you want to make a fool of yourself, don’t drag me down with you.”

Wu Fu put his hands back in his pockets, leaning against the wall, seemingly retreating and restraining himself: “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you.”

Cen Jin didn’t want to engage further: “Can I leave now?”

“I’m not finished,” Wu Fu said: “That artist collaboration video your company released last month, you made it, right?”

Cen Jin paused: “Professor Lin’s?”

“Yes.”

Cen Jin recalled for a moment: “Yes, I made it, my boss gave me the concept.”

“No, that was my concept,” the man seemed to finally find another step to elevate himself, regaining superiority: “My pitch proposal, but it ended up becoming your dowry. Is this the fair competition you so firmly insisted on when divorcing?”

Cen Jin realized, frost appearing in her eyes: “I just followed the client’s and boss’s requirements.”

Wu Fu sneered, thick with sarcasm.

Cen Jin swallowed, raising her chin: “Why come ask me? Why not go fight with the client, and have your account team write a public article criticizing them? I was wondering why Teddy’s level suddenly dropped, giving such terrible creative ideas—oh, so it was your idea. But what can I do? Just had to grit my teeth and fill the hole. I didn’t want to work with such a bad idea either, but I’m just an employee, I must follow the client’s wishes. I’ve already tried my best to save it, surely the final result was much better than you had initially estimated.”

Wu Fu stared at her motionlessly, his posture casual: “Say what you want, you’re still a thief.”

He smiled slightly: “You’re so proud, arrogant, and idealistic, yet you’ve naturally accepted this new identity? Seems dating a young boy hasn’t nourished your brain—you still need to rely on stealing bridges to perfect and beautify your career credentials.”

Cen Jin felt a lump in her throat, staring at him without rippling, forcing composure: “Then let me tell you clearly, I will never put this case in my resume, because it is indeed low-level, inside and out.”

After saying this, she turned and left.

Unbelievable, to be outmaneuvered over work matters at her ex-husband’s wedding. Cen Jin was speechless with anger. On her way back, she put on her Bluetooth earpiece and furiously called Teddy to question him about the situation.

On the other end, Teddy maintained his usual mediator attitude, mixing Mandarin and Cantonese to persuade her: “Gin, you’ve been working for several years now, but your intense reaction is like a workplace rookie. Are you sure you want to be this angry? From day one in advertising, you should have realized that many, many factors influence a work’s release. It’s not something you or I alone can decide. If you’re angry because the creative came from your ex-husband, that’s the client’s issue—what does it have to do with us, the executing agency? Who doesn’t want to produce good work? But we’re all employees. If you don’t do it, others will. We in advertising shouldn’t think too highly of ourselves. Sometimes it’s not creativity that achieves the brand, but the brand allows us to exercise our creativity. You should be grateful to clients, not picky. Your ex-husband is also weird—if he’s so great, why not go settle accounts with the client? You’ve fallen into his trap, which is even more ridiculous. I don’t believe people in his company and department haven’t executed ideas that weren’t their own. What’s he pretending for?”

After his speech, Cen Jin’s emotions surged, making it almost impossible to structure language: “I just… feel like I was kept in the dark.”

Teddy laughed coldly: “Clients don’t need to explain everything to us, and I as your superiors don’t need to explain everything to you.”

Cen Jin couldn’t understand: “The premise of creativity is having creative ability. I’ve always believed this.”

Teddy firmly refuted: “You’re wrong. The premise of creativity is being able to execute, and having sufficient funds and platforms to support us in realizing and displaying creativity. Otherwise, even the most ingenious idea will just rot in your head like fertilizer and be carried to your grave, never seeing the light of day. You’ve gone from copywriter to creative director level—don’t you understand this basic principle? Living in a dream?”

Cen Jin said: “But I’m no longer that junior copywriter doing miscellaneous work. I want to better realize myself in the company, not water someone else’s seeds.”

Teddy said: “What do you mean someone else’s seeds? The seeds all belong to the client—they can give them to whoever they want, and plant them wherever they want. We’re just gardeners. Gin, do you know why I told you this concept was mine? Because I was worried you’d react like this. I like people like you, but I’m also very afraid of encountering people like you.”

“Sorry, I can’t agree for now. I need to calm down first.” Cen Jin hung up.

Standing in the elevator home, Cen Jin’s gaze scattered, staring blankly at the jumping numbers.

Just when she thought she was steadily advancing level by level like this elevator car, the entire building suddenly collapsed, in this unexpected way like being struck by lightning.

She found it hard to articulate whether it was her wounded pride or worn beliefs that made her feel so awful, depressed, and angry.

After some thought, Cen Jin pressed the down button again, going alone to a bar to clear her mind.

She sat drinking heavily until past one, head propped up with worries, before taking a taxi home.

Surprisingly, when she opened the door, the entrance light was on and the slippers were laid out. She had thought Li Wu wouldn’t come back today.

Not seeing anyone come to greet her, Cen Jin guessed he might be asleep, so she quietly changed her shoes and went looking down the hallway.

Li Wu was indeed asleep, but not in his room—he was sprawled over his desk in the study, shoulders slightly hunched, face down, showing only summer grass-like thick black hair, with a large book pressed under his arm, unclear whether it was literature or a textbook.

Cen Jin stood on tiptoe watching him for a while, then steadied herself, standing in the doorframe without taking another step inside.

She just looked at him like this, her heart full of bitter fruit.

The dark cloud that had followed her all evening clearly couldn’t hold anymore. Her vision quickly became like a window swept by torrential rain, unclear no matter how she wiped it.

Cen Jin sniffled slightly, turning to leave, when a sleepy low call came from behind: “Sister?”

Cen Jin wiped her face with both hands and turned back, forcing a fragile smile: “Sorry I woke you.”

Li Wu looked at her a couple of times, immediately panicked, hurriedly leaving his chair to walk in front of her, lowering his head to ask: “Have you been crying?”

Cen Jin hugged him, unable to hold back anymore, burying her whole face in his chest, as if suffocating herself, yet breathing: “Ah, sister feels so awful.”

He pressed into her soft hair, sniffing once, tone casual, neither angry nor resentful: “You’ve been drinking too.”

Letting tears rampage, Cen Jin held tight to her remaining “idealism”: “Li Wu, will you always like me this much?”

“Yes.” He firmly uttered this word, his chin slowly rubbing several times on her head: “What happened?”

Cen Jin sobbed: “I went to my ex-husband’s wedding after work today, and encountered something upsetting at work. I was worried you’d overthink it, and maybe I had some hangups too, so I didn’t take you along, didn’t tell you a single word. You said you’d finish late today, I thought you wouldn’t come back, so I had some drinks before coming home.”

Li Wu was silent for several seconds, saying nothing, just holding her tighter, unbreakably firm.

His reaction made Cen Jin’s tear glands completely lose control.

Li Wu’s heart felt like it would burn with pain from the tears seeping into it. He cupped her wet, red face in both hands, unable to control himself as he kissed away her tears one by one. His gentleness made Cen Jin’s heart crumple and soften, so when his breath approached her lips, she also leaned in.

Thump—Cen Jin hit the wall, not too hard. She hooked onto Li Wu as he pressed forward, desperately sucking and biting.

The tears on Cen Jin’s face were gradually replaced by the young man’s moist breath.

Later, when neither could stand properly anymore, Li Wu carried her back to sit in the chair, continuing to kiss, sometimes with light pecks, sometimes clashing painfully enough to make the other whimper.

Cen Jin sat on his lap, feeling something unmistakable pressing against her. She moved her face back slightly, hands caressing the young man’s burning cheeks, staring at his tide-bright eyes full of desire, asking tenderly: “Are you uncomfortable?”

She freed one hand, making the question more explicit: “Let me help you, okay?”

Li Wu’s breathing quickened, flushing red from face to neck. His long lashes half-lowered, Adam’s apple sliding forcefully, seeming to consent.

The sound of fabric in the deep night was particularly clear.

Cen Jin had intended to step back to the floor, kneeling to give a more tender and satisfying reward.

But when she saw it, she became a bit timid, finally staying in place, her hand exploring between them.

As if gripped at a vital point, the young man gasped, collapsing against her neck.

“Have you done this yourself before?” Cen Jin kissed his blood-red cheeks and ears, asking gently.

“Yes.”

His back muscles tensed more and more. Cen Jin tried to relax him step by step with words, guiding him: “How did you do it?”

Li Wu’s forehead broke out in a fine sweat, his breathing increasingly suppressed and rough: “Always thinking of you.”