On the way to drop Situ off at her hotel, Lin Jing’s phone rang several times. He drove on, focused, and for the first few calls simply glanced at it and let it buzz out, showing no intention of answering. It was Situ Jie who finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “Just answer it. It’s the middle of the night—no one calls that persistently unless it’s important. Worried about giving something away? Wu Jiang and I know how to play dumb.”

Lin Jing said with a smile, “Really, it’s nothing important, no one important.”

“Want me to answer for you, then?” Situ Jie asked mischievously.

Lin Jing laughed. “Spare me.”

Situ Jie patted the back of the driver’s seat. “Look at you—found the love of your life, and you still haven’t cleaned up your old messes.”

Even as she spoke, the phone kept ringing, stubborn and unyielding—whoever it was clearly wasn’t giving up. Lin Jing finally just hung up on it outright. By then, Situ Jie’s hotel had come into view.

Lin Jing said, “I’ve never even been to this hotel before. Guess good wine needs no bush, even down a back alley—it’s really not close to the city center.”

It was a four-star hotel that had opened less than six months ago, and its facilities all looked decent enough, except that it was located in a newly developed district of City G, quite out of the way. At first Wu Jiang had been puzzled—Situ hadn’t been back in years, and though the city had changed a great deal, she should still have a general sense of its geography. He couldn’t understand why she’d picked a place like this.

It was Lin Jing’s offhand remark that suddenly gave Wu Jiang’s confusion some shape. Situ’s parents lived in the most bustling part of the East District, while the hotel she’d booked was in the West District—arguably one of the better hotels located at the greatest possible distance from her parents’ home. Such careful, deliberate planning could hardly be coincidence. Even her luggage was oddly minimal—hardly what you’d expect from someone returning home after traveling thousands of miles. If anything, her hometown seemed more like a waystation to her. By her own account, she’d only be staying a week this time; once Wu Jiang’s wedding and the pharmaceutical conference were done, she’d be rushing straight “back.”

The moment they pulled up, Situ Jie hurried them to leave, especially Lin Jing—the phone’s relentless ringing had made her feel almost sorry for the device itself. He was in no rush, though, insisting on helping her check in. The two of them walked her to the elevator before finally taking their leave.

Lin Jing hadn’t said so, but Situ Jie already knew there was a woman waiting on the other end of that call. He’d always been a man who knew exactly how to take care of himself—even with his heart standing at attention elsewhere, he’d never let his life go lonely. What role that woman played in Lin Jing’s life, Situ Jie couldn’t say, but the fact that he refused to bring her up even among friends—and could calmly go on doing whatever he pleased even under a barrage of calls that would’ve made anyone else anxious just listening to it—made it obvious enough that he didn’t care much either.

Actually, back in the States, Situ Jie had known Lin Jing before Lin Xi had. He’d been quite popular in the local Chinese international student circle—especially, of course, among the women there. Back then, Situ Jie and he had hit it off immediately, and as it happened, they were both single at the time. Lin Jing had, at the right moment, made his interest and admiration for Situ clear—had she wanted it, the two of them might well have written themselves a whole romance. But somehow it never went anywhere, and instead they became the closest of friends. Even Lin Xi had met Lin Jing and become his girlfriend through an introduction from Situ Jie.

Everyone said it was such a shame she’d missed her chance with Lin Jing, but Situ Jie counted herself lucky she’d never fallen for him—not only because it had won her a wonderful friend, but because with a man like Lin Jing, if you ever did get involved with him, not loving him would be a waste, and loving him would only break your heart. His theory of “finding a companion for part of the journey” was one she’d heard more than once. There was truth to it—perhaps being loved by him really would be a kind of happiness—but a woman diving in headfirst rarely stopped to consider that she might not be the one who got to walk with him all the way to the end. Slip up even slightly and you could end up demoted to a mere passerby—hardly worth the added heartache. The cool rationality with which he withdrew himself was genuinely chilling; Lin Xi was living proof, written in blood. Lin Jing was a good friend, and probably a good lover too, but he wasn’t someone you dared to hand your whole heart to. And in Situ Jie’s own personal code, not loving someone was fine—but once she did love, what she wanted was far too pure and absolute for half measures.

Once inside her room, Situ Jie had barely set down her luggage when a knock sounded at the door. The “Do Not Disturb” light was already lit, so it was unlikely to be housekeeping. She thought of the man who’d left the gathering earlier so abruptly—but that wasn’t remotely his style. A knot of tension tightened in her chest as she hesitated, then peered through the peephole. It was Wu Jiang.

She muttered under her breath as she opened the door. “That’s the second time you’ve scared me today. What is it, can’t bear to part with me?”

Wu Jiang, smiling, handed her something. Situ opened her hand to find a few pills.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Only remembered in the car that you’d asked me to bring you your medication. Take one if you can’t sleep.”

“I nearly forgot about that too.” Situ Jie examined the pills more closely and protested, “Wait, this isn’t what I asked you to bring, is it? This one’s not much use to me, and there’s only two pills—aren’t you being a bit stingy?”

Wu Jiang frowned. “If it weren’t for the jet lag, I wouldn’t have brought you even this much. You should cut back on popping those pills—it’s not doing your body any favors.”

Situ Jie said, amused, “Please, I probably know more about this than you do.”

“That’s exactly the problem—you’re in the industry, you know the pharmacology and the side effects perfectly well, and knowing better makes it worse when you still do it anyway.”

“Don’t make me sound like some addict. I know exactly what dosage I’m taking, well within reasonable range. Thanks, now go home, it’s late.” She started shooing him away.

Wu Jiang shook his head and turned to go. Situ, who’d been about to close the door, opened it again.

“Just two pills. Not negotiable,” Wu Jiang said before she could even speak.

Situ Jie bit her lower lip, smiled, and suddenly said, “It’s not that… I just wanted to ask—how are the two of them doing now?”

The question came out of nowhere, but Wu Jiang understood it immediately.

He sighed. She’d finally asked. For seven years, whether on the phone or face-to-face, she’d always steered clear of the subject—not exactly the best way to move on. Still, maybe this was progress, at least she’d found the courage to face it directly.

“The first year or two it seemed like they kept getting back together and breaking up again. Doesn’t seem like they’re together now. As for her, she’s probably moved on to someone else—you know how she is, not the type to sit still. As for him, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Oh…” Situ Jie let the syllable trail off, and it was hard to say what she was thinking.

“I honestly thought you’d never ask again in your life. Take my advice—let it go, Situ. Let them be, whatever’s happened, good or bad, none of it’s worth holding onto.”

Situ Jie said with a smile, “You don’t know how naturally curious women are—we have to watch even the trashiest melodrama through to the finale.”

“That’s the spirit. Like I keep saying, when it comes to matters of the heart, not getting too invested isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“Agreed.” She gave the pills in her hand a little shake. “Life’s but a fleeting dream—might as well be good to yourself.”

“Alright, I’m off. Lin Jing’s waiting downstairs.”

“Off you go, then~” Situ Jie made a show of seeing him off. “Hurry up, and don’t come back.”

Wu Jiang said, teasing, “As if. If I think of something else, I’ll be right back.”

Less than five minutes after he left, sure enough, the knock came again—he must have forgotten something else. Situ, who’d just been about to shower and had loosened her hair, went to answer the door with an exasperated look, thinking to herself: oh, Wu Jiang, deliberately messing with me.

She pulled the door open, one hand on her hip, already smiling.

The old story of the boy who cried wolf finally came true that night—except this time, the person standing at the door really was the last man Situ Jie wanted to see: Yao Qiyun.

He seemed just as caught off guard by the scene as she was, blinking before he managed a smile. “Such a warm welcome?”

Situ Jie quickly composed herself past the shock, tipping the corner of her mouth up and playing along with his line. “That’s right, took you long enough—I’ve been waiting so long the flowers wilted.”

Just as she remembered, Yao Qiyun’s sense of humor had always been rather limited.

He stood there, looking at her, and even his smile faded as he got straight to the point.

“Let’s go. Come home with me.”

“Home? Whose home?” Situ Jie asked, deliberately obtuse.

He clearly had no patience for going in circles with her, and said flatly, “Home. Your parents’ home.”

“I thought you’d say your home.”

“Situ Jie, don’t act like I’m the one hounding you. You’ve been away all these years, and now that you’re finally back, you won’t even set foot through the door. Do you have any idea how heartbroken your parents are?”

“They can just pretend I never came back. They managed fine without me all these years, didn’t they?”

“Right, which is why you didn’t even tell them your exact return date.”

“I didn’t tell you either, and yet here we are, running into each other by such coincidence.”

At Situ Jie’s sarcasm, something flared in Yao Qiyun’s eyes—anger, or maybe just the awkwardness of being caught out. He knew perfectly well that the reason she hadn’t shared her itinerary wasn’t primarily to avoid her parents—it was to avoid him. He himself could hardly believe it: it wasn’t until two days ago, when Xiao Gen happened to mention offhand that he had a gathering with some old friends, that he’d started asking questions. Xiao Gen was about the least social homebody imaginable, rarely went out for anything—so when he casually pressed for details and Xiao Gen got flustered in a suspicious way, that was how he’d found out she was coming back at all. He’d been the very last to know.

“Your parents are getting on in years. You’re their only daughter. Your mother just had spine surgery last year—she can barely bend over now. Did you know that? You think a routine weekly phone call is enough to fulfill your duty as a daughter? And when was the last time any of those calls lasted more than five minutes?”

Situ Jie turned her face away. “They don’t want to talk to me much either. I wasn’t the one who said we were done, back then. Keeping my distance just spares them from working themselves into a rage at the sight of me and hurting their health.”

She tried hard to keep the catch in her voice from showing too plainly. She couldn’t forget the way her father’s face had flushed red, nearly triggering a hypertensive episode, the day he’d pointed at her and told her to get out. Nor could she forget the anxious dread she’d felt walking through the airport exit just hours ago. She was so conflicted—terrified that the moment she set foot on this soil, she’d have to face her parents after seven years apart. And yet, once she hadn’t seen them, the relief was followed almost immediately by a crushing disappointment. She’d rather have told herself that her parents simply had no idea she was back, which was why they hadn’t reached out. But Yao Qiyun had just reminded her—they clearly did know, and still hadn’t so much as considered giving their daughter, after all these years, a single reconciling embrace, or even just a smile.

Yao Qiyun said, expressionless, “You don’t need to say any of this to me. Explain it to them yourself—if you still consider yourself their daughter, that is.”

“Whether they have a daughter or not hardly matters, does it? Don’t they still have you?”

He leaned in slightly. “Situ Jie, why would I take on your filial duties for you? What exactly am I to you?”

Situ Jie let out a laugh, as if she’d just heard the biggest joke in the world. “Take them on for me? How amusing. They fed you, clothed you, and now they’ve given you fame and status besides. Mr. Yao, I may be unfilial, but what you’re doing is simply your job.”

He fell silent, looking down and fiddling with his phone. Situ Jie made a “by all means, see yourself out” gesture and stepped back to close the door. Without even looking up, Yao Qiyun reached out and blocked it with one hand, then held his phone out to her.

“What’s this for?”

Yao Qiyun finally caught the flicker of alarm crossing Situ Jie’s face as she guessed his intent, and it gave him no small satisfaction.

“Whether you go back or not, tell them yourself.” He watched her hesitation with visible satisfaction, then lowered his voice deliberately. “Or should I tell them for you—that you’re right here and refusing to speak to them on the phone?”

Situ Jie mouthed a curse, took the phone from him, drew a deep breath, and turned aside to answer.

“Mom… it’s me… mm…”

From tension to a rush of emotion, from emotion to mortification, then a kind of wistful loss, and finally settling back into indifference—really, it amounted to no more than a handful of sentences. Situ Jie was, in truth, already used to this pattern; it was just a phone call, she shouldn’t have let it rattle her so much.

“Tomorrow, then—it’s just too late tonight, I didn’t want to disturb you both. Mm… alright then, get some rest.”

She ended the sudden call with those words. It clearly hadn’t been a warm, pleasant exchange—but if Yao Qiyun wanted her humiliated, why not let him have this small victory?

“Well, well. Worried about disturbing them. Your parents really did raise you right—so considerate. And yet it’s so late, and you answered the door smiling so sweetly just now—waiting for someone else to disturb you, were you?” Yao Qiyun took the phone she tossed back at him, asking with a smile.

Situ Jie, exactly as he wanted, put that same “sweet” smile back on her face. “Good question. What do you think?”

“I’ve been standing out here quite a while now, and I still haven’t seen this visitor of yours. Since I’ve got nothing better to do, why don’t you let me come in and sit a while?”

Situ bent down and picked up one of those “service industry” business cards that had been slipped under her door before she’d even checked in, and slid it, smiling sweetly, into his coat pocket. “If Mr. Yao wants to ‘sit a while,’ there’s no shortage of good places for that.”

Yao Qiyun slowly pulled out the glossy card, still printed with its alluring image of a woman, and glanced it over. “She’s better-looking than you, though not quite my type.” As he spoke, he actually turned to step into the room.

Situ Jie braced one hand against the doorframe, blocking his way, and said coldly, “Sorry, I have a type I prefer too.”

His body was held back by her arm at the doorway. He put on a thoughtful expression, saying with exaggerated courtesy, “Is that so? What a shame.” But even as he spoke, his hand moved without hesitation—shoving hard, as though she were nothing more than an obstacle in his way.

Even Situ Jie, who knew him all too well, hadn’t expected him to be quite so brazen.

Yao Qiyun’s shove showed no mercy whatsoever. Situ Jie lost her footing and stumbled backward, her back slamming into the sharp edge of a cabinet unit.

“Fuck!” Between the pain and the fury, Situ Jie no longer cared about keeping up appearances—the long-unused hometown curse washed over her with strange comfort.

By then Yao Qiyun had already brazenly stepped inside. Hearing her, he closed the distance to where she stood doubled over in pain, effectively pinning her into the corner formed by the wall and the entryway.

“How exactly did you ‘fuck’?” His tone was strange; through Situ Jie’s cold laughter, he wore an expression of mock regret. “What will you do now—Wu Jiang’s probably long gone. Waiting for a man about to get married to come rescue you doesn’t seem terribly realistic.”

Situ Jie gritted her teeth, breathing hard through the pain, and finally just kicked the still-open door shut with the tip of her foot.

“I don’t need anyone to rescue me. Yao Qiyun, you think I’m scared of you? Go ahead, if you’ve got the nerve—we’ll see who ends up ‘fucked’!”

The instant the door clicked shut, exactly as Situ Jie had predicted, in the face of her crude, unrestrained words, and now alone with her in a closed space, the overbearing Yao Qiyun instead went rigid, betraying a flicker of unease—even the tips of his ears reddened.

Every enemy was a paper tiger underneath. There was nothing about him she hadn’t seen before.

Yao Qiyun didn’t move, only held that close distance, staring at her. Situ Jie could even hear his breath hissing, serpent-like, and in his eyes, something that looked almost like resentment.

What right did he have?

If it hadn’t been for the phone ringing, Situ Jie would have thought the two of them might just stand there like statues forever, locked in some contest of who’d crack first. It was a ringtone she knew well—the phone sat within easy reach on the entryway shelf. She dug it out and held it up in front of Yao Qiyun, arching an eyebrow. “In a hurry to get physical? You don’t mind if I take this call, do you?”

He stepped back and sat down, stone-faced, on the edge of the large bed in the room.

The call was from the very man with the “Australian accent” Wu Jiang had deliberately mentioned earlier in front of Yao Qiyun, and answering it now felt deeply, gloriously satisfying to Situ Jie. The caller was her newest companion—a charming, golden-haired young real estate agent. Right before she’d flown home, the two of them had been at their most infatuated, and sweet nothings could easily spool out endlessly over the phone. She murmured away, utterly absorbed, ignoring everyone else in the room—playing with the tassels on the lamp at one point, absently doodling on the hotel notepad at another, smiling the whole time, just like any woman drowning happily in love. By the time she hung up, her phone was hot to the touch, and glancing at the call duration gave even her a small jolt—a full hour and seven minutes. More astonishing still, Yao Qiyun had sat there the entire time without a trace of impatience or irritation, even the earlier flash of losing his composure entirely gone, looking, if anything, remarkably calm. Even through her disgust and resentment, Situ Jie couldn’t help but feel a grudging flicker of respect.

“Finished?” he asked.

Situ Jie set the phone aside and remarked, “Reaching your level of obsessive isn’t easy, I’ll give you that.”

Yao Qiyun replied, neither warm nor cold, “You flatter me. Entirely thanks to you. This isn’t the first time I’ve waited you out like this.”

He stood and stretched, then asked, “New man?”

Situ Jie flashed a bright smile. “Change of pace.”

“About time for a change. While I was waiting for you just now, I had plenty of time to think, and I’ve worked out a theory as to why you’re so fond of foreign men. Care to hear it?”

Even knowing that the more polite he sounded, the worse what followed would be, Situ Jie also knew perfectly well that whether or not she wanted to hear it, he wouldn’t let it go until he’d said his piece—so she indulged him.

“Do enlighten me.”

“I’ve heard foreign men tend to be more open-minded about relationships between men and women, so they’re less likely to mind your past—how many men you’ve been with, that sort of thing. Back home, I imagine that would be considerably harder. Don’t you think?”

The way he smiled made her want to slap him twice and stomp on him for good measure.

Situ Jie laughed, furious past the point of anger. All that roundabout, calculated maneuvering from Yao Qiyun amounted to nothing more than one of Chinese men’s favorite methods of humiliating a woman—translated plainly, it was a reminder that she was damaged goods, worn, at the very least, by him.

She nodded along. “Your theory’s spot on, practically gospel. Though I should add one more point—foreign men have another advantage.”

She started laughing partway through, then drifted closer to him, leaning in.

Yao Qiyun frowned, instinctively pulling back with a look of distaste, but in the end let her come anyway.

Situ Jie leaned toward his ear and murmured, soft and suggestive, “They don’t mind my past in the slightest—especially my first boyfriend over there. He told me that except for the first few centimeters, everything else about me was brand new. Absolutely brand new.”

Yao Qiyun froze. Once the implication of her words sank in, faced with such naked humiliation, he could no longer hold himself in check—he straightened abruptly, his chest heaving.

“Situ Jie, what exactly are you implying?” he said sharply.

Situ Jie examined her nails. “Exactly what you think I’m implying.”

She waited, half-expecting him to lunge at her and tear her apart in the next instant.

She was long since used to situations like this. Hadn’t the two of them always been like this with each other? Facing one another, he and she were like the world’s most brilliant psychoanalysts, effortlessly diagnosing each other’s every neurosis. Even at their sweetest, one wrong word could send them tearing at each other like a pair of rabid dogs, neither willing to give an inch. They knew each other’s every weak point, every fatal flaw, and threw themselves fully into exploiting the worst of it—always managing, in the shortest possible time, to inflict maximum damage on each other, drawing blood with a single strike. Every story’s ending has its own inevitable logic, and so it was with Situ Jie and Yao Qiyun—two people who should, by rights, have stayed as far apart as possible, ideally at opposite ends of the earth.