Meng Fuyuan’s expression remained unperturbed: “Came to handle some matters. Incidentally had dinner with Qingwu.”

Meng Qiran nodded.

Meng Fuyuan glanced at him, “Isn’t the finals the day after tomorrow? Yet you’re running back here now.”

Meng Qiran turned to look at Chen Qingwu, the emotions on her face so faint they seemed ready to scatter with the wind.

He directly reached out and grasped Chen Qingwu’s wrist, saying with a smile: “Came back to say a few words to Wuwu.”

Chen Qingwu struggled lightly but couldn’t break free, sensing in the force gripping her wrist a kind of resolute determination.

Meng Fuyuan’s gaze swept across Chen Qingwu’s wrist but ultimately said nothing, only reminding: “Prepare seriously for the competition.”

Meng Qiran smiled, “Got it.”

Meng Fuyuan withdrew his gaze, rolled up the car window, calmly started the car, and turned around ahead.

Passing by the studio entrance, he never turned to look even once.

Chen Qingwu struggled again, “Why are you grabbing me, I’m not going to run.”

Meng Qiran released his hand, restraining the expression he’d shown when talking and laughing with his brother, lowering his head to look at her, his gaze deep and dark, “…I’m sorry.”

Whether for the present moment or for before was unclear.

Chen Qingwu didn’t respond, turning toward the main door.

Meng Qiran followed after her.

Compared to the last time he left, the studio seemed to have acquired more things—unopened deliveries, cardboard boxes and woven bags piled in the corner, felt cloth spread on the floor, covered with round ceramic pieces.

Meng Qiran looked at that pile of heavy items in the corner, “Can deliveries be brought to your door?”

“I carried them myself.” Chen Qingwu answered flatly, “Yuan-gege came over today and also helped carry some.”

“Does my brother come often?”

“Not often. He helped introduce the first client, occasionally comes to ask about progress.” Chen Qingwu walked to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of water, and placed it on the coffee table in front of Meng Qiran.

Then she walked to the work table herself, organizing the test pieces that hadn’t been put away yet.

Meng Qiran didn’t take the water bottle, rising and walking directly toward Chen Qingwu.

Part of the light was blocked, a shadow falling on the tabletop.

Chen Qingwu looked up.

Meng Qiran stood opposite, gazing down at her, “…Wuwu, why aren’t you angry with me at all.”

That expression carried a rarely seen seriousness that felt very unfamiliar.

“That was just your choice, what’s there to be angry about.” Chen Qingwu said calmly.

Over these past few weeks, they had only been in contact through WeChat.

Initially, when Meng Qiran received Chen Qingwu’s WeChat canceling the next day’s shopping plans, his first reaction was relief, because he still didn’t know how to face this matter after his impromptu escape.

The following days traveling to the competition’s next stop, there were warm-up races, practice races, team training, tactical drills…

He convinced himself it wasn’t that he wasn’t dealing with it, just that he had no time.

Until that race ended and he posted on Moments, two hours later Chen Qingwu liked it.

He was eating with the team at the time. Seeing the two characters “Wuwu” in the list of likes, he suddenly felt that all this liveliness around him was unbearably insipid.

Opening WeChat, his last chat with Chen Qingwu was still his reply of a single “okay.”

After that, Chen Qingwu hadn’t sent him a single message.

Before, no matter when, whenever Qingwu encountered something she found interesting, she would casually share it with him—some he replied to, some he was too busy and forgot.

She didn’t think anything of it, always remaining herself, treating him like Moments or Weibo.

In the dialogue box with Chen Qingwu, he had seen countless sunsets from the porcelain capital.

As if involuntarily, he opened the keyboard and typed: Wuwu, I made it into the top five of the points ranking.

Half an hour later, Chen Qingwu replied: Congratulations congratulations!

Then, nothing more.

Next time, he sent again: Made it into the top three of the points ranking.

Chen Qingwu replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

It wasn’t that they’d never had disagreements, but never like this time—their contact over these several weeks was so thin it was less than ordinary friends.

Chen Qingwu posted on Moments very infrequently; he had no way to know what she was doing now.

Before, as long as he had leisure and opened his phone, he could know she’d eaten an egg pancake for her meal; passed by a lottery shop and bought a scratch-off, won twenty yuan and used it to buy a cup of milk tea; the studio next door fired an excellent batch of Lang kiln red that even Teacher Zhai Jingtang was drooling over…

He almost realized with alarm that a door seemed to have completely closed to him.

The day after tomorrow was the official race of the Southwest first stop. Today the warm-up race ended, and tonight there would be a race situation review.

He asked the coach for leave, saying he absolutely had to see someone, and guaranteed he would definitely return to the team on time for tomorrow morning’s training.

The team was all young people; the coach had seen all kinds of impulsive matters and wasn’t surprised, so approved the leave.

Getting off the plane, he rushed straight to the studio, arriving just as dusk was settling.

Qingwu wasn’t there. He didn’t call either, just stood at the door waiting for her.

Over an hour of waiting, that desire to see her was so urgent it made him restless.

Now, finally seeing her, the words he’d been brewing all along the way suddenly filled him with trepidation as he was about to speak.

This was the first time he experienced this feeling.

Meng Qiran took a deep breath, “Wuwu…”

Chen Qingwu looked up.

He gazed straight at her with an unflinching, unyielding expression: “Let’s be together.”

Perhaps it was the advantage of those with deep-colored pupils—when gazed at by them, one always felt that gaze was so sincere it couldn’t be let down.

Chen Qingwu paused, raised her hand, pulled open the work table drawer, and took out cigarettes and a lighter.

Not the reaction he’d anticipated; Meng Qiran was slightly taken aback.

Watching her lower her head to put one in her mouth, flick the lighter to ignite it, the movements exceptionally practiced.

He appeared even more surprised.

“…When did you start smoking?”

“Started long ago.” Chen Qingwu’s fingers paused, “…Yuan-gege said you have a competition the day after tomorrow?”

“…Yeah.”

The Meng family had a family group chat where everyone’s activities were shared in real time.

“I hope my answer won’t affect your mindset.” Chen Qingwu’s voice was light and calm, “Sorry Qiran, I can’t agree to you.”

“…Why?”

“Because I don’t like you anymore.”

Her voice was so calm it was as if stating a fact.

Meng Qiran’s pupils dilated slightly.

The events of that summer when he was nine didn’t end there.

That night, Chen Qingwu’s bedroom door was knocked on.

She had already fallen asleep. Woken and groggily climbing up, the instant she opened the door, Qiran said “shh,” then slipped in through the door crack, giving her no chance to stop him.

She was still angry, so didn’t say a word to him.

He ran over to draw the curtains fully closed, “Come here Wuwu, let me show you something.”

She refused to move.

So he walked up to her, raised his hand, and from the hood of his jacket, took out something.

Wrapped in black cloth, it seemed to be a jar.

He glanced at her and unwrapped the black cloth.

A glass jar, stuffed with some green grass, fluorescent light flickering between the grass blades, blinking bright and dim like breathing.

“Fireflies!”

“Shh!”

She hastily covered her mouth.

Qiran stuffed the glass bottle into her hands, saying somewhat awkwardly: “…What I said at noon, I’m sorry. I’d been shut in by my dad for so long, was annoyed to death, so I took it out on you.”

She kept her head down without speaking, just gazing at those fireflies.

Qiran said: “I won’t abandon you anymore from now on, okay? I swear.”

He looked at her seriously, the light in his eyes more beautiful than the fireflies.

She immediately stopped being angry, “…Those are your words.”

“Yeah. My words.”

Chen Qingwu looked up at the young man now standing before her.

From birth, they had been bound together by the name of childhood sweethearts.

Starting from age sixteen, it had become mixed with her affection and his ambiguity.

He was the most important part of her life so far—romantic love, familial love, and friendship woven into a tangled mess. There would never be a more complex and heavy emotion than this.

It’s just that the mistake lay precisely in it being too complex and too heavy.

Qiran didn’t know that she had released those fireflies in the jar at midnight.

Because sitting on the bed, she saw them desperately flickering with each breath, as if in despair fighting against the darkness they couldn’t escape.

So she got up, opened the window, and also opened the lid of the glass jar.

They flew from between the grass blades into the free night, disappearing among the trees.

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, Qiran.” Chen Qingwu said softly, “Go freely do what you want to do, like whoever you want to like.”

Between her fingers smoke curled upward, but behind the smoke was a pair of clean and decisive eyes.

Meng Qiran looked at her, only feeling his eardrums roaring while his mind went blank.

The words were said so clearly, yet he seemed unable to understand, “…Wuwu, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You understand.” Chen Qingwu smiled at him, “Don’t worry, we’re still family like twin siblings, that won’t change.”

Meng Qiran clearly knew that this rejection was different from every previous time.

She was serious, wanting to strip away the flesh and sinew of “romantic love” from their symbiotic relationship.

He thought he wouldn’t care that much.

But why was there this cutting pain, as if something really was peeling open his heart inch by inch.

The pain made him unconsciously take deep breaths, but it provided no relief.

“Wuwu…”

Chen Qingwu’s gaze moved past his shoulder to look at the wall clock, “Have you eaten dinner yet? Should I order takeout for you? I need to go adjust the electric kiln in a bit, so I might not be able to keep you company for long…”

Her words stopped because Meng Qiran came around the side of the table, striding over in large steps, extending his arms to pull her into his embrace.

“Hey…” She hastily extended the hand holding the cigarette, extinguishing it against a corner of the stone tabletop.

Meng Qiran lowered his head, chin resting on her shoulder.

Such a tall person—this posture made him seem extremely aggrieved.

“…Even if I’m willing to bear this responsibility, that’s not allowed anymore?” he asked in a low voice.

Chen Qingwu paused for an instant, ultimately still sighing, “Do you like me?”

Without waiting for Meng Qiran to answer, she added: “The kind of like I mean is, wanting to make love with me.”

Meng Qiran shuddered.

Such blunt words were hard to imagine coming from Qingwu’s mouth, just like he’d never imagined she would smoke.

“I guess you’ve never thought about it.” Chen Qingwu said softly, “Otherwise it should have happened long ago.”

Meng Qiran’s thoughts were chaotic; he couldn’t refute for the moment.

Because he intuitively knew every sentence tonight was very important—once spoken without thinking, if he said something wrong there would be no room for recovery.

“Being with me out of responsibility, and then what? Qiran, you don’t think I could calmly accept someone not sleeping with me, or sleeping with me, both because of responsibility, do you?”

He’d had this feeling before—sometimes, Qingwu seemed more mature than him. Relative to “little sister,” she was actually more like “big sister.”

Tonight’s words were clear proof. She seemed to be standing on high looking down on his childish confession.

——If you don’t really like someone, who cares about your “responsibility.”

He suddenly felt utterly ashamed.

Chen Qingwu reached out, gently pushing his shoulder.

But he refused to let go, instead holding tighter.

Meng Qiran felt that resisting force disappear as her arms dropped down.

But she didn’t hug him back.

For a long time, she never did.

He realized that whether it was the fireflies at midnight; spending the first money earned in his life to take her on a cruise to watch fireworks; flying twenty hours to be the first to wish her happy birthday; giving her all the trophies he’d won; spending three days and nights writing her a song…

All of these could no longer gain her response anymore.

At this moment he was empty-handed, possessing nothing.

After a long while, Meng Qiran dejectedly released his hands.

Almost without looking at her again, he turned and rapidly walked out.

Chen Qingwu watched his retreating figure.

Before, Zhao Yingfei had asked her what exactly she liked about Meng Qiran.

When she was sixteen, a male student at school had been harassing her. During a scuffle she fell down the stairs and fractured her left arm.

She was hospitalized then, bored to death.

At night after the nurse made rounds, the hospital building entered rest time.

She didn’t know how Qiran had managed to sneak past the nurses’ station.

He brought her favorite grilled durian from the shop by the school gate. He handed it over with disgust, saying he didn’t understand how she could like eating something so smelly.

That day happened to be Qiran’s skateboarding competition day. He’d won the championship but she hadn’t seen it. Holding the grilled durian, she felt even more aggrieved, saying she was in a double room and couldn’t take it out to eat—it would disturb the patient in the next bed.

Qiran thought about it and said, let’s go downstairs then.

She didn’t have that courage, saying if they got caught it would be terrible.

Qiran said it’s fine, if parents were going to scold anyone it would only be him.

So she put on Qiran’s jacket and was led out of the hospital building by Qiran like a top-level secret agent, without being caught by any nurse.

Right in the open space in front of the hospital building, Qiran removed the skateboard that had been tied to the back of his bicycle.

While she gnawed on durian, she sat in the VIP seat watching his exclusive performance up close.

Qiran was light and agile, like a gust of wind. In one instant, he and his skateboard did a backflip in the air, the airtime so long it was almost like he was flying.

She watched, stunned, as if her heart had also flown up—it was that butterfly caught when she was nine, flying into her heart.

Chen Qingwu watched Meng Qiran’s figure walk out the door and disappear into the night.

She exhaled a long breath, her eyes still misting over.

Her chest felt hollow and empty.

There had once lived there the surging wind from when she was sixteen.

The butterfly she had caught and then released.

Chen Qingwu had originally wanted to work a bit more, but standing at the work table, she was only dazed.

Only feeling that in the brightly lit studio, the quiet was disorienting.

She took her keys, locked the door, got in her car, and left the complex.

The car windows wide open, night wind pouring in, she squinted, seeing the streetscape along the road both clear and blurred.

Driving aimlessly for a while, Zhao Yingfei’s school gate appeared ahead.

She hesitated for an instant, slowed down, and parked the car nearby.

After getting out, she sent Zhao Yingfei a WeChat message.

Zhao Yingfei had just finished an experiment. Seeing the message, she immediately took off her lab coat, grabbed her things and went to the supermarket by the school gate, then went to find her at the school history museum.

This was the new campus, built according to a unified plan. Some departments had only moved here three years ago.

Like most new campuses at universities, uniformly neat without the foundation and elegance of old campuses. Only near the school history museum were many michelia trees planted, now in bloom season, the night fragrance deep and secluded.

Zhao Yingfei immediately spotted Chen Qingwu sitting on the steps at the school history museum entrance, “Truly an artist, even when emo you choose the most beautiful place.”

Chen Qingwu: “…”

Zhao Yingfei walked over, handing over the plastic bag in her hand, “Bought you a few cans of beer.”

“I drove here, can’t drink.”

“If you don’t drink, I will.”

Zhao Yingfei sat down beside her, pulled open the can, turned to look at her, “What happened?”

Chen Qingwu shook her head, “Nothing major. Things ended with Meng Qiran.”

“…You two never even started.”

Chen Qingwu smiled bitterly, “True enough.”

Zhao Yingfei had dealt with Meng Qiran before. Objectively she acknowledged that Meng Qiran really was a dazzling person—no matter what environment you placed him in, he would be the most uniquely brilliant one.

And this kind of dazzle was destined to mean that most of the time, he wouldn’t wrong himself.

He was suitable to be an idol, but couldn’t be a lover—like the sun, scorching bright but impossible to look at directly.

Zhao Yingfei rarely restrained her sharp tongue, “It’s good that it ended. That you persisted until today was already not easy.”

“…Persisting in something like this doesn’t seem worth being proud of.”

“People are like this—lacking something makes you yearn for it.” Zhao Yingfei took a sip of beer, glancing at her again, “You mustn’t be sad. I’m not very good at comforting people. If you cry I’ll be in a difficult position.”

“…” Chen Qingwu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, saying sullenly, “It’s not a decision I made just today. It’s just that today he came to find me and we happened to make things clear.”

Giving up Meng Qiran was absolutely not an action completed in an instant.

It was the heartbeat that began in the flash of youth and continued until now, all that passionate hope worn down through gains and losses until only exhaustion remained.

She couldn’t even blame Meng Qiran. Having grown up together since childhood, she knew better than anyone what kind of person he was.

To keep a free butterfly, you either shut it in a bottle or break its wings.

She couldn’t do it, so she let them both go.

“Look forward. With your qualifications, at our school there’d be at least a hundred young talents lining up for number tickets—real young talents, not those on my contacts blacklist.”

Zhao Yingfei felt she really wasn’t good at comforting people. Sometimes she even wondered how someone as excessively rational as herself had somehow become friends for so many years with an artist like Chen Qingwu. Perhaps what she liked most about Chen Qingwu was that she seemed naturally able to tolerate any kind of existence, whether mainstream or contrary to the mainstream. Being with such a person, you never had to worry about offending her or being offended by her.

Chen Qingwu gave her face by laughing out loud, “I’ll leave those young talents for you to enjoy—let’s not talk about this first. There’s something I want to ask your help with.”

“Go ahead.”

“Meng Qiran’s older brother does medical robotic arm R&D. They seem to have recently hit a bottleneck with materials issues. I don’t know if you’d be willing to talk with them and provide some ideas.”

“I don’t have any problem with it, but companies like theirs have definitely been exposed to the most advanced technology. I’m just a student, I’m afraid I can’t provide any insights.”

“Doctor Zhao doesn’t need to be modest. Just based on your supervisor’s reputation, they absolutely wouldn’t dare treat you carelessly.”

The matter was settled like that. The two chatted without much substance for quite a while. Seeing it was getting late, Chen Qingwu finally took her leave.

Zhao Yingfei walked Chen Qingwu to the school gate, earnestly reminding her at parting: “Qingwu, once you’ve made a decision, don’t regret it.”

Chen Qingwu smiled: “I won’t.”

Two weeks later, Chen Qingwu contacted Meng Fuyuan to arrange for Zhao Yingfei to meet with them.

Meng Fuyuan replied on WeChat saying he had arranged to meet with an equipment manufacturer and couldn’t personally go pick them up, but sent a driver.

Zhao Yingfei’s requirement was that she wanted to visit their company incidentally—she didn’t really like discussing professional matters over dinner.

At the time, it was Pei Shao who came to receive them.

Pei Shao, who last time drove a bright yellow Porsche up the mountain for tea, this time had an even more remarkable achievement—he had dyed his hair granny gray.

But because his looks weren’t bad, he actually managed to pull off this hair, though combined with the fluorescent graffiti T-shirt he wore, he looked very childish—a kind of mocking sense of chasing trendy fashion but happening to be like a clumsy imitator.

Zhao Yingfei unceremoniously rolled her eyes, saying quietly to Chen Qingwu: “He’s really the founder? I haven’t read much, don’t trick me.”

Pei Shao extended his hand quite familiarly, “Pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you. My name is Pei Shao. What’s your surname?”

“Zhao Yingfei.” Zhao Yingfei was too lazy to extend her hand.

Pei Shao wasn’t embarrassed either, withdrawing his hand and asking with a smile: “Yingfei as in orioles flying through growing grass?”

“It’s not like we’re publishing a paper with authorship credits—no need to know that precisely.”

Chen Qingwu understood Zhao Yingfei’s personality—by nature unafraid of offending people.

These words were actually somewhat liable to make things awkward.

Who would have thought Pei Shao would nod in agreement, “Names are important privacy, they should indeed be protected.”

Pei Shao asked again whether to tour first or rest a bit first.

“Tour first.”

Their company was in a tech park, occupying an entire three-story small building alone.

The entire second floor belonged to the R&D department.

The central hall had glass on all four sides. Inside was a robotic arm with someone operating a computer to adjust it. The robotic arm responded to commands, flexibly making various reactions.

Pei Shao said: “This is our first-generation product. An algorithm from a few years ago, can only assist with surgical procedures that aren’t high in difficulty coefficient. For more precise work it gets a bit lost.”

Zhao Yingfei gave Pei Shao another look, feeling that when he talked about his actual work he actually seemed somewhat serious, making his supposed TOP2 university graduate status a bit more credible.

Pei Shao continued walking forward, turning a corner. Both sides of the corridor were rooms separated by frosted glass.

“Ahead is the hardware R&D department.” Pei Shao said, “Miss Zhao, do you want to go in and look?”

Zhao Yingfei said: “Isn’t that why I came? There’s nothing that needs to be kept confidential, right?”

Pei Shao shrugged: “Currently if we gave away our research results for free, no one would look at them.”

After putting on masks, the two followed Pei Shao inside.

It was bright and clean inside, neat and orderly.

Zhao Yingfei looked around casually, praising: “Not bad, you’re quite willing to spend money on equipment.”

“Before we outsourced everything to third parties. Later we partnered with a company in the park and established our own hardware R&D department. After that for mass production we’ll find enterprise contractors.”

“Which part of the materials can’t you handle right now?”

“You can understand it as the ‘fingertip’ part. Currently the hardware, chips, and electric drive transmission system aren’t cooperating particularly well. Many precise operations can’t be achieved…”

And so, Chen Qingwu witnessed Zhao Yingfei and Pei Shao immediately launch into enthusiastic professional discussion.

Her high-school-level science knowledge was no longer sufficient to support her understanding the professional terminology pouring from their mouths.

After chatting for about ten minutes, Zhao Yingfei was still unsatisfied.

But Pei Shao wasn’t a materials science major and couldn’t continue the in-depth chat, so he said they should go to the conference room and he’d call over the engineer in charge of this area to continue the discussion.

The three moved to the conference room.

Pei Shao had someone come pour water, then went out himself to find people.

The conference room was decorated very carefully—foliage plants, genuine leather sofas, wooden coffee table with tea-making equipment on top.

The employee who came to serve asked with a smile: “What would you two like to drink?”

Zhao Yingfei: “Lemon water is fine for me.”

Chen Qingwu looked at the tea canisters neatly arranged in the tray, “What kinds of tea do you have?”

The employee said: “We basically have all varieties. Our Director Meng usually likes to drink tea.”

Chen Qingwu’s heart stirred, “What does he like to drink most?”

The employee smiled and said: “Director Meng only drinks Mist Green.”

Chen Qingwu froze.

She had asked this question actually hoping more for a negative answer.

However, this employee’s tone was even more certain than Pei Shao’s casual mention that day.

Zhao Yingfei said: “This tea name sounds a lot like your name, Qingwu.”

Chen Qingwu thought to herself, please don’t remind me anymore, I know!

The employee read the situation, saying with a smile: “Then shall I brew Mist Green for you two to taste?”

After speaking, he turned to open the walnut wood sideboard beside him, taking out a tea set from inside, “Director Meng generally uses this tea set to entertain distinguished guests.”

He rinsed the tea set with clean water and placed it on the table, then went to get the teapot to fill it with water to boil.

Chen Qingwu looked at that tea set and froze completely.

Saying she’d recognize it even if it turned to ash would be an exaggeration.

But saying she’d recognize it even broken wasn’t false.

Because this tea set was made by her own hands—back when she was working at Teacher Zhai’s place.

At that time it was the studio’s tenth anniversary. Zhai Jingtang wanted to cultivate his students, so he had them each make their most satisfying work, which he would put on his Jingnan Hall official website for sale.

Chen Qingwu felt that even her most satisfying work was of limited quality, so she only shared the tenth anniversary work summary in her own Moments, without mentioning the official store sales.

Later, Teacher Zhai happily notified them that the batch of works had all sold out, encouraging them that their future prospects were unlimited.

That was the first time a work bearing her own name had circulated in the commercial market.

To say she wasn’t curious who the buyer was would definitely be a lie.

But out of respect for client privacy, she restrained the impulse to ask the official store operations about it.

She never expected to encounter it unexpectedly here.

Zhao Yingfei’s elbow lightly bumped her, “What are you spacing out about?”

“Oh… nothing.”

The tea had just been brewed when Pei Shao brought over the materials science engineer.

The tea room momentarily transformed into an academic seminar again.

Before they knew it, an afternoon had passed.

Pei Shao said: “Are you hungry? How about we change places to continue chatting? Director Meng reserved a table and told me to take you directly to dinner.”

The place Meng Fuyuan had reserved was in a nearby commercial district, a high-end French restaurant with two Michelin stars.

They arrived first. Meng Fuyuan only arrived belatedly after a while.

He wore a suit more formal than his usual attire. With upright bone structure and extraordinary bearing, as he walked over he only made people feel the surroundings brightened by several degrees.

The server pulled out the chair. He didn’t immediately sit down but instead extended his hand toward Zhao Yingfei, “Pleased to meet you. Thank you very much for taking time out of your schedule to come provide guidance today. My name is Meng Fuyuan, the company’s other person in charge.”

Zhao Yingfei almost unconsciously extended her hand, shaking hands with him in a daze.

Only then did Meng Fuyuan sit down, unbuttoning his sleeve cuffs as he explained his tardiness: “Sorry, I had something this afternoon that just ended.”

Pei Shao said: “How did the talk go?”

“Arranged to play golf together next time.”

“Then there’s hope.”

The restaurant was a set menu system, no need to order. With everyone arrived, Pei Shao instructed the server to notify the kitchen to start serving.

When the appetizer was brought up, Zhao Yingfei leaned slightly closer to Chen Qingwu, “He’s Meng Qiran’s brother?”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t look that much alike.”

Chen Qingwu thought carefully, “One resembles their father more, one resembles their mother more.”

“His aura is a bit intimidating.”

“No, he’s a pretty good person.”

The two couldn’t continue whispering, each sitting up straight.

At this time Meng Fuyuan looked toward the company’s materials science engineer, asking: “How was the afternoon tour with Miss Zhao?”

Pei Shao said: “When eating just eat, talk less about work.”

Chen Qingwu couldn’t help but smile.

So rare to see Meng Fuyuan get shut down.

After that, the topics no longer revolved around work.

Meng Fuyuan asked Zhao Yingfei: “How did Miss Zhao and Qingwu meet?”

Only at this moment did he look at Chen Qingwu openly and properly.

She wore a tank top paired with high-waisted jeans in a washed blue color.

Her long hair wasn’t tied up, ink-black like seaweed, falling from her shoulders.

Zhao Yingfei said: “She randomly went to audit classes in our school’s biochemistry, environmental science, and materials science departments to grab people, and happened to grab me.”

“Grab people?”

Chen Qingwu said with a smile: “At that time I wanted to formulate my own glazes and needed a student who was good at chemistry to help. I didn’t have anyone like that around me, so I just went to randomly find someone.”

Zhao Yingfei added: “She came up and directly asked me, classmate can you help me with a favor, otherwise I won’t be able to graduate. I didn’t even know her, thinking what kind of crazy person is this. But she’s pretty, right? I’m more tolerant toward pretty people. At first I thought it was helping fill out a graduation thesis survey questionnaire. Didn’t expect it was helping with glaze ratio formulations, troublesome as hell… Anyway somehow I just jumped into the pit.”

Meng Fuyuan said: “A very interesting origin story.”

Pei Shao said: “Why don’t beautiful women randomly grab me to help?”

Meng Fuyuan: “You’ve learned to reflect, that’s progress.”

Pei Shao: “…”

Learning that Zhao Yingfei’s undergraduate was also in North City, everyone momentarily had a common topic, collectively complaining about North City’s traffic, weather, and “cuisine.”

When the meal ended, Meng Fuyuan drove Chen Qingwu and Zhao Yingfei back. The two were in the same direction, perfectly on the way.

Arriving at the university town, Zhao Yingfei got out first. Before closing the car door she said to Qingwu: “Tomorrow I’ll come find you to hang out.”

“Sounds good.”

The car door closed.

Chen Qingwu had been sitting in the back seat with Zhao Yingfei. After she got out, Chen Qingwu also didn’t move to the passenger seat.

The atmosphere in the car cabin was silent.

Chen Qingwu subtly felt uncomfortable. This was different from the discomfort that time when coming to East City and Meng Fuyuan picked her up at the airport.

After a moment of silence, Chen Qingwu still said: “Yuan-gege, I have a question I want to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Today when I went to your conference room for tea, I saw that tea set…”

“It was made by you.”

Meng Fuyuan admitted it so straightforwardly and candidly that Chen Qingwu was momentarily at a loss for words.

Meng Fuyuan glanced at the rearview mirror inside the car, “At that time I saw the tenth anniversary work compilation you posted on Moments. The company happened to need a tea set, and the one you made was the most suitable for our needs.”

“…You didn’t tell me.”

“I thought since you didn’t specifically promote your own work, you might have your own considerations. I was afraid if I told you, you’d feel uncomfortable instead.”

“…I really didn’t because I wasn’t satisfied enough with it.”

“It’s quite good. Very handy to use.”

Chen Qingwu said a muffled “thank you.”

It was a watertight explanation that could completely justify itself, wasn’t it? But she always felt like she’d been glossed over somehow.

But instinctively, she didn’t dare continue pursuing the question.

After that she stopped talking, and Meng Fuyuan also didn’t speak again.

All the way until they reached the studio entrance and the car stopped, Meng Fuyuan released his hand from the steering wheel. Only after deliberation did he speak, “A few days ago, my mother and Auntie Liao went to watch Qiran’s competition.”

Chen Qingwu hummed in acknowledgment.

“They said Qiran’s condition didn’t seem right, he was driving too aggressively and nearly had an accident.”

Chen Qingwu’s heart skipped a beat. She hastily looked up and asked: “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Meng Fuyuan turned to look at her, “Excuse my presumptuousness. Qingwu, have you two still not made up, or did you break up again? I shouldn’t pry into matters between you two, it’s just that the family is somewhat worried. When we ask Qiran he refuses to speak.”

Chen Qingwu was surprised, then after a moment thought that it wasn’t strange, “…Do all of you think that Qiran and I are a couple?”

Meng Fuyuan paused, “…Aren’t you?”

“No. We never were.”

Meng Fuyuan’s palm suddenly gripped the steering wheel, fingers tightening as if only this way could prevent the momentary surge of complex emotions from leaking out, “Then you two…”

He felt his voice had become hoarse by a few degrees.

Chen Qingwu’s body leaned back, sighing tiredly.

In the past, she absolutely wouldn’t have felt Meng Fuyuan was a suitable confidant.

But she might be too lacking, too lacking an informed person from the parents’ camp, so at this moment she chose to speak truthfully: “He never liked me. How could we possibly be together?”

Meng Fuyuan didn’t quite agree with this judgment, but since Qingwu said so, perhaps she had her own position and judgment.

“You know about that cup I made for my graduate thesis—I gave it to Qiran, right?”

Flower and Mist.

Of course he knew.

Meng Fuyuan hummed in acknowledgment.

“There’s a folk art theorist named Soetsu Yanagi. He said that vessels have the first half of their life when they’re made, and the second half when they’re used. With Qiran, that cup’s second half of life was sealed away. Every time I went to his room and saw the cup on the display shelf, I would feel very sad, because cups are meant for drinking water—can you understand?”

Emotions were the same—they should be “used,” not enshrined.

Meng Fuyuan remained silent.

He didn’t dare say “I can.”

Chen Qingwu raised her hand to cover her face, “…Please don’t ask me about this anymore. I don’t owe him an explanation. I’ve already made things clear with him.”

Meng Fuyuan heard her voice becoming wet.

He didn’t dare turn to look.

Perhaps precisely because she was so sad, he didn’t dare turn to look.

Meng Qiran never entered the arena, but that didn’t mean he could step in as a replacement.

Because her gaze had only ever been for Qiran alone.

Her sadness was the same.

It had already grown dark.

The car cabin was as silent as a windless valley.

Thoughts in turmoil, no time to sort through them one by one.

He heard suppressed sobbing. Looking in the rearview mirror, he could only see her falling long hair, blocking all expression.

Chen Qingwu suddenly heard the sound of the engine starting.

Then the car started moving.

She looked up ahead, “…Where are we going?”

Meng Fuyuan didn’t answer her question.

That silent back carried a kind of wordless sternness.

Chen Qingwu didn’t ask again.

Whatever.

The car drove toward the more desolate outskirts, the lights along the road becoming sparse.

After what seemed like half an hour, the car finally stopped.

They had stopped under a bridge. By the river was a broken stone beach with lush reed marshes growing along the riverbank.

Meng Fuyuan got out of the car, walked back a step, and opened the back seat door.

Chen Qingwu looked up.

The hand wearing his tail ring reached over, “Get out and feel the breeze. You won’t feel so sad then.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

He had tried it countless times.