That evening when I returned home, my steps were light and floating, as if I were treading on clouds.

Grandma opened the door for me, and I grabbed her in a hug and planted two loud kisses on her cheeks.

She was startled by me and said, “Xue’er, girls shouldn’t be drinking outside!”

“I haven’t been drinking, I’m just—”

Just incredibly happy, as if my entire body was enveloped in warm spring water, or as if I had just taken a huge bite of cotton candy covered in chocolate.

I asked, “Grandma, what do you think about me getting a boyfriend?”

The old lady loved this topic and immediately fired off questions like a machine gun: “Who is it? Is he a local? How old is he? What does he do for work… if you ask me, I’d still prefer you to find a northerner, you can’t communicate with southerners!”

I just looked at her with a silly grin and didn’t respond.

Cheng Xia’s call came in at that moment. His voice was as gentle as wisps of rising steam: “Hello? Have you gotten home?”

What does it feel like when something you’ve yearned for over many years, tossed and turned over, something seemingly within sight but forever out of reach, suddenly falls into your lap?

Bewildering.

Panic-inducing.

You desperately want to shout out loud to wake yourself from this absurd and shameful dream, yet at the same time you want to shake him violently and demand: What exactly do you mean! Tell me!

But at that time, under those circumstances, I couldn’t.

I could only continue eating hotpot with a bright red face, patiently watching an popcorn movie with everyone, and then see each guest out one by one.

Finally, only Cheng Xia and I were left in the room. He had his back to me, washing dishes in the kitchen. I walked up behind him hesitantly.

After fantasizing about countless mortifyingly awkward scenarios in my head, I finally chose a relatively mild approach: “Hahaha, Cheng Xia, were you just helping me out of an awkward situation earlier?”

…Heavens, how did I produce such an affected voice!

“What?” Cheng Xia turned around, wiping his hands as he asked.

He asked “what”?

He actually asked “what”?

My courage vanished completely. I quickly put on an affected yet cheerful expression: “Ah, nothing. Looks like you’re pretty much done here, so I’ll head out first. I’ve got a full day of things tomorrow…”

He grabbed my hand.

His warm, dry palm—the subtle friction was infinitely amplified, amplified—

“Since I’m going to pursue you anyway, isn’t it better to let them think I was always the one pursuing you first?”

I stood there frozen. The warm yellow light made his face appear warm and reassuring, like an exquisite oil painting.

“Didn’t you not like me?”

“Six years ago, yes.” He said, “Back then, you were… too heavy for me.”

It took me a very long time to understand what “too heavy” actually meant.

Jinbo City was too small. He had witnessed countless times how I wore gloves to sort through slop buckets, carried nylon bags to help my grandmother collect plastic bottles, and got into hair-pulling brawls with market vendors over a few cents.

Then suddenly one day, this girl came out and confessed to him…

This was too heavy for a teenage boy’s idea of love.

Back in those days, everyone just wanted a romance with white shirts and bicycles. Slop buckets and all that—that was too hardcore.

Cheng Xia said softly, “On one hand, I was attracted to your vitality, felt you were especially different. On the other hand, I instinctively feared your world—dark, oppressive, so real… I’m garbage, aren’t I?”

“No.”

Truly, no. In fact, I was grateful for his honesty.

My white moonlight should be worrying about whether his shoes were the latest style, whether he’d placed in the top three—those kinds of questions.

Soul-searching questions like “does poverty make me feel ashamed”—those were better left for people like me to answer.

“All these years, when I was writing papers, defending my thesis, preparing for my mother’s funeral, receiving my first job offer… whether happy or sad, at every moment I thought, how wonderful it would be if you were here.” He said quietly, “But you weren’t.”

I stared at him in a daze.

“After reuniting, I was overjoyed. I wanted to find you every single day. Although I knew… you don’t like me anymore now. You’ve seen a bigger world, I’m just ordinary…” He smiled bitterly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The TV in the living room was still on, the ending theme drifting over melodiously:

…But most people are probably like this

Setting off on journeys with no return from the start

Meeting you here feels like destiny

Creating a dramatic storyline

In this tranquil moment, he raised his head. His eyes were still so clean and beautiful, like jade washed by water.

“But I don’t want to be apart from you. I still want to try once more, so…” He said, “Give me a chance to pursue you, okay?”

Many words surged to my lips.

For instance, I wanted to tell him I still liked him. After all these years, I only liked him.

I also wanted to say he wasn’t ordinary at all.

I had passed by so many mountains and seas, witnessed countless faces either handsome or intelligent, touched souls either wicked or magnificent.

Only he was clean and bright, brilliantly shining.

But I couldn’t say anything. I was trembling too violently. It wasn’t until he reached out and carefully pulled me into his embrace that I finally gave my answer.

“Okay.”

The next day, I went to work full of fighting spirit. Li Gong was startled by my impassioned energy and asked cautiously, “Manager Ren, did headquarters approve funding?”

“It’s nothing.” I waved my hand and said magnanimously, “I just believe deep in my heart that victory belongs to us!”

I believed correctly.

The punctual salary disbursement acted like a swift and potent stimulant, rescuing everyone from their dejection and anxiety. The phased construction projects were completed smoothly one after another. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the entire project would be successfully completed before the year’s end.

The workplace is results-oriented. No matter how good your relationships are normally, if the project fails, you deserve death. But once the project succeeds, those who cursed you will collectively develop amnesia within a second.

The company finally allocated funds again, and those who had pointed their fingers at my nose and cursed me finally became pleasant and cordial.

I was very happy. One time after working overtime, I treated the team to late-night snacks and even bought expensive alcohol.

Working on construction sites, everyone liked to drink a bit—first to warm up, second because the tipsy feeling was perfect for bonding like brothers and strengthening relationships.

Although Grandma had always taught me that good girls shouldn’t drink.

But my alcohol tolerance had always been: three glasses of baijiu were barely enough to rinse my mouth, six glasses gave me a slight flush—completely negligible, ten glasses meant I couldn’t drink anymore, but I could still march home in perfectly straight lines with full consciousness.

The men around me fared much worse. One glass was enough to make them lose their human dignity.

After three rounds of drinks, I received a call from Old Feng, who asked me some perfunctory questions about the project. After I finally recovered my composure, he once again became my strict teacher and loving father.

I also groveled to the extreme, seizing every opportunity to express: Although you, leader, were heartless and unjust, I don’t bear even the slightest grudge against you.

This was the tragedy of being a working person.

Just then, an older manager stood up unsteadily: “Manager Ren, is that Mr. Feng from headquarters? You should report this good news to him too.”

I put down the phone and smiled, “What does it have to do with him? This is our own project.”

He was clearly drunk and laughed, “You’re being modest. You two are like pulling a millstone in the same bed—what’s yours and mine?”

I retracted my smile and said, “You’re drunk.”

Of course there was crude talk where men gathered, but they’d restrain themselves somewhat in front of me. My principle was that as long as it wasn’t about me, I wouldn’t stop it, wouldn’t go along with it, and wouldn’t give them a smile.

But this time it was about me.

The man couldn’t read the room and kept prattling on: “Old Feng has been like this for ten years, always rides spirited horses…”

Bao Long suddenly stood up and poured a bottle of alcohol over the man’s head.

The old man yelped as he was drenched. Bao Long threw the bottle down, grabbed him by the collar like picking up a chicken, and said coldly, “Sober now?”

The man was so frightened by Bao Long’s wolfish eyes he nearly wet himself. He stammered repeatedly, “Sober! Sober! Don’t do anything rash!”

Bao Long glanced at me, then tossed the man aside and spat on the ground.

The crowd fell silent for a moment, then tactfully became lively again.

Just then, Cheng Xia’s name lit up on my phone. He asked, “Are you done eating?”

“Done. Come pick me up.”

I methodically wiped my mouth, stood up, and said to everyone, “You all keep drinking. Someone’s coming to pick me me up. I’m heading home.”

“Whoa! Is it your boyfriend?” The others started teasing: “Manager Ren, what does your boyfriend do?” “Is he handsome?”

I smiled without answering.

Cheng Xia’s car arrived in no time. He stood downstairs waving at me, handsome and upright.

This person was the boy I’d liked since childhood.

He was there waiting for me.

“Whoa, Engineer Cheng! What a handsome guy!”

“Manager Ren, you’ve kept this well hidden!”

“This son-in-law is excellent! I unilaterally approve!”

I walked downstairs amid earth-shaking jeers and linked my arm with Cheng Xia’s.

The workers who hadn’t left yet were chattering away. The few women among them gossiped about Cheng Xia’s appearance.

I knew that at that moment I had finally become like them—an ordinary working girl with her own age-appropriate young boyfriend, rather than a legendary woman, bitter and vengeful, willing to be an old man’s mistress to climb the ladder.