Can’t Be Friends
“Ding…”
[Wen]: I’ve looked over the interview questions. Two suggestions for updates—I’ve sent the file to your email.
Ji Shuhe was slumped by the window counter of the coffee shop. The glow of the lock screen reflected in her listless eyes. She barely glanced at it, couldn’t even be bothered to unlock and read, then with a “thump” she flipped her phone face-down on the table and buried her head in her soft, puffy down jacket—like an ostrich refusing to face reality.
Outside the window, the afternoon sun was perfect. After several gloomy days, Xinhai had finally cleared up, sweeping away the dreariness. The air was still damp, but the sunlight generously poured down, passing through the glass and dusting the edges of Ji Shuhe’s sleeves and hair with a fluffy golden glow.
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