He Never Said Wen Shaoyu Wouldn't Come
That evening, when Stella ran into Ji Shuhe in the elevator on her way to the hotel gym—Ji Shuhe was sneaking downstairs to pick up takeout—their eyes met, and Stella immediately decided to skip her workout. She wrapped an arm around Ji Shuhe and dragged her back to the room for a heartfelt lesson in love.
Once inside Stella's room, it was like a bird plucking feathers from a passing goose—Ji Shuhe's dinner was instantly halved.
But she was truly innocent. She hadn't actually had dinner with Ji Shulang, but the plan was real—it wasn't just an excuse to change the subject.
It had been over two months since Ji Shuhe returned to China. Aside from that unpleasant family dinner, she had been completely immersed in the production crew. Ji Shulang had been trying to schedule a meal with her, but the great lawyer was swamped himself—court hearings, meetings, drafting documents. He even mentioned being woken up in the middle of the night by client calls because he forgot to mute his phone.
Of course, Ji Shuhe was busy too. She had to handle all the big and small tasks for the crew—budget, schedule, filming progress—everything weighed on her as the executive producer.
She had gotten into the company through Shen Xing's connections, and though she found her colleagues friendly and not dismissive as a backdoor hire, Ji Shuhe still felt she needed to prove herself. She wanted to stand on her own, to have capability and a career, because her past experiences had taught her she couldn't afford to be powerless and manipulated again.
Yes, everyone had grown up. They had become adults rushing around for a living and their dreams, each busy in their own way. Naturally, they couldn't wait for each other to finish work like they did when they were kids waiting for someone's tutoring to end.
So their dinner plans had been rescheduled three times, and finally, on New Year's Eve eve, they both got a break from "the capitalists" and found a time that worked for everyone.
The place was chosen by Ji Shulang—a quiet bar in the city center. He insisted there would be an old friend of hers, and it was definitely not Wen Shaoyu, so Ji Shuhe should at least wash her hair before coming.
Ji Shuhe wanted to argue. The day Ji Shulang video-called her and saw her greasy bangs was after she had been filming and reviewing for three straight days, severely sleep-deprived, and had slacked off on her grooming. She had just stepped into the hotel room and taken off the hat she'd worn all day when her brother called. It was pure coincidence—no need for him to so pointedly remind her to wash her hair.
Whatever. She couldn't reason with her brother anyway.
Ji Shuhe sighed silently. With that kind of blunt, straight-guy comment, it was no wonder Ji Shulang, despite his decent looks, had never had a girlfriend at twenty-six or twenty-seven.
What about Wen Shaoyu?
She froze for a moment, then shook her head with a wry smile. She always found herself thinking about Wen Shaoyu when she thought about her brother—probably because the two had been inseparable in their youth, like shadow and form.
But Ji Shulang was her brother, her family, her kin. As for that person... let him be whatever. What did it have to do with her?
And so it was New Year's Eve. From across the ocean, President Shen, who had received Ji Shuhe's production feedback, graciously gave the crew half a day off early.
Of course, the real reason was that the filming location was in the city center, and traffic restrictions would start around noon. Given the difficult shooting conditions and everyone's lack of focus, it was better to let them go early as long as the schedule and budget allowed.
After receiving the news, Stella went straight back to her room to nap, announcing that she would stay up all night on New Year's Eve for some "inspiration gathering"—a euphemism for indulgence.
Ji Shuhe took the chance to get some rest too. She declined Ji Shulang's offer to pick her up and took the subway to the area near the bar just before sunset.
The bar was also in the traffic-restricted zone. To prevent large crowds from converging at the stations, some subway stops near popular attractions were closed.
Ji Shuhe had to get off one stop early. She put on her earphones, followed the voice navigation, and walked slowly toward her destination.
Though it wasn't a holiday, the pedestrian street was packed with people. Crossing the road required a human wall of armed police to hold back the crowd.
Ji Shuhe looked around curiously. She realized that even after living in Xinhai for two years, she still wasn't very familiar with the city.
The dazzling neon lights grew even more brilliant as night fell. Ji Shuhe stared at them, but she felt herself gradually detaching from the lively scene around her. Everything seemed alien.
It made sense. Back then, she had only been trapped in the alleyways of Yong'anli, commuting between the alley and school. She had limited contact with people and never truly got to know the city.
She knew it was prosperous, but she hadn't realized just how prosperous. She had returned here on a simple longing for her past family, only to find everything unfamiliar.
An untimely melancholy consumed most of her mind. The more joy and excitement around her, the more she felt a sense of loss—as if she had lost her anchor in Xinhai, leaving an emptiness in her heart.
She couldn't find the reason and finally blamed it on being hungry and anxious.
Luckily, bubble tea shops lined the streets in China. Nothing could soothe an unsettled winter heart better than a warm cup of milk tea.
Still matcha milk tea, 30% sugar with red beans.
When she studied in the UK, she couldn't order delivery. On days when she felt really down or stressed, she had to make it herself. But the matcha powder she used was probably too authentic—even mixed with milk, it was still bitter—and the store-bought honeyed red beans were so sweet they were almost bitter. The clash of two different kinds of bitterness made the drink so unpleasant that Ji Shuhe had given up on matcha milk tea for a long time.
But store-bought was different. Ji Shuhe took a sip of the milk tea she was holding. The恰到好处的 sweetness seemed to ease her melancholy.
Following the navigation, she passed through the bustling pedestrian street and turned into a quiet side road lined with plane trees. But now only bare, gnarled branches remained. Combined with the dimming sky and the yellow streetlights, it strangely felt cold and desolate.
The bar was at the head of this street. It had a plant-themed decor, but the specialties written on the small blackboard at the door were charcoal-grilled pork neck and pasta. If it weren't called a bar, Ji Shuhe would have thought it was a typical European street-side bistro.
The place wasn't big, and it didn't look impressive from the outside. Ji Shuhe pushed open the door, and a wind chime made of nutshells rang softly. A warm current of air mixed with fruit and cheese aromas hit her face.
There seemed to be quite a few customers inside. The lighting was dim. Ji Shuhe poked her head in to look around. The entire wall on the right had been transformed into a vertical moss garden. Unfamiliar ferns glowed with a velvety dark green under soft spotlights.
Further in was the bar counter. The old wooden countertop rested on dark metal frames, with a row of track lights hanging above. Warm bulbs at varying heights illuminated the amber bottles behind.
The seats at the counter in front of the bartender were already taken by a few customers. The bartenders were busy moving back and forth in front of a wall full of colorful base liquors, naturally too busy to pay attention to the somewhat lost Ji Shuhe.
When she was a student, Ji Shuhe had gone to bars with classmates—some noisier and rowdier than this one. But most of the time, Shen Xing was there. Having someone like a relative or elder around meant she could count on him to back her up when she wanted to leave, so she wouldn't have to repeatedly turn down requests to stay.
But now...
The booths were almost full. The small tables by the window had reservation signs on them. Would it be too cramped to sit at the bar with her friend? Ji Shuhe thought. She should have asked Ji Shulang if he had reserved a spot.
"Xiaoshu! It's really you!"
Ji Shuhe was about to call her brother when an excited, clear female voice rang out. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Startled, she looked up and saw An Qing already rushing toward her.
"Wuwuwu, I thought Ji Shulang was lying to me. He said you were back in the country and that he'd bring you to meet an old classmate. I figured if he had news of you, he wouldn't have kept asking me about you over the years."
An Qing threw her arms around Ji Shuhe. Her enthusiasm, just like in their youth, quickly dispelled the sense of estrangement from years apart. Indeed, a social shark like her never felt the awkwardness of a long separation. If she did, she would just "break down the door" and barge in to get to know you all over again.
Ji Shuhe hugged her back, one hand trembling as she held up her milk tea, afraid that a sudden movement would spill it on An Qing's white sweater.
"My brother didn't even tell me it was you! Have you two been in touch all along? If I'd known, I would have asked you out directly!"
"Not exactly in touch all along." An Qing let go of Ji Shuhe and took her hand, leading her toward the booth area. "Sit down, let's talk slowly."
Fortunately, Ji Shulang had remembered to reserve a spot on a day when the whole world was thinking about celebrating, taking photos, and posting. An Qing finished work nearby and got off early. By the time the bar was just opening at a little past five, she was already there. Clearly, she wasn't one for much nightlife, and sitting alone was kind of awkward.