At that moment, Song Qingfeng thought something was wrong with his ears.
He was stunned for several seconds before looking utterly shaken, blinking as he said, “She’s not into you? I didn’t mishear that, right? There’s actually a girl out there who isn’t charmed by your good looks…”
Lu Qiming frowned slightly at that.
“Good looks” wasn’t exactly the most fitting term for a guy over six feet tall.
“Why’s she not into you?” Song Qingfeng looked baffled, bending down closer to Lu Qiming and lowering his voice. “Don’t tell me you saw she was pretty and went in too hard right away, came on too strong and scared her off?”
Lu Qiming’s fingers froze over the keyboard. He didn’t say a word, just gave Song Qingfeng a cold look.
“Ahem, no way you’d do that.”
That look made Song Qingfeng shrink back a little.
He chuckled awkwardly and took a big bite of his rice ball. “I’m just helping you analyze the situation, break down why this mission failed.”
There was one data point that just wouldn’t reconcile.
Lu Qiming grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled out a long string of formulas on paper, plugging in each value one by one.
Still wrong.
Lu Qiming set the pen down, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Ever since leaving the dessert shop, he couldn’t quite explain it, but there was a vague sense of unease.
Not obvious, just a faint, inexplicable tension.
When he got back to the base, a few younger guys asked him to join a basketball game. He changed clothes and went with them.
A full-court match that lasted almost two hours. The opposing team got crushed— 91 to 44.
In the military, outside the battlefield, the best places to vent emotions are the training grounds and the sports fields.
But even after the game, that strange feeling in his chest didn’t go away.
Unease?
But why feel uneasy?
Truth was, Lu Qiming had already realized back at the dessert shop that the girl, though polite and gentle on the surface, was really just going through the motions.
Deep down, she wasn’t particularly interested in him.
He’d seen it coming, yet still felt unsettled, still felt unsure.
Until he received Qian Duoduo’s transfer later that evening.
Perfect. Whatever hope he had left was now completely gone.
He genuinely liked her. Given the outcome, it was impossible not to feel disappointed.
But beyond accepting and respecting it, there wasn’t much else he could do.
Lu Qiming’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Headache.
“What is it, that headache of yours acting up again?” Nearby, Song Qingfeng was chewing on glutinous rice grains. Seeing Lu Qiming like this, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “So this is why you’ve been working overtime till late every night this week? No one can handle this kind of mental strain. Work will always be there — take a break.”
Without waiting for a reply, Song Qingfeng reached over and snatched Lu Qiming’s notebook.
Lu Qiming glanced at the lunchbox beside him and nodded toward it. “Take the lunchbox back. I’m not eating. Thanks.”
“Alright then.” Song Qingfeng knew Lu Qiming was just too embarrassed to eat his lovingly prepared bento, so he put the lid back on.
After closing it, he looked around, eyes turning mischievous again. “So? Why didn’t she pick you?”
“No idea,” Lu Qiming replied.
“The higher-ups always say we need to review and reflect — learn from successes and draw lessons from failures. You should do some self-analysis.”
Lu Qiming raised his eyelids and looked at him. “You got nothing to do right now, huh?”
Song Qingfeng hadn’t caught on yet and instinctively replied, “Tonight? Not really, just free time.”
“I’ve got a task for you,” Lu Qiming said calmly. “Take my notebook home and recheck all the data in it.”
Song Qingfeng almost coughed up blood. “…Captain Lu, I bring you military rations late at night and this is how you repay me? This is straight-up retaliation!”
“If I were retaliating, you think I’d trust you with data?”
“…” Song Qingfeng was speechless.
Fine. With all this data as a base, at least he’d be standing on the shoulders of giants. No big deal.
“Have it done before next Tuesday.”
“No problem.”
After shutting down the computer, Lu Qiming and Song Qingfeng chatted a bit about work, then left the office together.
Song Qingfeng was a married officer and had applied for a housing unit near the base, but during duty periods, regulations required all on-call personnel to stay within the camp, so he, like Lu Qiming, lived in the single officers’ dorm.
Walking into the dorm building, Song Qingfeng straightened his hair in the full-length mirror and casually said, “Captain Lu, give me a haircut tomorrow, will you? Haven’t left the base for a week and my hair’s grown wild.”
“Come see me tomorrow night.”
“You got it.”
With that settled, they each returned to their rooms.
Lu Qiming turned on the lights, changed shoes, washed his hands, and made himself a cup of instant noodles.
While waiting the few minutes for it to cook, he unlocked his phone.
In this digital age, the military — like civilian companies — used WeChat groups for work communication.
Whenever they needed to collect stats or confirm personnel status, they’d use coded phrases in the group chat to get it done.
Strictly business. No small talk.
Every night, Lu Qiming checked the group chat to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
After reviewing the messages, he exited the chat, and his gaze happened to catch a glimpse of a brightly colored avatar.
A cartoon drawing on a pink background — inside a little square frame was a girl riding a piglet.
Lu Qiming stared at the avatar for a few seconds, then tapped into her Moments.
The caption read: [Dear peach blossoms, no need to bloom. Could the money tree bloom instead? Thanks.]
The picture showed a traditional Chinese painting of the Five Wealth Gods — majestic and imposing, full of divine authority.
Lu Qiming: “……”
He noticed that Qian Duoduo had posted that at just after 6 p.m. today, shortly after their meeting.
Three minutes passed.
Lu Qiming calmly turned off his phone screen and began eating his instant noodles.
From the time he was admitted to the military academy at eighteen until now, he had spent fourteen full years in the army.
Fourteen years of military life was a double-edged sword — it had given him iron will, loyalty, courage, and discipline, but also distanced him from the colorful world outside.
He wasn’t good with words, didn’t know how to interact with girls, and had no idea what kind of behavior might leave a good first impression.
As he ate, a thought suddenly crossed his mind, and the corner of his lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile.
No wonder she wasn’t interested in him.
She was a content creator — bubbly, stylish, pretty, with a million fans online, surrounded by the freshest trends and ideas.
She probably saw him as a total hick.
*
Zhang Xuelan and Qian Haisheng were both artsy types when they were young.
After retiring, they joined a senior choir together to pass the time.
The full name of the choir was “Nancheng Sunset Choir,” made up of members aged 48 to 75.
The choir leader was a retired bank clerk.
Before retiring, she had worked in the bank’s union and was great at organizing group activities.
After forming the choir, she not only held weekly rehearsals in the park but also occasionally arranged trips so everyone could enjoy the beauty of the country in their golden years.
Early Friday morning, before the sky had fully brightened, Zhang Xuelan and Qian Haisheng were already packed and ready to set off.
“Duoduo, your dad and I will be away for more than a week this time. There are dumplings I made and some ready-to-cook beef balls in the fridge — make sure to eat them.” Zhang Xuelan pushed open her daughter’s bedroom door, full of concern as she gave her reminders. “Don’t always eat out or order takeout—it’s not good for your health. Hear me?”
Qian Duoduo was still groggy, mumbling an “okay,” then stuck a slender arm out from under the covers and waved, “Bye, Mom, Dad.”
Soon after, the sound of the front door closing echoed—soft but clear.
She’d gone to bed relatively early the night before.
Qian Duoduo yawned, grabbed her phone to check the time, then got up to make herself some breakfast.
As a food blogger, she never passed up any opportunity for content.
After a quick wash, she set up two DSLR cameras in the kitchen, adjusted the angles, and began recording.
Mixing dough, chopping vegetables, heating the pan, spraying oil.
With practiced ease, she soon had a fragrant veggie omelet ready.
Then she brought the cameras into the dining area to record herself eating breakfast.
Half an hour later, the raw footage was packed and sent to her video editor’s inbox.
Editor: [Ms. Qian, same editing style as usual?]
Qian Duoduo: [Yep yep, thanks so much, Teacher Qiao.]
Editor: [My pleasure.]
This week, her agency had lined up five brand deals for her: three restaurant review videos, a live-streamed return appearance at a fresh food market, and one ribbon-cutting event for a new hot pot place in Nancheng.
As a top-tier influencer, Qian Duoduo didn’t need to be in the office.
In the morning, she worked remotely with her editor.
It wasn’t until around 2 p.m. that she headed to the company for makeup and styling to prep for that day’s shoot.
Qian Duoduo had always been a responsible person, even as a child, and now as a blogger, she vetted every commercial deal with great care.
Today’s tea restaurant had first approached her team last year, asking for a promotional video.
At the time, she felt the food was mediocre and the prices too high, so she turned them down.
Thankfully, the owner was receptive to feedback.
After implementing her team’s suggestions to improve the menu and adjust pricing, they finally signed a deal this October.
Around 6 or 7 p.m., Qian Duoduo and her team arrived at the restaurant.
It was peak dinner time, and about two-thirds of the seats were filled — not bad, but not packed.
After the photographer finished filming the restaurant’s interior, he moved into the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Qian Duoduo and her assistant stayed in a private room, discussing the shoot script with the manager.
Outside the room, a few young girls gathered, excitedly asking a server, “Is that Qian Duoduo inside?”
The server nodded. “Yeah.”
“Wow! I thought it was her when I saw her at the door!” One girl with dyed hair beamed at her friends. “Even with sunglasses on, trying to stay low-key, I still recognized her! She’s even prettier in person than in her videos…”
Bang— the photographer returned to the room after filming.
“Ms. Qian, I think some of your fans are outside.” He took a sip of tea and joked, “We might need to get you a bodyguard.”
Qian Duoduo smiled sheepishly, then whispered to her assistant, “Those little gifts I asked you to bring—give them out when we go out later.”
“Got it.”
Soon, the dishes were served. Facing the camera, Qian Duoduo introduced the flavors while eating.
The shoot went smoothly.
Once they had enough footage, the photographer gave her an “OK” sign.
Qian Duoduo quietly let out a breath of relief and finally enjoyed her meal for real.
By 8 p.m., most of the dishes were eaten.
Qian Duoduo got up to head to the restroom outside the private room.
A few fans who had been waiting at the door immediately surrounded her for autographs and selfies.
She kept a warm smile the whole time, happily cooperating.
After waving goodbye, she walked alone toward the restroom.
Just as she passed a narrow hallway, a voice suddenly called out behind her: “Qian Duoduo?”
She froze.
That voice— the calm, slightly husky tone and the hint of a question — was unmistakably familiar.
She quickly turned around.
A few steps away stood a tall, straight figure, posture upright and proper like a poplar tree standing in the light.
The restaurant was warm, and he wasn’t dressed all in black like last time.
His light-colored shirt had a slightly vintage design, paired with dark brown casual pants and white sneakers —he looked clean-cut, with a youthful, rugged charm.
“Mr. Lu?” Qian Duoduo’s bright eyes lit up with surprise at the unexpected encounter, and she smiled. “What brings you here?”
Seeing that soft, radiant smile, Lu Qiming suddenly felt an inexplicable heat rising from within.
“Some former colleagues came to Nancheng for a business trip. We decided to meet here for dinner.” His cool gaze met hers.
Maybe it was her imagination, but his voice seemed just a bit hoarse.
“Oh, what a coincidence! I’m working here today,” Qian Duoduo said.
Her calm, composed demeanor only made the whirlwind of thoughts in his heart feel all the more absurd by contrast.
Lu Qiming asked, “Have you eaten?”
“Already did.” Qian Duoduo was in a bit of a hurry and didn’t have time for small talk. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Bye, Mr. Lu.”
With that, she turned to leave without waiting for a response.
But just then, Lu Qiming spoke again.
He called out to her: “Miss Qian.”
There was something about the authoritative presence of a soldier that made him feel overwhelming.
Qian Duoduo didn’t quite dare meet his eyes, but she still stopped, polite and gracious. “Yes?”
“If it’s possible…” Lu Qiming looked at her steadily, paused, then asked, “Can we… spend a bit more time getting to know each other?”