After that time when harsh words were spoken, the two of them completely entered a cold war.
Even though they were both at home on weekends, they didn’t say a single word to each other anymore—perhaps because they didn’t know what to say.
The next time they spoke calmly was on the day they broke up. He told her to take care of herself, and before leaving, he made her a cup of her favorite red bean coffee.
She still didn’t know how things had come to the point of breaking up with him.
Maybe it was because their beginning had been too complicated.
She and Zhōu Shíyì hadn’t fallen in love at first sight. When they first met, she was still with Lù Chéng.
Originally, her social circle had no overlap with Zhōu Shíyì’s at all, until one time at an alumni gathering.
Níng Quē called her over to hang out, saying she’d introduce her to more people and help her build connections for the future.
Zhōu Shíyì was among them.
But that day, he was late by half an hour because of something.
While they were waiting for Zhōu Shíyì to arrive, someone asked her what kind of guys she liked, saying they wanted to introduce her to someone.
She smiled and said, it seems they really are nearsighted, didn’t they see what she was wearing on her hand?
A slender platinum ring.
It was a gift from Lù Chéng when he graduated from high school. As students, they couldn’t afford anything expensive, so she picked a minimalist style.
Níng Quē, who knew her best, was surprised when she saw the ring, “You have a boyfriend?”
She replied, “I’ve always had one.”
She just didn’t usually wear the ring, because she’d lost it once before while wearing it and only got it back after much difficulty.
So after that, she only wore it to gatherings, to ward off unwanted admirers and avoid unnecessary trouble.
Before coming today, she had specially found it and put it on.
Níng Quē stared at her ring, still unable to believe she’d always had a boyfriend. “I’ve never heard you mention it.”
Because by then, Lù Chéng had already debuted. In a popular historical drama airing in China, he played the third male lead and unexpectedly became popular.
Not everyone watched historical dramas, and not everyone paid attention to the third male lead, but to be cautious, she never revealed any information about her boyfriend.
Ever since Lù Chéng entered the entertainment industry, she hadn’t posted on WeChat Moments. Their high school classmates all thought they had already broken up.
“Is your boyfriend from our university?”
“No, from my high school.”
“Is he here too?”
“No, he’s attending Dàxué back in China.”
A senior she didn’t know chimed in, “Junior, not to rain on your parade, but you’re only a sophomore. It’ll be a long time before you go back to China, and you might not even return. Long-distance relationships never work out.”
She just smiled lightly and didn’t respond.
Because she was already struggling with whether or not to break up with Lù Chéng. Their problems were far more than just the distance.
Right at that moment, Zhōu Shíyì arrived, and the topic of her boyfriend ended there.
She and Zhōu Shíyì sat at opposite ends of the long table, quite far apart. The entire night, they had no interaction, and she didn’t pay any special attention to anyone at the table.
She left the gathering early that night, not knowing how late the others stayed.
***
The next time she saw Zhōu Shíyì was at a restaurant outside campus. He and Níng Quē were having dinner, and she went over to greet Níng Quē.
Níng Quē turned and asked Zhōu Shíyì, “This is my junior, Zhōng Yì. She was at the dinner last month too, do you remember?”
Zhōu Shíyì nodded, “I remember.”
Níng Quē gestured to the seat across from them, indicating she should join.
She happened to be eating alone, so she sat down.
Throughout the meal, she only said a few words, quietly listening to their conversation.
Before leaving the restaurant, they exchanged contact information.
With Níng Quē there, she didn’t think much of it.
That day, she and Níng Quē hitched a ride with him. She lived far away, so he dropped Níng Quē off first.
After that, only the driver and the two of them were left in the car.
In the enclosed car, two strangers chatted sporadically.
“You’re from Jiangcheng?”
“Yes. From a town under Jiangcheng.”
He nodded and didn’t ask more.
She could tell he was reserved and quiet.
A dozen minutes later, the car stopped in front of her house.
He turned his head and asked her, “Is it convenient for you to have dinner with me tonight? I’ll come pick you up.”
Zhōu Shíyì had arrived late to the alumni gathering and didn’t know she had a boyfriend.
Since they sat far apart, he hadn’t noticed the ring on her finger, either.
She certainly understood what it meant for a man and woman to have dinner alone, and she could feel what was in his eyes at that moment.
She refused, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.”
The car went quiet for a moment.
Even after being rejected, he remained graceful, smiling faintly, “It’s fine. I was being presumptuous.”
When she got out, he told her to be careful and not to bump into anything.
The third time she saw Zhōu Shíyì was two weeks later, at a classmate’s birthday party. She hadn’t expected him to be there.
He gave her a slight nod, his gaze sweeping over the ring on her finger.
The two of them had no interaction at all during the party.
***
At the time, her studies were busy, and her relationship was in trouble—she had no energy to think about refusing Zhōu Shíyì.
That Friday, she called Lù Chéng and decided to break up.
Four years of feelings aren’t so easily put down.
Before that, she had already been in pain for a long time.
She’d only met Lù Chéng when they became classmates in their first year of high school. Since both their families were from the same town, she’d subconsciously let her guard down around him.
Her father had long since moved her to the city, but on weekends, she would go to Yu Lǎoshī’s house and stay for a couple of days.
So every Friday afternoon, she and Lù Chéng would take the bus back to town together.
“Is Yu Lǎoshī your relative?”
“…Yes, a distant relative. I learned painting at his place.”
“You seem really familiar with our town.”
“I lived there until I started elementary school.”
“No wonder. But I never saw you when we were kids.”
“Other than taking the ferry, I just stayed at Yu Lǎoshī’s place painting. I rarely went out to play with other kids.”
As they talked more and more, feelings grew between them, and they secretly started dating.
But no matter how deep the feelings, they couldn’t withstand long-term separation, jealousy, and all kinds of conflicts.
The agency didn’t allow Lù Chéng to date, and ordered him to break up several times, but he insisted on staying together.
Once, she called him and his agent picked up, telling her to state her terms for breaking up—anything reasonable would be agreed to.
She knew how much pressure Lù Chéng was under, and wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.
In that historical drama, Lù Chéng had intimate scenes. She never dared to watch, feeling upset for a long time, and had to convince herself every day that he was just an actor.
But his acting career had only just begun, and there would be countless romantic scenes in the future, all with different people.
In that historical drama, his CP had the most hype, and they attended many events together online and offline.
Every now and then, gossip accounts would claim they were dating for real.
She knew some things weren’t up to him, so she digested all her emotions alone and never argued with him.
Once, she couldn’t hold it in on the phone and cried out of grievance.
Lù Chéng said that as soon as his visa was approved, he’d fly over to see her and spend a few days together—no one would recognize them abroad.
But his schedule was too full, and even until they broke up, they never got to meet.
After breaking up with Lù Chéng, it took her half a year to recover. During that time, she’d occasionally check up on his updates, see what roles he took, and whether he had any endorsements.
She always had suitors, but no longer wanted to date.
Love was too exhausting. It was better to get another degree.
That year, she didn’t make plans with classmates for New Year’s Eve, celebrating alone.
She reserved a table at a restaurant by the street, eating a sumptuous dinner without really tasting it, occasionally glancing out the window, waiting to count down the New Year with everyone outside.
“Is this seat taken?”
The voice wasn’t exactly unfamiliar, but not quite familiar, either.
She turned suddenly—Zhōu Shíyì, wearing a black coat, was standing by her table, though she didn’t know when he’d arrived.
They hadn’t seen each other since that birthday party.
She was a beat slow to respond, “No one. What a coincidence.”
Zhōu Shíyì sat down and said, “Not a coincidence. I saw you as I passed by.”
He got straight to the point, “Broke up with your boyfriend?”
“Did Níng Quē tell you?”
“Yeah.”
“We broke up a while ago, but I don’t plan to date again. It affects my studies.”
He sipped his water slowly. After a moment, he said, “Dating in high school didn’t affect your studies.”
Zhōu Shíyì never deliberately pursued her, but whenever he had free time, he’d come see her and have a meal together.
She hadn’t planned to get into another relationship, but after spending time together, it was hard not to be moved by a man like him.
But in Zhōu Shíyì’s eyes, what she felt for him was more physical than love.
Maybe it was because she liked cuddling in his arms, liked his sexy hands, and they were unexpectedly compatible in that way.
Their beginning had been so ordinary, and she’d rejected him once—perhaps that’s why he thought so.
And the last time, when she spoke without thinking, there was no way to make things right.
So just now, he’d only placed his suitcase by the door and hadn’t come in.
“Ding dong—ding dong—”
The doorbell suddenly rang.
Zhōng Yì snapped out of her memories, wondering if she’d just imagined the sound.
“Ding dong—ding dong—”
Zhōng Yì put down her fruit and got up to open the door.
“Who is it?”
The hotel waiter said, “Hello, Miss Zhōng, Mr. Zhōu ordered dinner for you.”
Zhōng Yì opened the door to see a cart full of her favorite foods.
After the waiter finished setting the dishes on the table and left, she called Zhōu Shíyì.
It took him a long time to answer. “The food arrived?”
“Yeah.”
Zhōng Yì looked at the ten or so exquisite dishes, “You ordered so much, I can’t finish it all.” She took the initiative to invite, “Do you want to come over and eat together?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “I won’t come over.”
“Still working on recovering the photos?”
“Yeah.”
There was a two-second silence on the phone.
Zhōng Yì spoke, “You still have to eat.”
“No rush.”
Zhōu Shíyì told her to eat first, then hung up.
It would be a waste not to finish the food, so Zhōng Yì decided to bring some up to him.
She took a bit of each dish, filled a plate, and went upstairs with her phone.
When the doorbell rang, Zhōu Shíyì was focused on his laptop.
He’d tried every method he could, but still couldn’t recover the photos.
That photo of her and Lù Chéng, she’d just deleted it from the folder when she found it back then.
When the doorbell rang a second time, he put down his mouse and got up.
【It’s me.】Zhōng Yì sent him a message.
Zhōu Shíyì replied: 【I know.】
Zhōng Yì waited patiently at the door. In less than half a minute, the door opened. The man was still wearing the white shirt and black trousers he’d worn to pick her up from the airport.
From what she knew of him, if he didn’t have any social events at night, the first thing he’d do when returning to the hotel was take a shower.
But for the sake of recovering the photos, he’d even neglected his habits.
“Eat a little first.” She handed over the plate.
Zhōu Shíyì glanced at the pan-seared perch on the plate—she’d ordered two, and gave him one.
“Didn’t you say one portion wasn’t enough? Why are you giving me one?”
Zhōng Yì didn’t avoid his deep gaze. “I wanted you to try it.”
She waved her hand, “I’m heading back. Eat first before you try to recover the photos again. The food won’t taste good if it gets cold.”
Back in her room, Zhōng Yì had just washed her hands and sat down when her phone rang. She answered it without thinking.
Zhōu Shíyì’s magnetic voice came through, “Do you want someone to eat with you?”
“Who? Chén Chén?”
“No. Chén Chén is only a year and a half old, how could he keep you company? It’s Jì Fánxīng, she’s in Jiangcheng.”
“All right.”
She was about to call the kitchen to add a few more dishes when Jì Fánxīng’s call came in right on time.
The other person seemed to know in advance, “No need to prepare anything special for me, I don’t eat much at night. I’m just coming over to hear about Uncle and Aunt’s stories.”
In less than ten minutes, Jì Fánxīng arrived at the door.
“So fast?” Zhōng Yì opened the door for her.
Today, she was dressed casually, sunglasses perched on her head.
“You’re in Jiangcheng for work?”
“Sort of, I’m here to discuss a script.”
Jì Fánxīng was already eager to hear the story of Jiang Jingyuan and Zhōng Zhuóhuá. She grabbed Zhōng Yì, who was about to pour water, “Don’t be so polite, I’m not an outsider.”
“If I want a drink, I’ll get it myself. What’s it like having a superstar mom? If it were me, I’d be so happy I’d faint!”
Zhōng Yì handed her the utensils, smiling, “It is pretty nice, but there are plenty of worries too.”
“Of course, that’s what happens when Aunt is so famous.”
Jì Fánxīng still couldn’t believe that the person who’d been with Jiang Jingyuan back then was Zhōng Zhuóhuá. For a movie queen to secretly marry and have a child must have been so difficult.
After the news broke, she asked her parents and learned that Jiang Jingyuan’s first love already had his own family, and his child was actually older than Zhōng Yì.
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