Chi Shuo wasn’t interested in the opposite sex, and certainly had no sexual interest. If she weren’t afraid of revealing this to her mother, she would have resisted blind dates much more strongly, instead of just using the excuse that “they were weirdos” to get out of them.
Given the strained and awkward relationship she had with her mother, revealing she liked girls would very likely sever their mother-daughter ties completely—a result Chi Shuo didn’t want to see.
“Sigh.” Chi Shuo frowned, still finding these thoughts troubling. “If my mom knew I don’t like men and will never marry one, wouldn’t she just chew me out completely and then cut off all contact?”
She was stating a fact, not asking a question. Chi Shuo knew her mother too well; if she really confessed, that would be the only outcome.
Han Yu leaned back in her plush chair, pondered for a few seconds, and shared her view: “I think… you might also get a beating. I met your mom before your parents divorced, and honestly, even after all these years, I still find her really fierce. Even though she’s polite to me, I just feel she’s incredibly fierce.”
Chi Shuo wasn’t in the private room anymore but in Han Yu’s office. She had excused herself from her friends and would return later.
She didn’t respond to Han Yu’s remarks, instead slowly collapsing onto the soft, comfortable sofa.
Silence fell in the office for a moment, filled only by the hum of the air conditioner.
Chi Shuo stared at the ceiling. After a few seconds, she asked, “Xiao Yu, do you remember…” She paused, debating whether to continue, but asked anyway, “…remember He Lindi?”
Han Yu maintained her posture, but her body, which had been swaying slightly, stopped. She glanced towards Chi Shuo and asked, “Why do you ask?”
“I never mentioned it to you before, but she works at the company right upstairs from mine now.”
Han Yu simply said, “Oh,” then looked away nonchalantly. “Who even remembers her?” She added, as if that wasn’t enough, “Thinking back now, that girl was really annoying back then. Why on earth did we crush on her? She’s clearly straight.”
Han Yu recalled, “If I remember correctly, she was dating a guy, then dumped him right after to get together with a pretty girl, then broke up with her, and then found another handsome guy.”
Han Yu slapped a label on He Lindi: “Player.”
Chi Shuo blinked, surprised to hear He Lindi referred to simply as “that girl” by Han Yu.
Han Yu stood up. She had kept her hair short, just reaching her ears, since high school, and still wore it that way now. She brushed it back as she walked and asked Chi Shuo, who was lying on the sofa, “Shuo Shuo, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her again just because she’s pretty?” Her face practically screamed the words “Absolutely not.” “You can’t do that. That girl is straight and a player.”
Chi Shuo opened her mouth, wanting to clarify, but before she could utter a syllable, Han Yu continued, “Looking back now, I think I must have had something wrong with my head back then. I could have liked any sweet, lovely girl, but I had to go for her.”
Chi Shuo closed her eyes and covered her face with her hand, her voice muffled. “That also implies I had something wrong with my head back then, too.”
Han Yu nodded. “Yeah.” She concluded, “Any girl who liked He Lindi had something wrong with her head.”
“…”
“No, wait, anyone who liked her had something wrong with their head.”
Chi Shuo removed her hand, unable to resist retorting, “Are you still holding a grudge because she rejected you?”
Han Yu’s eyes widened. “Me? Holding a grudge? It’s been so many years. What grudge could I possibly hold?”
Chi Shuo raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply.
Han Yu was likely the only person in the world who knew Chi Shuo used to like He Lindi.
The emphasis wasn’t on “like,” but on “used to.”
Chi Shuo had never told Zeng Guai or Xia Zhou about this, even though they were quite close now.
But that wasn’t the reason she found He Lindi annoying. It wasn’t because of an unrequited crush.
It was because He Lindi’s girlfriend back then was Chi Shuo’s second crush.
Enemies meet with blazing eyes, and so do love rivals. Except, only Chi Shuo’s eyes were blazing, because He Lindi had no idea she even existed, and even if she did, she certainly wouldn’t have cared.
He Lindi’s world was far more exciting than Chi Shuo’s. She was charming, dazzling, emotionally intelligent, did well academically, and was very popular at school. She didn’t need to actively seek anyone out, nor did she lack anyone’s affection.
Han Yu poured herself a glass of water and remembered a key point. “Right, you still haven’t answered my question.”
Her words pulled Chi Shuo back from her thoughts. “What question?”
“Whether you’ve started liking her again.”
Chi Shuo let out a chuckle, her eyes curving into crescents as she countered, “Do you think that’s even possible?”
“True enough.”
He Lindi’s cousin was named Yue Ke. He was a junior in university, studying right there in Yun Cheng. When Chi Shuo returned to the private room, she found him already holding the microphone, unreservedly singing an upbeat song, and singing it with Xia Zhou.
Others were playing dice games at the side, their laughter varying in volume.
Chi Shuo sat down, and Zeng Guai handed her a glass of watermelon juice.
Chi Shuo took a sip and heard Zeng Guai remark, “How does Xia Zhou manage to hit it off with people so quickly? They just met, and she’s already singing and laughing with Yue Ke. Anyone who didn’t know better might think they’ve known each other for ages.”
Among the three of them, Xia Zhou had the widest circle of friends, making connections with people of all genders and ages, all ending up on her WeChat friends list.
Chi Shuo put down her glass and looked at Zeng Guai. “Social skills are important in society too. You and I only open up around people we know well; we clam up around strangers.” She recalled, “Wasn’t it like that when the three of us interviewed at Xinyue? I remember Xia Zhou was the one who started the conversation, and then we started talking. If it weren’t for her, our relationship probably wouldn’t be this good.”
Zeng Guai sighed. “If only I could learn that skill from Xia Zhou someday.”
Chi Shuo smiled but didn’t continue the conversation.
Hu Bo called out to Chi Shuo then, “Chi Shuo, what song do you want to sing? I’ll pick it for you.”
Chi Shuo held up her phone. “I can just scan the code to pick.”
Hu Bo was sitting in the chair by the song selection machine. He didn’t insist. “Okay.”
Chi Shuo took another sip of water to moisten her throat, scanned the QR code with her phone, and casually selected a song.
“Right, where’s He Lindi?” Only after picking her song did she remember, realizing she hadn’t seen He Lindi since coming back into the room.
Zeng Guai answered, “She took a call earlier, said something urgent came up with work, so she left first.” Her eyes held a teasing glint. “What’s wrong? Miss her now that she’s gone?”
Chi Shuo slowly shook her head and explained, “No, she said she’d send me those ‘calcium supplements,’ but she hasn’t sent them yet.”
“Shit.” Zeng Guai couldn’t help but curse, then added, “If she does send them, remember to share them with me.”
Time didn’t seem to pass quickly before, but ever since graduation, Chi Shuo felt like time was strapped to a rocket.
The weekend flew by, and suddenly it was Monday. She hadn’t fully recovered yet but was forced by the clock to head back to work at Xinyue.
During the morning rush hour, the roads were congested. Chi Shuo squeezed onto a crowded bus and finally got off.
The morning sun hadn’t yet revealed its demonic claws, but Chi Shuo still couldn’t stand it and opened her umbrella, only closing it when she reached the office building.
The lobby was currently packed. There were many companies in this building. Chi Shuo frowned at the crowd in front of the elevators and braced herself to walk over.
Squeezing into elevators on workdays was routine, but now that the weather was heating up, many people’s body odors were impossible to mask. Chi Shuo had been assaulted by smells before and was now slightly traumatized.
She was jostled all the way up. Unsure if being on a high floor was good or bad, she only felt she could breathe easier once most people had gotten off.
Chi Shuo clocked in outside the Xinyue entrance and entered the office.
There were five minutes until 9 AM. Chi Shuo scanned the room. Unsurprisingly, Xia Zhou, the queen of last-minute arrivals, hadn’t shown up yet.
“Shuo Shuo, here’s the latest schedule update from the weekend. Upload it today; a couple of studios have been pushing for it these past two days. It’s also in your email, double-check it.”
A colleague from the next department handed over a file. Chi Shuo took it and nodded. “Okay.”
Chi Shuo wasn’t overly passionate about her work. Her goal was simply to complete her assigned tasks properly. There was nothing wrong with being an ordinary office worker; life might be a bit boring, but it was indeed the life most people lived, and Chi Shuo was no exception.
Almost all the colleagues had arrived, and it was now 9 AM. The sound of keyboards clicking rose and fell, creating an atmosphere of intense seriousness.
Chi Shuo logged into the backend system, glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of her computer, and mentally counted down five seconds. Before she reached “one,” she heard her supervisor’s voice: “Meeting.”
There were sixteen people in her department. They had a meeting at this time every workday. Chi Shuo grabbed her notebook and pen and followed her department colleagues into the conference room.
Meetings usually lasted at least half an hour. When she came out, Chi Shuo got herself a glass of water.
“Shuo Shuo, should we head up in a bit?” Fang Xiuxiu, sitting next to her, asked while organizing files.
“Head up” meant going upstairs.
Chi Shuo agreed, “Okay.”
During the meeting, the supervisor had assigned them a task: go upstairs to Xiyu’s photographers and copy the photos of the celebrity event from the weekend to upload onto the official website for promotion.
Emailing would have been convenient, but to foster relations, the two companies often required staff to go up and down stairs, since it was close anyway.
This wasn’t Chi Shuo’s first time going upstairs, but now she understood why He Lindi had left the KTV after taking a call on Saturday. Although Chi Shuo hadn’t seen her leave, she could imagine her hurried departure.
Because one of the photographers for this event was He Lindi.
On Saturday afternoon, an artist had unexpectedly arrived in Yun Cheng for an event, requiring Xiyu to arrange a live broadcast immediately. Faced with such sudden circumstances, He Lindi, as one of Xiyu’s photographers, was quickly assigned the job.
Overtime came suddenly for He Lindi, and Chi Shuo knew this wasn’t the first time.
In the elevator, Fang Xiuxiu asked softly, “Shuo Shuo, are you going to find Q Ge or…”
She didn’t say He Lindi’s name, but Chi Shuo understood.
Chi Shuo smiled slightly and replied, “I’ll go find Q Ge.”
“Okay.”
Arriving at Xiyu once again, Chi Shuo felt nothing. She walked straight towards the photography department and stopped by Q Ge’s desk.
Q Ge was what everyone called him; Chi Shuo still didn’t know his real name and just went along with it.
“Q Ge, I’m here to copy the photos from Saturday.”
“Go ahead, it’s the file on the desktop. I’m going to grab some coffee, I’m dead tired.” Q Ge stood up and offered his seat.
“Q Ge, bring me one too.” That was He Lindi’s voice.
In reality, He Lindi’s desk was right next to Q Ge’s. Chi Shuo had seen her the moment she entered but hadn’t made eye contact.
Fang Xiuxiu sat nearby, her USB drive already plugged into He Lindi’s computer, with He Lindi currently copying the files for her.
Q Ge chuckled. “You lazy bum.” He invited Fang Xiuxiu, “Xiao Fang, why don’t you come with me? We can bring a cup back for Chi Shuo too.”
Fang Xiuxiu showed no hesitation and followed him immediately.
Chi Shuo: …
She sat down and plugged her USB drive into the computer.
The artist who attended the event on Saturday was Shen Qu, an actress who had risen to A-list status in the past two years. She was a big name, otherwise He Lindi wouldn’t have been assigned to shoot her. Chi Shuo didn’t know Xiyu that well, but it was no secret that He Lindi only photographed major celebrities.
Xiyu was also filled with the sound of keyboards clicking. Chi Shuo focused intently on her task.
After a couple of seconds, Chi Shuo heard He Lindi call her name: “Chi Shuo.”
Chi Shuo didn’t turn her head, still staring at the computer desktop, but she hummed an “Mm” in response.
He Lindi glanced at Chi Shuo’s desktop, her lips curving upwards. “I have Shen Qu’s autograph here. She signed a few for me the day before yesterday. Want one? I’ll sell it to you cheap.”
Chi Shuo couldn’t help but turn her head slightly. “He Lindi, it’s a real shame you didn’t go into business.”
“Really?”
“Selling autographs, selling films…”
