It wasn’t the weekend yet, Friday still remained, but Chi Shuo, surprisingly, didn’t fall asleep after showering and drying her hair.
Her routine had been stable for the past two months. Aside from staying up late when busy with Xiang Qingya’s project, she hadn’t stayed up until 2 AM in a long time.
This insomnia wasn’t unexpected, alright, perhaps still a bit surprising to Chi Shuo.
She hadn’t expected her frosty relationship with He Lindi to thaw, and that she herself would be the one initiating it.
It should count as thawing, right? After she suggested He Lindi teach her drawing again, she received He Lindi’s calm response.
It was indeed calm, just a nasal “Mm” that fell into the cold wind. If Chi Shuo’s hearing wasn’t sharp, she might have missed it.
But that wasn’t the point. Chi Shuo was still pondering why, after parting ways with Zeng Guai, she had hailed a taxi back to that place. Actually, even in the car, Chi Shuo had considered the possibility of He Lindi already being gone. Thinking it through, Chi Shuo felt she wouldn’t lose anything, at most just the round-trip taxi fare.
In the end, He Lindi was sitting on the bench, head lowered, lost in thought. Chi Shuo stood there for several minutes, wrestling with herself before finally walking over.
And now, she was faced with the current situation of tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Chi Shuo simply gave up, sat up against the headboard, turned on the warm bedside lamp beside her, grabbed a book from the nightstand, and started reading.
This method proved effective. Chi Shuo had only flipped through two pages before her eyelids started fighting, inseparable.
But she still slept late. Chi Shuo finally realized that whenever she slept late, her body would retaliate, primarily manifesting as—dark circles.
Looking in the mirror, Chi Shuo let out a long sigh. It was winter; applying and removing makeup felt troublesome, but she had no choice but to retrieve her long-unused makeup kit and start touching up her complexion in the mirror.
As a result, she had no time for breakfast, even vaguely sensing she might be late. Chi Shuo rushed to the bus stop. Arriving at the company right on time, she couldn’t help feeling this scene was exceptionally familiar.
About two or three months ago, she had also rushed like this due to insomnia, and the reason, after so long, was still the same: He Lindi.
Sitting at her workstation, Chi Shuo looked at Fang Xiuxiu, who had also just arrived. “Xiuxiu, what time do you think I slept last night?”
Fang Xiuxiu studied her face seriously for a few seconds and concluded, “10:30 PM.”
Chi Shuo smiled. “That’s good then.”
“What ‘that’s good then’?” Fang Xiuxiu was somewhat confused.
“Nothing, just saying going to bed early and waking up early, not being late, is good.”
Only after saying this did Chi Shuo realize a serious problem—in her rush this morning, she had forgotten her gloves, which were still in her bedroom.
Now, her fair hands were exposed to the air without protection. Chi Shuo paused for two seconds, swallowed, then rubbed her hands together. Feeling the temperature wasn’t too low yet, she relaxed slightly.
The taste of chilblains, she really didn’t want to experience it again.
Because she hadn’t slept well, Chi Shuo felt somewhat drowsy during the morning meeting. And unfortunately, this time a colleague presented a PowerPoint, sharing their previous work experience. Chi Shuo felt even sleepier listening but had to force herself to stay awake.
“Let’s leave it at that for now. Meeting adjourned.” Finally, the supervisor’s words fell, and Chi Shuo welcomed liberation.
Exiting the conference room, Chi Shuo wanted to head straight to the break room for a cup of coffee to wake herself up, but He Xiuqi stopped her.
He Xiuqi didn’t intend to delay her, just smiled teasingly. “Xiao Chi Jie, haven’t seen you this sleepy in a long time.”
Chi Shuo yawned and replied, “Do you know that phrase?”
“Which one?”
“Spring drowsiness, autumn fatigue, summer naps, never enough sleep in winter’s three months. Who can escape?” Chi Shuo waved her hand. “No more talk, I’m going to get some coffee first.”
“Okay.”
Work required absolute focus; no mistakes were allowed. Chi Shuo took a while to gather her spirits and concentrate on her work.
Actually, the company’s event next month still involved their department quite a bit. Previously, it was just small fan meet & greets. Now, suddenly having a large-scale meet & greet, Xinyue Company attached extreme importance to it, thus requiring everyone to be serious and not make any mistakes.
This was the starting point for Xinyue Company in the new year of 2019. Only by making it glamorous and outstanding could they become increasingly famous in the industry, develop more steadily. And as a member of Xinyue, Chi Shuo, already proactive and serious about her work, now had even less inclination to slack off.
A morning passed just like that.
Only when Fang Xiuxiu patted her shoulder at noon, saying it was time for lunch, did she realize it was already twelve o’clock.
Chi Shuo stretched lazily, tilted her head slightly, and said to Zeng Guai, who was walking towards her, “Quick, help me press my shoulders, I’m exhausted.”
Zeng Guai obediently pressed them twice and asked, “Why are you so tired?” She looked at Chi Shuo’s face, surprised, and chuckled. “Dark circles! You finally have dark circles again!”
Chi Shuo patted her hand away and stood up. “Are you worried others don’t know how loud your voice is?” She sighed. “Let’s go, time to eat.”
Zeng Guai became puzzled again. “Where are your gloves?”
“Forgot them at home.”
“Tsk.” Zeng Guai walked out alongside her. “Rare to see you this careless. Why do I feel like you’re going to get chilblains today?”
Chi Shuo glanced at her and chuckled softly. “Let me put it out there first, if I get chilblains when I go back today, it’s your fault.”
“…Fuck, Chi Shuo, what kind of person are you?”
Just as Zeng Guai finished speaking, the elevator doors opened. Since they were still on a relatively high floor, and this office building had many elevators, it wasn’t too crowded inside.
Chi Shuo wiped the smile off her face and entered the elevator expressionlessly. This rapid change of face was solely because she encountered the culprit who caused her insomnia and drowsiness—He Lindi.
Only, unlike before, He Lindi wasn’t standing ramrod straight in the middle like a little poplar tree this time but leaning somewhat lazily against the back wall, where Chi Shuo usually preferred to stand.
Zeng Guai’s eyes lit up. Entering, she greeted He Lindi, “Didi, are you also going to the cafeteria at noon?”
Chi Shuo stood at the very front. Fortunately, she was wearing a long down jacket; even if her body stiffened, others wouldn’t notice.
“Mm.” He Lindi replied with just a nasal hum again.
But this was enough for Zeng Guai. She continued, “Then want to go together?”
He Lindi glanced towards where Chi Shuo was standing. She suppressed the urge to smile, maintaining her calm expression. “Next time.”
Zeng Guai wasn’t low EQ; she also knew Chi Shuo and He Lindi’s current relationship had returned to its previous state, perhaps even worse. But since last night, she felt maybe eating together wouldn’t cause the earth to explode, right?
That settled it. Winter meals together, more people means more warmth and liveliness, most suitable.
Unfortunately, He Lindi didn’t agree this time.
Just as Zeng Guai felt slightly disappointed, He Lindi spoke again, but the content left her somewhat confused, even bewildered: “Won’t what?”
There were other people in the elevator. This sentence traveled the short distance to Chi Shuo’s ears. Perhaps only she could understand it.
He Lindi was asking her about drawing, asking what she still couldn’t do.
Them… They always had this tacit understanding.
Zeng Guai was still puzzled. “What ‘won’t what’?”
He Lindi slowly shook her head. Chi Shuo’s lack of response made the smile in her eyes surface. Her reply fell into Chi Shuo’s ears: “What won’t you eat?”
She found an excuse to cover it up.
Zeng Guai indeed reacted. “Me? I’m not picky. Like the pig liver Shuo Shuo won’t eat, I have no qualms.”
“Pretty good.” He Lindi’s words remained few. Zeng Guai had gradually gotten used to it, but she felt today’s He Lindi was somewhat different, though she couldn’t describe how.
Truly strange.
Fortunately, the tiring work week was ending. Friday afternoon, Chi Shuo’s lifted lips hadn’t come down.
Going to the elevator with Xia Zhou and the others, Chi Shuo felt a bit of a psychological shadow, afraid of running into He Lindi again. Fortunately, this time was a perfect miss. Chi Shuo looked at the time, belatedly realizing: He Lindi got off work at six, how could it always be such a coincidence?
After work, Chi Shuo didn’t go straight home. She went to Han Yu’s KTV. Han Yu had messaged her on WeChat, saying she needed to announce something very important, and Chi Shuo absolutely had to be there.
Chi Shuo could guess with her toes that Han Yu was likely getting together with that 3p girl.
No, that title was truly inappropriate. Chi Shuo gave her another nickname: Bar Girl.
This sounded much better than the previous one. When Han Yu told her what to call her, she would change it again.
Arriving at the KTV, the manager, already familiar with her, led her directly to a luxurious small private room.
Han Yu was currently sitting inside, very quietly. The lyrics on the display screen kept changing, but Han Yu had already muted the sound.
Chi Shuo entered and asked, “Why aren’t you singing?”
“Caught a cold.” Han Yu pointed at her throat. Chi Shuo listened to her speak and felt her voice was indeed excessively hoarse.
No wonder she messaged her this time instead of calling.
The air conditioning was on in the room. Chi Shuo took off her down jacket and poured herself a glass of water. “Speak then.” She said, “I need to go home and draw after you finish.”
Han Yu chuckled. “Quickly draw me a manga portrait, I’m still waiting in line.”
Chi Shuo grinned, then heard Han Yu cough lightly before saying, “Me, I want to confess on Christmas.”
Chi Shuo couldn’t help looking at the time on her phone again, wanting to confirm she hadn’t misremembered. “It’s the seventh now, still about twenty days left. Planning so early?” She said, “Then what are you preparing?”
“I don’t know either.”
“So I came to discuss it with you.”
Chi Shuo immediately opened the search engine and started planning and discussing with the sick Han Yu.
Leaving the KTV, Chi Shuo only then noticed it had started raining in Yuncheng. It was only 8:30 PM, but the winter daylight was extremely short. The sky had long since turned completely dark, seemingly threatening to swallow all light.
Han Yu gave Chi Shuo an umbrella and sent someone to drive her home.
Walking in the winter rain wasn’t pleasant. The wind, supported by the rain, became even more unrestrained, relentlessly lashing at passersby.
After returning home, Chi Shuo immediately changed out of her mostly wet shoes. She had accidentally stepped into a puddle on the way, and ordinary shoes couldn’t possibly block it, making her uncomfortable the whole way back.
She quickly showered. Before blow-drying her hair, Chi Shuo noticed something amiss—the joint of her right little finger started feeling hot.
Chi Shuo’s heart skipped a beat: Damn it, getting chilblains?!
She had only gone one day without gloves. It really shouldn’t treat the innocent, pitiful her like this, right? Getting her shoes wet in a puddle was bad enough, and now the threat of chilblains reappearing in her world loomed. Chi Shuo wanted to cry but had no tears.
But before it swelled, there was still time.
Chi Shuo warmed her hands while calling Zeng Guai.
Zeng Guai immediately laughed upon hearing this, then apologized. “Sorry, Sister Shuo, it’s all my fault, my mouth is blessed.”
Chi Shuo snorted coldly, then heard her say, “How about this, to compensate you, I’ll make another prediction, that is…” She said, “You’ll definitely get out of singledom within three months.”
Chi Shuo: “…”
Chi Shuo was puzzled. “It’s winter, there’s barely any sun, are you still parched?”
“Why are you bringing me into this again?”
“Otherwise, why predict things for me?”
“Didn’t I think you could find a partner?”
Chi Shuo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need one. You cheer yourself on. I’m going to blow-dry my hair.”
Zeng Guai went “Eh,” stopping her, gossiping, “Are you still in touch with your neighbor younger brother?”
“Not much contact.” Chi Shuo answered truthfully. Since National Day, Tong Jinjin hadn’t messaged her much.
This made Chi Shuo heave a long sigh of relief; otherwise, she really wouldn’t know how to reject the young man’s affection in a way that minimized hurt. After all… it was impossible.
If Tong Jinjin could like someone else in his new environment, that would be for the best.
“Sigh,” Zeng Guai sighed.
“What are you sighing about?”
“I feel like my prediction is going to fail this time.”
“Isn’t that perfect.”
Chi Shuo had already become very open about romance now. It had been three years since her last relationship, and it could be the fourth or fifth year. She had never been the type who couldn’t stand being single and had to be in a relationship.
The chilblain sprout on her right little finger seemed almost nipped in the bud by Chi Shuo. She rescued it urgently for a while, and the itching subsided significantly, leaving only a faint sensation.
But this faint feeling was like a reed tickling her heart, making her somewhat unable to sleep again.
Chi Shuo lay in bed for a long while, then picked up her iPad and pen again, opening the drawing software.
She could guess He Lindi already knew about her secret account. Moreover, she felt He Lindi posted that Weibo update deliberately.
Because she could see it.
Chi Shuo felt again that she and He Lindi were truly… remarkably in sync. Thinking back carefully, it seemed their coordination had always been like this. For example, that time at the bar when someone tried to get He Lindi’s WeChat, the two showed extremely high tacit understanding.
Before putting pen to paper, Chi Shuo closed her eyes and carefully recalled the evening’s scene, then started drawing.
What she needed to learn now were details and paneling. Her experience was still shallow, sometimes handling these aspects inadequately.
Xiang Qingya was moved by her drawing not because it was exceptionally good, but simply because she had drawn the ending.
Drawing portraits for Zeng Guai and Wang Rui wasn’t very difficult, usually just the upper body, i.e., a headshot. Once it involved the whole body and scenery, Chi Shuo struggled to draw well. He Lindi, on the other hand, had no difficulty in this aspect; every picture on her secret account Weibo was drawn very well.
If not for only updating her Weibo twice a year, Chi Shuo felt her follower count should be much higher.
Time passed, minute by minute, second by second. Chi Shuo threw herself into it. Finally, around 1 AM, she stopped drawing.
She drew He Lindi sitting on the bench under the tree, and herself standing not far away. Passersby hurried past, only the two of them seemed frozen by a spell.
Chi Shuo let out a long breath. She rubbed her somewhat dry eyes, then clicked into Weibo.
And then she saw the Weibo post He Lindi had sent half an hour ago, again the system-generated four words “Shared Image.”
Chi Shuo yawned, tapped the thumbnail with her fingertip, and the image completely filled the screen.
This time, there was only one drawing. The scene inside was similar to Chi Shuo’s drawing, just that the content was somewhat different.
He Lindi drew the moment Chi Shuo stood before her, one slightly lowered her head, the other slowly lifted her eyes, the picture freezing at this moment.
Someone in the comments expressed surprise.
【OMG, updated three pictures this year!!!】
【Did you already post next year’s update in advance?】
Chi Shuo chuckled softly, long-pressed the image to save, then routinely reposted: 【Was there such an action?】
She didn’t remember He Lindi looking up at her; clearly, she had stood up expressionlessly. If she hadn’t grabbed her wrist, He Lindi wouldn’t even have made an “Mm” sound.
This made Chi Shuo couldn’t help but start thinking again about why He Lindi had become like this now, taciturn and striving to appear indifferent.
Chi Shuo scrolled down the comments again. One comment caught her eye: 【Is it just me, or does it feel like the artist is showing affection? Two consecutive pictures are so sweet.】
Generally, those starting with “Is it just me” were mostly trolls, but this time, many people echoed their agreement.
Chi Shuo looked bewildered; weren’t these just pictures He Lindi drew casually?
Chi Shuo felt even more baffled. She clicked back, refreshed her feed again. The next second, He Lindi’s new Weibo post from her secret account jumped out.
She had reposted the “Is it just me” comment, adding a caption—
Sweet?
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