Chi Shuo remembered that back in high school, when she had a crush on He Lindi, QQ was the primary chat tool.
WeChat hadn’t appeared yet, and even after it did, not many people used it for a long time. As a result, during that period, one of the numbers Chi Shuo most wanted to know was He Lindi’s QQ number.
But she had no way to find out, nor would she proactively ask anyone, since she and He Lindi were practically strangers. The only connection, if any, might have been labels like “both girls” or “same grade.”
Back then, Chi Shuo liked browsing Tieba forums, especially during her crush on He Lindi, because people would post asking for He Lindi’s contact information. Chi Shuo wouldn’t ask or reply; she just hoped to passively pick up the answer. But… even if people managed to add He Lindi’s QQ, they wouldn’t reveal the number in the comments, keeping it tightly under wraps.
Chi Shuo browsed plenty of such posts, and her mindset shifted—from the initial excited fantasy of “If I actually found out He Lindi’s QQ, should I send a friend request?” to the later resignation of “Forget it, I’ll never find out.” All this happened just from reading those posts.
It seemed unrealistic, yet it was her reality.
This mindset stuck with her for a long time, eventually becoming ingrained. It meant that even after she actually got to know He Lindi later, she never took the initiative to add any of her contact details, be it her phone number or WeChat ID. She no longer paid attention or even considered adding her.
She and He Lindi were from two different worlds. He Lindi’s world was filled with flowers, laughter, and cheer, while her own, though not entirely solitary, was far less bustling than He Lindi’s.
Ultimately, even though she had graduated, started working, and could support herself, Chi Shuo still felt a trace of… inferiority around He Lindi.
Because of this inferiority, she still felt the need to draw boundaries with He Lindi.
Because of this inferiority, she still kept a deliberate distance from He Lindi.
And now? Chi Shuo stared at the friend request, lost in thought. It preoccupied her mind even as she walked.
Ten minutes had passed since He Lindi sent the request, but Chi Shuo still hadn’t accepted. She was thinking, hesitating, wondering how she would handle things afterward if she did.
People in both companies familiar with them knew that while they didn’t seem particularly harmonious on the surface, their actual relationship wasn’t terrible. Otherwise, they would surely be plotting against each other by now. But it was true that they hadn’t even added each other on WeChat.
“Sigh.” Chi Shuo flopped onto the sofa, stared at the ceiling, and sighed deeply. Her gaze was somber, her brows tightly knitted.
Anything involving He Lindi always left her feeling this mentally and physically drained. Chi Shuo lifted her hand again, looked at the friend request, and ultimately, tapped the back button.
She decided to handle it like she had when parting with He Lindi that afternoon: pretend she hadn’t heard He Lindi’s words. That way, nothing would be owed.
However, this decision resulted in Chi Shuo having even darker circles under her eyes the next day. When she woke up, she didn’t even have time to eat; she just quickly applied makeup to look less tired and hurried out the door.
It was already Friday, and the workload was again slightly heavier than usual. Chi Shuo had already downed three cups of coffee that morning, struggling to stay alert and prevent work errors, but it was proving difficult for her today.
Fang Xiuxiu pointed out the mistake. It was already lunchtime when she glanced at Chi Shuo’s screen and noticed Chi Shuo had entered a number incorrectly in an information field.
“Shuo Shuo, this should be ‘August 3rd’ written with 日, you wrote 號.”
日 (ri) and 號 (hao) essentially mean the same thing here, but for standardized formatting, 日 is always used.
The date itself was correct, just the character used. In a data table column filled with 日, this error was especially noticeable.
Chi Shuo paused, looked where she pointed, and sure enough, “August 3rd 號” was sitting there.
Chi Shuo touched her forehead and said with a smile, “Thanks.”
After speaking, she quickly maneuvered the mouse to correct the mistake.
Fang Xiuxiu smiled too. “No problem.” She stood up and glanced again at Chi Shuo’s cup, which still held a bit of coffee. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”
Chi Shuo hesitated before nodding, turning her head to look at her. “A little.” She didn’t wait to hear what Fang Xiuxiu might say next. “You should hurry and get lunch.”
“Okay, I’ll head off then.”
People in the company were gradually heading out. After Fang Xiuxiu left, Chi Shuo put her head down on the desk and closed her eyes.
Zeng Guai had already messaged her, saying she was heading to the restroom and asking Chi Shuo to wait there so they could go to lunch together.
Lunch… Chi Shuo’s mind automatically replayed the scene of parting ways with He Lindi yesterday.
Another two minutes passed. Zeng Guai walked up to her, wiping her hands, and patted her shoulder. “Shuo Shuo, let’s go, time for lunch.”
Chi Shuo mumbled a listless “Mm” and followed her out.
“Is Xia Zhou going home for lunch today?” Chi Shuo asked curiously.
Zeng Guai shook her head, glanced left and right, then whispered, “She went to the internet cafe with Yue Ke to play games.”
“…” A question occurred to Chi Shuo. “Are she and Yue Ke dating?”
Zeng Guai couldn’t resist patting her arm. “You need to take a look at yourself. Why are you so behind on the news? Don’t you care enough about us?”
Chi Shuo raised an eyebrow, entered the elevator with her, lowered her voice as well, and teased, “Shouldn’t ‘care’ be replaced with ‘gossip’?”
“Long story short…” Zeng Guai cleared her throat. “They’ve been together for a few days now.”
Chi Shuo nodded. “That’s good.”
They had missed the elevator rush hour and quickly reached the first floor. The sunlight outside was blinding, prompting Chi Shuo to open her umbrella.
Zeng Guai huddled under the umbrella too, looking at Chi Shuo with a hint of curious amusement in her eyes.
Chi Shuo asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How did things… develop between you and He Lindi last night?” Zeng Guai finished speaking and immediately felt the wording was off. “No, wait, how did things progress? Eh, that’s not right either. I’m thinking, I’m not illiterate, am I? I graduated from university, after all…”
Chi Shuo pressed her lips together. “…”
“Ai! I just wanted to ask, you and He Lindi didn’t argue, right?” Zeng Guai finally landed on this question.
Chi Shuo frowned slightly and countered, “In your eyes, am I always either arguing with He Lindi or about to argue with her, is that it?”
Zeng Guai had warned her before the Beijing business trip, and after she spent some time alone with He Lindi yesterday afternoon, here Zeng Guai was, gossiping again.
And the topic was always “arguing.” Chi Shuo couldn’t help but wonder why.
“I…” Zeng Guai craned her neck. “Isn’t it because you’re love rivals? Love rivals just don’t like the sight of each other.”
“True enough.” Chi Shuo nodded. The surrounding heat seemed to cling to her skin, making her extremely uncomfortable. “I don’t like the sight of her.”
Zeng Guai sighed again. “Honestly, Shuo Shuo, I quite like Didi.”
“I know,” Chi Shuo looked at her. “I fully support you guys being friends with her.”
“Maybe I’m being nosy, but I also hope you two could be friends. The love rival thing happened so long ago.”
Chi Shuo paused her steps and asked softly, “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” Zeng Guai rubbed the back of her neck and stammered, “Turns out I was overthinking it. You didn’t even accept her WeChat friend request.”
Chi Shuo stared at her. “You know about that?”
“How could I not know?”
“She asked for your WeChat ID a long time ago—maybe a few months ago, or even earlier.”
