“Am I interrupting?” Zhou Jia leaned against the door with a smile. “Still in a meeting?”
“No meeting here. Just two people—what kind of meeting would that be?” Qu Boyuan eagerly stood up and pulled out a chair. “Weren’t you supposed to return next week? When did you get back? Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve picked you up.”
Zhou Jia’s university orchestra had been on a campus tour. Even though she had only been gone for half a month, Qu Boyuan’s constant complaints had nearly worn Li Xuan’s ears out.
“I had to come back temporarily for some missing paperwork for my new job. I’m leaving again tomorrow,” Zhou Jia explained. She turned to greet Li Xuan, “Did you enjoy the play last time?”
“Yes, still haven’t properly thanked you.”
“Boyuan already passed it along for you,” Zhou Jia smiled, then glanced at the office door to see if it was fully closed. She leaned in slightly and asked mysteriously, “Isn’t Sheng Min returning to N City this afternoon?”
Li Xuan’s expression faltered almost instantly. His brows twitched slightly, but when he met Zhou Jia’s curious gaze, he quickly regained his composure.
“Did I say something wrong?” Zhou Jia asked, looking puzzled.
“No,” Li Xuan lowered his gaze. Zhou Jia wasn’t aware of who the theater ticket was bought for, nor had she connected the dots between these incidents. She had simply asked casually. It was his guilty conscience that made him so sensitive.
“I don’t know,” he murmured softly.
Zhou Jia didn’t seem to mind. “The schedule I saw on my friend’s social media says tomorrow they’re recording Pick Your Moon. His styling in the last episode was stunning… Honestly, I don’t know. I just thought you might, since you know him. Don’t worry; I’m the type of mom fan who never pursues private schedules,” she joked.
Li Xuan didn’t respond—he had nothing to say.
Did he really not know? That was true, yet not entirely.
It had been a week since returning from the ancient town. The vending machine and LED screen downstairs had long since replaced the fan-made support videos with advertisements. They hadn’t contacted each other once.
He restrained himself from looking up any updates about Sheng Min, hoping that in a completely calm state, he could figure out the proper way to handle their relationship. But it was useless. Even with nothing to see, Sheng Min’s face under the moonlight—sculpted and pure, with soft hair and steady breaths—lingered in his thoughts.
Of course, he also remembered every part of Sheng Min’s schedule. Every bit he had ever learned was now etched in his mind as a set of numbers.
The filming location was 1,700 kilometers from N City, a two-hour-and-fifteen-minute flight away, whereas the studio recording “Pick Your Moon” was only 24 kilometers from here. If he wanted, starting from the office, it would take him just 40 minutes to see him.
The only uncertainty lay in Sheng Min’s response that night. What did he mean? Did he agree to give him time? If so, how much? Or was it all just his self-deception, an illusion while everything had already ended?
“This isn’t necessarily connected. You didn’t tell me when you came back either,” Qi Boyuan’s timely interjection broke the tension. Whether intentional or not, it was hard to tell.
“That’s hardly comparable.”
“Have you had lunch yet?” Qi Boyuan glanced at the time. “Why don’t you wait outside for a bit? I have a few things to discuss with Li Xuan, then I’ll accompany you for lunch.”
“You don’t have to; I can grab something myself.”
“It’s no trouble.” Qi Boyuan handed her his bag. “I’ll be quick.”
“Is everything okay?” Qi Boyuan asked once Zhou Jia had left. He knocked on the table lightly.
“What do you mean?” Li Xuan looked up.
Qi Boyuan seemed to hesitate, then redirected his words. “She doesn’t know.”
Li Xuan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Know what?”
“You’ve got me there. Honestly, I don’t know either… Just that you’ve been preoccupied lately.” Qi Boyuan shrugged helplessly. “Coming to lunch?”
Li Xuan shifted his gaze. “Go ahead without me.”
“Why? You’re just working, I assume. Eating won’t stop that.”
“You’re eating with your girlfriend—why would I tag along?” Li Xuan said indifferently. “Are you short of lighting or something? Need me to hold a flashlight for you?”
“Come on, it’s just a casual meal. We all know each other.”
“No.” Li Xuan pinched the bridge of his nose. Seeing Qi Boyuan wasn’t leaving, he got up and shoved him out the door. “Go take her out. I need to work on a new feature.”
“Working and eating don’t conflict, you know…”
Qi Boyuan’s protest was cut short as Li Xuan decisively shut the door.
He could hear faint voices outside—likely Zhou Jia asking if Li Xuan wasn’t coming. The response was too quiet to catch, but the voices soon faded as they walked away.
Midway through the afternoon, both Chu Tianheng and the admin team asked if he wanted to join in on ordering food. Li Xuan declined, lacking any appetite. Eventually, to avoid more interruptions, he locked the door.
Sitting back at his desk, he tried to focus on coding, but his mouse kept drifting toward the WeChat icon. The cursor lingered in the chat box as he typed out a long message, only to delete it word by word.
Sheng Min’s profile picture was a faint gray shadow. Li Xuan stared at it for a long time, lost in thought, as exhaustion surged over him from all directions. In the end, he closed the app.
Opening the editor again, he attempted to code, but his thoughts wandered uncontrollably. His hands continued moving over the keyboard as if on autopilot, while the honking cars outside faded into a distant hum. Then, a sudden knock on the door jolted him out of his daze. The sharp sound of the lock turning was particularly jarring.
Snapping out of his fog, he looked at the screen only to find a garbled mess of code. Frustrated, he deleted it all, pressed his temples, and stood up impatiently to open the door. “Who knocked just now?”
“Me.” Qi Boyuan peeked out from the adjacent office. He paused, noticing Li Xuan’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Why are you back so soon?”
“How long does lunch take?… Who upset you this time?”
“No one,” Li Xuan replied flatly, checking the time. Two hours had already passed. He turned back and sat at his desk again.
“Sure doesn’t look like it. Anyway, you’ve been snappier lately.” Qi Boyuan followed him in, placing a meal box on the desk. “Senior said you skipped lunch? You pulling an all-nighter or something? Anyway, here’s some chicken rice—eat while it’s hot.”
Li Xuan wasn’t hungry, but he also didn’t feel like arguing over such trivial matters. Realizing he couldn’t even recall when his last meal was, he opened the box anyway. “Zhou Jia left already?”
“Nope, she’s outside watching videos. She has a meeting later nearby, so she’ll head over in a bit.” Qi Boyuan lingered for a moment, seemingly reluctant to leave. “Take your time eating. I’ll head out.”
Noticing Qi Boyuan’s hesitation, Li Xuan called him back. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
“Just eat first—it’s nothing urgent.”
Clicking his tongue impatiently, Li Xuan put down his chopsticks. “What, has someone else set their sights on us already?”
“Not even close—it’s personal.” Qi Boyuan grinned. “I was wondering if I could get a two-month advance on my salary.”
