Jian You stood on the small second-floor balcony.
Her camel-colored boots pressed into the patchy old snow, leaving deep, incomplete footprints. From this angle, she could see the window to Yun Chu’s room. The curtains were drawn, allowing light to seep in slowly.
Little by little.
It was just like how Yun Chu had seeped into her life during those long, lonely years in a foreign country.
Jian You could hold her liquor well, perhaps having inherited the “fine” genes of her gambler father. She had a reputation in the directing department for being able to drink anyone under the table, which was why so many people had come to toast her at the graduation dinner. She’d accepted every one, and even though she was dizzy enough to need Yun Chu’s support by the end, she had still retained a sliver of clarity.
She remembered her.
Especially those peach-blossom eyes. In her few memories, they always seemed to be sparkling as they looked at her. In the classroom, in the cafeteria, on set, and backstage at the graduation ceremony.
She must like me, Jian You had thought as the girl held her. She smelled the sweet, peach-like fragrance on her. After Jian You had publicly come out, her number of suitors hadn’t decreased; in fact, it had grown.
The men wanted to turn her straight. The women, on the other hand, took advantage of their shared gender to pursue her even more aggressively.
Unfortunately, she was too busy trying to make money to have time for romance. So all those sparkling, expectant gazes were completely ignored by her.
And yet, she couldn’t ignore them entirely.
Especially on a summer night of farewells like this one.
We probably won’t see each other again, so it’s okay to let loose a little, right? The muddled thought fermented in her mind until she pushed the girl onto the bed and bit her lip.
Her first kiss.
With a girl whose name she didn’t even know. Her lips moved against the other’s, like a spark that set a wildfire across their bodies. She thought, So this is how soft a girl’s lips are. It was like the pink cotton candy she’d eaten one summer—cloyingly sweet with every bite, yet she couldn’t help but take another, and then another.
Jian You suddenly felt that being in a relationship with her wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t need to be earth-shattering. She would try to love this girl, maybe even use the lame jokes she’d learned from her teacher to make her happy.
She seemed to like her a lot. It should be easy to make her happy, right?
And so she kissed her more fervently. She heard the girl let out a soft cry above her, like a kitten, as if encouraging her to please her with techniques based only on theory.
Jian You thought she was truly a good teacher, excellent at putting theory into practice.
It was a beautiful night.
She allowed herself to appreciate a different kind of beauty, to accept another person with her entire being. As their skin touched, she heard her own heartbeat resonating with the other’s, the friction between them igniting a fire.
Then, she fell asleep, completely unguarded.
Yun Chu’s door opened.
Jian You looked up. Yun Chu had clearly rushed out of bed after seeing her message, not even taking the time to put on shoes. The heating in the living room wasn’t as strong, and her feet flinched as they touched the floor.
She paid it no mind, simply standing in the doorway and looking at Jian You. A tuft of hair stuck up on her head, making her look dazed and very cute.
Jian You knocked the snow from the soles of her boots on the edge of the balcony, then pushed open the door and walked in. The melted snow left footprints on the floor. She frowned, annoyed at her own carelessness. Just as she was wondering if she should clean up the mess first, Yun Chu grabbed her wrist.
Jian You’s expression faltered slightly.
She looked up.
Her eyes met Yun Chu’s, which were red-rimmed. The hand gripping her wrist tightened, and Yun Chu’s lips trembled. “Teacher Jian… you-you don’t remember me? You-”
Her voice grew quieter. “You do remember me, don’t you?”
Tears streamed down her face.
Yun Chu thought about how long this question had been circling in her mind. She no longer knew what answer she wanted.
Before coming on the dating show, she had hoped Jian You remembered. Even if she didn’t know her name, she wanted her to remember her face, remember that she was the first person she’d slept with, remember all the recklessness of that night. She wanted that memory to be forever imprinted on Jian You’s mind, something to recall even in old age.
But after reuniting with Jian You, she found herself hoping she didn’t remember.
Jian You hadn’t intended to recognize her. All their interactions since reuniting were tinged with deception. Jian You was only nice to her because of the script, a dramatic plotline handwritten by the show’s screenwriters to boost ratings.
And Jian You herself, with her superb acting, had secured the investment for her new film.
Jian You watched her quietly, a storm of emotions hidden in her eyes. She pulled her wrist from Yun Chu’s grasp, but her fingertips landed on her cheek, gently wiping it.
A scalding tear rolled down Jian You’s finger.
“Ah,” Jian You said slowly. She tucked a strand of hair behind Yun Chu’s ear, a careless smile on her face. “That little kid.”
She remembered.
Yun Chu’s heart sank.
Jian You’s smile vanished. Her fingers, holding the strand of hair, tightened slightly before she gently let go, as if afraid of hurting her. “Didn’t you say ‘thank you’ and then run away?”
She asked Yun Chu, “So does it really matter whether I remember who it was?”
Sleep with someone and run.
Only Yun Chu could come up with something like that.
God knows how stunned she’d been when she woke up, ready to embark on a beautiful romance, only to find that note on the nightstand. She had read those few words over and over, no less than a hundred times, until she was finally convinced: she had been slept with, and that person had no intention of taking any responsibility.
“I…” Yun Chu’s eyes darted around in a panic for a second. She wiped away her tears. “I-I left a message on the back, too. Didn’t you see it?”
Jian You’s expression froze. “What did you say?”
“On the back, I said,” Yun Chu sniffled, “I said, ‘Of course, if you want to find me, you can call my number.’ I left my number.” Seeing Jian You’s expression, she had a sudden realization. “You didn’t see it.”
She hadn’t seen it.
Of course she hadn’t. She was such a proud person. Seeing the words “We both had a great time last night, thank you” had already been a deep blow to her pride. She’d read it a hundred times to desensitize herself. Once she was numb enough, she threw the note in the trash.
She got dressed, checked out of the hotel, and left that night of absurdity behind.
Jian You let out a laugh. “So melodramatic.”
She had filmed so many movies and read so many scripts. Most of the brilliant stories were melodramatic, full of twists and turns that kept you watching.
But when it happened to her, all she wanted to do was laugh. And get angry.
She was angry at herself. It turned out her kite had never intended to fly away. She had foolishly let it go, wasting years in the process. Even though it had eventually found its way back into her hands, it couldn’t suppress the irritation now bubbling up from the bottom of her heart.
She opened her mouth. “Actually, later-”
Just then, footsteps sounded from the staircase. Someone was rushing up, calling her and Yun Chu’s names. It sounded like Yun Chu’s follow PD. Jian You glanced in that direction, let go of Yun Chu, and retreated to a safe distance. “Let’s have breakfast first.”
With that, she walked past Yun Chu and headed downstairs.
She came face-to-face with Yun Chu’s follow PD, Xiao Lan, who was carrying a camera with the lens pointed squarely at her. The situation had spiraled so far out of control that she couldn’t maintain her composure. As she passed Xiao Lan, she said coldly, “Cut this part out.”
Xiao Lan was taken aback. “O-Okay, Teacher Jian!”
The atmosphere at breakfast was strange.
An undercurrent of tension flowed through their exchanged glances. Even the production team sensed something was off and gave them cues from off-camera to interact more. Zhu Wan’er cleared her throat. “Um, I’m going on a date with Jian You today. Do you guys have plans?”
“We do,” Wen Xi said, eating a piece of bread. “We made a little group chat and rolled dice. Yun Chu and I got the same number, so we decided to do an escape room today!”
“With your courage?” Meng Zhaozhao frowned.
“What’s wrong with my courage?” Wen Xi retorted defensively. “The theme we picked is historical. I’ll be wearing my Hanfu. We’ll see who’s scaring who!”
Pei Wan asked Yun Chu, “Are you brave?”
“I’m okay,” Yun Chu said. “Brave enough for an escape room.”
“What about you two?” Wen Xi asked. “President Pei and… Meng Zhaozhao, where are you going for your date?”
“President Pei said she wants to play golf,” Meng Zhaozhao said. “It’s a good chance for me to learn a new skill. Right, President Pei? You’ll teach me, won’t you?”
Pei Wan nodded with a smile. “Not if you’re too clumsy.”
Wen Xi made a noncommittal “tsk” sound, then affectionately linked her arm with Yun Chu’s, swaying it back and forth as she wheedled, “I’m not very brave, Yun Chu. You’ll have to protect me.”
The swaying made Yun Chu’s grip on her glass unsteady, and milk spilled onto her hand. A napkin was suddenly offered from the side—from Jian You’s direction.
Yun Chu froze for a moment. Jian You pressed the napkin into her palm. Yun Chu instinctively took it and wiped the back of her hand, then smiled at Wen Xi. “Just make sure you and the NPCs don’t scare me to death.”
Wen Xi snatched the napkin from her and started wiping her hand for her. “I won’t~~~”
Meng Zhaozhao lowered her head.
And rolled her eyes.
After breakfast, the guests went to get their hair and makeup done before heading to their respective date locations. The production team also got busy, with each unit following its assigned group. The post-production crew was also hard at work, racing against the clock to finish the second episode for its scheduled release.
“Don’t you think Yun Chu and Jian You were acting weird today?” the director asked the assistant director as they reviewed the footage.
“Was it?” the assistant director said. “I mean, I can always find something to ship between them, but then I remember Jian You is just being nice to Yun Chu according to the script, and the candy instantly turns to poison. Tsk tsk tsk.”
“Are you sure it’s just the script?” The director was skeptical. “When the milk spilled on Yun Chu’s hand, Jian You handing her a napkin was practically a reflex!”
“…Yeah, and after breakfast, she even asked a staff member if they had any burn cream.”
“The milk wasn’t even hot.”
“…”
They looked at each other and said in unison, “She’s so in love with her.”
An assistant couldn’t take it anymore. “How are you guys even more invested than the audience?!”
The audience was, indeed, very invested.
Those who didn’t believe in the script were convinced it was a genuine display of emotion. The two were destined for each other—they graduated from the same school, were neighbors, and were on a dating show together. Jian You calling Yun Chu an “obedient little kid” and wanting to help her fulfill her wishes was enough to make them lose their minds. They were practically shouting through megaphones: Jia Jian Cheng Chu, get married right now!
Of course, those who believed in the script had their own way of shipping, and their takes were so bizarre that the solo stans were left speechless, able only to rage: Still shipping! You’re still fucking shipping!
The CP fans immediately retorted: Why shouldn’t we? Do you know what it means for a business relationship to turn into real feelings? Do you understand the emotional shift of seeing someone as a business partner, only to develop a sense of possessiveness, to see them as your own? You don’t understand anything! You only care about yourselves! Unlike me, who cries for other people’s love stories.
Solo stans: …They’re a lost cause. Just carry them away.
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