Shi Zhi didn’t reply to Fu Xiling’s teasing messages. Shen Jia also kept sending her messages, asking her out for a meal. But dinner wasn’t going to solve the actual problem, so Shi Zhi ignored him as well.

In a foul mood, she bought some cold noodles back to her dorm but only ate a few bites before losing her appetite. Despite this, Shi Zhi still attended her two afternoon classes as usual. A boyfriend was just one part of life. Losing focus in the morning was already bad enough—she wouldn’t let this issue affect her entire day.

Shen Jia reached out again after Shi Zhi’s two classes were over. Since their relationship was good in the past, Shi Zhi had once shared her class schedule with him. He had memorized it and often timed his visits to pick her up right after class. This time, however, perhaps to avoid a scene like the one in the cafeteria, he didn’t wait for her in person. Instead, he sent her a message:

“I’m sorry, Shi Zhi. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you. I was afraid you’d overthink it if I told you she was a girl.”

“Can we talk in person? Please?”

Shi Zhi never interfered with her boyfriend’s friendships with women. She had met some of Shen Jia’s female senior and junior classmates before and got along well with them. On Shen Jia’s birthday, there had even been several girls present at his celebration.

Shen Jia knew perfectly well that she wasn’t the jealous type of girlfriend, yet he had still been afraid to mention Tao Jia’s gender. This could only mean one thing:

He had a guilty conscience and didn’t deserve her trust.

And the truth was exactly that.

Scrolling back through Tao Jia’s Weibo posts, Shi Zhi noticed that Shen Jia had commented on nearly every single one.

From those posts, Shi Zhi pieced together a vivid image of the girl:

Tao Jia was studying art at a university abroad. She had won awards for her oil paintings and also played the violin. Her profile picture—a vibrant painting—was one of her own works. Sometimes she wore elegant dresses to attend small gatherings with friends.

She was about the same height as Shi Zhi, but if her weight ever reached 49kg, she would post that she was “too fat” and resolve to give up carbs, eating only salads and protein.

Most of the time, her updates were simply photos of art exhibits or gourmet food, with little to no captions. Yet even for these, Shen Jia would leave comments and chat with her.

Six months ago, Tao Jia had posted a photo of lobster pasta and steak.

Shen Jia had commented, “How does it taste?”

Tao Jia had replied with a crying emoji: “Not good. When you come, I’ll take you to try it—no way I’m suffering alone.”

Shi Zhi remembered that this had been shortly after she and Shen Jia had started dating. One day, Shen Jia wasn’t busy in the lab and invited her to watch a movie.

Before the lights went out in the theater, an animated fire safety PSA was playing on the screen. Shen Jia had pulled out his phone, glanced at it, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Shi Zhi asked, hugging a bucket of popcorn.

“A friend of mine ate at a terrible restaurant and wants me to suffer with them,” Shen Jia replied, turning off his phone.

On Shen Jia’s birthday, he had posted a photo of the three-tiered cake Shi Zhi had given him. “TaoziTsuki” appeared in the comments. Tao Jia had written:

“Got your cake? Want to hear me say ‘Happy Birthday’ to you in person?”

That was probably why Shen Jia had dashed out of the bar to make a call that day. But at the time, he had told Shi Zhi it was his parents calling and that the person asking about the cake was also his parents.

Shi Zhi continued scrolling, all the way back to Shen Jia’s very first post from years ago. He must have been 18 or 19 then.

In the photo, Shen Jia wore a white tracksuit, and Tao Jia stood beside him in a white dress. They looked like the perfect couple. He had his arm around her waist, and both of them were smiling brightly.

The caption read:

“Jiajia, you’re the only person I want to marry.”

Someone had commented, “Wow, congrats! Wishing you two eternal happiness, hahaha.” Tao Jia had replied on Shen Jia’s behalf:

“Of course! We’re the best ‘Jia-Jia’ couple!”

In the quiet dorm room, only the steady breathing of her roommates could be heard.

Shi Zhi felt a tight knot in her chest.

If Shen Jia had wanted to marry Tao Jia from the very beginning, if he had never truly let go of his first love, why had he pursued her?

Shi Zhi suddenly remembered what Fu Xiling had said at the coffee shop earlier that week:

“‘Childhood friend’ isn’t quite accurate. ‘Childhood sweetheart’ is more fitting.”

At the time, Fu Xiling had paused briefly.

In truth, the term he had initially wanted to use probably wasn’t “childhood sweetheart” but rather “ex-girlfriend.”

Shi Zhi couldn’t quite figure out why Fu Xiling had involved himself in this mess, but it was clear he wasn’t an entirely innocent bystander.

She soon discovered that Tao Jia followed Fu Xiling’s Weibo account. In fact, when Tao Jia had first joined Weibo, she had tagged him in many of her posts. He, however, had never replied. This dynamic had persisted for a long time.

Out of curiosity, Shi Zhi clicked into Fu Xiling’s Weibo account.

It was completely empty.

When Shen Jia messaged her again late that night, Shi Zhi finally replied.

Her heart was calm, and she didn’t waste energy on pointless arguments. Her fingers flew across her phone screen as she sent him three consecutive messages:

“Shen Jia, it’s fine for you to have close female friends and childhood companions. It’s fine to care about them and help them.”

“But you can only have one girlfriend, love one person, and marry one person.”

“So, is that person me or Tao Jia?”

Shen Jia must have seen her reply.

The chat window displayed “The other person is typing…” but the notification kept disappearing and reappearing, repeating for a full three minutes.

Shi Zhi counted the time precisely. She gave him three minutes—his last chance. When the time was up, she blocked him on WeChat.

And for good measure, she also blocked Fu Xiling.

No matter what kind of tangled love triangles or quadrangles they were involved in, Shi Zhi didn’t want any part of it anymore.

She barely slept that night, instead drafting a new plan for her studies and life. It was only at the break of dawn that she finally closed her eyes.

The week flew by, and before she knew it, it was Saturday.

Shi Zhi called Ling Ling, using schoolwork as an excuse to skip her shift at the bar. She asked Ling Ling to keep an eye on the accounts instead. Then, without telling anyone, she went out to clear her head.

She returned to campus on Sunday evening, only to hear two pieces of news in the dormitory:

First, Shen Jia had come looking for her.

Second, another boy had also been asking about her.

Shi Zhi didn’t have a particularly close relationship with her roommates. They were polite and occasionally helped each other out with small tasks, like grabbing meals or packages, but they rarely shared personal details.

When Shi Zhi didn’t ask who the other boy was, her roommate hesitated for a moment before deciding not to bring it up again.

After setting down her backpack, Shi Zhi changed into fresh clothes and prepared to head out.

“Shi Zhi, where are you going?” her roommate asked suddenly.

Such questions were rare, so Shi Zhi turned back with a faint smile and replied, “The dorm feels stuffy. I’m going to sit by the campus lake for a bit.”

The artificial lake at University B was vast, bordered by willow trees swaying in the breeze. Shi Zhi sat on the concrete steps, watching the ripples on the water.

This side of the lake was quiet, with few people passing by. So when Fu Xiling approached, she noticed him immediately.

Without turning, Shi Zhi asked, “What do you want?”

Fu Xiling set down a plastic bag from a convenience store and sat beside her. “Last time’s deal didn’t go so well. I’m here to collect a debt.”

Shi Zhi glanced at the bag, then turned to him with a rare hint of humor. “Collecting a debt with gifts?”

The pale moon hung in the sky, and the night breeze was cool. Fu Xiling pulled a can of beer from the bag, opened it for her, and handed it over.

“I went by the bar and didn’t see you. You weren’t on campus either. Heard you broke up with Shen Jia and thought you might do something drastic.”

“Not that dramatic.” Shi Zhi accepted the beer. “Breaking up isn’t so bad. We weren’t a great match anyway. If anything, this whole situation showed me how indecisive Shen Jia can be. If he had just admitted he was torn between two feelings, maybe I’d have been more reluctant to let go.”

Fu Xiling glanced at her wrist, where the jade bracelet still sat. With a smirk, he teased, “Really let go?”

Whether intentionally or not, Shi Zhi avoided the question and shifted the topic. After taking a sip of the beer, she frowned at the logo. “This is so weak.”

“In front of Shen Jia, weren’t you a goody-two-shoes who didn’t touch alcohol? I wasn’t sure about your tolerance, so I didn’t buy anything too strong. Didn’t want you getting drunk.”

With that, Fu Xiling opened a can for himself and took a few swigs. “…It is weak.”

“I thought you didn’t drink?”

“Didn’t drive tonight.”

Shi Zhi was far more talkative than she had been during their last encounter. Fu Xiling noticed this but didn’t comment immediately. Instead, he turned to her with a piercing gaze and asked, “Before you left, did you deliberately tell your roommate?”

Shi Zhi had already guessed that Fu Xiling had approached her roommate and possibly even bribed her to keep tabs on her.

“Didn’t you want to know?” she retorted.

“Now I want to know when you’ll take me off your blocklist.”

Shi Zhi’s carefully constructed aloofness wavered. She asked directly, “What’s your relationship with Tao Jia?”

Fu Xiling gave her a long, searching look that made her feel exposed. She shivered in the night breeze, goosebumps rising on her arms.

For a moment, she wondered if she had chosen the wrong person to confide in. Fu Xiling seemed too sharp, too cunning. Would working with him be like making a deal with the devil?

But the moment passed, and Fu Xiling answered her question calmly: “Tao Jia pursued me for a while—about a year, I think. Shen Jia liked her, so eventually, she got together with him.”

Shi Zhi’s expression clearly asked, Why would Tao Jia like you?

Her skepticism made Fu Xiling laugh in exasperation. “What’s with that look?”

“Nothing…”

Fu Xiling crushed his empty beer can and tossed it back into the bag. “Shen Jia can’t stand me. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

The two of them had known each other since childhood, but their personalities clashed, and they rarely got along. Their families were close, so things hadn’t been outright hostile at first. However, Shen Jia was overly competitive.

In any competition where Fu Xiling participated, Shen Jia would only ever come in second. Teachers would praise Fu Xiling for being clever but only compliment Shen Jia for his hard work.

“And then there was that time Tao Jia got a little too into hanging around me. That probably made Shen Jia hate me even more.”

Shen Jia’s dislike of Fu Xiling was evident, especially that night at the bar. With Fu Xiling sitting in the booth next to theirs, Shen Jia’s behavior had been noticeably awkward and exaggerated, as if he were trying to prove something.

Their tangled relationships were more or less what Shi Zhi had imagined. She had chosen the right person to investigate further.

The next moment, Fu Xiling voiced exactly what she was thinking:

“So, if you’re feeling spiteful, if you don’t want Shen Jia to have an easy life, congratulations—you picked the right person. I’m a pretty great partner for that.”