After Work at 5:30

The agreed time was 5:30, and yet, Ying Ni had asked Xuan Zi to come 20 minutes earlier to cover for her. When she saw the instant reply “dream on,” she realized she should never have asked Xuan Zi for this favor.

The conflict over the Meteorite Milk Tea seemed insignificant to her, smaller than a sesame seed. It didn’t matter. But she couldn’t think of any other reason why Xuan Zi would dislike her.

It wasn’t until a few days ago when a frequent customer, a young man from the internet café, confessed his feelings to her, that Xuan Zi, standing by, gritted his teeth and clenched the rag in his hand, looking like he was about to crush it. Ying Ni suddenly understood that the Meteorite Milk Tea conflict was just a superficial issue.

After the young man was rejected and left dejected, Ying Ni turned to look at Xuan Zi. His eyes were red, and she almost wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself, saying, “Are you gay?”

She should’ve noticed earlier.

Because of her looks, men had always been tolerant towards her since childhood.

Xuan Zi was an exception.

Xuan Zi angrily retorted, “What, is that a problem? Are you discriminating?”

Ying Ni nodded repeatedly, smiling, “Sure, sure, love is free.”

Xuan Zi was so angry he almost stomped the floor, not wanting to talk to her anymore.

She realized she shouldn’t have laughed that day. Maybe if she had offered some comfort, the two of them could have cleared the misunderstanding. After all, people are the most approachable when they’re hurt.

Occasionally, Ying Ni really wondered why she had no friends.

On the surface, it was because of her arrogance during her student years, and after entering the workforce, her poverty and scapegoat situation.

But upon deeper reflection, that wasn’t the real reason.

It was because all her emotions were written on her face. She didn’t care about saving anyone’s face or doing things for the sake of “fitting in,” even if she didn’t want to.

Add to that her cold appearance, a short fuse, and a dislike for socializing, it became even harder to find people she could gossip with, complain about their boss, or spend weekends shopping and watching movies with.

Did she need friends?

She wasn’t sure.

What she did know was that she couldn’t change her temper.

Because she didn’t see any need to.

Ying Ni wiped away her chat history with Xuan Zi and asked her colleague who was working with her today to help her cover her shift, promising to make it up next time.

She sent the location, not at the milk tea shop, but at a nearby office building 200 meters away.

Ying Ni rested her palm against her forehead to block the sun. It was almost six o’clock, and the sunset was still dazzling.

She arrived five minutes early at the location and entered the office building lobby, sitting on a cold bench to play a game.

She reached level 836 of the match-3 game, but her mind kept drifting to the image of Zhou Siyan.

The sound effect blasted, “Unbelievable!”

Indeed, it was hard to believe. When did he return? Why was he at the milk tea shop? Was it a coincidence, or did he come to find her? Was it because of that thank-you message? But he didn’t reply.

A notification about Chen An’s arrival popped up. Ying Ni gathered her thoughts and picked up her bag, heading outside.

The big G SUV parked by the roadside honked as she walked out of the building. Ying Ni paused for a second, standing there silently, thinking she wasn’t blind.

Once inside the car.

Chen An tilted his head to look outside, sizing up the office building, and asked, “Changed jobs?”

Ying Ni slowly buckled her seatbelt and mumbled, “Mm.”

Sometimes, Ying Ni felt like she was pretty good at pretending.

Clearly, everyone knew the situation, yet she still put on a brave face.

It was like she wore ragged clothes and didn’t want others to notice, so she grabbed a piece of cloth to cover herself. But the trash heap was full of useless things, and that cloth was plastic—transparent and mottled. It didn’t really hide anything.

Chen An rested his elbow on the steering wheel, still staring ahead. Ying Ni pulled some hair from her seatbelt and, as she lifted her head, her eyes met Chen An’s halfway.

The sunset light bathed his eyes in a thin amber glow. Ying Ni caught her reflection in them, and for a moment, her breath caught.

“Is everything going smoothly?” Chen An asked.

Ying Ni smiled, “Very.”

He knew all about the phone incident and the fight. She was grateful he didn’t ask if she quit voluntarily or was fired. Right now, she wasn’t in the mood. Her smile was forced, and it quickly faded into a flat expression as she leaned her head against the B-pillar of the car.

The whole body language screamed—

“Don’t talk to me.”

Chen An seemed to not understand her mood, and casually reminded her, “Be careful working here.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere.

Ying Ni was confused and raised her eyebrows, “Careful of what?”

Chen An looked at the rearview mirror while maneuvering the car, “Don’t go in there.”

Go in where?

Did she understand it the way he meant?

She straightened up in the seat, looking at him with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

There were no cars behind them, and Chen An maneuvered the car around a stopped SUV in front, continuing to drive. “Hengyu Building has 22 floors. Ten floors are full of fraudsters, ten floors are pyramid schemes. They arrested a batch of people half a month ago.”

He glanced at her and added, “Didn’t you know?”

Ying Ni stared at him, “…”

His tone was so flat, it was hard to tell if he was warning her out of concern or joking seriously.

She didn’t know about it. She’d only entered the building for the first time a few minutes ago, and she had only been in the lobby.

After doing the math, she asked, “What about the other two floors?”

Chen An didn’t respond immediately. After the navigation system announced a right turn, he glanced over at her.

“Pornographic live streams.”

Ying Ni: “…”

Chen An’s gaze was deep, and the evening light cast long shadows on the car. His pupils had returned to their usual dark color, and when he spoke, he didn’t smile. Everything about him was serious.

It gave Ying Ni the impression that he was already convinced she was involved in some shady business.

“I know,” she folded her arms, leaning back, and replied with an air of knowing, “It’s not that exaggerated. There are still legitimate businesses in there.”

Her gaze was sharp, “Don’t believe rumors.”

Chen An’s face remained unchanged, “What businesses?”

Ying Ni answered carelessly, “Teaching and training.”

Chen An raised an eyebrow, “You became a teacher?”

“Why are you asking?!” Ying Ni turned to face him, her voice loud. “Yes, I’m an English teacher.”

She felt he might not believe her, considering her lack of a college degree, which was already a topic of gossip among her classmates, so she added, “I lived in the UK for a few years, and my spoken English is really good.”

Chen An stared ahead, “I know.”

Ying Ni frowned, “How do you know?”

She actually wanted to ask how he knew she was good at English, but Chen An assumed she meant her time in the UK.

He explained, “Before you went abroad, the class threw a farewell party for you. The blackboard said ‘Sending off the female star to York University in the UK.’”

Perhaps it was because of the way his tie was straight and his cuffs were as clean as snow. Or maybe it was because his pronunciation was impeccable, his voice rough like sandpaper. When he said “female star,” it felt a bit sexy in an oddly serious, teasing way.

Ying Ni felt awkward for two seconds before replying, “You remember all that?”

She’d been to so many parties growing up, and if Chen An hadn’t brought it up, she wouldn’t have remembered it either.

Let alone the words on the blackboard.

Chen An simply responded with a faint “Mm,” as though it was nothing.

His tone made it clear he remembered everything perfectly.

Ying Ni couldn’t stand people pretending to be modest in front of her. Either you admit you’re good, or you don’t pretend to be humble. A response that’s neither here nor there just annoyed her.

She clicked her tongue and continued playing her game, casually asking, “So, do you remember what I was wearing that day?”

“I’ll think about it.” Though he said that, Chen An quickly described, “You had slightly curly long hair, earrings shaped like fans hanging to your shoulders, a gold ring and necklace, a blue-green dress with fish scale decorations, and chocolate-colored high heels with long laces tied all the way up to your calves.”

“Correct?”

Not only was he right, but his description was so detailed it felt like he was recalling a photo shoot, instantly bringing back the memory for Ying Ni.

She stared blankly at the windshield, and after confirming that Chen An’s description was accurate, she turned her gaze back at him.

Chen An’s profile was sharp, and the light from the front illuminated his right cheek, as smooth and calm as a lake under the sun. It was poised, restrained, and deep.

It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

Ying Ni was sensitive to men’s words and actions, and if it had been anyone else saying this, she would’ve been sure they liked her.

Because people only make lasting memories during moments of attraction, just like how she still remembered Zhou Siyan’s smile under the basketball hoop, clearly picturing the curve of his smile.

But facing Chen An, Ying Ni wasn’t so sure.

Her curled fingers lightly tapped on her thigh.

“Who knows? I don’t remember, but I do remember what Yu Jiaojiao was wearing. Can you tell me?”

Chen An smoothly described everything about Yu Jiaojiao’s dress, from her hairstyle to her shoes. Ying Ni wasn’t even thinking about Yu Jiaojiao’s dress—she just wanted to tease him. But when she heard the description of Yu Jiaojiao’s skirt looking like a cake with layers, she knew he wasn’t lying.

Yu Jiaojiao had loved the princess style back in high school. She often came to ask if she looked good, and Ying Ni had always bluntly told her she looked tacky. They’d fought many times over this.

Ying Ni relaxed, letting her guard down.

She remembered a variety show she’d watched once, where the host said that people with exceptional memory had eyes like cameras—snapping pictures and saving them instantly.

At that time, she thought the host was talking nonsense, but now she felt it wasn’t impossible. Stunned, she couldn’t help but look back at his sharp, intelligent mind.

“Still don’t believe me?” Chen An suddenly caught her looking at him.

“No.” Ying Ni rolled her eyes, “I was looking at your car.”

Chen An’s voice was calm, “Is that so?”

“I thought—”

The pause lasted only a moment, but it felt like forever. Chen An turned to look at her, their eyes meeting, and Ying Ni felt like she had fallen back into the deep, quiet waters.

“You were looking at me.”