The last three hours, neither of them slept, nor did they dwell on that earlier question.

Fu Xiling acted like nothing happened. He let the cigarette smell fade under the kitchen hood, threw on a fresh short-sleeve tee, wrapped an arm around Shi Zhi’s waist, and plopped onto the couch with her.

Shi Zhi had a ton on her mind.

A new chapter of life was about to kick off—new school, new living scene, new job chances…

Fu Qian had said how much she’d rake in over there depended on her own hustle and skills.

She figured she was decently capable, ambition bubbling up. In these final hours before takeoff, waves of excitement and nerves about the future kept hitting her.

An Argentine poet once wrote in Historia de los Infames—

“Life is suffering, and I set out again with my broken oar.”

But Shi Zhi? She owned life’s hardships, yet believed they’d eventually fade.

This muggy summer, she’d board a shiny new boat she’d carved and nailed herself, wielding a halberd as her oar, cutting through wind and waves.

Only after all that came Fu Xiling’s “Wanna date?”

Shi Zhi turned in his arms, brow creasing a bit, trying to catch his expression, voice skeptical: “What you just said…”

“Don’t sweat it.”

Fu Xiling looked like his usual self, scrolling his phone. The screen’s glow hit his eyes—aside from the all-nighter exhaustion, his face gave nothing away.

About his own stunt just now, he only dropped one line: “Never seen anyone so eager to ditch me.”

Shi Zhi said, “You’ve seen it now?”

She thought his question came outta nowhere, totally off-script.

Her going abroad wasn’t some last-minute call—maybe Fu Xiling, used to everything going his way, couldn’t handle it and blurted that out on a whim.

Topic closed.

Fu Xiling was chill as hell about it. After dropping her at the airport, while she grabbed her ticket and checked bags, he slipped a bracelet on her wrist.

Rose gold, dripping with diamonds.

Bags cleared security.

Shi Zhi held her ticket, asking, “What’s this for? Scared I’ll spot some blond, blue-eyed hunk overseas and trade you out?”

Fu Xiling snorted, all cocky: “Blond and blue-eyed doesn’t mean they’re hotter than me. Don’t regret it if you swap.”

In the check-in line, a couple on her flight—probably splitting for study abroad too—stood out.

The guy, lugging a big backpack, eyes red, was nagging the girl to take care of herself, eat on time, not binge shows all night. “I’ll be back the second break hits.”

The girl, tears streaming, soaked her down jacket’s front, nodding like crazy.

Shi Zhi and Fu Xiling? Way simpler.

He just gave her a one-armed hug, let go, and jerked his chin toward the gate: “Go on. I’ll visit when I can.”

Security, waiting, boarding.

She’d barely slept the past few days—last night, not a wink. So this ten-plus-hour flight wasn’t brutal. Besides eating the plane food and hitting the bathroom, Shi Zhi crashed the whole time.

In her dreams, there was a pre-betrayal Shi Mei, all bright and lively, and scenes with Fu Xiling too.

A warm drop of sweat slid from his jaw, landing soft on her spine.

Outside the dream, reality hit harder. A jolt woke her—ears buzzing, eyes opening. The plane had landed, bumpy as hell, at an unfamiliar JFK airport.

Those first days abroad, Shi Zhi was slammed—school enrollment, starting work, settling in, adjusting to a new culture. Barely had time to clock the bracelet on her wrist.

Per Fu Qian’s setup, Shi Zhi jumped straight into dealing with Xingrong Group’s execs in Europe and the Americas. One of them, An, was stern, no smiles, with frown lines etched deep in her forehead.

An didn’t baby Shi Zhi one bit.

Didn’t ask if school was going smooth or if she was settling in—just dumped a mountain of work on her, leaving no downtime.

Shi Zhi wasn’t the whining type. She balanced school and work fast.

Then An, seeing she could handle it, piled on more.

Third month into the semester, Shi Zhi nailed a prof’s question in class—earned praise and applause.

It clicked—high-pressure work was what turned textbook deadweight into stuff she could actually use.

She grabbed coffee, found An: “An, thanks for the setup.”

An took the coffee, nodded.

They stood by a sunlit floor-to-ceiling window, light making Shi Zhi’s diamond bracelet sparkle like a galaxy on her wrist.

An still didn’t smile but, rare as hell, chatted a bit: “Zhi, that bracelet’s gorgeous.”

“Friend gave it.”

An’s tone had weight: “Then your friend must think a lot of you.”

Shi Zhi glanced at the bracelet, wary, said nothing.

She didn’t know jack about luxury brands. Back at Fu Xiling’s place, her focus wasn’t his stuff—just liked his projector and that comfy tub.

She snapped a pic, sent it to Wan Ran.

Of the three old bar crew, Lao Qian and Ling Ling had gone to Fu Xiling’s family hotel.

Word was, Lao Qian couldn’t hack the strict hours and rules, quit, and bounced to another bar.

Ling Ling stuck it out as a hotel rep—sometimes got chewed out hard by the supervisor for fumbling, then sent weepy voice messages to Shi Zhi or Wan Ran.

Wan Ran went solo to the south, dealing secondhand luxury goods.

Even opened a shop—business was solid, they said.

No one knew that stuff better than her.

Shi Zhi got back from a late shift, saw Wan Ran’s reply.

Wan Ran sent a screenshot from the brand’s site—her bracelet? Over 400 grand.

Shi Zhi ignored the time difference, called Fu Xiling.

Back home, it’d be dawn. After three or four rings, he picked up.

Half-asleep, voice lazy, teasing with a grin: “Still up? Can’t sleep without me next to you?”

“This bracelet you gave me—over 400 grand?”

“Roughly, forgot the exact number. What’s up?”

Shi Zhi sucked in a breath: “Fu Xiling, you got a screw loose?”

The guy on the line just laughed—wicked, drilling into her ears.

She hit speaker, tossed the phone on the bed, started stripping to change into her nightgown: “Take it back next time you’re here. Too pricey—I don’t want it.”

“Bought it already. Wear it.”

Fu Xiling had his logic, laid it out slow over the phone.

He said the expat student crowd had hard workers like Shi Zhi, sure, but also spoiled brats sent abroad to “gild” themselves.

Some had a bit of cash and clout—nothing major, but with weak self-control and dumb brains, they played wild.

Wearing a couple pricey pieces? Made ‘em think twice before hitting on her—check if they even measured up.

“You know you’re hot and stand out, plus your temper sucks. If you end up decking someone, sell the bracelet—covers their medical bills.”

Shi Zhi zeroed in: “Who’s got a sucky temper?”

Fu Xiling paused, then: “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

Call lasted ten-plus minutes. Shi Zhi eyed her wrist—still felt off.

Two months here, Fu Xiling had visited twice.

First time, he was rushed—stayed one day.

They messed around in the hotel till dawn. Shi Zhi was wiped—fell asleep before he finished showering.

Fresh from the bath, all shower gel vibes, he came out toweling his hair. No clue why he was such a punk—already done, but still leaned in to kiss her.

In a foreign land, Shi Zhi’s guard was sky-high. Sensing someone close in her sleep, she reflex-swung a slap.

Fu Xiling dodged fast, leaning back, but it still clipped his neck.

Hard—smack.

As Shi Zhi came to, Fu Xiling stood under the dim bedside lamp, head tilted, hand on his neck, watching her quiet.

But his question wasn’t about the hit: “Boss Shi, real talk—can’t see each other much since you left. You miss it a little?”

Shi Zhi, guilty for no reason after smacking him, looked away: “Kinda, yeah.”

He didn’t fuss, just said: “Cool, I’ll stay longer next time.”

Second visit, he did “stay longer.”

Booked a hotel near her place, crashed a whole week, and on his own added plants, picture frames, and a desk-chair set to her apartment.

Morning he left, he swung by her place, stuffed her fridge with food, left two unused condoms in her bedside drawer.

Shi Zhi didn’t have time to see him off.

During her lunch break, she called him, staring at the overstuffed fridge, dumbfounded: “Why’d you buy so much food?”

Fu Xiling said last night on the couch, holding her, she felt lighter.

“Eat more.”

Their thing didn’t seem much different from before she left.

But Shi Zhi couldn’t bet on him keeping up this eager back-and-forth forever.

They’d end eventually—sooner or later.

She hated winging it, so she planned ahead, asked: “International shipping safe? When we’re done, I gotta mail this back to you special?”

He said, “We’ll figure it when it’s over. If you really don’t want it then, don’t waste it—I’ll come grab it, pass it to the next one. Gotta be thrifty.”

With his spending habits, thrifty?

Total bullshit.

Shi Zhi glared at thin air, hung up.

The bracelet did fend off some trash suitors—but not all.

Fall turning to winter, a relentless guy popped up.

Classmate, foreigner, named Dick.

Dick hit on her while she was reading.

She was doing homework in the sun on the field—his shadow fell over her book, blocking the light.

Shi Zhi had zero patience, frowned up at him. Saw a foreign classmate with golden-brown curls, grinning wide, asking if he could get to know her.

She said, “No.”

But Curly kept smiling, did his intro anyway, then bolted.

After that, Dick kept showing up around her.

All sunshine and bounce—couldn’t read her cold shoulder, always rolling in with a pile of compliments.

Called her an angel, a fairy.

Even said “cute” about Shi Zhi. To her, he was so perky it got annoying.

She liked quiet and busy—hated someone popping up while she ate or studied to gush over her. Ignored him flat.

Maybe Fu Xiling, new to long-distance, found it fresh—came once or twice a month.

When he didn’t, he’d call sometimes.

One call, Dick—the frequent flyer—crashed it. Downstairs at her place, strumming a guitar, belting a goofy love song.

Shi Zhi told Fu Xiling, “Hold up.”

She opened the window, waved him off—said he’d wake the neighbors.

Dick flashed a big grin, packed up the guitar, waved back, and chirped, “Good night, my angel,” as he split.

They were on speaker.

Phone on the sill—Shi Zhi heard it, so did Fu Xiling.

Call timer ticked on, not hung up, but he didn’t speak right away.

She called his name—he said, “Pretty popular, huh.”

Shi Zhi’s take: “Noisy.”

Dick’s big confession hit in December. Shi Zhi shot him down, obviously.

After that, she finally got some peace.

School’s Christmas break hit—no classes. An’s work schedule stuffed her days full.

City got two days of gloom and rain. Post-overtime, Shi Zhi saw Fu Xiling’s WeChat.

Sent two hours ago—just a pic of the “Welcome” sign at JFK airport.

He was here.

Afternoon brought a downpour—now it’d mostly stopped. Fog swallowed the city’s high-rises, streetlights hazy.

Damp, cool.

Shi Zhi ditched her work badge, threw on a coat, clicked out in heels, called Fu Xiling.

“Where you at?”

“Just checked into the hotel.”

“Meet me downstairs at my place—I need to grab notes.”

He laughed over the line: “Studying tonight too?”

“Why not? What if you’re too wiped?”

“No ‘what if.’”

Night was heavy, air thick with moisture.

Her apartment was close to school and work. Earbuds in, she kept a lazy chat with Fu Xiling, heading home.

Dodging puddles, she hit her building—and first saw not Fu Xiling, but Dick.

Dick spotted her, rushed over, fumbling to ask why she wouldn’t give him a shot.

Shi Zhi didn’t get guys like this.

Why else? She didn’t like him.

But saying that didn’t cut it—Dick kept pressing. Why not try?

Her worst nightmare.

She thought back to that late night at Fu Xiling’s before leaving—talking was easy, no need to overexplain. He got her, never pushed too hard.

Even if that was just his spur-of-the-moment “not letting go” play.

Mid-thought, her eyes slid past Dick, landing on Fu Xiling.

In the drizzle, he rocked a black leather jacket, baseball cap, strolling over like he owned the place.

Phone still up to his ear mid-call, he met her gaze for two seconds, then flicked a look at Dick across from her.

One hand in his pocket, he stopped, leaned on a nearby pole to watch the show.

Lighter probably got nabbed at the airport—he had a lollipop in his mouth: “The ‘angel’ guy?”

His voice, plus the crunch of him biting the candy, came through her earbuds.

Shi Zhi, calm: “You know, so why not come help?”

Fu Xiling chuckled, hung up.

He walked over, tugged off his cap, plopped it on her head to shield the light rain.

Then pulled her into his arms by the shoulder—bold move—eyes dropping to Dick: “She’s mine.”