Ying Ni’s first instinct was disbelief. She asked incredulously, “You haven’t kept in touch all this time?”

Chen An replied, “We did a few years ago, when I was in college.”

Wasn’t that around the time she was dating Zhou Siyang? Ying Ni wanted to ask if it was after they broke up or before, but she hesitated, her lips moving but the words never came out.

It seemed like Chen An could see what she was thinking, as if she was following the flow of the conversation, and casually said, “We had dinner together twice when I was in the UK.”

Ying Ni didn’t take part in ordering, but the dishes Chen An chose were surprisingly to her liking, and the flavors were better than she expected.

She contentedly picked up a large piece of shredded ginger pork, her tone intentionally indifferent, “Did you go to find him?”

Chen An didn’t have that much spare cash, and explained, “We exchanged for a period.”

“Oh.” Ying Ni wiped the corner of her mouth with a tissue and casually asked, “Which school?”

“Cambridge.”

Ying Ni’s fingers stiffened, and the motion of crumpling the tissue slowed down.

She vaguely knew that Chen An had good grades, but she didn’t expect him to be able to go to Cambridge on a scholarship. The gap between them might have started from that point.

Even if the construction industry hadn’t declined, and her family hadn’t gone bankrupt, based on Chen An’s rapid rise, he would still be far ahead of her by now.

So…

If she hadn’t been so carefree back then, and had focused more on her studies, forgotten that Ying Junyu and Lin Rongyuan would have supported her, would things be different now?

Not to say she would be fabulously wealthy, but at least she wouldn’t be so anxious about not being able to afford her mother’s next month’s medical fees, or lose sleep worrying that the nurse might remove the oxygen tube.

But alas, there’s no “what if.” Time doesn’t flow backward.

The shredded ginger pork in her mouth suddenly tasted bland, and Ying Ni chewed a couple of times, the taste like wax, before putting down her chopsticks.

“Not eating anymore?” Chen An asked.

Ying Ni grabbed her phone. “I’ll take a break.”

She opened WeChat, and the contacts icon was covered by a solid circle, a red “1” glaringly obvious. When she clicked on it, the friend request had no note, and the profile picture was blank.

So, she didn’t know whether it was Zhou Siyang or someone from a recruitment app.

Ying Ni’s finger hovered over the “Blacklist” option for a long time. After thinking for a moment, she didn’t press it. Instead, she silently returned to the interface.

She didn’t block or accept the request.

At that moment, their relationship was just like that.

She put down her phone and continued eating. Three dishes and a soup, which she originally thought would go to waste, were almost finished by the two of them.

The whole meal process was quiet, with only a few sentences exchanged at the beginning, and it was just about 8 PM when they left the restaurant.

Chen An stood by the roadside and pointed across. Ying Ni understood and followed him, both of them waiting for the traffic light together, crossing the zebra crossing, and taking the elevator down to the underground garage. From the moment they finished paying and walked out of the restaurant, she didn’t even think about opening the ride-hailing app.

It wasn’t that she wanted to ride in the big G (car), but she found refusing that gesture a bit pretentious. Chen An had been her free Didi driver several times, and she had been comfortable accepting those rides.

So, everything felt natural.

However, when she buckled her seatbelt, casually opened the armrest compartment, and pulled out some hazelnut chocolate, offering it to him, it suddenly struck her—

It wasn’t natural.

She and Chen An seemed to have gotten a bit closer.

“No, thanks.” Chen An looked ahead, his gaze steady, serious as if doing anything with great focus. “It’s inconvenient while driving.”

“Then…” Ying Ni felt it was rude to eat alone, especially since the snack was his niece’s. “Should I open it and give you some?”

Chen An paused for a moment, then didn’t look over but spoke in a voice as calm as the night air, refreshing but soft: “Sure.”

The chocolate was from a high-end brand and carefully wrapped in several layers, protecting it from moisture. The temperature inside the car had caused it to melt a little, but Ying Ni unwrapped it and handed it to him.

He took it, muttered a quick thanks, and popped it into his mouth.

He hadn’t had sweets in a long time, but this chocolate felt different. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have to unwrap it himself, but for some reason, he thought it tasted good.

The shadow of the trees flowed backward, weaving through the neon lights reflected on the car from shop signs. Ying Ni stretched her neck and vaguely saw the lights of the subway station entrance turning on.

“Just drop me off at the next subway station,” she said, squinting and pointing to the “C” exit.

Chen An didn’t respond, and the car didn’t slow down. After passing the subway station, he finally turned to her as if suddenly remembering and said, “I’m heading to Yandu District, I’ll take you home first.”

Yandu District was large and considered an outer district, often referred to as the suburbs. Though it bordered the bustling area of Cujin, the farthest parts were still over ten kilometers away.

She and Chen An were getting a bit familiar, but not that close. Ying Ni didn’t want to trouble him and sat up straight, politely declining: “No need, just drop me at the next subway station.”

“It’s only an extra four or five kilometers, not much of a detour,” Chen An said.

At this point, Ying Ni nodded. Neither of them spoke, and the car was silent, like they would remain silent until the destination.

Soon, Ying Ni, looking out the window, suddenly turned back and said, “Chen An.”

“Hmm?”

Ying Ni’s gaze landed on his face without hiding. The shadows deepened the contours of his eyes and nose, making his features even more striking, just like the car’s exterior, carrying a hard, cold vibe. But sitting in the car, the experience was more comfortable and calm.

“Are you always this… friendly with everyone?” She wanted to say “nice,” but after thinking a moment, she chose a different word: “Friendly?”

Chen An’s fingers tapped the edge of the steering wheel, a soundless gesture that seemed to say, “No.”

“I wouldn’t take a stranger home.”

Ying Ni smiled wryly. Of course, it was obvious he meant people he knew, friends. But there was no need for wordplay. She recalled things she heard at class reunions—sponsors or investments made out of a sense of camaraderie that might as well have been made with a sucker.

She didn’t understand how Chen An became an entrepreneur, and gave him a confused glance.

Seeing Ying Ni’s bewildered look, Chen An just smiled indifferently, as if used to it.

The rest of the drive was quiet. The white noise of the tires on the asphalt road almost lulled Ying Ni to sleep, but she was jolted awake by her phone vibrating.

She glanced at it and saw only Yu Jiaojiao’s incessant messages.

Yu Jiaojiao: [I found out! He’s back for blind dates~]

Yu Jiaojiao: [His uncle is a big leader at the drug regulation bureau!]

Yu Jiaojiao: [My mom says he’s average-looking, not as good-looking as you hehe]

…

Yu Jiaojiao: [?? Where are you? Didn’t see my message?]

…

Yu Jiaojiao: [Why aren’t you replying?!]

Ying Ni leaned back, arms crossed, feeling helpless. She wished she could just close her eyes because every word in the chat box made her want to rip open Yu Jiaojiao’s head and see how much water she was carrying in there.

The messages kept popping up.

Ying Ni glanced down and typed: [He’s dead.]

Yu Jiaojiao seemed not to see it, as if replying would just count as a response.

A final message made Ying Ni laugh in spite of herself.

[Ah, I know you can’t get over him.]

“….”

Ying Ni laughed in frustration. How would she know something she hadn’t even figured out herself?

Yu Jiaojiao sounded urgent, as if worried about her, but before Ying Ni could reply, she called.

Ying Ni answered the call while quickly putting on the Bluetooth headset she had just taken from Chen An.

“Hello? Where are you?” Yu Jiaojiao asked eagerly.

Her voice was faint. Ying Ni impatiently pressed the volume button and replied, “In the car.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Yu Jiaojiao, sounding concerned, said, “You don’t need to be out at this hour. It’s not safe drinking alone.”

“…” Ying Ni paused, biting her words: “I’m going home!”

“Oh, oh.” Yu Jiaojiao dismissed it, saying in a tone that couldn’t have been more casual, “Well, that’s what you used to do when you broke up with Zhou Siyang.”

Ying Ni had always found talking to Yu Jiaojiao tiring in high school, and now she found it even harder to communicate. She snapped, “You know that was in the past.”

Yu Jiaojiao asked, “What do you think?”

Ying Ni asked back, “What should I think?”

“Zhou Siyang, he still hasn’t gotten over you. He’s back and asking people out to gather, all to find out about you.”

Ying Ni froze, and after a long silence, she looked at the red light that lasted 80 seconds and asked, “So, it was you who told him I work at a bubble tea shop?”

“What! You work at a bubble tea shop?!”

Ying Ni closed her eyes. “Stop pretending.”

She wasn’t unfamiliar with Yu Jiaojiao’s antics—playing dumb, acting innocent, but always scheming underneath.

Though her actions were harmless, they still stung.

“I’m grateful for you helping my mom transfer hospitals, but I think…” Ying Ni took a deep breath, skipping over the details and just saying the conclusion: “It’s time for it to end.”

“If you’re bored and looking for fun, don’t bother me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yu Jiaojiao asked in a panic. “Are you trying to cut me off?”

Not wanting to hear any more, Ying Ni immediately ended the call.

She left the group, deleted, and blocked—performing a series of actions. She sighed deeply as if temporarily relieved from a burden.

But this brief relief lasted only the time it took to breathe. Once it passed, it felt like the dampness after a heavy rain.

Yu Jiaojiao was one of her few friends. Though most of the time, their friendship was superficial, they had truly laughed and cried for each other.

Ying Ni remembered her sixteenth birthday, when Yu Jiaojiao ran all over Heze looking for a CD for her, even though she bought a counterfeit one and had blisters on her heels as big as her nails.

She remembered getting drunk after her first breakup with Zhou Siyang, and Yu Jiaojiao pounding her chest, saying she was great at drinking, only to end up in the hospital with an allergic reaction and her face swelling like a pig’s head.

They had walked hand in hand, shopped for sexy lingerie, watched girly manga side by side, and before bed, ranted about bad boys, taking ugly selfies during trips.

They had sung a song together every summer and autumn, promising to be lifelong friends.

…

So when did things start to change? Was it because of one guy?

Ying Ni couldn’t figure it out, and she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She wasn’t good at maintaining relationships, and in the end, whoever stayed was who stayed.

Like the song says: “Next year, a stranger, once the dearest of yesterday.”

No friends, no lovers.

Maybe by next year, even family will be gone.

The screen went dark, and Ying Ni slowly lifted her eyelids, hesitating to remove the earphones. The car was even quieter than before. She knew Chen An’s peripheral vision was still on her.

He must have heard her mention “bubble tea shop.”

It didn’t matter anymore. The transparent plastic film that had been covering her was now so thin it couldn’t hide anything. Her true self had already been seen by the onlookers.

Hiding her pride was as ridiculous as a joke.

Perhaps realizing this, her nose suddenly felt a pang of sourness. She reached up to rub it, and tears uncontrollably flowed down.

The car abruptly braked and pulled over to the side.

Ying Ni turned to look at the pitch-black sky with no stars, no moon, just an empty void, hoping to push the annoying tears back.

But it was useless.

No matter how hard she tried, it was all in vain.

As she struggled, she sensed a gaze on her. She shrank her neck and stiffened, her voice hoarse and trembling, “Drive your car, don’t mind me.”

At that moment, she heard the sound of clothes rustling. Then, the music began. Ying Ni quickly wiped her eyes and glanced—

Chen An was adjusting the volume, the music growing louder until it was deafening.

It seemed to cover everything.

Ying Ni sniffled and watched as his long fingers moved to undo his seatbelt. Her eyelashes fluttered twice, trembling with discomfort, and her dark, watery eyes stared at him with a dazed yet intense gaze.

She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but feared her voice would betray her emotions.

Chen An didn’t speak or look at her, but when he opened the car door, he spoke in a low voice, reminding her, “Ten minutes, be careful not to wake up with swollen eyes tomorrow.”

His voice was as light as the night, devoid of any emotion, and after speaking, he quickly got out and walked to the back of the car.

Ying Ni’s gaze followed his tall figure, slowly becoming blurry through the mist. She finally lowered her head stiffly.

Then she covered her face, and silently sobbed.

The car lights flashed, the wind rustling the treetops, and the world seemed to be filled with silence.

Chen An stood alone at a distance under the street sign, staring into the emptiness.

The headphones were not connected, but he heard every word of the conversation.

So, after so many years, she was still crying for Zhou Siyang.