To Fu Xiling, if someday in the future he had to look back on his twenty-third year, the deepest impression wouldn’t be that he kicked off a big project the elders couldn’t stop praising, or that he claimed a whole street for his business empire.

It’d be meeting Shi Zhi.

The day he met Shi Zhi was honestly kinda magical.

Fu Xifeng had just come back from the south, downed a few shots of baijiu at the family dinner, and lost it—pointing fingers straight at Fu Xiling. It pissed off their uncle so bad his hands shook, nearly smashing his glass. Aunt had to step in to stop him.

Fu Xiling couldn’t be bothered with Fu Xifeng’s nonsense, but he wasn’t as brainless as his cousin—he had to think about Uncle’s health.

Barely two bites into the meal, he dropped his chopsticks and headed out.

Aunt chased after him, patting his shoulder, probably wanting to say something.

Fu Xiling flashed a grin to reassure her. “Friends are waiting for me at the bar.”

The bar was buzzing. Fu Xiling was flipping through some contracts on his iPad that the old man had sent him when he felt someone staring.

He looked up and saw Shen Jia with her crew.

Shen Jia’s face was all awkward, but she still forced herself over to say hi.

When people put on a fake front, their micro-expressions are pretty entertaining.

But that night, Fu Xiling was way more curious about Shen Jia’s girlfriend.

He’d seen her before.

Her name had changed, and her vibe was a little different too.

“Shi Zhi,” or rather “Lin Meng,” showing up turned that kinda gloomy night into something interesting.

Later, when Fu Xiling mentioned it to Zhou Lang, Zhou Lang pushed up his glasses and said there was an eighty percent chance he’d gotten it wrong, mixed her up with someone else.

Fu Xiling smirked. “Me, get it wrong?”

Zhou Lang thought it over and found a logic hole. “Shouldn’t happen, though. Your memory’s insane.”

Fu Xiling’s memory was insane—otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up on Shen Jia’s bad side.

Though that “bad side” thing was totally one-sided on Shen Jia’s part.

Fu Xiling and Shen Jia were elementary school classmates.

Their families knew each other, figured two boys the same age would hit it off, and pulled strings to get them in the same class.

First day of school, the teacher had everyone introduce themselves.

Shen Jia, who could do it in three languages, met Fu Xiling, who could do it in five.

Fu Xiling even threw in a gentlemanly bow.

After class, Fu Xiling asked Shen Jia to hit the store for ice cream. Shen Jia, all huffy, stammered, “I’m not going…”

First week of school, they had to make a bulletin board for the back wall.

During lunch break, the young male teacher sketched a world map on the blackboard. Shen Jia, ever the helper, held a geography book, reading out the names of islands in the Pacific.

Little Fu Xiling was a bit of a show-off back then—and a little annoying.

He strolled in with a soccer ball, peeked over their shoulders, and without even glancing at the book, rattled off every archipelago name like it was nothing.

To him, it was no big deal. If his art skills weren’t trash, he could’ve silently drawn the whole world map from memory.

Fu Xiling was chill, never knew what jealousy felt like, and even asked Shen Jia, “Want some ice cream?”

Shen Jia took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “No!”

Second week, class leader election.

The teacher picked Shen Jia.

After school, Class Leader Shen tracked down Fu Xiling, waving her armband with a smug little grin. “Fu Xiling, did the teacher talk to you today?”

Around that time, Old Fu had cooked up some employee entry test at the company.

Supposedly based on that “Raven’s Reasoning Test” by some British psychologist.

Fu Xiling was deep in those pattern puzzles, didn’t even notice Shen Jia’s armband, and didn’t think much of it.

He ticked off ABCD options and casually said, “Yeah, she did. Said something about making me class leader, but I turned it down. Who’d want that thankless job? Shen Jia, you want ice cream?”

Class Leader Shen took another deep breath, nostrils flaring again, and snapped, “No!”

In middle school, Shen Jia scribbled “Why was Jia born if Ling exists?” on the back of her notebook.

The notebook got left at a dinner, and of all people, Fu Xiling’s family picked it up and told him to return it.

He called Shen Jia, and when she came to grab it, he’d already seen the line. “Which ‘Ling’ did you mean? Fu Xiling’s ‘Ling’?”

Shen Jia’s face went beet red, choking out, “Why’d you look at my notebook?!”

They went to different schools in middle and high school but kept running into each other at competitions.

Any contest Fu Xiling entered, Shen Jia could kiss first place goodbye.

So, at events without elders around, Shen Jia rarely gave Fu Xiling a smile.

Still, they were nodding acquaintances—could chat a bit if they ended up at the same table.

What really tanked things was Tao Jia.

Tao Jia studied violin under the same teacher as Fu Xiling—his little junior.

Two years younger than him and Shen Jia.

Fu Xiling’s first year of college, Tao Jia lost her mind and started chasing him.

The relentless kind.

Tagging him on Weibo every day, writing stacks of love letters, ambushing him to deliver them.

Freshman summer break, Old Fu dragged Fu Xiling on a business trip. He got back on a midnight flight.

Next day, he slept in till noon, headed out under the blazing sun, and ran into Tao Jia, who’d been waiting forever.

Her eyes were red. “Fu Xiling, why don’t you answer my calls?”

“Phone was on silent. Didn’t see. What’s up?”

Tao Jia let out an “oh,” pulling a letter from her fancy crossbody bag.

Another damn letter.

Fu Xiling’s head hurt. He took half a step back, annoyed.

Tao Jia said, dead serious, “Fu Xiling, I really, really like you. But a friend told me this might make you look down on me. This is my last confession. If you don’t accept, you’ll lose me.”

She’d done her makeup, curled her hair—looked more mature than usual.

Wore a light yellow dress.

Fu Xiling’s first thought: light yellow dresses are seriously ugly.

Second thought: that school ID he’d picked up on the trip.

He found these confession scenes so lame.

Getting someone who’d rejected you a million times to like you? Boring as hell.

His mind even wandered to “Lin Meng.”

How would cool-as-hell “Lin Meng” confess to someone she liked?

Makeup? Little dress? Love letters?

Could she?

Snapping back, Fu Xiling called the family driver to take Tao Jia home.

“Sorry, still a no. Go home—it’s too hot out, don’t get heatstroke.”

He thought he was being nice. Didn’t expect Shen Jia to show up that night.

Fu Xiling was gaming when his mom brought Shen Jia in. Surprised, he still waved. “Hey, want some ice cream?”

Once Mom left, Shen Jia dropped the polite act. “No!”

She didn’t eat or sit—just stood in his room, spewing random harsh words about him being too full of himself.

Fu Xiling had always been cocky.

Never thought there was anything wrong with it.

Later, he found out Tao Jia and Shen Jia lived in the same complex—knew each other longer than he’d known either of them.

Tao Jia was Shen Jia’s untouchable crush.

He’d made her little goddess cry her eyes out, nearly breaking Shen Jia’s heart.

But what could he do?

Plenty of girls liked Fu Xiling—he couldn’t coddle every one of them.

No sparks with anyone. Was that his fault?

After rejecting girl after girl, his childhood buddy hit him with a triple whammy—

“Fu, you don’t have some emotional disorder, do you?”

“All these years, not a single girl’s caught your eye?”

“Be real with me. If it’s bad, I’ll go with you to the hospital.”

By then, Fu Xiling was nearing college graduation, thinking of “Lin Meng” and her lost ID for the second time.

He suddenly laughed, telling his buddy, “Actually, there’s one…”

His buddy got creeped out, swearing. “Why’re you laughing? Shit, I thought you were into me!”

Fu Xiling shot him a disgusted look, totally done.

Back then, he thought dating was pointless—nothing beat the thrill of cutthroat business deals.

Doubted he’d ever really fall for anyone.

But if someone could spark his interest, they’d probably be like “Lin Meng.”

Then, in the early summer of his twenty-third year, he met “Shi Zhi”—aka “Lin Meng.”

Years ago, she was slapping suitors in a back alley.

Now, she sat meekly next to Shen Jia, sipping juice, smiling softly, letting Shen Jia kiss her forehead.

Later, Zhou Lang said Fu Xiling got the wrong person.

At six, he could recite the world map blind.

At seven, Old Fu took him to drink, and his party trick was rattling off pi to 500 digits.

He couldn’t be wrong.

Unless two people in this world looked exactly alike.

That night at the little bar, Fu Xiling knew Shi Zhi was “Lin Meng.”

The way she glared at him from the bar downstairs—like she wanted to off him—fierce as hell.

It clicked with his memory.

But why’d she change her name?

Fu Xiling got insanely curious about this girl who could crack open a beer with her bare hands.

Shen Jia’s mess with Tao Jia gave him the opening to get close to Shi Zhi.

Thanks, Shen Jia.

He’d never hunted down Zhou Lang in the morning or eaten at B University’s cafeteria.

The day he caught the bracelet Shi Zhi flung across the cafeteria, even Zhou Lang sensed that something was off.

Normal people return lost stuff. Fu Xiling straight-up kept it.

What was that about?

Zhou Lang nagged him—even if he couldn’t stand Shen Jia, he shouldn’t steal her girlfriend.

“When did I ever hate Shen Jia? She’s the one picking fights.”

“…That’s not the point!”

Fu Xiling spun the white bracelet on his finger. “They’re breaking up soon.”

Zhou Lang, Mr. Straight-Laced, flipped out. “Fu Xiling, are you trying to make her cheat? She’s so cute, so good—you gonna teach her to two-time?”

Maybe Zhou Lang’s school stress was getting to him—he’d been extra snappy lately.

Fu Xiling just said Shen Jia was the shady one, pining for some white-moonlight first love.

She’d barely been back in the country a few days, and Shen Jia was already a goner.

“Playing the ‘lingering ex’ card—her girlfriend caught on.”

Zhou Lang, ex-dorm leader and chronic worrier, called him the next night after lab.

“Xiling, I thought it over. You should stay out of Shen Jia’s mess…”

“Mm.”

“Listen to me. Shen Jia’s petty and competitive—why poke that bear?”

“Mm… too late.”

By then, Fu Xiling had already struck his first deal with Shi Zhi—swapped Tao Jia’s Weibo ID for a coffee and six words.

He was still buzzing, ready to rope Shi Zhi into a second deal.

Plus, he was already at the bar.

He hung up, pushed the door open, and told the dazed little girl inside, “Call your boss for me, thanks.”

“Oh…”

She blinked, all question marks, and shuffled off.

A moment later, he heard footsteps.

In a great mood, he turned with a light smile—then saw a middle-aged woman with a dazzling, fawning grin…

Turned out, it was Shi Zhi’s aunt.

Shi Zhi vanished for two whole days.

Blocked him too.

Next time he saw her was by B University’s lake.

They drank beer, made a second deal—he’d help her mess with Shen Jia.

Shi Zhi was super guarded and sharp, so he threw in a condition: she’d fend off Yao Yao for him.

Yao Yao wasn’t even a hassle.

Just an excuse.

Little Uncle once told Big Uncle:

Xiling’s got 800 tricks up his sleeve in business—he never loses.

With Shi Zhi, Fu Xiling used at least 400 of them.

And still kept losing.

He knew she wasn’t over her ex, but…

Like he said, “Too late.”

That day at the suburban villa, when Shi Zhi slipped into a black gown and heels, Fu Xiling watched from upstairs.

He realized his interest in her had blown way past what he’d expected.

He wanted to know why she changed her name.

How she’d get back at her shady ex.

Why she treasured that beat-up jade bracelet.

What her life had been like—what she ate, played, read, watched…

But it wasn’t just that.

Shi Zhi had this natural pull on him.

Old Fu said not to make enemies in business.

Shen Jia’s dad was even more competitive and petty than her, yet Old Fu and Old Shen never fell out.

For Shi Zhi, Fu Xiling pissed off Little Shen completely—and didn’t regret a thing.

During their “partnership,” he saw Shi Zhi was hardworking, sharp, a scholarship kid.

She had layers—

Clear life goals, thoughtful, driven;

Mouth tougher than diamonds, heart kinda soft;

Bold, independent, fearless, passionate—but so guarded, keeping everyone out.

He took her to the villa, walked her down the steps under fireworks and stars.

Showed her the rooftop pool’s lights, fought with her in the water.

Drank with her, kissed her.

The two words she said most to him? “No need.”

Even so, Fu Xiling was very, very into her.

So into her, his old preferences blurred.

He used to hate yellow.

Light yellow, deep yellow, goose yellow, orange yellow—all of it.

But the morning after the pool party, Shi Zhi wore a light yellow shirtdress, sitting in the hotel restaurant to talk business.

Fu Xiling thought, damn, light yellow dresses are hot.

Before meeting Shi Zhi again, he’d thought of her twice.

After barging into her life, he lost sleep over her twice.

First time was after that bar at her uncle’s place.

Middle of the night, he learned why she changed her name. She brushed it off: “My dad died.”

Given her current crash-at-relatives setup, her mom’s situation…

Either sick, ditched her, or dead too.

Not good, either way.

Fu Xiling felt for her. Thinking of that cramped but tidy room above the bar, he barely slept.

Second time was at his place, when she grabbed his collar and reeled him in.

They were so close—her lip bead brushing his lip corner, his lip peak.

Her breath, warm with wine, sparked every greedy impulse he had.

Her eyes had a flirty glint, locking with his, body pressed tight.

But… she teased him and bolted, no hesitation.

That night, he smoked three cigarettes, got a sore throat, and didn’t sleep a wink.

Fu Xiling dealt with plenty of business types, prided himself on reading people.

But Shi Zhi had her own style—

Showering at his place, drinking with him late at night.

Rocking a bikini in front of him, kissing him in just a bathrobe.

Grabbing his collar to seduce him.

Yet she hated owing anyone.

And really hated being liked by people she didn’t like.

After dumping Shen Jia, that late-night melancholy softness in her died overnight.

Zero interest in dating.

Turned into the type who’d back “ditch the dad, keep the kid” or “men slow your sword swing”—heart like steel.

Probably thought love was a hassle, got in the way of making money.

Fu Xiling had been there—he got it.

At twenty, in his college dorm, he’d snapped at his roommates’ grilling:

Liking someone was boring. Dating was boring.

Holding hands, movies—boring.

Dinner, flirty looks—boring.

Texting “miss you,” calling “wanna see you”—boring.

Valentine’s Day? Boring.

Now, at twenty-three, he suddenly thought grabbing dinner with Shi Zhi on Qixi was kinda fun.

Before heading out, Zhou Lang called—lab was chill, no mentor nagging, asked if Fu Xiling wanted to eat together.

Fu Xiling shot back, “Nah.”

Zhou Lang prodded, “Got a date?”

“Yup, going to see Shi Zhi.”

Zhou Lang didn’t know Shi Zhi was crashing at Fu Xiling’s, but he was dead against them getting close.

Thought they didn’t match. “Didn’t you say in undergrad you hated quiet, good-girl types?”

Fu Xiling pictured that “quiet” gremlin at home—who’d once kicked him square in the chest at the pool—and smirked. “I like ‘em now.”

The roses? Total accident.

He was pissed about it too.

Little Uncle’s crew was wining and dining partners at the hotel. Fu Xiling, being a good sport, gave up his parking spot for them.

Parked his car at the plaza instead.

Heading over, he thought of Shi Zhi making breakfast the other day and zoned out.

Then ran into a flower vendor.

The guy hounded him for meters, sales pitch nonstop, annoying as hell—ruining his warm breakfast memory.

Without thinking, Fu Xiling bought the flowers.

That damn rose blunder had Shi Zhi side-eyeing him all night.

Every sentence circled back to “Shen Jia.”

He remembered her first time at his place, asking, “Have you never run into anything that really throws you off?”

He’d said, “Maybe not.” Too soon—now he had.

One bouquet killed the night’s vibe. Total buzzkill.

But Fu Xiling kept it together. Tuning his violin, a thought hit him—

If he had to date someone in this life,

He’d pick Shi Zhi.

Shi Zhi clearly didn’t feel the same.

She probably just wanted school to start, happy to chat about safe, cold stuff like work.

Her walls were obvious, and he got it—rolled with her topic, talking about the companies she applied to, how HRs judge hires.

Shi Zhi was smart as hell, perfect for business.

So he said, “Brains don’t have gender—saying women aren’t as smart as men is bullshit. Give you the same resources as Shen Jia, you’d outshine her.”

Shi Zhi asked, “Why not use yourself as the example?”

Fu Xiling teased, “Even with my setup, you’d struggle to top me.”

Then a balled-up alcohol wipe hit him.

He tossed it into the trash two meters away, packed up the violin, and wrapped up this Qixi.

Standing, he said, “Day after tomorrow’s probably busy, so I won’t see you off. Happy new semester early.”

Shi Zhi nodded. “Cool.”

She sat by the messy coffee table, grabbed his car keys from the sofa, and tossed them to him—chill as ever.

He wanted to love her, kiss her, and a ton more.

But not today. Plenty of time ahead.