Fu Xiling said “Happy New Year” with his mouth, starting off all gentle-like, but once he caught Shi Zhi’s vibe, he threw caution to the wind—ended up with her clawing a fierce mark down his back.

The flight was set for noon on New Year’s Day.

Before heading out, Fu Xiling stepped out of the guest bedroom bathroom in lounge pants, hair all mussed up from towel-drying.

He turned around, showing his back to Shi Zhi.

Sounded like he was in a good mood. “You really went hard.”

Shi Zhi was already dressed, unplugging her charger and stuffing it into her bag. She spared him a glance.

His back wasn’t dry yet—the scratch stood out loud and clear.

She said, “New Year’s gift.”

Fu Xiling sauntered over, up to no good. He grabbed both her wrists with one hand, the other arm looping around her waist, dipping his head to suck a mark on her collarbone. “Gotta return the favor.”

Shi Zhi wriggled free, smacking him with her bag a few times.

Knowing his family had elders and a sick relative waiting for him to visit for New Year’s, she didn’t let him drive her to the airport—insisted on taking a cab herself.

Fu Xiling said, “I’ll come see you next month.”

“Cool.”

Shi Zhi didn’t look back, strutting off in her high-heeled boots, cool as hell.

All for show, though.

Truth was, she was thinking.

Last night, when Fu Xiling teased her with that “Jealous?” line, her answer came straight from the gut.

Yao Yao’s thing for Fu Xiling? She genuinely didn’t feel a twinge of jealousy.

She’d figured that out by comparing it to how she felt back when she found out Shen Jia had Tao Jia around.

Back then, she’d lost sleep over it.

Last night, she slept like a rock—though maybe that was just exhaustion.

Traffic was smooth. After security, she had nearly an hour before boarding.

Shi Zhi handled some work stuff from group chats, then downloaded Weibo and logged into an old account she’d made way back.

Since old memories were popping up, might as well take a peek.

Plus, the day she saw Shen Jia, she’d gotten a text from an unknown number. Short and sweet: “Shi Zhi, it’s Shen Jia.”

No way she’d reply. She searched “Shen Jia” on Weibo instead.

Among the results was still “Shen Jia Zane.” Latest post was from over a month ago, New Year’s Day—shared a pic of two hands holding lit sparklers, one guy, one girl.

Tao Jia was still in the comments, dropping a string of red heart emojis.

Looked like their relationship was pretty sweet.

Shi Zhi clicked into “Tao Zi Tsuki.”

Unlike Shen Jia, Tao Jia’s posts were frequent lately—lots of late-night text dumps.

“Why?”

“Am I too sensitive? Too insecure?”

“No goodnight today.”

Even last night, New Year’s Eve, it wasn’t all festive. She posted lyrics from a classic old song—

“The phone rang, you’re about to speak, I thought you were missing me again. Why’s your voice so cold now? You’ve changed, you’ve changed…”

Under these posts, Shen Jia wasn’t all over the comments like he used to be.

Just a few IDs Shi Zhi didn’t recognize, checking on Tao Jia, asking why she’d been so emo lately, if she’d fought with Shen Jia.

Tao Jia didn’t reply to any of them.

Whether this drama had anything to do with her, Shi Zhi couldn’t be bothered to care.

She watched from the sidelines, flipping through it all with zero interest—just killing time. When the boarding call came, she grabbed her ticket and headed to the gate.

The jet bridge wasn’t cold. A flight attendant up ahead greeted with a “Hello.”

Shi Zhi hesitated, didn’t close the app, and typed “Fu Xiling” into the search bar, pulling up his Weibo.

Finally, something worth her attention—she perked up a bit.

Too bad Fu Xiling only had one post, from two years ago. A late-night song share:

Body Language – Sex Chill.

That song? Shi Zhi had played it for him.

Back before she went abroad, in his living room, she’d split an earbud with him, popping it in his ear.

Looped that track on repeat while they hooked up.

Her seat was by the window. Once settled, Shi Zhi shut off Weibo, switched her phone to airplane mode, put on her earbuds, and kept that song playing.

The drip of water, the female singer’s breaths—every sound sank in. Shi Zhi was mulling over Fu Xiling stuff.

She’d always figured their constant back-and-forth, never breaking off, was just unspoken physical need—pure bodily pull.

These past two years with Fu Xiling—had they crossed the line of what bed buddies should be?

Shi Zhi hadn’t thought about feelings in forever.

If she got serious, her type would probably still be the refined, clean-cut, gentle-smile kind, right?

But…

Why’d she come back to the country? Why’d she stay for New Year’s Eve?

Before she could sort those questions out, two things popped up in her life.

One was about Wan Ran and Ling Ling.

Ling Ling was getting married next month. After the wedding, she’d decided to honeymoon down south during her leave.

Passing through Wan Ran’s city, she’d set up a meet with her.

They knew Shi Zhi was in her grad season—light course load, fixed rest days each week after handing off work—so they invited her too, telling her to come play in the south.

Shi Zhi said yeah.

The other thing?

A new guy showed up around her.

That day, Shi Zhi was working, holding two files, clicking her heels as she knocked on An’s office door.

Inside, besides An, was a young guy.

When Shi Zhi walked in, the guy stepped away from the desk, moving to the couch to sip tea.

An waved her to sit, chatted about work for a bit.

The desk phone rang—An got called to talk with another exec, told Shi Zhi to hang tight.

“Zhi, use my computer. Tweak the points we just went over—I’ll be back quick.”

After An left, Shi Zhi dove into work.

She was fast. In minutes, she’d finished what An asked. Forgot someone else was there—stretched her arms back, clasping her hands for a quick pull.

That’s when the guy spoke up. “Miss Shi, wanna come have some tea?”

Shi Zhi turned. He’d already poured a cup.

Grinning, he slid it over, introducing himself as An’s nephew, Tang Wenting.

Shi Zhi nodded politely. “Hey.”

“Miss Shi, you might not remember me, but we’ve met at school. Ate lunch at the same table in the cafeteria once. Though, I graduated last year.”

Maybe ‘cause she didn’t bite, Tang Wenting added he’d done a dual master’s, often tagged along with some professor, even sat in on another’s class.

Shi Zhi had zero memory of him and didn’t touch the tea he poured.

Just that An wasn’t back yet.

Tang Wenting said he’d seen her at the company before, asked his aunt her name, and had been wanting to meet her.

A while back, An had tested the waters with Shi Zhi.

Probably trying to set her up with a boyfriend. Shi Zhi caught on, switched her wallpaper to the same one Fu Xiling had—that shadow pic he took of them.

Worked like a charm.

An saw it by chance and never brought it up again.

But this Tang Wenting? He must’ve known, yet dodged her relationship status entirely. “My aunt says you’re juggling school and work, super busy, told me not to bug you. Still, seeing you today’s awesome.”

Shen Jia had said stuff like that back in the day too.

Maybe guys like them all had the same playbook for showing interest.

Over the next few days, Tang Wenting was in and out of An’s office. When they crossed paths, he’d chat her up a bit.

The day before her rest day, Tang Wenting showed up again.

“Miss Shi, heard from my aunt you’re off tomorrow. Wanna grab coffee with me? Bit shameless to ask, but would you?”

Shi Zhi was booking her flight to see Wan Ran when Fu Xiling’s WeChat popped up at the top of her screen.

They usually called. Since New Year’s Eve, he’d started texting her sometimes.

Random small talk, cracking jokes, that kinda thing.

This back-and-forth was messing with her head, making it hard to pin down what she felt about him right now.

Tang Wenting, though—refined, clean, gentle smile.

Shi Zhi turned off her screen. “What time?”

Tang Wenting froze, then beamed. “Whenever works for you, Miss Shi! I’m free.”

“Two p.m.”

Rest day, sunny as hell.

Shi Zhi got up, hit campus, ate lunch at the cafeteria.

No fuss with her look—just a plain black long-sleeve tee and jeans for the meetup.

Midway, Fu Xiling texted, asking what she was up to.

Shi Zhi said she was grabbing coffee.

“That place downstairs from your apartment, or the one near school?”

“Neither.”

Shi Zhi found the address Tang Wenting sent, forwarded it to Fu Xiling.

He didn’t reply. She pocketed her phone.

Tang Wenting was already at the café, stood when he saw her, all gentlemanly pulling out her chair.

“Miss Shi, been here before? If not, try their signature—it’s solid.”

The coffee had cinnamon. Shi Zhi wasn’t a fan.

Tang Wenting’s convo was standard—fit a mild-mannered guy meeting a girl for the first time.

Polite, with a dash of humor.

They sat there for over an hour, him driving the topics.

When he said he still couldn’t get used to the food abroad after all these years, her phone buzzed.

Fu Xiling.

“You still at the café?”

Shi Zhi typed back, “Yeah.”

He shot back fast, “You’re in a good mood.”

Why a period?

Shi Zhi didn’t overthink it—figured he mistyped, treated it like a question.

“Meh.”

Her mood was legit meh.

‘Cause she realized even with the polite, elegant type, she didn’t have the patience she used to…

This was supposed to be her easy-crush type, right?

Back with Shen Jia, she could play along, say what he wanted to hear.

Now, Tang Wenting cracked a joke, chuckling as he finished, looking at her expectantly.

Took her some effort to muster a faint smile.

Phone buzzed again—

“Doesn’t look meh. You seem thrilled?”

Shi Zhi stared at her screen for a solid three seconds, then snapped her head up—

Fu Xiling was parked at a table three meters away.

A dark red umbrella blocked the sun. He lounged in a solo sofa chair, sunglasses flipped back on his head, phone in hand, facing them sideways.

No coffee for him—just eating ice cream.

Maybe he felt her stare. He turned, locking eyes with Shi Zhi.

She texted, asking why he’d suddenly shown up.

When she looked up, he just gave Tang Wenting a blank glance.

Eyes lowered, he typed.

No answer—just three words:

“Make him leave.”

Shi Zhi set her phone down, made up an excuse to Tang Wenting.

Said she wanted to sit alone, think through some thesis stuff.

“Alright, had a great time chatting. Hope we can grab coffee again. I’ll head out—see ya.”

“See ya.”

Once Tang Wenting left, Fu Xiling strolled over, ice cream spoon in his mouth.

Kinda cocky, smirking without meaning it. “Got a boyfriend now?”

“Nope.”

He didn’t press, just nodded at her cup. “You still drinking that?”

Shi Zhi said no. Before her words even settled, he grabbed her wrist. “Then let’s go.”

A few steps out, Fu Xiling suddenly turned, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her.

Kissed her hard.

When he eased up, that edgy vibe of his faded. On the sunny street, he slid the sunglasses onto her face, then asked, “Another suitor?”

“An’s nephew.”

“Can’t keep ‘em away, huh.”

“Didn’t you know I’m heading to see Wan Ran and them tomorrow? Flight’s booked—why’d you come?”

“Felt like it.”

Fu Xiling took her for Chinese—her fave Sichuan-Chongqing style. After ike usual, they hit a hotel room after.

While kissing, Shi Zhi felt a box in his pocket. Too caught up in the heat, she thought it was a cigarette pack, didn’t think twice.

Fu Xiling didn’t sweat Tang Wenting—even joked, asking if this suitor called her “angel” too.

He got pissed the next morning, after his shower.

A while back, Shi Zhi’s old phone crapped out. Repair shop said it wasn’t worth fixing.

She needed a new one but couldn’t be bothered to shop around.

Knowing Fu Xiling was a guy who enjoyed the good stuff, she asked his phone model and got the same one.

Both phones sat on the bedroom windowsill—same brand, same color, same wallpaper.

Fresh from the shower in a bathrobe, he grabbed one, swiped it open, then realized it was hers.

Shi Zhi’s phone was on WeChat.

Top chat? Tang Wenting.

Half an hour ago, he’d sent a message. Red dot with a “1” on his icon.

You could see it without opening:

“Morning.”

Shi Zhi came out, hair blow-dried, and saw Fu Xiling leaning on the sill, phone in hand.

Broad shoulders, slim waist, bathrobe belt tied sloppy.

He looked up at her, slow.

She’d never seen him like this.

Not the anger from when Fu Xifeng trashed his place, not irritation, not the amused look he got when she had suitors.

Couldn’t name it—quiet, cold.

“You added Tang Wenting on WeChat?”

“…Yeah.”

“You said you don’t add suitors’ contacts. Said you wouldn’t date someone just ‘cause they chased you or did something—only if you wanted to.”

Fu Xiling’s memory was scary good, calmly reciting her old words, then asking, “So, you wanna date Tang Wenting?”

“I added him ‘cause I’ve got some stuff I haven’t figured out.”

“Figured it out now?”

He paused a few seconds, didn’t get an answer, and stepped up to her.

“I don’t mess with girls who have boyfriends or are about to. Since you’re still sorting shit out, hit me up when you do.”