Shi Zhi and Shen Jia had their first argument in the half year they had been dating. It happened in the cafeteria, and they parted ways on a sour note.

Shi Zhi refused to answer Shen Jia’s calls and actively avoided him. So, when a girl from the same dorm building knocked on her door two days later, saying there was a boy looking for her downstairs, Shi Zhi assumed it was Shen Jia again.

Leaning against the balcony window with her arms crossed, she looked down—and was unexpectedly met with the sight of Fu Xiling.

When Shen Jia came looking for her, he usually stood upright downstairs, tilting his head up to smile at her. Fu Xiling, however, wasn’t one to inconvenience himself. Even when waiting, he had to be comfortable, like a high-ranking leader inspecting work. He sat casually on the edge of the flower bed, petting the tabby cat that often loitered downstairs looking for food.

The tabby cat was clearly unwilling, shrinking into itself as if it were hiding a double chin before finally escaping Fu Xiling’s grasp. It crouched a meter or so away, meowing indignantly in a long, drawn-out tone.

Fu Xiling, bold and unconcerned about how others viewed him, noticed Shi Zhi looking at him. He waved at her casually and, from three floors below, called out, “Hey, want to grab a coffee?”

He said it like they were old friends.

There were a few coffee shops near the school, and Shi Zhi randomly picked one. Before going in, she told Fu Xiling, “I have class later. Only twenty minutes.”

“I know.” Fu Xiling, holding his ringing phone, opened the door for her but didn’t follow her inside.

Because of her personal experiences, Shi Zhi despised morally ambiguous characters in movies and TV shows. These characters, though popular with audiences, always acted on whims, were unpredictable, and lacked a sense of reliability. She didn’t like this quality in real life either. People like Fu Xiling, for instance, were ones she avoided as much as possible.

Shi Zhi preferred someone like Shen Jia—low-profile, restrained, dependable, someone who avoided risky or impulsive actions. Being with someone like that meant life was less likely to face upheaval, steady and peaceful.

But Shen Jia…

If only he could raise three fingers and firmly say, “Trust me, my childhood friend and I are not what you think.” If he had the guts to say that, Shi Zhi would have considered believing him.

But he didn’t. Over the past two days, his texts had been repetitive, filled with empty words that didn’t address the core of the problem.

Sigh… Shen Jia…

Shi Zhi sighed and glanced outside. Coincidentally, Fu Xiling was in that direction, standing with a cigarette in his mouth as he spoke on the phone. Taking advantage of his absence, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions. By the time Fu Xiling entered, she was ready to ask calmly, “How did you know which dorm building I live in?”

“I asked around a bit,” Fu Xiling replied, sitting across from her and placing his phone and cigarette pack on the table. He glanced at her, “Didn’t sleep well? You’ve got dark circles.”

Who could sleep well when they were having a relationship crisis with their boyfriend? Shi Zhi had few close friends and preferred it that way—fewer connections meant less chance of betrayal. She wasn’t the type to complain about her problems either. She crossed her arms and replied curtly, “I lost my bracelet, of course I can’t sleep well.”

Her response surprised Fu Xiling, and he looked at her a moment longer. She was stunningly beautiful—the kind of beauty that could pull off wearing a burlap sack. Even with her evident lack of energy from her argument with Shen Jia, she still looked amazing.

That day in the cafeteria, Shi Zhi had stormed off from Shen Jia, striding past Fu Xiling without even a glance, treating him like a wall. So Fu Xiling reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a jade bracelet, and placed it in her palm. “I thought you didn’t even notice me that day.”

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the jade beads in her hand. The bracelet, a gift from Shen Jia, was slightly too large for her wrist. She’d thought about removing two or three beads to make it fit better, but Shen Jia had mentioned that the jade had been blessed at a temple for protection. Because of that, she had left it as it was.

At the time, she had joked with Shen Jia, “It’s your fault for not paying attention. Do my wrists look that thick to you?” What had Shen Jia said back then? Oh, right, he had scratched the back of his head and replied, “Consider it a lesson learned. I won’t mess up next time.”

Shi Zhi snapped out of her thoughts and looked at the bracelet in her hand without saying anything. Fu Xiling noticed her silence. “It was a gift from Shen Jia, wasn’t it?”

Shi Zhi didn’t answer. She wasn’t particularly familiar with Fu Xiling, and agreeing to have coffee with him wasn’t about idle chit-chat.

At that moment, Shen Jia called, and she hung up on him. Shi Zhi scanned the QR code on the table, opened the ordering page, and slid her phone to Fu Xiling. “What do you want to drink? Today’s my treat. Thanks for keeping your word and helping me find the bracelet.”

Her tone was strictly businesslike, devoid of any warmth, and she looked distant as she spoke. While she talked, she put the bracelet back on her wrist.

For some reason, Fu Xiling suddenly felt annoyed. He didn’t touch her phone, leaning back into the sofa with his arms crossed, tapping his ringed finger against his arm. He got straight to the point, “You’re not just here to thank me, are you?”

Of course, she wasn’t. Fu Xiling’s confident assertion that Shen Jia wouldn’t contact her had likely come from knowing something she didn’t.

Shi Zhi said, “You know Shen Jia’s childhood friend.”

“I do. But ‘childhood friend’ isn’t quite accurate. Something like ‘childhood sweetheart’ fits better.” Fu Xiling finally picked up Shi Zhi’s phone and began selecting a coffee. “So, you’re here to find out about them?”

After selecting his coffee, he slid the phone back to her. The ordering page displayed beautifully hand-drawn watercolor illustrations of the coffees, with their ingredients neatly labeled in a cute font. Shi Zhi wasn’t in the mood to be picky. Without scrolling, she randomly tapped the plus button next to the first option and checked out.

She admitted it openly, “I do want to know. It’ll help me decide what to do next. But if you’re not comfortable talking about it, that’s fine too.”

Their drinks arrived—two identical iced coffees. Fu Xiling took a leisurely sip and said, “Shen Jia’s the one who did something wrong, not me. Why wouldn’t I talk?”

They struck a deal in the coffee shop. Fu Xiling would tell her about Shen Jia’s childhood sweetheart, but she had to answer two of his questions. Shi Zhi agreed.

Fu Xiling, however, wasn’t much of a storyteller. He merely said that Shen Jia’s childhood sweetheart was Tao Jia, and they had dated for a while before breaking up when Tao Jia went abroad.

The coffee smelled great, but Shi Zhi had lost her appetite. She barely drank two sips.

Fu Xiling tapped the table. “Check your phone.”

“…What for?”

Just as she asked, her phone buzzed with a notification. A new friend had messaged her on WeChat, and the name of this friend was “Fu Xiling.”

“Don’t glare at me. I used your phone to add myself.”

Fu Xiling sent her a screenshot. The image showed his Weibo messages under the “Messages from Non-Followers” tab. One ID, “TaoziTsuki,” had been circled by him.

“I’m not close with them either. If you want to know more, you’ll have to look into it yourself. Now, it’s my turn to ask.”

Fu Xiling asked her two questions. The first was, “Haven’t decided to break up with Shen Jia yet?” The second was, “Your name is nice. Have you always been called that, or did you change it?”

Shi Zhi memorized the Weibo ID in her head and glanced at the time—it was almost twenty minutes. She wasn’t someone particularly bound by honesty. Now that her goal had been achieved, she was ready to leave.

Her answers to Fu Xiling’s questions were perfunctory: “Haven’t decided. Haven’t changed it.” A total of six words.

Fu Xiling chuckled to himself, coffee cup in hand.

“I’ve paid. Goodbye.”

Shi Zhi arrived at the classroom to find most of her classmates already there. A few of them had been chatting in a group but immediately went quiet when she passed by.

During class, Shi Zhi couldn’t concentrate. Without the protection of parents, life had been tougher for her than for her peers. She didn’t have much time for entertainment, and her online presence was minimal.

She registered a new Weibo account and found “TaoziTsuki.” Clicking into the account, she began browsing Tao Jia’s posts.

On the night Shen Jia skipped their dinner, Tao Jia had posted a text update around 6 PM:

“So uncomfortable. Am I getting sick?”

In the comments, Shi Zhi found Shen Jia’s reply. His ID, “Shen Jia Zane,” was formatted similarly to Tao Jia’s. He had asked, “Where are you?” Tao Jia had replied, “At home.”

Shen Jia’s comment was posted around 6:40 PM. By that time, Shi Zhi had already been on her way to their dinner spot. She could imagine Shen Jia finishing his meeting with the professor, checking Weibo as soon as he stepped out of the office, and then heading off to find Tao Jia without hesitation…

On the day of the concert, Tao Jia had also posted. It was a late-night selfie taken in the car.

In the photo, Tao Jia sat in the front passenger seat wearing a mask and a cream-colored knit bucket hat, her eyes smiling. In the backseat was Shen Jia’s profile as he drove, and next to him, Shen Jia’s other male childhood friend, Li Xinbo, whom Shi Zhi had met many times before. Li Xinbo smiled at the camera, flashing a peace sign.

The comments section of the post also featured Shen Jia. Someone had asked, “Which one is Taozi’s boyfriend?” Tao Jia had replied, “Both, hahaha.” And Shen Jia had responded to Tao Jia with, “Yeah, both.”

The classroom was quiet, with only the professor’s voice explaining probability formulas through the speaker. Shi Zhi felt a tightness in her chest. She turned off her phone screen and looked up, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Her phone buzzed again several times in her hand, but she didn’t notice, lost in thought.

When she finally looked, the messages weren’t from Shen Jia—they were from Fu Xiling.

“Boss Shi, you’re really good at business.”

“One cup of coffee.”

“Six words.”

“Has anyone told you that studying accounting is a waste of your talents?”