Chapter Fifty-Seven — Coming to Terms with Oneself

Yan Lu’s simple four words instantly froze the atmosphere. Lu Xugao wisely held his tongue, chewing even more quietly, lips firmly closed.

By now, the cafeteria was entirely empty, save for the three of them. A staff member from the kitchen came over, politely reminding them and gently asking if they had finished their meal.

In Yishu’s bowl, only a few mouthfuls of rice had been eaten from the side closest to her. After all that Yan Lu had said and asked, there was still half a bowl left, but she had no appetite to finish it. Lu Xugao shoveled in his last mouthful, marking the end of his meal.

They stepped outside, and the fine rain persisted.

Lu Xugao took off his dual-purpose jacket and draped it over Yan Lu’s shoulders. Yishu drew her loose cardigan tighter in the middle, warding off the chilly wind that sought entry through the gaps.

Upon entering the warehouse, all three instinctively shook off the droplets that clung to them.

Yan Lu removed the jacket from her shoulders, tossed it back to Lu Xugao, and walked over to Yishu. “Let’s just stay here tonight. In the morning, Gaozi can drive us to Textile City.”

“We only have one bed here,” Lu Xugao whispered in her ear.

“Sleep on the stacks of goods,” Yan Lu replied irritably.

One bed, one room? Yishu caught the crucial detail. They were actually living together—truly cohabiting, in every sense of the word. Yet Yan Lu had always vowed she wouldn’t have premarital sex; it was her bottom line. And she was always one to keep her word. For her to break her principles, that man must be truly extraordinary. At least, that’s how it looked to Yishu.

But Yishu didn’t pursue the thought any further. The events of the past two days had been so chaotic, she still couldn’t unravel them. She didn’t want to create new problems. She trusted Yan Lu’s judgment and actions; Yan Lu was not one to compromise lightly.

“I’ll go home,” Yishu said, glancing at her phone. “It’s past eight. I’ll get home around nine.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Yan Lu threatened, brandishing an imaginary knife. “I’ll teach him a lesson and see what tricks that fox has up her sleeve.”

Yishu was terrified; Yan Lu was the type to match her words with action. If she went, all hell would break loose. “No, I’ll just take a taxi. You both have had a long day—get some rest.”

Lu Xugao tugged at Yan Lu’s sleeve, signaling her not to go overboard. Even among friends, there were lines not to be crossed lest things backfire. Help when needed, but otherwise, step back.

“No, we’ll drive you home,” Yan Lu insisted. Then, her tone softened. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to cause trouble. We’ll drop you off and leave. It’s hard to get a taxi here at night, and there are too many unsavory characters about. What if something happened…”

“Alright,” Yishu nodded.

At night, Yunbei became a different world. All the companies, factories, and warehouses vanished into the darkness, not a light in sight. The widely spaced streetlights, shaded by the avenue trees, cast a sinister pallor.

Yishu felt uneasy, yet with Yan Lu and Lu Xugao in the car, what was there to be afraid of?

Before getting in, Yan Lu fetched a folding stool and sat beside Yishu. They could talk a little more before reaching Fuyuan. From now on, each would have their own career, their own life. They might not live far apart, but they wouldn’t see each other often.

She grasped Yishu’s hand resting on her thigh, gently stroking it with her thumb. “If you ever need anything, just tell me. I’ve got your back.”

Yishu didn’t have the energy to ponder why Yan Lu sometimes spoke so candidly.

Inside the car, the pungent smell of gasoline and lingering cargo odors arose again. With an empty stomach, Yishu felt a surge of acid, almost making her retch.

All she heard was Yan Lu’s lengthy monologue beside her, to which she responded with nods, blinks, and simple interjections.

When they reached Xingzhou Avenue, the streetlights on both sides grew noticeably brighter.

Almost there.

A moment later, the car passed the intersection of Xingzhou Avenue and Yue’an Road. In the blink of an eye, Fuyuan’s grand entrance appeared before them.

“We’re here,” Lu Xugao said, braking and pulling the handbrake, but leaving the engine running.

“Thank you for today,” Yishu said, grabbing her shoulder bag and reaching for the door handle.

“Wait.” Yan Lu caught her arm. “I think I should go up with you.”

Yishu hesitated. On any other day, with advance notice, Yan Lu would be warmly welcomed. Tonight was simply not the right time for guests.

Besides…

“I think it’s better not to go up,” Lu Xugao chimed in, turning off the engine. “It’s late, and it would be inconvenient to disturb anyone now.”

Lu Xugao had voiced exactly what Yishu was thinking. Besides being a matter of etiquette, Fuyuan was Xu Shixi’s home, and she was just staying there temporarily. Their relationship was only that of lovers, not husband and wife; hosting friends without permission was inappropriate.

“Don’t worry about me,” Su Yishu forced a brave smile. “Shixi and I just had a little disagreement. It’s normal for people to have friction. I was just making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe I lack experience and don’t know how to handle this kind of relationship. I guess I unconsciously followed some script I saw on TV.”

“What are you talking about?” Yan Lu scratched her head and reached out to feel Yishu’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”

Yishu pushed her hand away. “I’m not feverish. I’m perfectly clear-headed.” She smiled, and that bit of vague philosophizing succeeded in confusing Yan Lu.

Seizing the moment while Yan Lu was lost in thought, Yishu opened the car door and quickly made her escape. After taking a few steps, she turned back to thank Lu Xugao.

The osmanthus trees in Fuyuan, battered by bouts of autumn wind and rain, had lost their pride. Like the camphor trees earlier in the year, they had entered the next, colder season by way of death. But winter in Yuncheng was still a long way off.

“At last, you’re back!”

The moment Yishu opened the door, Xu Shixi called out from the sofa.

Only one lamp was lit in the house, not enough to illuminate the spacious living room.

Yishu put down her bag and changed into slippers. “You’re still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Xu Shixi replied, beaming now that Yishu was willing to talk to him. “I was waiting for you.”

He had spent half an hour at Xunle Bar, the clamor and chaos giving him a splitting headache. No matter how much Qiao Siming tried to persuade him, he was determined to leave.

Qiao Siming was wild and unruly—a true playboy, had he been born in another era. Over the years at Xunyuan, Xu Shixi had found him less and less like the man he’d met in college.

“Yan Lu’s back,” Yishu said, her gloom dispelled. “She wanted to catch up.”

Seeing Xu Shixi’s innocent face, his eyes shining like sun, moon, and stars, Yishu found that after a day of self-adjustment and comfort, she no longer felt so resentful.

“Really?” Xu Shixi was overjoyed, tongue-tied. Yishu’s recent gloom had much to do with Yan Lu’s absence. Now that she’d returned, the heavy weight in his heart could finally settle. As for the remaining, smaller worries, he was confident they’d all resolve by morning.

“Why didn’t you invite me?” Xu Shixi raised an eyebrow playfully.

What excuse could she give? She couldn’t say she’d left him out because she was still angry, nor could she claim she’d forgotten—both were untenable.

Xu Shixi read the truth in her evasive glance. “Alright, just kidding. Did you eat? If not, have a little something before bed. I bought your favorite Swiss roll.”

She hadn’t felt hungry, but now that he mentioned it, she realized she was. She patted her hollow stomach, knowing it would start rumbling within the hour.

“Okay.”

That single word melted the thin layer of ice in his heart.

Xu Shixi took out the Swiss roll, packed in a transparent container inside a paper box.

Yishu gazed at the night scene beyond the floor-to-ceiling window.

All the imagined scenarios had blown apart and reassembled into a new whole—one that would be defined by the other. She no longer clung to her worries. The stifling frustration inside her heart transformed into an hourglass, slowly trickling away through its narrow neck. Those stubborn tendrils clinging to the stone walls would, once deprived of tears, eventually dry up and fall away naturally.