We kept chatting on WeChat the whole time. Later, I figured showing up too early wouldn't be good—the bar would still be pretty empty, and she might spot me. So I made up an excuse, saying I had to go home first and asked her to wait a little longer.
Jiang Qingqing said she was already dressed up and ready to leave. She urged me to hurry, and I promised I'd definitely make it to Miik by nine. When the time came, I sent her a message: I'm almost at Miik. You should head over now. She replied, Okay, I'm heading downstairs to grab a cab.
Once she was in the taxi, she asked me over WeChat, What's your phone number? I'll call you when I get there. Afraid she'd recognize my voice, I didn't dare tell her. Instead, I said, The music at Miik is too loud—just message me when you arrive. A call might not even go through. She agreed and said she'd text me when she got there.
By then, I was already inside Miik. It was nine o'clock, and the place was starting to get lively. To avoid being spotted by Jiang Qingqing, I found a corner seat—an ordinary booth that cost me 400 yuan—and waited for her to arrive.
Less than ten minutes later, Jiang Qingqing messaged me: I'm here. My heart immediately started pounding. I had no idea how to respond—I couldn't exactly tell her which booth I was at, could I? So I stayed silent, my eyes scanning the entrance to see if she had come in yet.
When I didn't reply, she sent another message: Where are you? Why aren't you answering? I thought, How could I possibly answer that? So I ignored her, keeping one eye on my phone and the other on the door. I figured she was probably standing outside, texting me angrily.
After getting no response, Jiang Qingqing sent a string of frustrated emojis, followed by a row of angry ones. Where the hell are you? she demanded. Then she asked for my phone number again. When I still didn't reply, she sent me her number and told me to call her as soon as I saw it. Watching her get increasingly worked up gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction. You've been messing with me behind the scenes all this time—now it's my turn. How does it feel?
Eventually, since I wasn't responding, Jiang Qingqing walked in through the main entrance. The moment I saw her from a distance, I couldn't help but curse under my breath. She was dressed way too provocatively tonight—a thin, off-the-shoulder knit top that showed off her collarbone, paired with a red purse. As she walked in, those fox-like eyes of hers darted around, clearly searching for me.
Jiang Qingqing's outfit immediately drew the attention of nearly every guy in the bar. Honestly, even though she'd been my homeroom teacher for a while and usually dressed pretty boldly, I'd never seen her in something like this before. After scanning the room and failing to spot anyone familiar, her expression darkened. She took a seat at the bar and started texting me again: Are you messing with me? Why aren't you answering?
I knew that if I replied now, I'd have no way to explain myself. I could always text her later tonight and claim my phone died or something came up—but even then, she'd probably be furious and might never speak to me again. I watched as Jiang Qingqing ordered a cocktail and kept bombarding me with messages. No matter how many she sent, I refused to reply.
Finally, she seemed to lose patience. She put her phone away and just sat there at the bar, lost in thought. But no matter what she did, Jiang Qingqing had this naturally seductive aura. I could already see guys eyeing her like wolves. Some were even making their way over to hit on her. I leaned in, watching intently.
The first guy to approach her was some middle-aged dude in his forties, dressed well but not much to look at. Jiang Qingqing didn't seem interested—after a few words, he slunk back to his seat. The second guy was younger, maybe late twenties, dressed in a more casual, stylish way. I saw Jiang Qingqing actually smile at him, and the two started chatting. For some reason, that pissed me off. I was the one who'd set this up, and now some other guy was reaping the benefits?
At first, I thought tonight was a bust—I'd just come to watch Jiang Qingqing act all cutesy. But then I found out Miik was hosting a special event called Mask Night. Last week, when I'd come with Yan She, it had been Queen's Night. This time, it was all about masks, starting at ten, with free masks handed out at the door. That's when I realized—this was my chance to get close to her.
I grabbed a mask that covered most of my face, thinking that once the event started, I could wear it and go over to buy her a drink. With the mask on, she wouldn't recognize me—but if I spoke, my voice would give me away. Still, I figured, Screw it. I'll just go over and not say a word.
More and more guys kept approaching Jiang Qingqing, and she didn't turn any of them down. When Mask Night officially began, she accepted a mask from a server and put it on. Hers only covered her eyes, leaving her lips and chin exposed. I knew I couldn't just walk up empty-handed, so I ordered a bottle of red wine, poured myself a glass, and made my way over. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. I kept adjusting my mask, terrified it might slip and expose me.
By the time I reached her, Jiang Qingqing was already surrounded by two other guys. No surprise—her flirty demeanor had clearly caught plenty of attention. With men on either side of her, I had to settle for a nearby seat and just listened to their conversation. They were talking about cocktails—something I actually knew a thing or two about, thanks to Yan She. Cocktails were one of her hobbies. She had her own bar setup at home, complete with all the tools and ingredients, and every night after dinner, she'd mix herself a drink. I'd picked up a few tricks from her, so I could have joined in the conversation—but I stayed quiet, afraid Jiang Qingqing would recognize my voice.
At one point, the guy next to her bragged that he knew how to mix cocktails—and that his were better than the bar's own bartenders'. Jiang Qingqing raised an eyebrow. Really? she asked. The guy nodded confidently, claiming he'd studied under a famous mixologist in Barbados. Want me to make you one? he offered. She agreed, and the guy went over to chat up the bartender, who let him take over the station.
Honestly, the guy was good-looking—tall, stylish—but when he asked Jiang Qingqing what she wanted and she said Pink Lady, I almost laughed out loud watching him mix it. This guy claims he trained with a professional? His technique was amateur at best. He added way too little grenadine, completely ruining the balance of the drink. Anyone with even basic cocktail knowledge could tell this was a subpar Pink Lady.
I realized if I just sat there, I'd never get my chance. So when the guy finished and presented his sad attempt at a cocktail, I walked over, pointed at it, and shook my head. Both he and Jiang Qingqing understood—I was calling his drink trash. The guy glared at me, clearly annoyed I might be intruding on his game. What the hell do you know about cocktails? he sneered. You think you can do better? I nodded and stepped behind the bar.
Yan She's favorite drink was the Pink Lady, and she made me mix it for her almost every night. While I wasn't an expert at other cocktails, this one? I'd mastered it. In no time, I slid a perfectly mixed Pink Lady across the counter to Jiang Qingqing.