The beginning of 2025 felt like a slow unraveling for Susu.
She lost her job in January.From February to April, she lived alone, adjusting to the quiet aftermath of a ten-year marriage that had ended without drama, without ceremony.
On the day the divorce was finalized, she left with a single suitcase—and her cat.
Her body responded before her mind could catch up.Eczema spread across her face, persistent and painful.She avoided mirrors.Avoided people.Avoided explanations.
In June, she found a new job.Before starting, she took a week off and went to Suzhou.
She wasn't looking for anything.She just needed space.
That night, almost absentmindedly, she downloaded a social app called Social.She scrolled with no particular intention.
That was when Yike appeared.
He lived in Suzhou.Quiet. Unassuming.Their conversations stayed light—no expectations, no promises.
They discovered a simple overlap between them:Both single.Neither searching for love.But both open to something steady. Respectful.
One evening, he asked if she'd like to get a drink.
Susu stared at the screen longer than she meant to.She had never gone out drinking with a man she barely knew.
That night, she said yes.
"I'm a responsible drinker," he told her."No touching. I'll just tell you some good stories."
The bar was on the second floor, tucked away from the street.A little loud—but comfortable.
He arrived ten minutes early.
Black T-shirt. Rimless glasses.Tall—just over six feet.White shorts, sneakers. Clean. Restrained.
Susu wore a blue qipao embroidered with hydrangeas.There was a twelve-year age gap between them.She decided not to pretend otherwise.
He asked what she wanted to drink, explaining the menu with quiet patience.She chose one. He added the bar's signature cocktail.
By the third glass, she noticed something she couldn't ignore.
He was watching her.
Not directly.Not intrusively.Just gently, attentively—whenever she looked away.
Each time she met his gaze, he turned aside.
At 10:30 p.m., they decided to leave.
Before heading downstairs, he stopped and said,"You're very beautiful. Exactly my type."
She blinked, then smiled."Thank you."
Outside, the street was calm as they waited for the car.
He glanced around and asked softly,"May I?"
She didn't have time to answer.
He leaned in and brushed her lips—light, tentative.More a question than a declaration.
"If you're not comfortable, that's okay," he said."I'll take you home. You can think about it."
Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of her hotel.
He walked her to the entrance, hesitated, then asked again.
She could see it then—his restraint,his careful fear of crossing a line.
And in that moment, she thought:
Her life had already broken apart once.If she wanted something now, she would choose it.
She nodded.
"I'll go get something," he said quietly. "Wait for me."
She sat on a bench, watching the city lights flicker.
A few minutes later, he returned.
They walked into the hotel together.
When the door closed behind them,the night in Suzhou finally fell silent.