The next morning, Fang Ruan strolled into the internet café as usual, humming a little tune to himself.
It was still early. Only a handful of people were online, and the cashier girl hadn't arrived yet.
Tu Nan had been up for a while. She sat in the corner watching a small pot where rice porridge simmered.
She wasn't in the habit of ordering takeout. After being away for so long she'd eaten simply, so even now, living under someone else's roof, she cooked for herself whenever she could. It wasn't much trouble anyway.
Fang Ruan was long used to it. He bounded over in two quick steps, calling out, "Tu Nan, look, quick!" He thrust his phone in front of her like he was presenting treasure.
Tu Nan focused on the screen. A WeChat transfer: 800 yuan. Beneath it, he'd replied enthusiastically: Thank you, gorgeous, mwah mwah! followed by a long string of red hearts.
She lifted her eyes. "Someone sent you money. So?"
"Who told you to look at the money? Look at who sent it!"
Tu Nan glanced again. An Pei, and the profile photo was her own face.
The girl from yesterday.
She understood immediately. "So all that 'showing people around', you were actually there for the girl, huh? Just to get her WeChat?"
"Of course." Fang Ruan puffed up. "I'm a dignified internet café boss. I'm not short a few hundred. If I wasn't doing it for a pretty girl, would I really be running around for her like that?"
Tu Nan wasn't optimistic at all. "I'd advise you to kill that idea early. You saw that man yesterday, didn't you? He's a returnee, and…" She looked Fang Ruan up and down and delivered her verdict: "He's also better-looking than you."
"…We're practically family and you're roasting me like this?"
Tu Nan's face was flat. "I'm doing it for your own good. So you don't get your heart broken later."
Fang Ruan didn't believe her for a second, she wasn't doing it for his good, she was stabbing him right where it hurt. But he was in too good a mood to care. "Forget it. If you ask me, those two are definitely not a couple."
Tu Nan raised a brow. "If you ask you?"
"Hey, don't doubt me, I've got proof!" Fang Ruan tapped rapidly on his phone and shoved it at her again.
It was An Pei's Moments feed.
Her earliest post was from yesterday, with a photo: beneath the bodhi tree at Ling Tan Temple, she held a leaf delicately between her fingers, eyes gently closed. The camera only captured half her face, a side profile partially veiled by curled hair.
Next to it was a line of reflection:
Time is bright, yet life is like mist, crossing alone, asking no return.
Tu Nan tilted her head and stared. It looked like a selfie—but at that angle, how exactly did you twist your arm to take it?
And what did that sentence even mean? She was young, pretty, what "mist" could her life possibly have?
Before she could figure it out, she saw another post beneath it:
Hiding somewhere, missing the palm lines of the earth.
The earth's palm lines? Cracked soil?
Then another:
Nothing. No place. No matter. Life is not poetry, how many times have I turned away without knowing.
…
After scrolling through more than ten posts, Tu Nan finally got it. There was no need to interpret anything—this was just her vibe.
Fang Ruan asked eagerly, "So? See anything?"
"Yeah… very artsy." She hadn't expected Fang Ruan to like this type.
Fang Ruan grew impatient. "That's not what I mean! Didn't you notice she has basically zero interaction with that man? If they were a couple, how could there not even be a single photo together?"
Tu Nan thought about it.
It actually made sense.
And then she remembered yesterday: Fang Ruan had offered Tu Nan's water as if it were his own. An Pei had taken it and passed it to Shi Qinglin. Tu Nan had seen it clearly. When he accepted it, there was no flirtation, no intimacy, if anything, it gave her a different feeling.
Hard to describe.
As if An Pei treated him with a kind of respect, as though it was only natural that the water should go to him first.
Tu Nan had developed instincts from years of watching, but instincts could be wrong. Besides, it wasn't her business, and she had no interest in peeking into other people's private lives. The thought passed and was gone.
Now, paired with what Fang Ruan was saying, it did seem those two weren't close.
"Forget it," Fang Ruan scoffed. "You don't even have Moments. I could explain all day and you still wouldn't get it."
He squatted beside her, holding his phone, scrolling through An Pei's posts one by one like a happy little stalker, grinning in satisfaction.
Two minutes later, he suddenly yelped. "Oh! So she plays this game too!"
Tu Nan glanced over.
On his phone, An Pei had posted a link:
Has everyone played Sword Soars to Heaven? It's seriously amazing—don't miss it if you're passing by! [blowing kiss][blowing kiss]
The post was from half a year ago. It was practically the only one with any real content, and it was basically an ad?
Fang Ruan, sharp as ever, immediately dove into the comments. Sure enough, he found her account info and server. He sprang up, thrilled, and went behind the counter to start a computer.
"What a coincidence, this is the game I told you to try yesterday! I'm making an account too!"
Tu Nan glanced up at the poster on the wall. The title was there, stylized in wild calligraphy. She hadn't noticed before, but now she could read it.
Sword. Soars. Heaven.
What a ridiculous name.
And then it clicked, no wonder An Pei had looked unhappy when Tu Nan said the game was "average." Turns out she was a devoted player.
A full hour passed with Fang Ruan obsessively training his new character. His keyboard clattered nonstop, his mood sky-high.
"Damn, I didn't expect this game to be kind of fun."
The boss was neglecting his business to an absurd degree. Customers gradually started coming in, and Tu Nan was forced to go help at the counter for a while.
When she finally had a moment to breathe, she returned to the corner to keep an eye on the porridge, just in time for her WeChat to ping.
She opened it.
A message from her father.
Her heart jolted, until she saw the content: the borderlands' weather had been unpredictable lately, even snowing in summer. She should take care of herself, copy diligently, and absolutely not delay "proper business."
Tu Nan replied the way he wanted.
After that, there were no other messages.
Her WeChat contacts were pitifully few. Other than this, her latest message was still Xiao Yun's:
Let's break up.
Back then, she'd only replied with one character:
Okay.
There was no point clinging. If you have no heart, then I'll stop.
"Hey, little punk! You hit me? I'll wipe you out!" Fang Ruan yelled at his screen, deep in the game.
Tu Nan glanced his way.
Then she remembered how he'd mocked her for not having Moments.
On impulse, she opened Moments.
She really had never enabled it, too much hassle, and no time. Besides, all she did every day was paint. What was there to post?
The porridge finally boiled. Tu Nan pinched the lid between two fingers and lifted it.
At the same time, she casually scrolled
And a photo filled her screen.
A photo of hands intertwined.
A man's hand and a woman's hand, fingers laced tight, inseparable.
No caption. Only a suggestive kissing emoji.
The poster was Xiao Yun.
The timestamp: yesterday, 4:55 p.m.
If she remembered correctly, at that exact time she'd been trapped in the Guanyin Hall, staring at a different man's hand reaching toward her.
Xiao Yun had once had a "white moonlight" in his past, someone unattainable and unforgettable. Tu Nan had known about her.
When he'd broken up with Tu Nan without warning, she'd understood instantly.
The white moonlight had returned.
Tu Nan, who'd once been his "red cinnabar mole," had become nothing more than an irritating mosquito bite.
Bang.
The pot lid slammed down. White steam rose, curling like smoke.
Tu Nan gave a cold laugh.
"Trash."
Behind the counter, Fang Ruan jerked his head up in horror. "…?"
In the corner, Tu Nan leaned against the wall, brows clean and eyes cold. "Not you."
An SUV drove into a parking lot. The rugged body turned smoothly and came to a steady stop in a space.
An Pei was waiting outside. She tapped the car window and waved at the person inside.
Shi Qinglin got out, dressed simply in a white T-shirt and long pants. A fine sheen of sweat beaded at his temples, he clearly had just come back from the gym.
It wasn't the first time An Pei had seen him like this, but every time she still had to comment.
"Are you a robot or something? You work so late every day and still have the energy to work out, where do you even get it?"
Shi Qinglin slipped his keys into his pocket as he walked. "If your blessing comes true, that would be great. Then my time would never run out."
"Devil…" An Pei muttered, catching up to him. She shook her phone. "I transferred the money to that Fang Ruan. Eight hundred for nothing, what a scam."
Shi Qinglin said calmly, "You found him. If he scammed you, you still have to accept it."
An Pei pouted. She'd only heard the little internet café owner had connections, who knew they'd get inside and see nothing at all.
"So what now? Do we try somewhere else for inspiration?"
"No time," Shi Qinglin said. "This project can't be delayed anymore."
An Pei asked, "What, did they call again to rush you?"
"Mm. They called yesterday afternoon, while we were at the temple."
That call had been far too long. If not for that, he wouldn't have missed the mural inside the Guanyin Hall.
Thinking of the Guanyin Hall naturally brought up the scene outside it. In Shi Qinglin's mind, the first thing that surfaced was the close weave of the green protective netting...
and then, the person behind it.
That slender figure leaning by the doorway had simply waited there. When she looked up, her eyes were blurred, empty of sorrow or joy.
But when her gaze collided with his, a trace of discomfort appeared.
Even now, remembering it made Shi Qinglin want to laugh a little. What was she uncomfortable about? He didn't think he'd done anything to her, not once.
"What do we do then?" An Pei sounded anxious. "Everything online is the same old stuff, and we can't see any copybooks. Maybe we should just drop the mural element completely."
"Wouldn't finding a new element waste even more time?"
"…True."
They'd spent half a year preparing this project. Starting over now would be a terrible deal.
Shi Qinglin walked quickly. In no time he'd left the parking lot. Ahead were rows of office buildings, separated by a wide green belt, the road stretching forward.
He remembered there was an internet café on that street, Fang Ruan's.
Shi Qinglin's mind jumped fast: internet café → internet → and then more.
After only a few steps, he suddenly turned back.
"Let's change the plan."
An Pei's eyes lit up. "Change it how?"
Shi Qinglin said, "Instead of wasting time trying to see things on-site, we should take another route."
An Pei brightened further. "You've got an idea?"
"Yeah."