Su Qingyi slept until nine.
After tidying up, she followed the address Zhou Xu had given her and went to find him. But when she arrived, she stopped short.
It was an antique shop.
Not a woodcarving store.
She double-checked the house number once. Twice. Three times.
Still the same.
After hesitating for a moment, she stepped inside.
A wooden screen stood just past the entrance, painted with bamboo shadows beneath a full moon. Behind it sat a ceramic fish tank where small golden fish drifted lazily beneath floating green lily pads.
Along one wall stood a solid wood display cabinet filled with porcelain. Opposite it, a glass case housed an aged stone Buddha among vases and statues of varying sizes. Under warm yellow lighting, the space felt less like a shop and more like a private museum.
She knew Zhou Xu had taste.
She had not expected this level of taste.
It rivaled high-end antique galleries in Beijing.
But antiques and Zhou Xu.
The pairing felt strangely mismatched.
She suspected she had come to the wrong place. Still, since she was already here, she decided to continue inside.
"Zhou Xu?" she called.
No response.
Only faint music drifting down from the second floor.
She walked carefully past the counter and up the stairs.
A walnut dining table came into view. A wooden folding window stood open, revealing a stretch of rolling mountains outside. The mountain wind poured into the room.
For a moment, she was captivated by the scenery.
Then she turned toward the source of the music.
And time seemed to pause.
He sat solemnly in a silver office chair, fingers resting loosely on the armrests. Strands of dark prayer beads slipped between his fingers, draping over the sharp lines of his wrist. The casual looseness of the beads contrasted sharply with the disciplined structure of his features.
Su Qingyi stood frozen on the steps.
Today he wore a loose white shirt fastened neatly with silver frog buttons from collar to hem. Not a trace of carelessness. On the contrary, he appeared meticulous and dignified.
How could someone look like this even at home?
If he had shown even a hint of the awkward Jiang Jingye she once knew, perhaps she would not have been so shaken.
But this was on the level of a male idol.
Three meetings. Three shocks.
Only when she reached the second floor fully did he notice her.
He calmly removed a Bluetooth earbud and asked, "Do you need something?"
The music stopped.
She found herself staring directly at him. "I'm looking for someone."
He studied her briefly, then stood, moving the chair aside. "Looking for me?"
"No." She realized her gaze was far too obvious and lowered her eyes slightly. "I'm looking for Zhou Xu."
A faint crease appeared between his brows, as though searching his memory.
"You can wait here."
She blinked.
So Zhou Xu really was here.
"Alright."
She sat on the elm sofa, back straight, posture restrained.
"What would you like to drink?" he asked gently.
It was a simple question, yet under her gaze it felt weighted.
"Anything is fine."
He paused slightly, then bent to pick up a coarse pottery teacup and placed it before her.
"Tea?"
"Mhm."
With one hand in his pocket, he poured her a cup. The fragrance of pre-Qingming Longjing rose faintly.
She took a small sip and smiled. "Thank you."
He lowered his eyes again. "Sit for a while."
Then he returned to the computer.
Her gaze followed him unconsciously.
On the screen were images of small bridges and green mountains, resembling a promotional video for the ancient city.
Afraid of seeming rude, she glanced only briefly before returning her attention to him.
He focused intently on the screen. Mountain wind stirred his dark hair.
She suddenly understood how people could develop feelings for colleagues. Who could resist that kind of proximity?
Her gaze lingered longer than it should have.
He appeared to be editing footage, long fingers moving across the keyboard. She realized he had been using only his left hand since removing his earbud.
She remembered yesterday.
"How's your hand?" she asked softly.
"It's fine," he replied without turning.
She wanted to ask why he was not using it then, but sensing his reluctance to elaborate, she held back.
Time passed quietly.
Voices sounded from downstairs.
Two men came up carrying vegetables and meat.
"Brother Jing…"
Their laughter stopped the moment they saw her.
Silence filled the room.
The man in the denim jacket spoke first. "Brother Jing… who is this?"
A beautiful woman. Sitting alone upstairs with him.
Unprecedented.
"She's looking for Zhou Xu," he answered without turning.
"Zhou Xu?" The denim jacket man exchanged looks with the other.
"The one who runs the woodcarving shop?" asked the man in the hoodie, setting down the groceries.
"Yes." Su Qingyi stood. "Hello. I'm Su Qingyi."
"Jiang He." The denim jacket man extended his hand, eyeing her curiously. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
The others turned toward him simultaneously.
The hoodie man looked unimpressed.
"I mean it," Jiang He insisted. "Let me think…"
The hoodie man ignored him and addressed her directly. "Zhou Xu's shop is about seven or eight hundred meters ahead."
So she had truly come to the wrong place.
She glanced toward the man at the computer.
He had known from the start. Yet he had not exposed her mistake or embarrassed her.
She had not misjudged him.
Even if he did not favor someone, he would never humiliate them.
"Thank you."
Just as she was about to leave, Jiang He suddenly exclaimed, "I remember! Didn't you consult me on the short video platform about filming woodcarving content? You said you do Datong woodcarving and wanted to promote it."
Su Qingyi blinked. "Me?"
Jiang He hurriedly opened the app and showed her the chat history.
She did not use short video apps.
Still, she took the phone.
The profile picture froze her in place.
It was a photo of her at her workbench during university. Head lowered. A strand of hair falling across her face. Black short-sleeved shirt. Slender figure unmistakable.
It was her favorite photo.
She had used it as her WeChat profile picture for years.
The account featured woodcarving videos.
The style closely resembled hers.
Even she hesitated for a second.
The IP location read southern Zhejiang.
She tapped a random video.
The nearly completed carving matched one she had posted to her WeChat Moments yesterday. Just filmed from a different angle.
She understood instantly.
"That photo is me," she said calmly, returning the phone. "But the account isn't mine."
Jiang He froze.
He suddenly realized something and burst into laughter.
Back then, he had proudly shown that account to Brother Jing, claiming a beautiful woodcarver had privately messaged him.
Turns out it was an impersonator.
He scratched his head awkwardly. "Ah…"
"I know who it is," Su Qingyi said. "I'll call her."
Before Jiang He could object, she had already dialed.
As she turned aside to make the call, Lu Jingcheng stood up.
For the first time, he reached out and patted Jiang He's shoulder.
Fang Zhu laughed even harder.
Usually accounts like that were run by burly men calling others brother.
"Aren't you angry?" Jiang He asked hesitantly. "She used your photos."
"It's alright."
After all, their intentions were likely the same.
She chose to wait.
Lunchtime approached.
Lu Jingcheng had already gone into the kitchen.
"What are we cooking?" he asked.
"Fish and ribs. Vinegar fish and crispy ribs," Fang Zhu replied.
Su Qingyi drifted closer to the kitchen doorway.
She saw him remove his prayer beads and stand by the sink washing celery. Water droplets clung to his fingers.
Head lowered, brows relaxed.
Quiet. Solemn. Warm.
She remembered the kitten beneath the tree.
Sacred gentleness.
Then she remembered the way his shirt had outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
A dangerous thought surfaced.
She immediately whispered Amitabha in her heart.
Blasphemy.
Thankfully, no one knew.
Jiang He rolled his chair closer. "Ms. Su, are you local?"
She nodded.
"You don't sound like it."
"I lived in Beijing for over ten years."
"Why come back? Beijing is amazing."
"Because I wanted to."
He fell silent.
What kind of answer was that?
Sensing her unwillingness to elaborate, he dropped the topic and resumed editing.
The room quieted.
Wind through trees. Flowing water.
She leaned slightly, peering into the kitchen again.
Watching his profile.
She suddenly remembered his words yesterday.
"It's fine. Take your time."
A faint smile curved her lips.