◎Just wanted to take a look, just one look.◎
Liang Jingchuan had not walked far from the front of the car when Lan Yan pulled down the zipper of the long skirt she was wearing.
She disliked him for reasons of principle, but to be fair, when it came to respecting boundaries, she could rest easy. They had lived under the same roof in high school for a whole year, and nothing embarrassing had ever happened. Every time he finished showering, he always came out fully dressed.
She changed back into her own camisole, shirt jacket, and jeans, folded the discarded long skirt neatly, put it into the paper bag, and then slipped on her canvas shoes.
Her gaze looked out through the front windshield. At first, she did not see Liang Jingchuan’s figure, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was blocked by a tree.
She took out her phone, preparing to send him a WeChat message to call him back.
She scrolled through her chat list for Liang Jingchuan’s avatar but could not find it after scrolling for a long time. She had no idea when their last conversation was.
She directly tapped into her contacts to search.
His WeChat name had always been “ljc,” so she had never changed his remark.
His avatar had not changed either. It was a photo of a gray tropical fish in an aquarium, set against a background half deep blue and half rocky reef. The fish was not particularly vibrant or pretty.
[blueblue: OK.]
【ljc: Okay.】
Lan Yan tidied up the paper bag, opened the car door, and sat back in the passenger seat.
She rested her arm on the car window, watching Liang Jingchuan walk back.
His strides were quick but steady, without any sense of haste.
Most ordinary people found it hard to remain completely composed when they knew someone was watching them.
Sure enough, she saw Liang Jingchuan slow his steps the moment he realized she was looking at him, with a faint trace of unnaturalness.
So, teasing him could be this simple.
Liang Jingchuan pulled open the car door, and Lan Yan immediately adopted the posture of a judge. “Your walking posture exerts force correctly. Your core strength is pretty good too.”
Liang Jingchuan froze for a rare second, showing a speechless expression that said, “Are you nuts?”
Lan Yan propped her cheek on the back of her hand and let out a cheerful hum of laughter.
Liang Jingchuan sat down in his seat and glanced at her while fastening his seatbelt. “Spring-loaded.”
Meaning she recovered quickly.
“There wasn’t much to it in the first place.” Lan Yan opened her phone and found the list of restaurants she had bookmarked to check out—places collected over a decade, recommended by colleagues and friends.
As she scrolled, she continued, “They look down on me, and I don’t think much of them either.”
For anyone else, that might have sounded like a sour grapes mentality, but for Lan Yan, it was simply a matter of course.
Right, she was not “swallowing needles” to “marry up.” She truly did not care that much.
Liang Jingchuan felt a second of sympathy for his “enemies” and turned to look at her, weighing his words. “What about Chen Boyu then…”
“I think he’s different… at least that’s how I felt at first. Now…” She leaned closer to the screen to examine the details of the shop’s signature dishes, her voice lowering along with her head. “I’m a bit unsure.”
She was gradually realizing that what she had initially liked might have just been some illusion she had filled in herself.
The weary, gentle Chen Boyu.
She had thought that was the essence of his soul.
Liang Jingchuan was still sorting through a strange, faintly dizzying mood when he heard Lan Yan’s voice rise slightly. “Want some sour soup noodles?”
Her voice was pleasant, like a cool mint candy; when the pitch rose, the timbre brightened, as if the mint candy had been coated in more dazzling sugar.
“Anything works. You navigate.”
Lan Yan reached over, took Liang Jingchuan’s phone, and deftly entered the password.
There were not many apps on his phone; the commonly used tools were all on the first page, so she easily found the navigation app.
“They close at nine-thirty.”
“How long to get there?” Liang Jingchuan asked.
“Seventeen minutes. Might not make it.”
“Drive over and see.”
This shop was one Zhou Wenshu frequented. He had recommended it to her more than once: If it’s not good, I’ll offer my head as apology.
Today, it was time to see if it would be “spared the axe” or “head rolls.”
Five minutes past closing time, the car pulled up smoothly to the shop door. Liang Jingchuan glanced outside and saw it still seemed open, so he said, “You go grab a seat. I’ll park.”
“Copy that.”
Eating out had turned into Mission: Impossible tension for her.
The corners of Liang Jingchuan’s mouth curved up as he watched her open the car door and dash quickly toward the shop.
The official closing time was nine-thirty, but no one turned away money over a few extra minutes.
It was hot outside, so Lan Yan found a seat inside. The shop was small, filled with a rich aroma—beef and lamb, sour soup, green onions, ginger, garlic… all mingling to whet the appetite.
Lan Yan scanned the QR code on the corner of the table to order. Unsure if there were parking spots nearby or how long Liang Jingchuan would take, she shared the ordering page with him.
Moments later, she saw a red “+1” dot appear on the shopping cart in the bottom left. Tapping it, she found Liang Jingchuan had ordered a can of iced Snow Sprite first.
She selected the signature Guizhou sour soup noodles and an iced mineral water. Looking at the cart again, the sour soup noodles now showed “2.”
She switched to the WeChat chat with Liang Jingchuan via the floating window and asked: Anything else?
【ljc: No need. You?】
【blueblue: I’m good too.】
Lan Yan switched back to the ordering page, about to place the order, when someone beat her to it.
In the next instant, the “placed” status changed to “paid.”
While waiting for him to arrive, Lan Yan pulled out some tissues and wiped down the slightly oily table, tossing the used ones into the nearly full trash bin.
The server brought two empty porcelain cups and pointed to the teapot on the table, indicating self-service tea.
Lan Yan poured two cups and set the other across from her.
She took a sip—barley tea, with a genuinely rich and authentic flavor.
As she drank the tea, she saw the glass door pushed open and Liang Jingchuan walk in.
The man in white shirt and black pants had a tall, upright figure and handsome features, like a piece of pure jade hidden amid black rocks, exuding a dignified air of wind and snow.
His exceptional looks, rare among ordinary people, naturally drew extra glances from the other diners. Appreciating beauty seemed etched into human genes.
Back in high school, when Lan Yan became de facto stepsiblings with Liang Jingchuan, she only told a few close friends.
She took sketch classes on weekends at a studio run by her art school graduate teacher, which was near Fourth Middle School. Once, during a downpour, Liang Jingchuan, who was staying late for remedial classes, was asked by Lan Junwen to bring her an umbrella.
There were also Fourth Middle School students at the studio. After that umbrella delivery, they learned she and Liang Jingchuan were relatives and kept striking up conversations with her, buying her milk tea and snacks while indirectly prying about him.
At the time, Lan Yan was this close to wearing a T-shirt printed with “Stay away, don’t bother me.” She found such behavior utterly annoying.
So, Liang Jingchuan’s only merit—his appearance—had become a flaw in her eyes.
But tonight, years later, because of the way he had consciously stood up for her in front of Tang Peiling earlier, she seemed to view him a bit more favorably.
Liang Jingchuan walked to her side of the table, moved the wooden stool, and sat down. Looking at the full cup of barley tea before him, he feigned surprise. “I’m truly honored.”
Lan Yan lazily lifted her eyes. “It’s poisoned.”
“Oh.” He smiled faintly, picked up the white porcelain cup, took a sip, and then asked, “What kind of poison?”
“The kind that makes you mute.”
Then he had gained another virtue.
The soup was pre-cooked; once the rice noodles were boiled and topped with sides, it was ready to serve.
Mao la fruit, galangal, and ginger bits combined into an enticing sour fragrance. Braised egg, bean sprouts, daikon radish, and a small piece of greens adorned the bowl of rice noodles brimming with red sour soup, making it look bountiful like a harvest of five grains.
Lan Yan took the soup ladle and tasted a spoonful of sour soup first. Her eyes lit up. “It’s delicious.”
She looked across, where Liang Jingchuan picked up a chopstick of noodles and put them in his mouth.
Three seconds passed, and Lan Yan got no feedback.
“Is it good?” Lan Yan asked.
Liang Jingchuan nodded.
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”
Liang Jingchuan smiled. “How does a mute talk?”
“…”
He might as well stay mute.
Lan Yan took several bites, snapping a photo with her phone before devouring them and sending it to the group chat.
【blueblue: Your head is safe @ZHOU】
[Zhou Wenshu: Thanks to the great lord of sour soup for clearing my name]
Liang Jingchuan looked up at the person holding her phone with a smile.
The bit of lipstick she had applied earlier was completely gone after dinner and the barley tea.
Among the girls he knew, she was the least suited to makeup—like white camellias; no matter how brightly you applied rouge, it only dulled their pure color.
She was not incapable of hearty laughter; it just happened so rarely, rarer than a night-blooming cereus.
“Who are you WeChatting?” Liang Jingchuan asked mildly.
“My colleague. The one who recommended this place.”
“Oh.” The trailing tone landed with relief.
Lan Yan set down her phone, smoothed her long hair to one shoulder, and from the roots, divided it into three strands. Her fingers flew up and down, quickly braiding a loose long plait. She removed the black hair tie from her wrist and secured the end.
Liang Jingchuan was used to it; this was her highest honor for the most delicious food.
With her hair braided, her facial features stood out more clearly.
Her nose bridge was not particularly high, nor were her eyes especially large, but the Creator’s handiwork turned it into a stunning feat. A millimeter off in proportion or placement, and the effect would not exist.
Snow gathering under the mid-autumn moon, purity blooming into brilliance.
Liang Jingchuan gazed for one last instant before withdrawing his eyes just shy of detection.
Silence fell for a moment.
“You…”
“You…”
Liang Jingchuan paused. “You go ahead.”
“Is your company still looking for Chen Boyao for the next funding round?”
He hesitated a beat between spitting out a bit of ginger and swallowing it, choosing the latter. “Mm. If Chen Boyao is willing to lead the investment, it’s basically a sure thing.”
“So he’s rushing home to see his big brother.”
Liang Jingchuan’s expression faded. “Not tasty enough?”
“…It is tasty.” Lan Yan was baffled, not understanding what he meant by that nonsense.
He had no intention of explaining and just lowered his head to eat.
Lan Yan: “What were you going to say earlier?”
“Forgot.”
Even the most bountiful bowl of noodles took at most fifteen minutes to finish.
Lan Yan left a bit of bean sprouts and half a braised egg; she ate everything else.
Across from her, his bowl was empty too, save for the soup.
Cleaning your plate was a virtue.
“Ready to go?” Lan Yan picked up her phone.
“Mm.”
They had already paid, so they left without issue.
Pushing open the glass door, the muggy summer night breeze filled their lungs. Her full stomach felt warm and comfortable.
“I’ll bring the car around.” Liang Jingchuan turned left.
“Far?”
“Not far.”
“Then let’s walk a bit to digest.” She turned left too, glancing inquiringly—was this the way?
Liang Jingchuan nodded hesitantly.
That second of hesitation—was he wondering if today’s almanac said “auspicious for all matters”?
The breeze carried a floral scent, wrapped in the uniquely humid and stuffy summer air, not easy to discern.
He deliberately looked for it, wondering if some rose bushes hid along the walls.
Three attempts, and three times, midway through searching, his gaze deviated toward the person walking diagonally ahead.
She walked while unbraiding her hair.
The once-braided locks puffed up slightly, gaining a subtle curve, like curls flattened by high humidity.
He had never seen her with curls; she always had long, straight black hair, simple as if she were still in high school—and even high schoolers were not as rule-abiding as her.
Just wanted to take a look, just one look.
“Lan Yan.”
Lan Yan turned back abruptly.
Under the lights, her pale face, framed by slightly wavy hair, gave a completely different impression from usual.
Clear Source Creation did biological raw material R&D, and as technical head, he knew some plant traits—it was work-related.
Camellias had many varieties; the double-petaled ones showed wavy edges, intricate and gorgeous. Like her now.
Lan Yan did not hear him make a sound and tilted her head slightly. “What?”
“…There’s a rat.”
Lan Yan stepped back half a pace. “Where?”
“It’s gone.”
She stood still, scanning the pavement and grass, then tentatively stepped forward. Confirming nothing, she resumed walking.
She walked out two steps, realized something was wrong, turned her head, and glared at him. “Playing with me again, huh?”
“Yeah.” He smiled and admitted it.
“How boring.”
Soon, the outline of the car appeared in their line of sight.
Earlier, when he had parked, someone had tried to compete with him for the spot, but his skills were superior, and he had secured it first.
Fate’s gifts always came with a price. Why give in to a moment of competitiveness? Parking a bit farther away wouldn’t have hurt.
Liang Jingchuan fought back his reluctance, took the car key from his pocket, and pressed the unlock button.
The car beeped from afar, putting a period to the evening.
It took only about fifteen minutes to drive back to the entrance of the residential complex where Lan Yan lived.
Lan Yan unbuckled her seatbelt, pushed open the car door, and said, “Thanks.”
A rare, sincerely earnest tone.
Enough to go down in the history books of their adversarial relationship spanning over a decade.
“Then treat me to a bottle of water,” Liang Jingchuan said.
Lan Yan looked at him.
That utterly punchable smile made her want to take back her thanks.
“. . . Wait here.”
Unclear whether it was a threat or meant literally. Liang Jingchuan watched her back as she headed to the nearby convenience store and concluded it was the latter.
She soon returned and walked over to the driver’s side.
He rolled down the window. She stood outside it, handed him a green bottle of Yibao, and explained, “This is the only cold one they had.”
“It’s fine,” Liang Jingchuan said with a smile. “Anything works. I’m not picky.”