Chapter Nine – Denial

Guo Yamei finally had her wish granted and went to the brick-and-mortar store in Textile City.

Su Yishu saw Guo Yamei’s social media post through a colleague’s phone.

The two of them tacitly agreed not to add each other as friends. If they had to contact one another, they would simply mention each other directly in the work group chat.

Above the cream-colored lintel hung the sign “Kaisheng Fabrics.” Beside it, the display window showcased the company’s flagship product—Snow Sea Flows.

A desolate mountaintop was blanketed in pristine white snow, while the distant horizon merged sea and sky. Flurries of snow gathered and fell, dissolving into the waves stirred by the sea.

Above, a minimalist wave-shaped curtain valance was adorned with clear crystal beads.

Amidst the nearby shops dominated by lavish decor, this one appeared particularly unique.

Inside, the space was divided into several sections of varying sizes. The largest area was dedicated to displaying Chinese-style curtains. In the center stood a sofa set, and the coffee table was scattered with assorted snacks and drinks—though their scarcity suggested someone had already taken a few. The other sections, each about the same size, featured playful children’s themes, pastoral styles, British elegance, and Mediterranean flair.

The final picture was a selfie of Guo Yamei, her brows arched in delight.

The season of swirling willow catkins had come again. These seemingly harmless white tufts floated gently onto the skin.

Suddenly, they provoked an unbearable itch.

Just like that radiant, smiling photograph.

Life passed, unchanged.

Through countless days and nights, she only wished to glimpse you from afar.

Yishu realized, almost subconsciously, that she had turned browsing Xu Shixi’s social media into a habit—a part of her daily routine.

It was like those childhood evenings when the setting sun bathed the western sky in red, and she would eagerly run to the bridge at the edge of the village, silently soaking in the last breath of oxygen before nightfall.

This lasted until she was twenty.

—Have you found a place to move yet?

—I’ve already found one near the company; I’ll go take a look in a few days.

—Have you found somewhere to store your things from home?

—Not yet.

—Don’t hesitate. I’ll be nearby these days, I can help move your things to my warehouse in Yunbei.

—Okay / I’ll think about it / I’d rather find a place myself / Thank you for your kindness / Okay

Within a single minute, Yishu’s message box was revised over and over.

Okay.

Her finger slipped, and in her indecision, she sent the “okay.”

Too late to retract.

On moving day, besides Xu Shixi, his friend Qiao Siming was also there.

Yishu’s impression of Qiao Siming was still from a month ago, when she’d seen him joking with Xu Shixi at the entrance of Xunyuan, relaxed and easygoing.

She said nothing to Qiao Siming.

After Xu Shixi introduced them, the world of three returned to quiet.

The relocation of residents around the village was nearly complete. It was empty, like a dead city.

The silence was so profound that the sound of wind could be heard clearly.

And the rustle of falling leaves.

The small river still flowed slowly.

Xu Shixi had somehow borrowed a light cargo truck, parking it under the camphor tree at the village corner.

A scene that felt strangely familiar.

Xu Shixi and Qiao Siming carried large household items to the handcart at the gate, wheeling them toward the village entrance.

Yishu looked at the suddenly empty room, desolate after the wind swept through. She scattered her chaotic thoughts once more, so that all those tangled emotions could be reorganized.

Yishu locked the courtyard gate. Before securing it, she half-opened the iron door and glanced inside—nothing remained. Only the lush banana tree stood.

She sat in the back of the light truck, watching the scenery recede, as if bidding farewell with her gaze.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit inside?” Shixi poked his head out, asking Yishu through the rearview mirror.

“We could squeeze in, all three of us. There’s room,” Qiao Siming chimed in playfully.

“No need,” Yishu pressed her right cheek against the car body, her left hand smoothing hair tousled by the wind. “I’m fine back here.”

In fact, Qiao Siming was supposed to be the driver, and Shixi had asked Yishu to sit in the passenger seat. An unspoken awkwardness passed between the three, and they silently swapped roles. Yishu felt it unreasonable for Qiao Siming, who’d worked so hard moving, to be left in the back to face the wind, so she volunteered herself.

They reached the Yunbei warehouse close to noon.

Nearby, restaurants of all sizes were bustling. Delivery riders rushed between storefronts, carrying lunch boxes, weaving through lanes half-occupied by motor vehicles. Some simply rode onto the main road.

“Find a place to sit. Leave this to me and Siming,” Shixi said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Shixi’s right. A pretty girl shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” Qiao Siming laid a hand on Shixi’s shoulder, flashing a cheeky grin.

Yishu blushed, glancing down at her own outfit—an outdated knit cardigan and faded jeans. She hardly felt worthy of being called “pretty.”

One was proper, the other flippant; they hardly seemed to belong to the same world.

But it seemed she and he weren’t in the same world either.

Yishu looked around—the open yard lacked any greenery. Dust on the ground was whipped into layers by the wind. The sounds of looms and forklifts echoed overhead.

Four large warehouses had been leased out, packed with various textile and industrial supplies. Upstairs appeared to be offices, and now and then fashionable young women stood at the windows, gazing into the distance.

Yishu also liked to look toward the remaining wheat fields behind the company while refilling her water in the break room.

The triangular warehouse was actually quite spacious—over thirty square meters—more than enough for all of Yishu’s miscellaneous old belongings. She wondered if Shixi’s claim that it couldn’t be rented was just a pretext to ease her worries.

Closing the warehouse door felt like shutting the past inside.

“Are you hungry?” Yishu paused, turning around. “Let me treat you both to lunch.”

“Sure, I’m starving,” Qiao Siming said without ceremony. “But I’m picky—I won’t touch anything below four-star hotel standards.”

Yishu’s expression froze. She couldn’t find words.

Shixi shook his head, speechless. “Don’t listen to him. He’s never picky, as long as it’s edible.”

There weren’t any decent restaurants nearby, let alone upscale hotels.

They wandered around and finally chose “Xinghe Fast Food,” a larger corner eatery.

The place was clean enough, with neatly arranged tables and chairs in natural wood tones.

It was nearly one in the afternoon; most dishes at the window had already sold out. Qiao Siming waved dismissively, went to the fridge, and grabbed two beers, drinking on his own. Yishu chose whatever dishes still looked passable, had the server plate them on orange trays, and ordered three bowls of rice. She paid at the counter.

Fifty in total.

“Here.”

Yishu raised her brows. “I said I’d treat, and besides, it’s not much.”

Shixi just smiled gently. “No matter the amount, there’s no reason for a girl to pay.” With that, he carried the tray to their table.

Yishu watched his back, her heart beating faster, inexplicably unsettled. There were damp marks on his white shirt—no doubt sweat from moving things. Why had she only noticed now?

She ate quietly, carefully picking at the cooling dishes in her bowl—more reserved than when she’d eaten tomato and egg noodles with Shixi at home.

Perhaps it was the presence of a third person.

“Thank you both so much today.” Yishu put down her chopsticks.

“Just thank Shixi,” Qiao Siming said loudly. “You don’t know—he begged me for a week to help you move. I’m a busy man; every day there are single young women waiting for me to warm their hearts.”

Huh?

Yishu gaped.

If Qiao Siming stayed silent, just a quiet handsome man, then he truly deserved the title. Yishu sneaked a glance at him across the table: jet-black brows sharply defined at the junction of his forehead and eyes, single eyelids with an upward arch that hinted at a touch of mischief. Straight nose, full lips—everything in perfect proportion.

Shixi kicked Qiao Siming hard, embarrassed.

“That’s really too much trouble,” Yishu said awkwardly.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You’re Shixi’s girlfriend, so you’re my girl—oh, I mean, my friend.” Qiao Siming, emboldened by drink, began talking nonsense.

Yishu’s face flushed deeper than Qiao Siming’s tipsy glow, momentarily robbed of speech. She snuck a glance at Shixi, waiting for his response—or rather, hoping for it.

Shixi was silent, which disappointed Yishu a little. But on second thought, he hadn’t denied it—did that mean he acknowledged it? Was this acquiescence, not silence?

Lunch lasted an hour.

When they stepped outside, the sun had moved to the southwest.

The food street was quiet again.

Qiao Siming, drunk, couldn’t drive; Shixi helplessly abandoned his original plan. Since their routes didn’t coincide, Yishu insisted she’d take the bus home, not wanting to trouble him.

That lazy afternoon, the stuffy air in the bus, its rhythmic jolts—all combined to lull her toward sleep.

The phone’s faint notification couldn’t rouse someone drifting at the edge of slumber.

When Yan Lu was about to send the eleventh message, she deleted it all before pressing the final punctuation. Then, ruffling her hair, she dialed Yishu directly.

Yishu, in the wide, languid bus, her eyelids opening and closing in steady rhythm, was enjoying a rare nap when Yan Lu’s unexpected call disrupted it.

A torrent of urgent complaints met a languid yawn—two contrasting moods exchanged through invisible currents.

“Did you disappear? I’ve sent a dozen messages and you haven’t replied!” Yan Lu’s voice was set at maximum volume from the outset.

Yishu reflexively moved her phone away, holding it at the most comfortable distance to hear her speak.

“I’m not heartbroken,” she rubbed her eyes. “I’ve never even been in love.”

“I didn’t say heartbroken—I said missing!”

Yishu fell silent.

“I have to attend a feast tonight—a veritable trap. Come boost my courage.”

A trap?

Yishu was puzzled, but Yan Lu sounded serious. Forced to accept, she heard Yan Lu hang up in a hurry, leaving no time to ask for details.