Jiang Wanju said, “You only know if it suits after you try.”
The night wind was bleak, brushing a faint flush onto her cheeks—like the first frost settling on an autumn persimmon.
Standing outside in winter to chat was definitely not a good idea. Jiang Wanju’s hands and feet were already tingling with cold. She couldn’t stand the chill, but the couple not far away showed no signs of stopping.
They didn’t seem to care about avoiding an audience. Their argument grew louder, with Bai Qing deliberately lowering his voice in restraint. Fragments of words scattered in the wind. Nearby, a cleaning lady was sweeping up fallen leaves—probably her last task of the night.
The woman’s voice was laced with sorrow: “We were about to get engaged, and now you choose to break up with me…”
Jiang Wanju felt a little awkward.
She shifted her steps uncomfortably and heard Chen Zhouren say, “I’ll take you back to campus. It’s too cold to be standing out here.”
His words were warm and natural. Jiang Wanju nodded, following him. One in front, one behind, their shadows stretched long under the moonlight.
Chen Zhouren never brought up what had just happened. Unlike others who might take the side of the man as a friend or family member, he neither defended nor criticized Bai Qing. Instead, he spoke to Jiang Wanju about work as if nothing had happened.
This time, Jiang Wanju didn’t hide anything from him.
She vaguely recalled some whispered office gossip about Bai Qing’s background. Apparently, he had a certain uncle—one whose name wasn’t spoken lightly. A man of great power, rarely seen in public. And that uncle’s surname was…
Jiang Wanju turned slightly, resting her chin on her hand, and glanced at Chen Zhouren’s composed profile. His bone structure was striking, his features refined. But rather than the gender-neutral description of a “beauty,” he was more suited to the word “handsome,” which carried a distinctly masculine air.
The car finally stopped in front of Jiang Wanju’s university gates. No outside vehicles were allowed into the campus, and Chen Zhouren had no intention of breaking that rule. He had the ability to, but it wasn’t worth the effort for his cousin’s girlfriend.
Leaning against the car door, he smiled and said goodbye.
Jiang Wanju’s slender figure looked like a drop of ink splashed onto the pavement, trailing a long shadow behind her.
It was winter, Christmas approaching. The university itself didn’t celebrate, but that didn’t stop businesses, students, and couples from embracing the holiday spirit. Not far away, the glow of Christmas lights cast a hazy golden warmth over the snowy ground.
Her lonely silhouette resembled a solitary little crane.
Chen Zhouren narrowed his eyes, noticing the small red mark on her ankle—like a winter berry against the snow.
After a moment, he opened his cigarette case, pulled one out, placed it between his lips, and took a drag.
The next day, Bai Qing sent a message apologizing to Jiang Wanju.
Jiang Wanju accepted it calmly. She didn’t say much—after all, Christmas had already passed, and throwing a fit wouldn’t solve anything.
Putting herself in his shoes, she considered the situation: on one side was an ex-girlfriend with whom he had been on and off for years; on the other, a girlfriend he had only known for a short time—so short that their total time spent together wasn’t even as long as a CPA exam. Setting aside all other factors, the choice was obvious.
To make amends, Bai Qing compensated Jiang Wanju in his own way. He was busy with work and rarely had time for dates, but he sent her a pair of better-fitting high heels and a classic designer handbag. However, Jiang Wanju rarely used it—being an intern, carrying a real one would only make people suspect it was a fake.
Unfortunately, their relationship still didn’t last.
Two days before New Year’s, Bai Qing’s ex-girlfriend took over twenty sleeping pills and had to be rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night to have her stomach pumped.
Jiang Wanju had been planning a New Year’s trip to Hong Kong, and upon hearing the news, the first thought that popped into her mind was—Can I still get a refund on my ticket? This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
She could, but it meant losing 10% of the fare as a cancellation fee. While she hesitated, Bai Qing called. His voice was heavy with exhaustion.
“Wanju,” he said, “there’s something I—”
“I understand,” Jiang Wanju interrupted. “I know.”
It was late at night, and she had retreated to the dormitory bathroom to take the call. The space was small, and she spoke softly, not wanting to wake her roommates. “If I were you, I’d choose to stay with her too. You don’t need to feel guilty about it, Mr. Bai.”
She was so composed, so understanding, that Bai Qing was momentarily stunned into silence.
“So that’s it?” Jiang Wanju continued. “We break up. What do you think?”
Bai Qing slowly snapped out of his daze and let out a bitter chuckle. “You sound so formal. I almost thought you were giving a performance review.”
Jiang Wanju replied, “Relationships are just like work—they rely on timing and compatibility.”
The dormitory building was old, and the bathroom had no heating. Jiang Wanju was starting to feel cold. She politely said goodbye, and just like that, her second relationship came to an end.
Looking back, her first relationship had taught her not to waste time. The second warned her never to date a man with an irreplaceable “white moonlight”[1] in his heart.
Still, it wasn’t a complete loss. Out of guilt, Bai Qing had quietly arranged for people to help her out. Her once-picky boss had stopped singling her out, and their attitude toward her had noticeably improved.
On the last day of the year, Jiang Wanju wore the shoes and clothes Bai Qing had given her, carried the bag he had gifted her, and confidently boarded a flight to Hong Kong.
Her travel permit had been approved, the ticket was bought, and the hotel was booked—and non-refundable. Jiang Wanju disliked wasting money, so she decided to go alone for New Year’s.
However, she ran into some trouble while checking in at the hotel. Whether it was a system issue or a mistake with the reservation name, she had to wait at the front desk for a while—and that was when she ran into Chen Zhouren.
He was clearly here for a vacation as well, accompanied by two women. One, dressed in a sleek black business suit, had the composed demeanor of an assistant. The other, much younger, had golden curls and a jangling collection of bracelets on her arm. She was speaking rapidly in English, her tone displeased.
Chen Zhouren was reviewing and signing a document, not even sparing her a glance. “Speak Chinese.”
The girl grew more agitated. She raised her voice. “I won’t!”
She turned and stormed off, with the assistant hurrying after her, calling anxiously, “Miss Lan!”
“Let her be,” Chen Zhouren set down the pen. The light at the front desk cast a calm glow on his face. “Ignore her—Xiaolin, call Akun and Lao Zhang. Have them come over at ten tomorrow.”
His instructions were methodical, as if completely unaffected by the girl’s outburst. He merely pinched the bridge of his nose in mild irritation. “She’s been spoiled rotten—hmm?”
It was like a floating soap bubble colliding with the sharp tip of a pine needle.
Chen Zhouren had noticed Jiang Wanju sitting on the dark-colored sofa. She was small and slender, her shoulders slightly hunched.
Jiang Wanju stood up and greeted him politely. “Hello, Cousin.”
“Cousin?” Chen Zhouren chuckled. “Where did you learn to call me that?”
“Bai Qing,” she replied.
“Bai Qing?” Chen Zhouren tapped his pen on the desk and smiled. “Didn’t you two already break up?”
But Chen Zhouren turned to the receptionist and asked in Cantonese, “What was the issue with this young lady’s reservation?”
Jiang Wanju didn’t understand Cantonese. She stood quietly, listening to the exchange without knowing what was said, but the receptionist’s movements noticeably sped up after speaking with him.
A moment later, a hotel staff member handed Jiang Wanju her room key and politely informed her of her floor, the hotel layout, and available services.
Chen Zhouren finished his check-in as well. He carried his own suitcase, refusing assistance. By coincidence, his room was on the same floor as Jiang Wanju’s—just one suite away.
His phone rang, and he answered impatiently. “I’m busy. You go instead.”
After a pause, whatever was said on the other end made his tone sharpen.
“When?”
He then spoke at length in Cantonese. Jiang Wanju silently watched the elevator numbers flicker as they ascended.
At long last, they arrived at their floor, just as Chen Zhouren ended his call. He glanced at her and said, “If you need anything, message me on WeChat.”
Jiang Wanju responded politely, “Thank you, Mr. Chen.”
Her suite was on the 54th floor, offering a panoramic view of Victoria Harbour through its vast floor-to-ceiling windows. But Jiang Wanju felt too exhausted to appreciate the glass-and-steel cityscape before her.
For dinner, she had a reservation at Pierre’s for Western cuisine. Afterward, she stopped by the executive lounge for a small twilight cocktail. The candlelight flickered within its finely carved glass, the crystal chandeliers cast an elegant glow, and the night outside deepened.
This was once a view ranked among the most beautiful nightscapes in the world—one she was originally supposed to share with Bai Qing.
But being alone was much more freeing.
That night, Jiang Wanju followed her original plan and went to Lan Kwai Fong. This old district, once redeveloped by Jewish merchants, had now become a hub of bars and nightlife.
She arrived at 10:12 PM. Unlike on regular nights, the area was already packed with young people celebrating New Year’s Eve. Those unwilling to spend money inside bars bought drinks from the nearby 7-Eleven, toasting and drinking right outside. However, Jiang Wanju had no interest in joining the so-called “7-Eleven bar.” She simply waited quietly for the New Year’s countdown.
Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s—these were the busiest times in Lan Kwai Fong. Her dormmates had often complained about getting carded for their IDs and travel permits. To avoid such trouble, Jiang Wanju had applied heavier makeup tonight. Even so, people still approached her. She declined several drink invitations—until she heard Chen Zhouren’s voice.
“Not even a single drink?”
She turned around. He wasn’t wearing a tie tonight, instead dressed in a black shirt. Standing beside her, he extended a hand.
“Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter. It’s a mess here, nothing worth seeing.”
His tone was natural. Jiang Wanju squeezed past a drunken reveler, but she must have stepped on something because she stumbled slightly. Chen Zhouren caught her hand, teasing, “Such a beautiful dress—don’t ruin it with a fall.”
Using his support, she steadied herself and asked, “Is the dress really that beautiful?”
Chen Zhouren praised, “Absolutely stunning.”
Her arms were slender, delicate like reeds, as if they could snap with the slightest pressure.
His body heat was like a furnace, radiating warmth against the chilly night air.
Jiang Wanju lifted her face, smiling as she told him, “Your cousin bought it, Mr. Chen.”
[1] First Love or Unforgettable Love – A person who left a deep mark on someone’s heart, often associated with nostalgia and regret.