Shen Zhiyin saw him approach, her brows softening with a hint of coquettishness: “Just a little while ago, I nearly lost all my chips. The sisters really are experts at playing cards.”
Ruan Wenhua had probably been winning all along, his face glowing: “Yours is nothing—Man’er lost even more.”
Mrs. Zhang, who had started with good luck at the beginning, was now losing consistently. She said: “When Man’er loses, Jiale covers for her; when you lose, Junyan covers for you. Not like me—when I lose, I have to win back my losses.”
Mrs. Hua laughed: “When you lose, doesn’t your husband cover for you?”
Mrs. Zhang laughed too: “We’re an old married couple—what’s his isn’t mine? Not like Man’er and Junyan… they’re just getting started.”
Shen Zhiyin smiled shyly: “Junyan and I have been together for so long already… Man’er is the one—she introduced herself as his girlfriend just now.”
This remark made everyone’s movements pause momentarily.
“Is that so?” Mrs. Hua had been drawing bad cards this round, but upon hearing this, she beamed with delight.
Ruan Wenhua looked at Song Junyan: “Junyan, is that true?”
A faint smile crossed Song Junyan’s face: “Yes.”
The tone was clearly devoid of emotion, yet for some reason, Shen Zhiyin felt a guilty panic, like a thief caught red-handed, and she hastily moved to discard a tile.
A hand suddenly appeared before her eyes, carrying a trace of cold, clear breath. Shen Zhiyin’s breathing hitched.
“Play this one.”
“What are you doing! Junyan! I’m clearly about to win!” Ruan Wenhua protested.
Song Junyan chuckled softly, surveying the tiles on the table: “She needs the three of circles. She’s waiting for three, six, or nine of circles.”
Ruan Wenhua’s expression shifted, glancing at Song Junyan, but said nothing.
Yet for the next several rounds, Song Junyan called every single move correctly.
Ruan Wenhua couldn’t sit still anymore: “Go on, go on—you’re not allowed to be a strategist here!”
Song Junyan raised an eyebrow, shaking the phone in his palm: “I’ll step out to take care of some business.”
Shen Zhiyin abruptly stood up: “Junyan!”
Song Junyan turned around, staring directly at her.
His peach-blossom eyes, ordinarily full of charm, were now as cold as frost.
Shen Zhiyin was momentarily dazed, her mind going blank: “I, I… just wanted to say it’s sunny outside.”
Song Junyan smiled: “Understood. Focus on your game.”
…
Song Man and Hua Jiale added each other on WeChat.
His profile picture was pitch black, with something faintly visible in the middle.
Song Man looked closely and found it was a plus sign.
She murmured: “Quite distinctive.”
Hua Jiale said: “Thank you. Your profile picture is interesting too—it’s missing a corner. Your name is Song Man, yet your picture is missing a corner? Afraid of going too far?”
It was because a life that appeared perfectly complete to others would inevitably be marred by ‘Song Junyan.’
Song Man silently gazed at that profile picture, her heart hollow and empty.
…
The two arrived at Lan Yu.
As they took their seats, a tea server entered carrying tea utensils, followed closely by servers bringing snacks and fruit platters.
The tea server glanced at Song Man, then picked out a piece of charcoal already burning fiercely from a clay basin, placed it into a small red clay stove, and lifted the kettle to pour water. But she was careless—her hand trembled, and the water splashed directly onto Song Man.
Song Man started and rose to her feet.
Hua Jiale frowned: “How are you doing your job?”
The tea server’s face turned pale: “Miss, I’m so sorry, I…”
Song Man waved her hand: “It’s fine.”
Not much water had spilled, but Song Man’s qipao fit perfectly, and now the cold, damp fabric clung tightly to her skin, extremely uncomfortable.
Seeing this, the tea server said: “I have spare clothes over there. Miss, if you don’t mind, would you like to follow me to the next room to change?”
Hua Jiale’s brows furrowed slightly, about to speak, but Song Man had already nodded: “Alright.”
“Man’er.”
Song Man looked at him: “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”
Since she’d already said so, Hua Jiale naturally didn’t press further. He could only nod and watch as she and the tea server left one after the other.
Just a few steps out, Song Man stopped and turned to fix her gaze on the tea server: “Who sent you?”
The tea server’s body trembled violently, seemingly not expecting Song Man to have noticed—and to ask so directly.
Seeing her hesitate, Song Man pressed further: “Everyone who comes to Peach Blossom Spring is someone of power and status. Think carefully whether you’d rather offend him, or offend me.”
Strangely, these words calmed the tea server.
She looked up, meeting Song Man’s eyes directly: “Miss Song, that person—I cannot afford to offend.”
Song Man’s fingers curled tight.
Those words made it clear who she meant.
Suppressing her racing heart, she said: “I’ll give you a compromise. Bring me the clothes, and I’ll change somewhere else. That way, you won’t offend him, and you won’t offend me either.”
The tea server hesitated.
Song Man said: “If you don’t bring them, I won’t go either. Then I won’t know whether you’ve offended him, but you’ll have thoroughly offended me.”
Song Man’s gaze swept across her chest: “Of course, don’t harbor any illusions of luck. The name on your badge isn’t yours, but I have a thousand and one ways to find out your identity and background.”
This time, the tea server truly didn’t dare. She quickly said: “Miss Song, I’m in a difficult position too. Please don’t blame me. I’ll go get you a change of clothes right away.”
She hurried off.
Her high ponytail swayed with each step. Song Man leaned against the wall, watching, feeling as though her own heart was drifting and swaying along with it.
She didn’t understand what he was trying to do.
They had already broken things off that day.
But no matter what, since he dared to have someone lure her out, she had to worry whether he might take the matter straight to Hua Jiale.
Perhaps he would, perhaps he wouldn’t.
She didn’t dare to gamble on it, so she could only come out.
After a moment of silence, footsteps sounded from behind her.