You really couldn’t blame Wen Yu for this.
Li Zhengzheng had married early and had children early; after dealing with those matters hastily, she threw herself entirely into her career. Aside from frequently staying up late, she maintained a light diet, avoided smoking and alcohol, and made time for beauty treatments every week. Though she was approaching fifty, she looked to be in her mid-thirties.
Her features were sixty percent similar to Song Jin’s. She had dyed her hair a trendy “Aegean Sea Red,” and as the new roots grew in, it had become a gradient style. The heavy makeup on her face blurred her age while making her look exceptionally glamorous. Her aesthetic was very similar to Song Jin’s, with various accessories clinking and clanking all over her body. Sitting next to someone, one truly couldn’t tell at first glance that the two were mother and daughter.
Song Jin looked down at her hand, which had been slapped red, and said with a fake smile, “You can’t put it that way, Mom—if she calls you ‘Sister,’ what is she supposed to call me?” As she spoke, she tried to pull her hand back, but it didn’t budge.
“Call you by your full name, or whatever she wants. You two can each have your own way of addressing each other,” Li Zhengzheng said righteously. Her gaze softened instantly the moment it landed on Wen Yu, her expression changing faster than flipping a page in a book. She patted the empty seat beside her and beckoned, “Don’t just stand there like a fool; come and sit.”
“Okay.” Wen Yu’s expression was somewhat shy. She handed the change of clothes and shoes to Xiao Wu to pack up and obediently sat down next to Li Zhengzheng. Li Zhengzheng immediately let go of Song Jin’s hand and switched her crossed legs.
She turned to grasp Wen Yu’s left hand, which was resting on her knee, her eyes shining with maternal radiance:
“Yuyu, how old are you this year? How long have you known my A-Jin? Are you going to keep acting for the next five years? Are your fashion resources enough? Do you need me to help? You don’t have to be polite with me; A-Jin’s friend is my friend. If you need anything, just tell me!”
“Yuyu~” This nickname gave Song Jin goosebumps; her pouting mouth was long enough to hang two wine jugs from.
“Stop being so sarcastic,” Li Zhengzheng gave her a disgusted roll of the eyes, then turned back with a grin, waiting for Wen Yu’s reply.
Wen Yu thought for a moment and replied to each question one by one: “I’m 24 this year. We’ve known each other for a while. Barring any accidents, I’ll keep acting. My resources are sufficient. Thank you… Sister, for your kindness. I appreciate the thought, truly.”
Seeing that Li Zhengzheng was about to press further, Song Jin hurriedly tugged at her sleeve: “Mom! That’s enough, that’s enough. It’s getting late, and she has to wake up early for a promotional event tomorrow. If she doesn’t go back to sleep now, her mental state will be completely ruined.”
Li Zhengzheng instinctively looked at the wall clock. Although she didn’t think eleven-thirty or midnight was particularly late, she decided to let her go, considering the girl had to work the next day.
The three of them went downstairs chatting and laughing—mostly Li Zhengzheng laughing. Upon reaching the entrance, Li Zhengzheng originally intended to leave after saying goodbye, but after waving, she saw Wen Yu putting on a helmet and getting onto the back of Song Jin’s bike. She twitched her lips and couldn’t help stepping forward to ask, “In the dead of winter, you’re taking her on a motorcycle?”
“Mom, can you show her some respect? This is a motorcycle! And not just any motorcycle.” Song Jin snapped her helmet visor shut with a “clack” and bragged, “This is an Augusta that Han-zi gave me. It’s a limited edition!”
“Oh, so you still have to swallow a belly full of north wind,” Li Zhengzheng retorted expressionlessly. She then turned sideways to look at Wen Yu with a grin: “Yuyu, do you want me to drive you home? My Lamborghini is super cool—”
“Forget it, Mom. If your convertible were any lower, it’d be a ‘neck-blocker-ghini.’ One lap and you’d swallow two bellies of north wind.” Song Jin took a gift bag from Wen Yu and hung it on the handlebars. She kicked the kickstand and said to Li Zhengzheng, “We’re off. See you tomorrow, old lady.”
“See you next time… Sister,” Wen Yu said with a slight stutter, clearly still unsure of how to address her.
“Fine, fine, fine—go on, drive slowly on the road.”
“I know—” Song Jin revved the engine, her last words scattering into the wind.
The foot traffic on the streets on a Friday night seemed heavier than usual. Even though it was nearing midnight, many people still stood in front of roadside food stalls. The smells wafting into Song Jin’s nostrils as they passed made her a bit hungry.
The traffic light ahead turned red. Song Jin slowed down and stopped steadily just before crossing the stop line. She held the handlebars with both hands, her long legs spread wide to support herself on the ground, waiting for the green light.
A gust of wind blew, making her shiver. Song Jin struck up a conversation to break the silence: “Wen Yu, are you cold?”
“No, why?” she answered quickly, then asked back, “Are you cold?”
“I’m not cold either,” Song Jin straightened her back, refusing to show any weakness.
But with that casual remark, the two, who had been silent for half the trip, successfully opened up. Recalling the scene of her mother and herself, Song Jin felt a bit embarrassed: “I’m sorry. My mom is like me—she gets familiar with people very easily. I hope she didn’t scare you today.”
“No, she… her personality is very lovely.”
“Sister” and “Auntie” fought in her mouth for a long time before Wen Yu finally chose a neutral pronoun that definitely wouldn’t be wrong. Song Jin found it quite funny and told her, “It’s okay. If it’s hard to choose, just call her Sister Li. Sister Li will understand.”
“No, I’ll stick with Auntie,” Wen Yu answered very decisively this time. After hearing this, Song Jin shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
The red light countdown still had over thirty seconds left—an awkward middle ground.
Just when she thought Wen Yu wouldn’t speak again before getting off the bike, the woman’s muffled voice came from behind:
“Song Jin, I suddenly realized that the people around you are all of a similar type…”
“Hmm?” Song Jin didn’t hear clearly at first, but after receiving the signal, she was surprised by the sudden insight. “Really? I haven’t noticed.”
“Yes,” Wen Yu nodded seriously. “Li Hang, Du Bing, Chen Mingxi, your mother, even you—everyone has a great personality and gets along well with you.”
“Maybe… ‘birds of a feather flock together’?” Song Jin couldn’t think of a better phrase for a moment, but she roughly understood what Wen Yu meant. “Besides, it’s not like only extroverts can be called ‘having a good personality.’ I think your personality is quite good too.”
Wen Yu didn’t say anything. She didn’t respond even as they were about to enter the residential complex. It was unclear if she had fallen asleep or was taking the words to heart.
Song Jin slowly drove into the underground parking lot and expertly slid into her parking spot. Just as she came to a steady stop, Wen Yu got off.
Okay, it seemed she was still awake.
Song Jin dismounted the motorcycle. She wasn’t in a hurry to take off her helmet; instead, she first took the gift bag from the front of the bike. Wen Yu didn’t take hers off either, and after taking the items, she followed Song Jin into the elevator like a little tail, making Song Jin feel like they were two penguins walking in a row.
“Did someone put muting medicine in the north wind?” Song Jin wondered to herself, but she didn’t know if she should speak up. Perhaps Wen Yu was just tired after a long day of running around and didn’t want to talk, or maybe in her view, the conversation had already ended. In short, until the final second when they each returned to their homes, they had no further communication other than wishing each other goodnight.
Song Jin changed into slippers at the door. After entering the house empty-handed, she slapped her forehead:
She forgot to take the helmet back.
But looking at the clock’s hour hand pointing to midnight, Song Jin yawned and decided to wait until the next time they met.
Her body was sinking bit by bit, but her thoughts were drifting upward. Song Jin could clearly feel her soul slowly detaching from her body until, just as she was about to touch the ceiling, a strong sensation of falling swept through her whole body.
She jerked violently, her eyes struggling to open a crack. Soft light seized the opportunity to enter her pupils, and Song Jin quickly realized she had entered a dream.
“Why aren’t you moving? Didn’t you say you were going to help me?”
Song Jin reflexively looked toward the source of the voice and locked eyes with the “Wen Yu” in the full-length mirror.
She instinctively looked down, pinched the tab of a zipper, and after pulling it to the very top, she smoothly tied the belt, forming a standard and beautiful bow.
“There.” Song Jin’s tone was flat. After finishing, she silently took a step back, widening the distance between them.
Wen Yu seemed to freeze for a moment, the gaze she cast through the mirror looking somewhat perplexed. She turned around, her apricot-colored low-waisted lotus-leaf hem blossoming into an imperfect circle with her movement. Wen Yu tilted her head to look at her, her gaze drifting over Song Jin’s expressionless face for a moment before she finally reached out both hands toward her. “No hug today?”
Song Jin’s brain stalled for two seconds.
She had seen this scene in fanfiction. It roughly described their daily life after marriage: “Wen Yu” was preparing to go to work, but “Song Jin” insisted on being clingy and stealing a kiss. After the hug, there would be a kiss, and after the kiss, “Song Jin” would personally untie the belt she had just fastened.
But looking into Wen Yu’s eyes, Song Jin didn’t know how to refuse her for a moment.
Forget it; in that story, the person who initiated it was herself. As long as she didn’t cross the line, the subsequent plot probably wouldn’t happen…
Right?
Thinking this, Song Jin stepped forward with a complicated mood and took Wen Yu into her arms.
She suddenly realized that this seemed to be the first time the two of them had a real hug. Although it was in a dream, this realization still felt like discovering a new continent to Song Jin.
Wen Yu had a faint scent of laundry detergent on her. Song Jin lowered her head slightly, her chin resting on Wen Yu’s shoulder and rubbing against it, lightly and heavily grinding against her soft strands of hair. The fragrance lingering at the tip of her nose grew stronger.
It was freesia, without that familiar smell of Coca-Cola.
Song Jin froze for a moment. That feeling of unreality became even stronger, but it was followed by a strange sense of grounding.
Because it was a dream, and because she knew it wasn’t real, she could embrace her without any inhibitions.
She could feel the other person responding to her. The hands wrapped around her back tightened, but because the owner of the arms was so thin, her prominent bones poked Song Jin, causing a bit of pain.
“Wen Yu…” Song Jin spoke, her fingers unconsciously tracing circles through a small lock of hair at the back of Wen Yu’s head.
“Were you unhappy tonight?”
Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.