“He doesn’t know yet.” She smoothed out her loosened hair, her tone carrying a subtle, indescribable nuance. “Though… I’ve been wondering what his expression would be if he saw it.”
“Wow,” Wen Miao’s eyes lit up. “So, when do you plan to let him ‘accidentally’ discover that side of you? I am dying to see what it looks like when Big Boss Gu’s ‘iceberg’ mask cracks!”
“Stop it,” Bai Jianjia chided, though her ears grew warm. “We… we are still in the stage of getting to know each other.”
“Getting to know each other?” Wen Miao leaned in, lowering her voice. “So, where are you two… in terms of progress?”
“What progress!”
“Have you held hands? Hugged? Kissed?” Wen Miao’s rapid-fire questions were relentless, her eyes gleaming like spotlights.
Bai Jianjia remembered that accidental touch, her ears burning so intensely she felt she could fry an egg on them. “…No. It’s still just, you know, a normal relationship.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Given how nice those hands of his are, I want to see how long you can keep things ‘normal’,” Wen Miao chuckled, her eyes full of mischief. “But seriously, don’t say I didn’t warn you—a man like Gu Yuzhou is the type who either doesn’t give his heart at all, or once he does, it’s for a lifetime. Look at his face; it’s practically tattooed with ‘repressed, stoic official.’ Once a man like that has an awakening, it’s like an old house catching fire—once it starts, there’s no stopping it…”
“Wen Miao!” Bai Jianjia’s ears were on fire, and she felt an urge to hang up.
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Anyway, if you can’t handle it, it won’t be my problem.” Her best friend quit while she was ahead and changed the subject. “So, what’s the plan next? You can’t be going on dates every day, right?”
“Next week…” Bai Jianjia paused. “He’s taking me to the Gu residence.”
“The Gu residence?!” Wen Miao’s volume spiked instantly. “Meeting the family?! Are you nervous?”
“A little,” Bai Jianjia admitted honestly. “He said his grandmother has been wanting to see me.”
“Tsk, he’s even playing the grandmother card,” Wen Miao laughed. “But don’t worry. A refined lady from a scholarly family like yours is exactly what the elders love. Elegant, graceful, sensible—you’re like a painting come to life just by standing there.”
Bai Jianjia was silent for a moment before saying softly, “Miaomiao, actually… I’m not always that elegant.”
“Duh, I know that,” Wen Miao said matter-of-factly. “But you know how to hold yourself with grace when needed, and that’s what matters. Being graceful when the situation calls for it and relaxing when you can—that’s what it means to truly live. Besides—”
“I think Gu Yuzhou is absolutely different toward you. Otherwise, who would specially use an official corporate account to back you up? Our Jianjia has both talent and beauty; if he truly discovers your ‘true colors,’ he might end up liking you even more.”
Wen Miao’s words were like pebbles cast into a lake, sending ripples through her heart.
Is he different toward me?
Perhaps. At the very least, the way Gu Yuzhou looks at her is different from how he looks at others. At the very least, his attentiveness toward her has exceeded the scope of simply “fulfilling the responsibilities of an engagement.”
Amidst the laughter and banter, she also realized that there was less than a month left before the wedding.
Wen Miao on the other end of the line quieted down. After a long while, she asked softly, “Jianjia, are you really ready? To marry someone who is… still basically a stranger?”
The question was sharp, but very real.
Bai Jianjia walked to the window and pushed it half-open. The night breeze poured in, and she couldn’t help but shiver, yet her thoughts became increasingly clear.
She gazed at the thin sliver of moon on the horizon and said slowly:
“Miaomiao, you know? I used to think that marriage should be the natural conclusion after a passionate, earth-shattering love. But now I think, maybe there is another kind of marriage: one that starts with sincerity, and then slowly nurtures feelings over time.”
“He has given me sincerity,” she whispered, “and I am willing to return it. As for the feelings… I think they will come, slowly but surely.”
A sniffing sound came from the other side of the phone. “Ugh, why are you being so touching all of a sudden? Fine, fine, since you’ve said it that way, I’ll wish you—” she intentionally drew out the tone, “—a hundred years of harmony with President Gu, and may you have two children in three years!”
“Wen Miao!”
The sound of laughter came through the phone, dispelling that faint, lingering sense of melancholy.
After hanging up the video call, Bai Jianjia lay down on her bed, staring blankly at the embroidery on the bed canopy.
The eighth of next month.
Less than twenty days away.
Yet, strangely, she didn’t feel rushed.
It felt as if everything was as it should be: orderly, natural, and destined.
From their first meeting after seven years to the setting of the wedding date, to their frequent meetings now, every step had been steady and natural.
Wen Miao’s words echoed in her ears, like a mirror reflecting thoughts she hadn’t even had the chance to examine closely.
Her phone screen was still lit. She opened her gallery, clicked on the photo, zoomed in, and looked carefully at herself in the frame—her profile soft, eyelashes lowered, fingertips lightly touching the edge of the yellowed manuscript.
The sunlight slanted in from the window, coating the tips of her hair in a faint golden glow.
It really was taken well.
So well that she could barely recognize herself.
No, perhaps that was the real her.
Not the Bai family heiress sitting stiffly in a tea room, but a Bai Jianjia who was relaxed, focused, and immersed in the things she loved.
Gu Yuzhou had seen this side of her, too.
She exited the gallery and opened her chat window with Gu Yuzhou.
The last message was the one he sent in the afternoon: “I’m at the door.”
She had replied: “Okay.”
The conversation stopped there, far too brief to look like a couple in the throes of new romance.
Yet strangely, she didn’t feel any coldness; instead, there was a sense of steady, mutual understanding.
Her finger hovered over the screen for a moment, but in the end, she didn’t send a new message.
Setting the phone aside, she stood up and walked to her desk.
On the table lay the calligraphy practice book she had been working on last night, the regular script tidy and elegant.
But at this moment, a wave of “rebellion” suddenly rose up, and she didn’t want to continue practicing.
She pulled a sheet of raw rice paper from the depths of her drawer, ground the ink, and wet her brush.
The brush tip, saturated with thick ink, didn’t land in orderly regular script this time, but in wild, flowing cursive—the kind of writing she only did when she was alone, with strokes like dragons and snakes, filled with unrestrained spirit.
She wrote a line from Li Shangyin’s Untitled Poem: “Last night the stars, last night the wind; west of the painted pavilion, east of the cinnamon hall.”
The ink was dripping and lush, nearly bursting off the paper.
When she reached the phrase “Our bodies have no colorful wings of the phoenix,” her brush tip paused, and a small pool of ink seeped into the paper.
She looked at that pool of ink and suddenly smiled.
Putting down the brush, she walked to the window.
The night was deep, and only a few garden lights remained on, casting yellow halos over the bluestone path.
In the distance, the faint sound of insects chirping made the night feel even more serene.
Mrs. Gu.
The title felt real in this moment.
No longer a family responsibility, no longer just a name on a marriage certificate, but something concrete: she was going to spend the rest of her life with this person.
And, surprisingly… she was calm.
In fact, she was even a little expectant.
The phone vibrated again. She walked back to check it; it was a new message from Gu Yuzhou:
“Knowing you are coming, my grandmother asked me to check if you have any dietary restrictions or specific favorite dishes.”
It was a very ordinary question, yet it carried the thoughtfulness of family.
Bai Jianjia’s lips curved upward as she replied: “No restrictions. Simple and light dishes would be perfect.”
“Good. She is very happy you are coming.”
“I am happy, too.”
After hitting send, she looked at those five words and suddenly felt her face heat up.
Was that too direct?
But Gu Yuzhou’s reply came quickly: “So am I.”
Three simple words, yet they made her heart skip a beat.
The moonlight outside the window was perfect.
Bai Jianjia leaned against the window, watching those two brief lines of text on her phone screen, a place in her heart feeling utterly soft.
This arranged marriage, which had started with destiny, seemed to truly be growing in a direction no one had anticipated.
And she was not resisting this growth.
In fact, she kind of liked it.
The night was gentle. She closed the window, but couldn’t shut out the tiny, quiet joy blooming within her.