Chapter 3: The First Day
There was a medical industry exchange conference in Xixiang, scheduled over two days. In between, they also had to make time to attend the ribbon-cutting ceremony for a newly opened hospital, making the schedule extremely tight.
Song Xu drove himself, and the journey took about four hours.
When Qiao Yi heard the night before that someone else had been assigned to the business trip, she bombarded Wen Bairan with "you poor thing" stickers, making sure Wen knew that accompanying Song Xu on a business trip was a pain. She also casually asked, "Why did he suddenly decide to bring you along?"
Song Xu had been working more closely with the first team recently—Qiao Yi’s team. Wen Bairan, who was in the second team, had no direct connection to him.
Wen Bairan didn’t know the reason either. Maybe her overtime efforts had impressed him.
Qiao Yi didn’t get it. What’s so impressive about working overtime? These days, bosses only complain if you leave early—why would they appreciate you staying late?
Wen Bairan agreed, then quipped, "Maybe he’s attracted to my looks."
Qiao Yi burst out laughing, teasing her for having no shame. "How could you say something like that? Everyone knows Song Xu is like a monk—so many temptations in the company haven’t shaken his resolve. Do you have three heads and six arms or something?"
Of course, Wen Bairan didn’t have three heads and six arms. But while she was texting Qiao Yi and waiting for the elevator, the doors dinged open, and the bright light from inside flooded out. She squinted and, almost automatically, glanced back into the office.
Song Xu was picking up a document at the front desk, his gaze briefly caught by the light in the hallway.
Wen Bairan immediately straightened up and gave him a slight nod.
Song Xu stood in the shadows, and Wen Bairan couldn’t make out his expression, but she had a feeling he noticed her greeting.
His tall silhouette resembled a cardboard cutout outside a convenience store—still in the gloom, something faintly glinted before vanishing in an instant.
He turned and walked back to his office.
Qiao Yi’s teasing messages kept coming. "You don’t actually think he’s into you, do you?"
Wen Bairan snapped back to reality and stepped into the elevator, casually typing, "Who knows?"
Regardless, she needed this business trip.
She was human, not a machine.
Eight years had passed. Logic could convince her to pull away, but emotions didn’t fade so quickly.
Shenjiang was filled with too many memories of her and Zhou Lin. Perhaps only by stepping away, into an unfamiliar environment, could she breathe freely again.
She felt like a fish out of water—knowing the ocean was ahead but still hesitating, wondering if it’d be easier to just exhaust herself here, suffocate or dry up, and make a clean break from this suffocating situation. Why struggle so hard? The freedom she might find could just be another trap.
On the road, Zhou Lin called her.
Ke Shumin had just texted, saying they’d returned to port and were breaking off to rest, with plans to go out again that night. She asked if Wen Bairan wanted to join.
Wen Bairan replied with a simple "No."
The moment she sent it, her cell phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
When she didn’t answer, it rang again. Then another number called.
He was persistent.
Her hand was numb from the vibrations.
A voice beside her asked, "Boyfriend?"
They had just entered the Shenxi Expressway. Wen Bairan removed her SIM card, put her cell phone away, and calmly said, "Ex-boyfriend."
In the rearview mirror, Song Xu kept his eyes on the road, his profile with a cool, detached air.
They had left early, and neither had eaten.
She had prepared a sandwich and offered him one. Song Xu declined. She then asked if he wanted coffee or milk.
Wen Bairan had rushed out without makeup that morning, only applying a quick swipe of lip color on the subway. The vibrant shade contrasted with her pale complexion, giving her a pure yet alluring presence.
Song Xu glanced over, his gaze slowly moving from her left hand to the lower half of her face, then to her right hand. It was a deliberate, almost scrutinizing look.
The shadows under his eyes seemed to blur as he looked at her again. "You choose first," he said.
Wen Bairan placed the coffee cup in the driver’s cup holder and unwrapped a sandwich and milk for herself.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
The exchange conference started at 2 p.m. Wen Bairan napped twice during the drive, arriving just in time for lunch.
Song Xu dropped her off at the hotel and went alone to meet a client. She attended the afternoon session by herself. Afterward, the organizers handed out vouchers for the buffet dinner.
The food at these events was usually mediocre, so most senior attendees opted to dine out. Those who stayed were mostly junior staff.
Song Xu was absent the entire afternoon. At the restaurant, Wen Bairan ran into a few industry peers. They exchanged business cards and chatted pleasantly. She later found out two of them were staying near her hotel.
A man and a woman—Chen Zhigao and Ying Jie.
They were from a local private hospital. Ying Jie worked in the hospital administration, while Chen Zhigao was from the technical department—both there mostly for show.
Hearing that their hospital was planning to purchase a CT machine, Wen Bairan quickly added Ying Jie on WeChat.
By the time she returned to the hotel and finished showering, it was past 9 p.m.
The day had ended too quickly; it barely registered.
Wen Bairan lay in bed, habitually reaching for her cell phone, only to realize she hadn’t reinserted her SIM card.
She turned it back on. No new messages on the screen.
The missed calls weren't logged after she removed the card.
It was expected.
Zhou Lin’s biggest flaw was his impatience and stubbornness—something Wen Bairan knew all too well. His persistence in calling her that morning was likely because the event had just ended, and he wasn’t used to the sudden idle time. He probably never expected her to skip his birthday this time. She was sure that if she had answered, they would’ve ended up arguing in the car.
She didn’t want to argue with him anymore. She was tired.
Song Xu had been there too; she didn’t want him hearing any of it.
Zhou Lin often said she had an odd sense of pride—like how she would only argue at home or in private. No matter how angry she was outside, she could always hold it in until later. Sometimes, he’d think she was over it after a night out, only to come home drunk and have her start in on him again.
He hated her bringing up old grievances. Once, in a fit of anger, he smashed her favorite vase. Shards of glass scattered across the floor in the middle of the night, every light in the house feeling like it was adding fuel to the fire. Wen Bairan crouched there, wordlessly gathering shards with her bare hands, tears streaming down her face.
Later, he said he knew she was crying but just couldn’t be bothered to comfort her. He was tired of her extreme moods. "What does being a woman have to do with it? Do women have the right to be unreasonable and relentless? Since when?"
Those were his exact words.
Wen Bairan remembered every single word perfectly.
Now thinking back, she felt rather ridiculous, as if acting in a tragic romance. She was trapped in her role, first hiding her vulnerability, then intentionally or not revealing her grievances and stubbornness, thinking he would feel for her pain. But how could she possibly pick up all that shattered glass with just her hands?
The robot vacuum was a blessing. She sat on the sofa, facing the empty darkness ahead, while the vacuum zoomed around noisily. Zhou Lin was sound asleep in the master bedroom behind her.
Somehow, she recalled her early university days when a roommate had broken a bottle of her perfume. She had been a little upset because her mom had someone bring it back from overseas. She rarely used it and had simply let it sit, evaporating quite a bit. The roommate kept apologizing, offering to compensate for it, but Wen Bairan generously said it was fine—she didn’t know the price anyway, so just let it be.
Back then, her roommate hadn’t meant it; today, Zhou Lin might not have intended it either. But she didn’t care about the value of the shattered perfume; instead, she got hung up on the promise Zhou Lin had made when buying the vase—that he’d give her a bouquet of flowers every week.
The weekly bouquets lasted for about a month and a half before stopping because he went abroad to see a game.
Now the vase was gone.
And there’d never be another.
Wen Bairan felt hollow inside, as if with the shattering of the vase, something within her had shattered too. That emptiness was terrifying—a boundless void where she couldn’t find herself within her own body.
What happened to the proud, aloof Wen Bairan she used to be?
Later, when they reconciled, Zhou Lin held her in bed and promised to buy her another vase, one made of Swarovski crystal, a limited edition worldwide. As he spoke, he kissed her tears away, as if trying to kiss away the tears she had shed that day.
She refused his expensive compensation, thinking it would help her reclaim a bit of herself. But where exactly her self had been lost, she hadn’t yet discovered.
Zhou Lin was quiet now, probably off having a good time.
Having been with him for so long, Wen Bairan didn’t need to think to know what was on his mind, what every little expression meant. Even a mere grunt carried different nuances.
Although she had resolved to forget, she’d still think about it from time to time.
And now, that uneasy feeling was creeping in again.
Wen Bairan let out a frustrated sigh and closed her eyes for a moment before suddenly sitting up bolt upright. She searched for nearby bars on her phone and found one right upstairs in the hotel.
Since it was so convenient, she’d be crazy not to go.
She changed and headed out.
Junye.
It was here that Wen Bairan bumped into Song Xu.
In her memory, she had just arrived, having only one drink. Her mind was still clear enough to notice he wasn’t wearing the same clothes as in the morning—now a black shirt paired with silver slacks, the collar undone with two buttons open. He seemed to have had quite a bit to drink; he was flushed all the way up to his collarbones.
His sleek back-swept hair revealed his cold, handsome face, the sharp corners of his eyes tinged with a subtle, almost imperceptible redness, giving him a look of intense, almost frosty charm, but with a touch of warmth. He looked so strikingly attractive that he seemed to exist in a different layer of reality compared to the middle-aged, balding client beside him.
Song Xu called her by her English name used at the company, "Vivi."
"You’re here."
"Why was your phone unreachable?"
A little dazzled by him, Wen Bairan was a little unsteady. "...Were you looking for me this afternoon?" She glanced down at her phone and apologized, "I forgot to insert the SIM card, sorry. Next time, you can call me through the app."
Song Xu replied generously, "Nothing urgent."
Not urgent, but he had tried to reach her.
He was being indirect, but fortunately, Wen Bairan was still sober.
Just then, the bartender approached with her drink. "Your brandy. Enjoy."
"Thank you..."
While they were talking, the client had already said goodbye to Song Xu and left.
Once again, the two of them were the only ones left at the whole bar.
Just like at the company the night before.
Perhaps on some crazy impulse, Wen Bairan suddenly found the nerve to ask him, "Let me buy you a drink?"