Chapter 6
Hong Kong Island
Jiang Wanju said, “You won’t know if it fits until you try.”
The evening wind was bleak, and her cheeks were slightly flushed by the cold, like persimmons touched by the first frost of autumn. Standing outside in winter to talk was definitely not a good idea; at least Jiang Wanju’s hands and feet had started to feel a faint chill. She couldn’t bear the cold wind, but the couple not far away clearly had no intention of stopping.
As if unconcerned about being overheard, their argument gradually grew louder. Bai Qing restrained himself somewhat, lowering his voice, but fragments of words scattered in the wind. A cleaning lady nearby was raking fallen leaves—probably the last chore of the night.
The woman’s voice sounded mournful: “We’re about to get engaged, and you choose this moment to break up with me…”
Jiang Wanju felt a little awkward.
She shifted her steps unnaturally and heard Chen Zhuren say, “I’ll take you back to campus. It’s freezing—don’t catch a cold.”
The words were warm and natural, and Jiang Wanju nodded, following behind him. One after another, their shadows stretched longer in the moonlight.
Chen Zhuren didn’t mention what had just happened. Unlike others who would naturally defend Bai Qing, he neither spoke for nor against him. Calmly, he discussed some work-related matters with Jiang Wanju.
This time, Jiang Wanju didn’t hide anything. She vaguely remembered some office gossip about Bai Qing, including his background—he had an uncle whose name couldn’t be mentioned, a man of high status who rarely appeared in public. And that uncle seemed to have the surname…
Jiang Wanju rested her face to the side, her hand propping herself up, looking at Chen Zhuren’s composed profile. His facial features were excellent, his appearance striking. Compared to the neutral term “beautiful,” he was better described as “handsome,” a word full of masculine charm.
The car finally stopped at Jiang Wanju’s school gate. Outside vehicles weren’t allowed into the campus, and Chen Zhuren had no intention of breaking that rule. With his abilities, there was no need to waste them on a cousin’s girlfriend. He leaned against the car door, smiling as he said goodbye. Her slim figure looked like a droplet of ink, trailing a long shadow.
In winter, Christmas had arrived. Even if the school didn’t celebrate, the merchants, students, and couples didn’t care. The Christmas tree nearby cast a warm golden glow on the white snow, and her solitary figure resembled a lonely little crane.
Chen Zhuren squinted and noticed a small red mark on Jiang Wanju’s ankle, like a crimson berry in the snow.
After a moment, he opened his cigarette case, took one out, placed it to his lips, and inhaled.
The next day, Bai Qing sent a message to apologize to Jiang Wanju.
She calmly accepted it, saying little. After all, Christmas had passed, and crying or fussing wouldn’t solve anything.
Putting herself in his shoes, she considered: one was an ex-girlfriend of several years, full of on-again, off-again history; the other was a girlfriend she had known for a short time, whose total interaction didn’t even add up to the hours needed for the CPA exam. Leaving other factors aside, just these two points were enough to tell the difference.
Bai Qing offered Jiang Wanju some compensation. He was busy and rarely had time for dates, but he gave her a pair of better-fitting high heels and a classic designer bag. Jiang Wanju rarely used the bag anyway—being an intern, carrying a real designer bag could invite suspicions of counterfeit.
Unfortunately, their relationship didn’t last. Two days before New Year’s, Bai Qing’s ex-girlfriend swallowed more than twenty sleeping pills and was rushed to the hospital for gastric lavage in the middle of the night. Jiang Wanju had been planning a New Year’s trip to Hong Kong, and the first thought in her mind was—could she still get a refund for the ticket?
She could, but would lose 10% in fees. While hesitating, Bai Qing called again, his voice tired.
“Wanju,” he said, “there’s something—”
“I understand,” Jiang Wanju replied. “I know.”
It was late at night. Jiang Wanju hid in the bathroom, keeping her voice low to avoid waking her roommate. “If I were you, I’d stay with her too. You don’t need to feel guilty, Mr. Bai.”
She was overly considerate, and Bai Qing didn’t immediately respond, stunned into silence.
“So, that’s it?” Jiang Wanju asked. “We break up. What do you think?”
Bai Qing gradually came to his senses and smiled wryly. “You sound too formal. I thought this was a work report.”
Jiang Wanju said, “Like work, it’s about timing and compatibility.”
The dormitory’s bathroom had no heating after being built long ago. Jiang Wanju felt a chill. She politely said goodbye, ending her second relationship.
Looking back, the first relationship taught her not to waste time; the second warned her not to pursue men with a lingering “white moonlight” (first love). But it wasn’t all loss—out of guilt and compensation, Bai Qing quietly ensured she got more help at work. Her supervisors were noticeably more courteous toward her afterward.
On the last day of the year, Jiang Wanju wore the shoes and clothes Bai Qing had given her, carried the bag, and boarded a flight to Hong Kong with calm confidence.
Visas were sorted, tickets bought, hotel booked—and non-refundable. Jiang Wanju disliked wasting money, so she went alone for New Year’s.
At check-in, she had some trouble—maybe a system issue or name error—and had to wait. That’s when she met Chen Zhuren.
He, too, was clearly there to relax. Two women accompanied him: one dressed as an assistant in a black suit, calm and composed; the other young, with golden curls, arms covered in jewelry, speaking English rapidly and irritably to Chen Zhuren.
Chen Zhuren looked down at the signature, ignoring her. “Speak Chinese.”
The girl got angrier. “I won’t!” She turned to leave, the assistant following and calling, “Miss Lan!”
“Let her go,” Chen Zhuren said, putting down his pen. His voice in the lobby was calm. “Don’t bother—Xiaolin, call Akun and Old Zhang. They’ll come at ten tomorrow.”
He gave instructions efficiently, seemingly unbothered by the girl’s angry departure. Pressing his temple, he muttered, “This attitude comes from being spoiled, huh?”
Like soap bubbles hitting pine needles.
Chen Zhuren noticed Jiang Wanju sitting on a dark sofa, petite and frail.
She stood and politely said, “Hello, cousin.”
“Cousin?” Chen Zhuren laughed. “Who taught you that?”
“Bai Qing,” she replied.
“Bai Qing?” Chen Zhuren picked up his pen again, tapping the table. “Aren’t you already broken up?”
Jiang Wanju felt the conversation couldn’t continue.
Yet Chen Zhuren asked the front desk, “What was the problem with the lady just now?”
Jiang Wanju didn’t understand Cantonese. Standing aside, she listened but didn’t know what was said. The front desk worked faster.
Soon, a hotel attendant handed Jiang Wanju her room card, politely showing her where the room was, the hotel layout, and other services.
Chen Zhuren also finished check-in. He carried his own suitcase. Coincidentally, he was on the same floor, with only one suite separating them. A call came; he impatiently said, “I’m busy, you go.”
After a while, not knowing what was said, Chen Zhuren raised his tone: “When?”
He spoke at length. Jiang Wanju watched the numbers scroll silently. Once it was done, Chen Zhuren said, “Message me on WeChat if anything.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chen,” she replied politely.
Her suite was on the 54th floor, with wide, bright floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Victoria Harbour. Jiang Wanju was too tired to enjoy the view of the glass city built by towering skyscrapers.
Dinner was at Petrie Restaurant. Later, she went to the executive lounge for a small twilight cocktail. Candlelight glimmered through the carved glass, crystal lights sparkling. Outside, night fell. This once world-class night view should have been shared with Bai Qing.
But alone, it was more comfortable.
That evening, she followed her plan and went to Lan Kwai Fong. The once-neglected district, redeveloped by Jewish merchants, was now full of bars.
She arrived at 10:12 PM. Unlike usual, it was packed with young people celebrating New Year’s. Those who didn’t want to buy drinks from bars were outside with convenience-store alcohol. Jiang Wanju had no interest in joining them; she quietly waited for the countdown.
Halloween, Christmas, New Year—these were Lan Kwai Fong’s busiest nights. Her roommates complained about ID and travel document checks. To avoid issues, Jiang Wanju wore heavier makeup. People still tried to approach her; she declined several offers to drink.
Until she heard Chen Zhuren’s voice: “Not drinking at all?”
She turned. He had no tie, wore a black shirt, and stood beside her, holding out his hand. “Come, let’s move somewhere quieter. This place is messy, nothing to see here.”
His tone was natural. Jiang Wanju squeezed past a drunken person, stumbled over something, and Chen Zhuren caught her hand, teasing: “Such a pretty dress, don’t fall.”
With his help, she steadied herself. “Is my dress pretty?”
Chen Zhuren nodded: “Stunning.”
Her arms were delicate, like reeds. Chen Zhuren’s warmth was like a heater.
Jiang Wanju lifted her face and smiled. “It was bought by your cousin, Mr. Chen.”
