2023

Chen Yue really seemed to have cried.

But she had always been good at handling this kind of emotion, and she never liked letting anyone see her negative feelings.

So the very second the tear fell,

she shut her eyes, turned her face away almost at the same time, and looked toward the crowd in front of the car instead of at Chi Xiaoman.

But Chi Xiaoman still noticed.

Because that clear tear looked especially distinct in the night.

Translucent, gleaming.

Like a star, like a mermaid scale, like a pearl.

It slid quickly from the corner of Chen Yue’s eye.

The lingering trace landed on Chi Xiaoman’s finger; warm at first, then gradually cooling.

Under the low-saturation glow of the flashlights, it glimmered faintly, flickering again and again like a fish’s breath.

Very precious.

Chi Xiaoman stared at the tear on her finger and felt like a puppet stripped of all independent thought; she just sat there blankly.

For a long time.

Then she struggled to lift her eyes and saw the water still clinging to the reddened corners of Chen Yue’s eyes.

Unconsciously, she leaned closer.

“Chen, Chen Yue?”

“...Mm.” Chen Yue answered. As if realizing she was being watched, she quickly brushed the remaining moisture from the corner of her eye with a finger. She tipped her chin up, still not looking at Chi Xiaoman, then gave a soft laugh. “I’m fine. I just didn’t hold it back very well.”

Chi Xiaoman moved her dry lips.

“Don’t worry about me, Xiaoman,” Chen Yue said again.

“Okay.” Chi Xiaoman felt she ought to answer Chen Yue, but for some reason the sound that came from the car didn’t seem like her own voice. It was as if a lot of hurried, dazed words were spilling from her throat. “Okay.”

She sat back down and slowly drew both hands back to rest on her knees.

Without thinking, she sat very straight.

Because she wanted to prove through this—

that she wasn’t having a hard time, that she hadn’t become fragile because of this, and that she didn’t feel tired because of it.

That she still had enough strength at a time like this to protect her.

She wanted to be strong in front of Chen Yue, just once.

But Chen Yue probably saw through even that desire at a glance.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t understand how she was supposed to become a completely grown-up person in front of Chen Yue.

After a long while, she said from inside the car,

“Chen Yue, I’m not having that hard of a time.”

“This kind of thing hasn’t happened that many times either. Not as many as you think. And later... after I could make money for the company, the company arranged for a lot of people to protect me too, so situations like this became rare.”

Chi Xiaoman felt everything she said was true, but once she’d said it, the words sounded a little hollow.

So she kept explaining, “And it’s not like I just put up with everything.”

But Chen Yue said, “Mm, I know.”

She still didn’t look at Chi Xiaoman. Her whole face was hidden in shadow. Yet the lights outside kept flashing through the car window, turning into faint streaks that illuminated the reddened corners of her eyes.

“I know you’re not as fragile as I thought.”

“And I also know that you’re actually even more capable, even stronger, than you look now.”

“That’s how you became the person you are today.”

“It’s just that sometimes, when I look at you, I still can’t help thinking, if..."

Chen Yue stopped, as if she didn’t want to go on. But after a long silence, she still said it, slowly, almost choking on the words.

“If only you had never gone through any of this.”

The car window had fogged over, blurring her reflection. She stared at the moisture on the glass and let out a faint breath, like a laugh and not a laugh. “But no matter how much I think about it, it probably doesn’t mean anything.”

Maybe it was out of place, but after hearing Chen Yue finish, Chi Xiaoman looked at the face reflected in the glass and, with scattered, distant thoughts, suddenly remembered—what did that sentence Chen Yue had said that night, “You seem to have already grown up,” really mean?

For a moment, she had many things she wanted to say to Chen Yue; for example, “It’s all over,” or “It’s not as bad as you think,” or “Chen Yue, you don’t need to worry about me so much”...

But after thinking it through, every one of those lines would probably only get a “Okay” from Chen Yue. And each one also seemed pointless; none of them could make her into a strong person in Chen Yue’s eyes, someone who didn’t need pity, nor could they make Chen Yue feel any better right now.

So Chi Xiaoman sat silent in the back seat, breathing softly and emptily. After a long time, she picked at her fingers and said, lost and bewildered,

“Then what should I do to make you feel a little better?”

It was a very simple question.

Chen Yue didn’t speak for a very long time.

Her whole body was soaked in the car’s shadows, like a leaf withering in silence.

A long time passed.

She covered her face with her palm.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t know if she was crying. She parted her lips, but found that she couldn’t speak either.

So they could only remain silent.

They sat in silence for a long time; instead, the noise outside the car gradually faded. Maybe because they had both stayed inside and not come out, even those people had grown tired.

Chi Xiaoman sat in the back seat, looking through the window at those tightly packed silhouettes. She pinched the flesh in her palm. After a long while, when Chen Yue’s breathing had softened, she said very gently, “Actually, it’s not like that.”

As if hearing her voice again,

Chen Yue’s breathing trembled, then was pressed down by a car horn outside, like a very faint sob.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t look at her, or perhaps she didn’t dare to. She took a deep breath, stared through the car window at those sharp, aggressive looks, and said word by word,

“Even though I can’t say the past nine years were completely smooth, or that I didn’t have any hardship at all. But I don’t regret it.”

“Not even once.”

She smiled and emphasized to Chen Yue,

“Really.”

But maybe Chi Xiaoman still wasn’t as strong as she imagined. Because when she said that, tears still slipped out so disappointingly and rolled down to her chin, slowly cooling in the air.

She quickly raised a hand to wipe them away, then continued,

“Because I not only managed to make Neon into a film; in this movie, I can also choose whatever actress I want. And I can make sure that in my crew, not a single actress will be affected by some baseless nonsense and end up being replaced.”

Chi Xiaoman’s voice was shaved thin by the wind outside the window.

“Chen Yue, I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”

Chen Yue’s breathing trembled again.

Chi Xiaoman looked at her and saw that the exposed line of her jaw looked thin, pale, and wet with light. Like tears.

Chi Xiaoman felt dazed. Before this, she couldn’t have imagined Chen Yue crying over something like this.

But Chen Yue really was crying.

And every time Chi Xiaoman cried, Chen Yue had always been patient with her.

So Chi Xiaoman let out a breath and smiled at Chen Yue.

“It’s true.”

She didn’t want Chen Yue to feel embarrassed because of tears, either. She tightened her fingers and chose to do her best to fill the empty space inside the car herself.

“And along the way, suffering a little, or going through some things everyone has to go through when they grow up, is something I was willing to do. It’s really not something I’ve ever resented.”

“So don’t feel sorry for me.”

She looked at Chen Yue’s back, mostly blocked by the seat, and said softly,

“Sister Chen Tong.”

“You have to be proud of me.”

And she tried hard to wipe away the tears that kept falling uncontrollably, her voice soft.

“Okay?”

-

Hearing the thirty-year-old Chi Xiaoman speak in that soft voice again and call her “Sister Chen Tong,” Chen Yue couldn’t speak.

Tonight, from the moment Chi Xiaoman appeared across the street, she had already understood clearly—she could not let her emotions slip out of control at a time like this.

Because there were many cameras and many eyes outside the car aimed at them.

If Chen Yue lost control and was photographed, even if it was just red-rimmed eyes, even if it was only a trace of negative emotion, those tiny things would become reason enough for countless voices to turn and sharply accuse Chi Xiaoman, and for Chi Xiaoman’s name to be saddled with another baseless story.

Long ago, Chen Yue would still feel confused by this situation—why did so many people hate Chi Xiaoman as if she were an enemy? Why was it wrong for her expression to be bad while eating? Why was it wrong for her to wear a hair tie? Why was it wrong for her to get close to someone? Did Chi Xiaoman do something wrong somewhere?

Why, when she posted on Weibo to explain for Chi Xiaoman, did things always seem to move in the opposite direction?

Later, Chen Yue gradually understood—there had never really been any reason at all.

Yet Chi Xiaoman herself understood this far more clearly, because it seemed that from a long time ago, she had already been telling Chen Yue this truth: if you don’t like someone, do you really need a reason?

And yet Chi Xiaoman told her she had never regretted it, never once resented it.

In the end, Chen Yue lost control of her emotions.

And when Chi Xiaoman heard her cry,

she wasn’t afraid Chen Yue would affect her. She wasn’t afraid that Chen Yue’s vulnerable state in this moment would affect their film, or bring any public suspicion down on her.

She sat obediently in the back seat, looking at her, seeming to have no caution at all toward any of these things.

In the end,

she even tried to get closer.

She reached out awkwardly.

Like a protector, she came over and patted her head.

Her palm was soft; she only touched once before letting go, then said to her slowly and gently,

“Chen Yue, don’t be scared.”

Chen Yue’s shoulders trembled faintly because of that.

Chi Xiaoman seemed to notice right away, and hurriedly leaned in, as if she wanted to pat her head again like before.

But because she wasn’t practiced at it, her movements were clumsy, like a wooden puppet that had gone still but still wanted to bring someone warmth.

In the end, the phone rang.

She still couldn’t touch her head again; she could only say to her in haste,

“If you want to cry, then cry. It’s okay.”

As soon as she finished,

the phone ringing sounded even harsher inside the car.

Chi Xiaoman hesitated before asking softly, “Chen Yue, do you want me to answer it for you?”

“No need.” Chen Yue pinched her palm, forcing herself to calm down, wiped away the cooled tears on her face, and answered the call.

She quietly listened as Shen Yin finished explaining the arrangements on the other end, then said, “I need to file a police report about what happened today.”

Shen Yin paused on the phone. She seemed a little surprised, but in the end didn’t object. After giving her the details, she asked if she was okay; once Chen Yue confirmed, she hung up.

After the call ended,

Chen Yue quietly put her phone down. She looked at the silhouettes in front of the car and didn’t rush to look at Chi Xiaoman.

Chi Xiaoman also didn’t rush to speak. Her breathing rose and fell obediently. After a while, she tentatively called, “Chen Yue?”

Chen Yue lowered her face and wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “I’m fine.”

Then she turned slightly and saw Chi Xiaoman sitting stiffly in the back, apparently holding a tissue she’d found in the car, looking at her nervously.

“Give it to me,” Chen Yue said softly.

Chi Xiaoman let out a breath of relief.

She handed the tissue over. “Did you talk to your manager about filing the report?”

“Mm.” Chen Yue said, “She agreed. She should help me handle it too.”

“That’s good.” Chi Xiaoman nodded.

“And you?” Chen Yue asked.

“Me?” Chi Xiaoman looked at her, puzzled, though her eyes were still clearly red. “What about me?”

Chen Yue’s emotions had calmed.

After a brief silence, she said, “If I file a report, it might affect the filming schedule later, and it might send you onto a lot of hot searches again..."

“Chen Yue, don’t think about those things.”

Chi Xiaoman cut her off. “Your safety matters most. Besides, if these people... if you aren’t hard enough with them, they might only get worse later.”

As if she’d already thought about it while Chen Yue was on the phone, Chi Xiaoman’s stance was firm.

Chen Yue couldn’t object.

She nodded. “Okay.”

Chi Xiaoman let out another breath, then held the tissue in her hand and hesitantly offered it over. “Chen Yue, I still have tissues here. Do you want to cry a little more?”

Asking someone who had just cried and calmed down whether they wanted to cry a little more.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about it at all.

Chen Yue laughed.

Chi Xiaoman wore a confused expression. Her eyes were still red, and she looked like a little rabbit full of questions.

Chen Yue looked at her; her own eyes were still red too. “Chi Xiaoman, were you scared just now?”

“A little.” Chi Xiaoman admitted honestly, then glanced at the people outside the window, who had gradually started to lose steam, and said lightly, “But it helps a lot if you just think of them as rubber people.”

It sounded like she was comforting her.

Chi Xiaoman also looked at her and asked, “What about you? Were you scared just now?”

Chen Yue smiled. “Very much.”

Chi Xiaoman’s eyes widened.

She seemed very surprised by the frankness.

Chen Yue rested her hand on the steering wheel and lightly drummed it. After a long pause, she said,

“Just now, when I was being blocked in, I didn’t feel annoyed, and I didn’t feel scared. Because I always believed my manager was very capable and could handle anything.”

“Then what were you scared of?” Chi Xiaoman asked.

“It actually took me a long time to understand what these people were demanding. They wanted me to leave our movie. At first I thought it was strange; I couldn’t figure out why they were so worked up.”

“Later, I sat in the car and looked at those people through the window, looked at their expressions, their movements, listened to their tone, and realized it seemed true that many people outside had firmly decided that if I made this movie I would ruin myself, that I was greedy for profit and wanted to use your popularity to raise my status, or that I’d been threatened by you, tricked by you... But I still couldn’t understand why, so later I kept thinking—”

Recalling the specifics of that event, Chen Yue actually felt her memory was blurry, and she couldn’t even remember the exact details of the collision. But the worry it caused her remained incredibly clear.

“Chi Xiaoman would definitely be scared after learning about this.”

She said it very softly, because she didn’t want to trigger a corresponding defensive reaction from Chi Xiaoman.

But Chi Xiaoman didn’t speak. Maybe she couldn’t deny it.

“So at the time I thought, better not let her know. I even specifically told Baozhi not to let you look at your phone today,” Chen Yue said slowly. “Who knew that after saying all that, you’d come straight over and see it with your own eyes.”

“It’s not her fault,” Chi Xiaoman explained. “If she hadn’t told me, I would have been angry with her too.”

“Mm, I know.” Chen Yue didn’t deny it. She was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Actually, I saw you at that time.”

“Saw me when?”

“I saw you walking over slowly from across the street. I really wanted to get out of the car and come pick you up.”

“But at the time I thought if I got out, it would only draw other people’s attention to you. So I didn’t get out. I only thought very simply in my head—Chi Xiaoman, don’t come over. Chi Xiaoman, go back quickly; don’t let anyone else notice you. Chi Xiaoman, hide quickly.”

“But no matter what I thought in my head, you still walked over here.”

At that, Chen Yue suddenly smiled a little.

“So I was really scared then.”

But her voice gradually grew softer.

“I was scared you’d walk up and say to me—Chen Yue, don’t film Neon anymore. I was also scared you’d cry, scared you’d be frightened by this, scared you’d say to me—Chen Yue, it’s all my fault.”

She copied the tone she thought Chi Xiaoman would use, but in that moment of daze she realized Chi Xiaoman had almost never spoken in that kind of tone. So she lowered her head and paused for a while.

Only after realizing Chi Xiaoman had been silent for a long time did she ask gently, “Would you say that? Xiaoman.”

Afraid Chi Xiaoman would hedge around the question,

before she answered,

Chen Yue looked into her eyes and asked directly, “Would you think about replacing me because of this?”

Chi Xiaoman seemed only then to have heard her words in full. After processing it for a while, she slowly shook her head and said, “No.”

This was beyond Chen Yue’s expectations.

In fact, every second of tonight, every reaction Chi Xiaoman gave, had been beyond her expectations.

Chen Yue nodded.

She had thought the topic would end there.

“Actually, before I got into the car, I really was scared,” Chi Xiaoman admitted without holding back, continuing, “I was afraid I’d bring you something bad again, and afraid what happened tonight would hurt you a lot. At one point, I even really thought maybe I should just let you quit.”

Chen Yue turned back.

Chi Xiaoman looked at her and didn’t dodge at all. Her eyes looked very wet, her lashes wet too, her pupils like they held shaky water; no longer like fire, no longer bright, no longer flying free. But she said, “But once I walked up to you, I didn’t think that way at all.”

Her expression was still clean, and still stubborn. “Chen Yue, I’ll protect you.”

The fingers Chen Yue had resting on the steering wheel trembled.

She kept her face turned, eyes damp, vision blurred, looking at Chi Xiaoman in the back seat sitting so properly, and so unable to relax, the very person she had mistaken for timid.

As if to prove her resolve, Chi Xiaoman looked back at her. Her eyes were red, but she still tried to smile at her.

“I’m the director.”

Chen Yue’s eyes felt dry and sore.

“No one can force me to replace the actors I want to use,” Chi Xiaoman said. The wind outside brushed softly through the night; afraid Chen Yue might not believe her, she added, “And I’m also one of this film’s investors.”

The wind rattled the window. Smiling, she told her, “I can protect you now.”

Chen Yue’s eyes turned red.

She turned her head away.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Very faintly, she gave a “Mm.”

Then, in a very soft voice, she said,

“Okay.”

-

The farce was sharp and ugly; half an hour later, after the police car and ambulance arrived, it ended.

The one who had led the crash, along with several who hadn’t managed to escape in time, were clamoring all the way as they were taken into the police car.

Chen Yue’s manager wasn’t in Beijing, but she had arranged for a lot of people to come over. First, to deal with Chen Yue’s crashed car; second, to accompany her in the ambulance to the hospital; third, to follow her to the police station and handle things there.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t leave.

After Chen Yue, accompanied by the police, got into the ambulance, Chi Xiaoman drove Shen Baozhi’s car and followed the police car to the station.

After all, besides Chen Yue, she had been there longer and knew the situation better, so she could provide more of the details the police needed.

Even though it was late at night,

the police station and the road where it happened were both crowded with people.

Chi Xiaoman drove behind them, and for one fleeting, strangely detached moment, thought to herself—

maybe there’ll be another news story tomorrow.

Logically speaking, she should leave as soon as possible, at least to reduce some of the material gossip could invent and minimize the impact on the film, then let Shen Baozhi handle the rest.

But she still followed on her own. Because she wasn’t sure whether the people Shen Yin had arranged could be trusted, and wasn’t sure whether they would be as hard-nosed as she hoped, refusing to let the matter be smoothed over.

She couldn’t trust anyone.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t know whether that also counted as one of the bad parts of having grown to thirty.

In any case,

through the police station statements and the handling of both sides’ demands, she followed the whole process, and confirmed that the leading few had signed and pressed their fingerprints onto a guarantee, stating the compensation would be paid in full within a month and that they would never again go near Chen Yue. Only then did she leave with her head lowered.

Before leaving, she ran into a female police officer she had dealt with before. The other party smiled at her, then after understanding the situation, furrowed her brows, thought for a while, and sighed.

“Actually, last time I already told you; when you run into this kind of thing, you absolutely mustn’t soften up.”

Last time.

Actually, that had also been when a stalker had repeatedly followed Chi Xiaoman and stuffed gifts and cards into the entrance of her hotel.

She had reported it to the police, but when the police caught the person and she went to the station to take a look, she found it was just a girl who looked very young. The girl’s tone when speaking to her was also quite normal; besides warmly expressing how much she liked her, she had apologized to her very sincerely.

So Chi Xiaoman didn’t pursue it further.

But later, the other person lay low for a while, then started pursuing her again during winter break, and she had no choice but to call the police a second time.

It might also have been a lesson.

It made Chi Xiaoman’s attitude toward Chen Yue’s matter firmer now.

That night, she smiled at the policewoman and said, “I won’t anymore.”

By the time everything was handled, it was already very late.

Chi Xiaoman walked out of the police station and discovered she didn’t have her phone on her. She didn’t know the time, so she felt a little dazed, because Chen Yue’s lunar birthday was probably already past.

She’d missed the chance, so she had no choice but to decide to wait until the nineteenth and tell Chen Yue a sincere enough “happy birthday.”

Then she saw Chen Yue.

So much had happened tonight that the woman looked exhausted, leaning against the red sports car Chi Xiaoman had driven over, her head lowered as though thinking about something. She was wrapped in a coat, with another coat in her hands. There was no cast on her leg; it looked as if things had been handled, and that sprain really wasn’t serious.

Chi Xiaoman froze for a moment, then walked toward her. “Did they take care of the injury?”

Chen Yue looked up and smiled when she saw her.

Then she noticed Chi Xiaoman wasn’t wearing a coat.

Her brows gathered slightly.

She shook out the coat in her hands. “Why haven’t you found something to wear after being out here this long?”

“I forgot,” Chi Xiaoman said.

Then, very obediently and a little stiffly, she cooperated as Chen Yue draped the coat over her.

It wasn’t the one she had lent Chen Yue.

It was Chen Yue’s own.

A sweater.

A cardigan.

It carried Chen Yue’s scent.

Chi Xiaoman slipped her arms in herself, carefully pulling her wrists free of the wide cuffs, wanting to say thank you, but another matter seemed more urgent. “Has your injury been taken care of?”

“It has.” Chen Yue didn’t find her repetitive or impatient; she answered with patience.

“It’s nothing serious, just a bit of muscle damage, so I sprayed some medicine on it.”

Chi Xiaoman nodded; it was just as she’d thought.

“Xiaoman, the coat isn’t on properly,” Chen Yue said suddenly.

“Hm? Where?” Chi Xiaoman lowered her head, checking herself like a puppet waiting for orders.

Chen Yue looked at her for a moment. “The collar.”

But before Chi Xiaoman could react, Chen Yue had already come closer and patiently helped pull the hair caught inside the collar of her sweater free.

Chi Xiaoman immediately straightened her neck and didn’t dare make too much movement.

The woman’s motions were careful, and her hands never touched her skin.

She also knew when to stop; after dealing with the hair, she quickly withdrew her hands.

“All right.”

“Mm, okay, thank you,” Chi Xiaoman said.

“You’re welcome.” Chen Yue still answered like that. Then she looked at her for a while and asked with some concern, “Is one coat enough?”

“It’s enough,” Chi Xiaoman said. “Actually, I don’t feel that cold.”

“Good.” Chen Yue nodded.

“Why did you come over at this hour?” Chi Xiaoman looked at how tired she seemed. “Do you still have to give a statement and everything?”

“No need. The officer who went to the hospital with me already understood everything.” Chen Yue shook her head.

Looking at her, she said, “I only heard that you were still here, so I came over to see.”

“That’s good.” Chi Xiaoman thought.

After all, coming to the police station tonight wasn’t exactly auspicious.

She didn’t say that aloud. Though going to the hospital would be even less auspicious.

“Xiaoman,” Chen Yue called her softly. “You worked hard today.”

“It wasn’t hard.” Chi Xiaoman shook her head.

Talking at the police station entrance wasn’t very convenient either.

She thought for a moment.

“Chen Yue, are you coming back to the hotel with me, or going somewhere else?”

“Back to the hotel,” Chen Yue said.

“Okay.”

Since she had driven Shen Baozhi’s car over, she should drive it back properly. Before starting the car, Chi Xiaoman took a few deep breaths and felt her emotions had finally settled completely, so she started the car smoothly.

Only, considering Chen Yue was in the passenger seat,

Chi Xiaoman drove Shen Baozhi’s sports car at a speed of just thirty or forty kilometers an hour.

Her expression and movements were all especially careful; at every intersection she concentrated hard and watched the road ahead.

She also didn’t take the initiative to speak to Chen Yue in the car.

Chen Yue probably felt she was too tense, so at one intersection where the road was wide and there were few cars, she spoke in a soft voice, “Xiaoman, when did you learn to drive?”

“When did I learn to drive?” Chi Xiaoman fell into memory. “A long time ago, I guess.”

“It should’ve been because a certain script needed driving, so I learned,” she told Chen Yue. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have wanted to learn.”

“I remember you don’t like sitting in cars,” Chen Yue said. “Because you think the smell inside them is weird, like a person being sewn into a leather sofa and tied up as a hostage. Do you still think that now?”

“Mm, I still do,” Chi Xiaoman said, wrinkling her nose. “And driving is tiring, while riding makes me carsick..."

Not wanting to complain too much to Chen Yue on such a night, Chi Xiaoman stopped and asked carefully, “Am I not driving very well?”

“No.” The streetlights swayed. Chen Yue looked at her from the passenger seat, her voice made even gentler by the night. “Not at all.”

Chi Xiaoman glanced at a tricycle that was about to pass them from outside and thought Chen Yue was talking nonsense.

But Chen Yue said again, “I think it’s very good.”

After a pause, her tone was almost tentative. “Can you take me out for a little longer?”

In general, Chen Yue very rarely made requests of others. She didn’t like burdening people because of her own needs. But ever since Neon started filming, that seemed to have changed somewhat. Because she said—

“Can we film a test scene first?”

“Won’t you high-five me?”

“Can I keep wearing this outfit for a few more days?”

“Can you take me out for a little longer?”

...

Although these situations still weren’t many.

But Chi Xiaoman also couldn’t refuse.

Not to mention that Chen Yue’s lunar birthday had been spent in such a terrible way this year.

Chi Xiaoman felt sad.

And wanted to make up for it.

So she said,

“Okay.”

Her voice was certain. “Let’s go take a drive.”

And so Chen Yue smiled.

In the wind, her laughter was soft and faint, and quickly carried away. Then she said to Chi Xiaoman,

“Xiaoman.”

“I don’t want to say ‘thank you’ to you. Is that okay?”

For some reason, even though Chen Yue had clearly grown another year older, the way she did things seemed to have become even more willful.

But Chi Xiaoman wouldn’t call that willful. If she could, she hoped Chen Yue could be even a little more willful; not always treating herself as the one who had to take care of others, but occasionally enjoying being taken care of too.

“Of course.” Chi Xiaoman nodded.

She also added, “Whatever you want to say or don’t want to say is fine.”

“I have a very good temper. I won’t get angry.” Perhaps because she had loosened up after the emergency, and also because she really did think Chen Yue might have been scared tonight, Chi Xiaoman couldn’t help saying a bit more. “Baozhi usually doesn’t really say thank you to me either.”

“Really?” Chen Yue said. Her tone was impossible to read.

“Really.” Chi Xiaoman nodded.

Maybe because the car had reached a busier intersection again, Chen Yue fell silent.

She looked at her, her gaze still warm.

No one knew how long they drove. The red sports car moved slowly along the road until it reached a red light. Chi Xiaoman carefully stopped the car and wanted to check the time to confirm whether Chen Yue’s lunar birthday had completely passed.

Then she heard Chen Yue call her.

“Xiaoman.”

So Chi Xiaoman didn’t look at her phone; she looked at Chen Yue first. “Ah? What is it?”

The wind rose, lifting Chen Yue’s hair. Even though so many bad things had happened today, the way she looked at Chi Xiaoman was still soft, and she smiled at her.

“Can you come eat noodles with me at Felicity Noodle Shop?”

[Author’s Note]

On time again for Little Neon’s forty-third day [sunglasses][sunglasses]