The Mid-Autumn Festival holiday ended, and Pei Jingchen went to work. Su Qingci got up half an hour late. On the dining table were millet porridge and two types of buns—meat and vegetarian. After eating, he turned on the TV for background noise.
Around noon, the property management called to announce a visitor.
Su Qingci opened the door to find Vivian standing outside in a vibrant red dress. With a beaming smile, she handed Su Qingci an invitation: “Teacher Su, I truly hope you can attend.”
Su Qingci froze upon seeing the invitation’s cover—a bright red heart with the character “囍” (double happiness) intricately cut out in the center. Opening it revealed an engagement invitation, naming her fiancé as Zhou Junjie.
“You’re marrying a Chinese man?” Su Qingci asked in surprise.
Vivian nodded, her face radiant with happiness. “I’ll be a Chinese daughter-in-law from now on!”
Su Qingci smiled. “Congratulations. The invitation says October 5th. I’ll definitely be there.”
Vivian was overjoyed, fluttering about like a dancing butterfly. “That’s wonderful, Teacher Su! Thank you. You’re the person I respect most. Having you at my engagement party will make it unforgettable for the rest of my life!”
Vivian didn’t linger long, rushing off to spend time alone with her fiancé. They were truly inseparable.
After Vivian left, Su Qingci tucked the invitation away. He’d agreed so readily just now, but now he remembered—the daughter of the Pitt conglomerate was getting engaged. Su Baidong would certainly not miss it. Would he have to play the role of the devoted granddaughter again, putting on a show of filial piety and familial harmony in front of others? Su Qingci sneered inwardly, accidentally crumpling the invitation. He quickly smoothed it out, silently offering his sincere apologies to the couple. May they live happily ever after, growing old together.
Afternoon found Su Qingci scrolling through his Moments feed, where Vivian—who loved sharing her life—had indeed announced her engagement to the world. As the heiress of a conglomerate, the engagement ceremony promised to be a grand affair, with the hotel venue undoubtedly swarming with media and packed with VIPs.
Scrolling further, he realized he didn’t have many close friends. After filtering out inactive accounts like Su Baidong and Pei Jingchen, plus Pei Haiyang who constantly reposted wellness tips, only Annelise and Wu Lü’s feeds were worth reading. Su Qingci saw Annelise ranting about a jerk, while Wu Lü shared glimpses of his daily life. Wu Lü’s latest post caught his attention.
The photo showed a red-skinned banana with the caption: [Traveling 3,527 kilometers to end up in my mouth—you’ve worked hard/bow GIF.]
Su Qingci was a bit confused.
Scrolling further down, he saw the usual promotional post for Wulin Coffee from the model employee. Then, further down still, there was a photo of a tire with no caption, only an emoji: [Biceps GIF.]
Su Qingci wasn’t one for gossip, but perhaps since falling ill, she’d grown bored and let herself go, eating and sleeping in a tedious cycle. So when gossip landed right in front of her, pondering it wasn’t entirely out of the question.
So Su Qingci recalled the last time Wu Lü visited him. As he was leaving, he bumped into Assistant Xu, who was delivering documents to Pei Jingchen. The two then left one after the other. Su Qingci also remembered a day when Pei Jingchen returned holding a bunch of red-skinned bananas, saying Assistant Xu had brought them back from a business trip to Malaysia.
Wu Lü was a simple, adorable, and cheerful little puppy—a social butterfly who could chat with anyone. It seemed that without him knowing, Wu Lü and Assistant Xu had also formed a good friendship.
Congratulations to them.
Su Qingci smiled faintly and switched the channel to the children’s station.
Pei Jingchen returned before evening, carrying groceries. He slipped into his slippers and headed straight for the kitchen. As he tossed vegetables into the chopping board, he asked, “How about dumplings for dinner?”
Su Qingci nodded. Pei Jingchen cheerfully got to work, personally handling every step—kneading the dough, mincing the filling, rolling out wrappers, and shaping the dumplings. Su Qingci offered to help, but Pei Jingchen wouldn’t even let him wash the vegetables. He sent him to the living room to watch TV and wait for dinner.
Two hours later, Pei Jingchen carried a steaming plate of dumplings to the table, passing Su Qingci the soy sauce and vinegar.
Pei Jingchen announced, “These are celery and pork, and these are seafood.”
Su Qingci wasn’t picky about dumpling fillings—he loved them all. Except for harboring resentment toward zucchini and egg fillings, he ate every kind.
Su Qingci took a bite. The freshly cooked dumplings were juicy, the broth savory, the wrappers thin, smooth, and springy.
“How are they?” Pei Jingchen pressed.
Truthfully, his question was unnecessary. Su Qingci wanted to retort: You should have faith in your own cooking skills! Even if you knew little before, after caring for this semi-dependent invalid for so long, you’ve become a master chef who effortlessly masters the culinary peaks of every ethnic group across all of China!
Pei Jingchen poured vinegar into Su Qingci’s bowl and plate: Next Wednesday at noon, I have to attend a wedding.”
Su Qingci froze. Next Wednesday was October 5th.
She thought, It can’t be that coincidental, right? He asked, “Whose wedding?”
Pei Jingchen replied, “The engagement ceremony for the eldest daughter of the Pitt conglomerate.”
The dumplings in Su Qingci’s mouth suddenly tasted off.
A bit sour.
Oh, she’d dipped them in vinegar—of course they tasted sour.
The last time she’d eaten dumplings was New Year’s Eve. Before that, it was at Vivian’s house—Vivian had made them herself, though they’d ended up as a soup with meatballs and noodles. Vivian had even posted about it on Weibo, making it visible to the whole world.
Su Qingci stared at the platter of perfectly round dumplings. Not a single one had a leak. Each had thin wrappers, generous fillings, rich broth, and varied shapes. The person who made this platter seemed to be showing off on purpose—there were ingots, wallets, crescent moons, and ears of wheat.
Su Qingci popped a gold ingot dumpling into his mouth with each bite, muttering, “Childish.”
Pei Jingchen feigned ignorance, wearing an innocent expression. “What?”
“Using Chinese cuisine to tease foreigners? You’ve got some nerve.” Su Qingci devoured the wallet dumplings, then the crescent-shaped ones, before clearing the wheat ear dumplings from the plate.
The Peter Group also did business with Lingyue. When Vivian got engaged, Pei Jingchen naturally received an invitation.
On the wedding day, Su Qingci and Pei Jingchen arrived together at the hotel. They encountered numerous familiar faces—all of Pei Jingchen’s business associates. Unfamiliar with them, Su Qingci intended to ask a server to guide him to the venue. Unexpectedly, Pei Jingchen merely exchanged brief pleasantries with his friends, avoiding any mention of business. After a few words, he promptly returned to Su Qingci’s side.
The top floor of the Lanfei Sacred Hotel was lavishly decorated for the occasion, swarming with media.
Su Qingci spotted Vivian from afar, toasting guests in her traditional Chinese wedding gown. She spotted him too, her face lighting up with joy as she approached.
Su Qingci and Pei Jingchen each offered their congratulations. Vivian’s eyes welled up with emotion. At the same moment, her bridesmaids, dressed in matching gowns, swarmed around her, chattering excitedly about who these two handsome men were. As Vivian introduced them one by one, the bridesmaids erupted in excitement.
“So you’re Su Qingci, the famous painter!”
“Mr. Pei, you look way better in person than your photos!”
“Mr. Su, I’m such a huge fan! Your breakthrough masterpiece, Twilight, is actually in the collection of my aunt’s nephew’s uncle’s father!”
“Mr. Pei, can we add you on WeChat?”
Vivian playfully scolded the group: Stop chattering—you’re deafening me!“ Words weren’t enough; she actually started swatting them away. The girl gang scattered amid giggles, running off while shouting, ”Junjie’s wife is hitting people!“ The atmosphere was lively and warm. After shooing her friends away, Vivian waved toward the distance and called out, ”Junjie, come here.”
To be chosen by a girl like Vivian, the groom must be a man of exceptional character and looks, brimming with talent, humor, and romance.
Pei Jingchen: “??”
Vivian couldn’t even wait for her to approach. She scampered forward in tiny steps, wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck, and kissed her cheek without a care for onlookers. “Junjie, let me introduce you.”
Alright, not fiancé—fiancée. As for the name, it was merely a misunderstanding born from masculine stereotypes.
After chatting briefly with Junjie, Su Qingci and Pei Jingchen learned that her profession was private fashion designer, specializing in cheongsams. Su Qingci recalled that Vivian had once been obsessed with cheongsams—it must have been during that period that she and Zhou Junjie had hit it off.
Though they’d only interacted for minutes, Su Qingci’s instincts about people were usually spot-on: Zhou Junjie was a uniquely captivating woman.
With guests filling the room, Vivian had to attend to others. Su Qingci and Pei Jingchen took seats marked with their names. Their status naturally drew attention, especially Pei Jingchen, who had been in high demand in recent years. No sooner had he sat down than people began approaching him. Pei Jingchen exchanged a few words, glancing at Su Qingci several times as if watching over a child, leaving him both amused and exasperated.
This kind of attention was exactly what Su Qingci relished. Society was ruthlessly pragmatic; being surrounded by admirers proved one’s worth. If the day ever came when no one paid you any mind, that would truly be cause for tears.
Su Qingci told Pei Jingchen he should attend to his own business and not worry about him—could he really get lost? Besides, if anything happened, there were plenty of waitstaff on standby.
Pei Jingchen chuckled, “It’s not that I’m afraid you’ll get lost. I’m afraid you’ll get bored.”
Su Qingci’s heart stirred slightly. He recalled attending such events with Pei Jingchen before. Numerous business partners would engage him in conversation, and as the workaholic he was, he’d never dismiss anyone lightly. Conversations would stretch on for hours, leaving Su Qingci sidelined the entire time. As an outsider, he couldn’t follow the conversation and had nothing to contribute. She’d sit in his chair sighing, shifting from one awkward posture to another, idly playing with his wine glass or fidgeting with his fingers.
Su Qingci chuckled inwardly at his own stubbornness and told Pei Jingchen, “I’ll be fine on my own. You go ahead.”
With Su Qingci’s permission, Pei Jingchen left, glancing back every few steps. Just then, Su Qingci needed to use the restroom. Upon returning, he saw Vivian pulling Zhou Junjie in front of the media cameras, striking all sorts of incredibly sweet poses.
“Su Qingci?”
Hearing his name, Su Qingci turned around. The open-air wedding venue was filled with flowers and greenery, bustling with people. He couldn’t immediately see who it was until the voice called out again, “Su Qingci.” Then he saw him and froze.
Nie Baozhu.
The Nie family ran a jewelry business and were longtime friends with the Su family. So when Su Qingci’s father died and his mother was hospitalized at age fifteen, Su Baidong brought him to live in the ancestral home. There, he naturally became acquainted with Nie Baozhu, the Nie family’s only son.
Nie Baozhu was talkative and straightforward, a man of honor. He fell for Su Qingci at first sight. From their next meeting onward, he addressed him as “brother” and referred to him as “our little Ci.”
However, Su Qingci’s eyes and heart were entirely occupied by Pei Jingchen. He paid him no mind whatsoever. Their friendship was sustained solely by Nie Baozhu’s efforts—he’d call Su Qingci every few days, invite him out for meals, and so on. With luck, maybe one in ten invitations would succeed. One success was enough. Nie Baozhu embraced his role as the devoted sidekick with unabashed pride, fully accepting his status as the ultimate long-suffering friend.
Looking back on the years he’d known Nie Baozhu, Su Qingci remembered how this fool often acted without thinking. Yet his affection for him was undeniably genuine—including that drunken outburst that had severed their friendship. It was both a drunken rant and a heartfelt cry, declaring that Pei Jingchen was unworthy of “my brother” and voicing outrage on behalf of “our little Ci.”
Having a friend like Nie Baozhu in life was truly a blessing.
But unfortunately, Su Qingci had his own boundaries. Nie Baozhu, with his loose tongue, mistakenly believed their closeness surpassed even that with Pei Jingchen. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
When they severed ties, Nie Baozhu felt wronged. “It was just a single remark,” he protested. “Is it really worth cutting ties over such a trifling matter?”
Su Qingci replied with unwavering certainty: “Yes, it is.” Perhaps Nie Baozhu hadn’t thought it through—perhaps he genuinely felt Su Qingci was being treated unfairly. But no matter how flawed Pei Jingchen might be, he was still Su Qingci’s boyfriend. Nie Baozhu’s contempt, his verbal insults and mockery, were slaps to Su Qingci’s face. Besides, Su Qingci wouldn’t tolerate anyone mocking Pei Jingchen—not even the slightest criticism. He was a die-hard fanatic. Forget someone like Nie Baozhu; if even his own father, Su Baidong, dared to spout nonsense, Su Qingci would roll up his sleeves and fight.
After four years apart, there wasn’t exactly awkwardness—at least not on Su Qingci’s part. As for Nie Baozhu’s feelings? Who knew.
“How’s your health?” Nie Baozhu asked. “I visited you in the ICU. From outside, that is.”
Su Qingci gave a flat, “Mhm.”
Niao Baozhu felt a twinge of hurt. “All these years later, are you still angry with me?”
Su Qingci fixed his gaze on Niao Baozhu’s face. After a few seconds, he said, “Not anymore. Because what you said back then no longer matters.”
Nie Baozhu instinctively glanced toward Pei Jingchen, who was surrounded by a crowd. He understood immediately—that bespoke gray suit was the work of a renowned French designer, worth millions.
Sunlight filtered through the wisteria, casting dappled shadows.
Nie Baozhu looked at Pei Jingchen and said, “He really is good to you. When you were unconscious in the ICU, he waited outside every day. He was always the first to rush in during visiting hours. I heard from the nurses that he’d rush into your room frantic with worry, yet never utter a word. He’d just say ‘I’m here’ when he arrived and ‘I’m leaving’ when it was time. Later, the head nurse told me he dared not speak more, afraid the sound might startle you in your coma and be bad for your heart.”
“Then one day, I saw him crying in his car. Not a breakdown, but a quiet, heart-wrenching kind of cry. After crying, he laughed—crying and laughing at the same time, like he was splitting apart. I thought something had happened to you. Only after asking the nurses did I learn you’d woken up in the ICU.”
Nèi Bǎozhū laughed heartily. “Qīngcí, you didn’t choose the wrong person to love.”
No one had ever told him this before. Su Qingci froze, and when he looked back at Pei Jingchen’s retreating figure, his eyes stung fiercely.
Nèi Bǎozhū asked, “Can we still be friends?”
Su Qingci gave no clear answer, only staring silently into the distance.
Ning Baozhu hesitated, then simply swallowed a sip of champagne.
Su Qingci said, “It’s about to start.”
“Qingci.” Nie Baozhu called out to him, and Su Qingci turned back.
Nie Baozhu said, “There’s more to the story about your birthday.”
Su Qingci was caught off guard. His twentieth birthday, Nie Baozhu’s words—it was the most unbearable day to recall, a dagger that had pierced his heart all these years.
A freeloader, a pretty boy, a gold digger, the male favorite of a wealthy young master. How could someone as principled and proud as Pei Jingchen not care?
And yet, Su Qingci, knowing this full well, still selfishly clung to Pei Jingchen, subjecting him to scorn and humiliation.
“After I said that, you came back from the restroom, flew into a rage, flipped the table, and confronted me right there. You called Pei Jingchen and left—you walked out first, with Pei Jingchen trailing a few steps behind.” Nie Baozhu’s thoughts drifted back to that day as he spoke softly, “Before he left, he said one thing to me.”
Su Qingci’s heart trembled. “What?”
The private room lay in utter chaos—overturned tables and chairs, shattered glass and broken bottles strewn across the floor.
Pei Jingchen stood amidst the wreckage, neon lights reflecting in his eyes, dazzling and shifting. “So what? His boyfriend now is me. My boyfriend now is him.”