Jiang Qihuai had never liked talking since he was little.

Perhaps it was a habit shaped by his temperament and the environment he grew up in—he had always spoken very little. When Grandpa Jiang first brought him back home and sent him to kindergarten, the other children in class would gather in a noisy circle, throwing rag dolls at him and calling him a mute.

He didn’t care, nor did he want to talk to people who had nothing to do with him. So long as Grandpa was there, everything was fine.

Even if he didn’t speak, Grandpa Jiang would always understand him.

After meeting Tao Zhi, it seemed that between the two of them, it was always her who did the talking.

She seemed to have endless things to say, always something new to share with him. She was like a lush little plant that grew around him, always vivid, full, and brimming with life.

So when he saw her again—when she suddenly withdrew all her leaves and no longer reached out tender shoots toward him—Jiang Qihuai suddenly didn’t know what to do.

It was the first time he understood what it meant to be at a loss.

He didn’t know where to begin, nor how to open his mouth. Before he could organize his words, she had already turned her head to leave.

In his panic, he didn’t have time to think. He acted purely on instinct, grabbing one of her retreating leaves—but it was thin and fragile. Jiang Qihuai didn’t know whether his impulsive grasp had hurt her.

He was like a big dog circling helplessly around a rose, its tail anxiously sweeping the ground, stirring up only dust. He wanted to reach out his paw to gently touch her, but in his clumsiness, he could only leave faint scratches upon her delicate petals.

And as he said those words—when, at the very same moment, tears slipped from her eyes before she was even aware of them—Tao Zhi finally realized that she still resented him.

Even though she clearly understood that their differences in temperament and ways of thinking had led them to make entirely different choices at the crossroads—even though she knew he hadn’t really done anything wrong—she still couldn’t help feeling resentful toward him.

How could she not? How could she not feel wronged? It was precisely because she still liked him that she felt resentment.

Because no matter what she did, she could not erase him from her heart. And that was why, upon seeing him again, she still felt that same ache of grievance.

I’m the same.

In the thousands of days and nights that have passed, I missed you too.

Tao Zhi raised her hand and wiped her eyes with the back of it. Sniffling, her voice hoarse, she said, “I don’t want to forgive you.”

The fingertips Jiang Qihuai had resting on the table twitched, then slowly curled in. He seemed to want to reach for her again, but he restrained the impulse with effort.

He gave a low “mn.”

“You’re not allowed to get close to me either,” Tao Zhi continued. “I’m shy around strangers. I don’t like people I’m not familiar with coming too close.”

Jiang Qihuai withdrew his hand and replied again, “I know.”

“And also, there are a lot of people chasing me now. If you want to join them, you’ll have to line up and get a number first. Don’t feel unconvinced,” Tao Zhi lifted her head, pouting as she glared at him. Her eyes were still red as she accused him in a soft, aggrieved tone, “You were the one who didn’t want me first.”

Her words were like a sharp fork being driven straight into his heart and twisted hard.

Jiang Qihuai looked at the corners of her reddened eyes. Clearing his hoarse throat, his gaze calm but earnest, he said, “I never didn’t want you. No matter where you go, I’ll find you.”

Tao Zhi’s eyelashes trembled lightly. Her gaze shifted awkwardly to the side as she muttered unhappily in a low voice, “You won’t look for me. You haven’t looked for me all these years. What if by the time you come back to find me, I already have a child—what will you do then?”

Before Jiang Qihuai could speak, Tao Zhi continued coolly, “When that time comes, I’ll make you my kid’s godfather, so you can watch me and my true love show off our affection every day.”

Her nose was still red, her voice hoarse, yet her mood was visibly brighter than before—like a rose whose dried stems and vines had been nourished once again, slowly stretching open its leaves.

Though she hadn’t accepted him, at least she hadn’t run away again.

Jiang Qihuai exhaled, leaning back in his chair to look at her. His eyelashes drooped low, his gaze half-hidden beneath the soft shadows of his lashes, giving an illusion of gentleness and tenderness. “So,” he asked quietly, “have I gotten my number yet?”

Tao Zhi brushed her fingertips against the table’s edge twice. Her gaze wandered around before landing on a stack of small, coffee-cup-shaped sticky notes the shop provided for customers to jot down reviews or thoughts.

She tore off one, took a pencil from the small wooden box beside it, lowered her head, and swiftly wrote a string of numbers before handing it over.

Jiang Qihuai took it and glanced at it—it was a phone number.

She had changed her number.

No wonder there had never been another sound from her on WeChat.

Tao Zhi pulled her hand back, placed the pencil back in the box, and said with feigned seriousness, “Wait for the notification.”

“……”

At that moment, the expression she worked so hard to maintain—composed and stern—was both familiar and endearing. Jiang Qihuai couldn’t help it; the corners of his lips curved slightly as he answered in a solemn tone, “I understand.”

Tao Zhi nodded, tugged the brim of her baseball cap lower, then stood up with an air of cold indifference.

Standing by the table, she looked down at him. “See you if fate allows.”

Behind her, An Sese had watched the whole scene unfold from the second floor. Seeing Tao Zhi preparing to leave, she hurriedly ran downstairs and followed her out of the café.

Tao Zhi kept a straight face until they reached the corner of the street, where she finally let out a breath. Turning to An Sese, she asked nervously, “How did I do just now? He suddenly showed up—it scared me to death.”

An Sese gave her a thumbs-up. “Perfect, queen. You had presence.”

She tactfully ignored the part where Tao Zhi had been crying her eyes out, red and swollen. After all, some reactions were the most direct and genuine—something even the person involved couldn’t control, and certainly not something she’d want to relive.

An Sese grinned. “But hey, didn’t it feel better to meet and talk for a bit instead of keeping it bottled up?”

“It’s not like we talked much,” Tao Zhi muttered softly. “Just said a few words.” Then she suddenly turned to look at her suspiciously. “Did you deliberately bring him to this café?”

An Sese raised both hands innocently. “Pure coincidence! He’s the one who brought me here. If I’d known he was coming, I definitely wouldn’t have let you wait for me here.”

Tao Zhi reluctantly believed her. “Fine.”

After sending Tao Zhi a text and adding her new WeChat, Jiang Qihuai waited the whole night for the “notification.” The person he was pursuing never replied again.

It wasn’t until the next morning that the “interviewer” finally accepted his friend request—cool and aloof as ever—and replied with two words: [Name?]

Jiang Qihuai cooperatively typed: [Jiang Qihuai.]

Ten minutes later—

The “interviewer” said: [You are No. Three Thousand Eight Hundred Twenty-One.]

For some reason, instead of Arabic numerals, she had written the number entirely in Chinese characters.

Maybe it was just to make it look longer.

With a towel draped over his still-dripping head, Jiang Qihuai stood barefoot on the floor, phone in hand:

[Your queue’s longer than the line at the No. 1 Hotpot City downstairs from my place.]

Interviewer: [?]

Interviewer: [You’ve been eliminated. Take your leave.]

Jiang Qihuai: [?]

His fingers paused for a moment before he typed again:

[I just want to see the princess a little sooner.]

Interviewer: [Keep dreaming.]

Tao Zhi threw the phone onto her bed with a sharp thud. The small silver phone sank into the soft quilt as she puffed out her cheeks, glaring at it angrily for a while.

He even had the nerve to complain that her line was too long!!

When she had chased after him back then—even when their scores were that far apart—she hadn’t complained once!

By the time she arrived at the studio, Tao Zhi’s mood was still heavy and low.

An Sese, for once, was sitting properly at her desk. Seeing Tao Zhi walk in, she waved. “You’re here? I checked the shots we retook for your ex-boyfriend earlier. Take a look and see if the tones need any more tweaking to look natural.”

“Not looking.” Tao Zhi replied irritably.

An Sese turned to exchange a glance with Xu Suinian beside her.

Tao Zhi walked to the desk and sat down, pulling out her phone again. She looked at the WeChat contact saved under the remark [No. 3821] — her “suitor.”

She didn’t reply.

An Sese suddenly craned her head over from behind. “3821? What’s that—your prison number?”

Startled, Tao Zhi nearly dropped her phone. She straightened her expression and said seriously, “That’s my pursuer.”

“……”

An Sese didn’t understand why these exes—men and women alike—always liked to play these strange little games. Maybe it was just some kind of romantic quirk she’d never get.

She nodded and asked, knowingly teasing, “So is it that you have 3,821 suitors total, or just one suitor who happens to be No. 3821?”

Tao Zhi ignored her. She set down her phone and went to the back courtyard of the studio.

The studio was divided into front and back courtyards: the front area was for meeting clients and daily work, while the back had been turned into a small garden. Two small adjoining houses stood beside each other—one a darkroom, the other a temporary rest room.

Tao Zhi tied up her hair, checked the time, and entered the darkroom.

Inside were two rooms: one for digital processing and one for film. Most photos were edited digitally these days, but Tao Zhi still preferred the old-fashioned film darkroom.

She had no other tasks to handle at the moment, so in her free time, she looked through the photos she’d taken recently—adjusting, experimenting, and seeing whether any shots satisfied her.

By the time she came out again, it was already past noon. After washing her hands, she returned to the work area—barely stepping through the door when An Sese and Xu Suinian both turned toward her at once.

Their stares made her uneasy. Before she could ask “What?”, her gaze swept past the reception sofa by the entrance—only to be pulled back immediately.

Jiang Qihuai was sitting on the dark brown leather sofa, head lowered, absorbed in his phone. His expression was calm, and he hadn’t looked inside.

“Not even twelve yet, and he’s already here. Been waiting for you a while,” An Sese whispered, leaning over.

Tao Zhi: “…Then why didn’t you call me?”

“You were in the darkroom—who would dare disturb you? I was scared you’d say I distracted you and pour developer all over me,” An Sese said. “Besides, I told him you were busy, but he said there was no need to call you—he’d wait.”

Their voices were quiet, muffled behind the wooden sliding door, yet Jiang Qihuai seemed to hear them anyway. He suddenly lifted his gaze, looking through the floor-to-ceiling glass partition toward the inside.

Tao Zhi met his eyes and immediately shut her mouth. Wrinkling her nose, she walked over. “Why are you here?”

Jiang Qihuai glanced at his watch. “Came to ask you out for a meal.”

“You have to call yourself No. 3821,” Tao Zhi interrupted, frowning, clearly dissatisfied. “You have to say who you are, and you have to invite me earnestly. Show some self-awareness as a suitor.”

“……”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his eyes, and on his calm, detached face, the faintest trace of a crack appeared. “…Zhizhi.”

Tao Zhi blinked at him, silent, her dark eyes bright as if waiting for something.

Based on what she knew of him, under normal circumstances—if she deliberately picked a fight like this—Jiang Qihuai should have already started mocking her.

But he didn’t.

Jiang Qihuai merely sighed.

A moment later—

“This humble self, No. 3821,” he said expressionlessly, “earnestly invites the princess to grant him the honor of dining together.”

“……”

Tao Zhi fought hard to hold back her laughter, pressing her palms together and closing her eyes with a look of perfect satisfaction.