The last time Ji Fan saw Jiang Qihuai was a year ago, in America.

He actually didn’t know why Jiang Qihuai had left back then, but sometimes he would feel that maybe it had something to do with the punch he threw and those words he said at that time. He didn’t know why, but he felt somewhat guilty.

So, in the years Jiang Qihuai was gone, Ji Fan had always kept in touch with him.

Whether it was to make amends or to comfort him, Ji Fan would sometimes mention Tao Zhi’s recent situation. When he spoke, Jiang Qihuai would just listen quietly and never ask much.

And over on Tao Zhi’s side, she didn’t show any signs of post-breakup aftereffects. As time passed, Ji Fan gradually thought that maybe the two of them had both let go.

Sometimes, just liking each other wasn’t enough.

Fate and timing seemed to matter even more.

And as for Tao Zhi and Jiang Qihuai—perhaps they were fated, yet not destined. Not being together was, in itself, a kind of regret.

That was what Ji Fan had always thought.

But right now, looking at the two of them standing in front of him with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, flirting nonstop and echoing each other—

Regret, my ass!

This bastard Jiang Qihuai had been pretending all along! That whole act of being calm and ascetic, that fake decent-man façade he’d been putting on for six years—turns out he’d been waiting for this moment!

And he, Ji Fan, had even felt guilty and sympathetic toward him, had even gone so far as to voluntarily tell him about Tao Zhi.

Wasn’t that fucking sending a lamb into a tiger’s den?

Ji Fan felt like he had been used.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Looking at Tao Zhi, he spoke with the stern air of an elder, “You, come in.”

Tao Zhi glanced at him, thought for a moment, and decided to cooperate—first soothe the fur bristling on this one.

She gently tugged at the sleeve of Jiang Qihuai’s coat and went inside.

Ji Fan watched her enter, then shifted his gaze to Jiang Qihuai. “You, get lost first.”

As soon as he finished speaking—“bang!”—the door was slammed shut right in Jiang Qihuai’s face.

At the loud thud of the door, Ji Fan suddenly felt an indescribable satisfaction rising inside.

From high school to now, eight years had passed.

He had finally, for the first time, given Jiang Qihuai a taste of well-deserved payback that felt utterly refreshing.

Hands clasped behind his back, he turned around. Tao Zhi was taking off her coat, while Fu Xiling beside her spoke softly.

“What did you two talk about for so long?” Fu Xiling asked.

“Just chatted casually.” Tao Zhi draped her coat over the side, smiling with squinted eyes.

“Ahem.” Ji Fan cleared his throat.

Fu Xiling sat down next to Tao Zhi and nodded knowingly. “You two made up.”

Tao Zhi: “We haven’t——”

She paused for a moment, then leaned closer to whisper a few words into her ear.

Ji Fan: “Hey, hey—hey—”

Fu Xiling blinked after hearing what Tao Zhi said, and commented, “The study god’s efficiency really surprises me.”

Tao Zhi’s eyes curved as she smiled. “I actually quite like him this way.”

Ji Fan was ignored for five whole minutes, left standing in the middle of the living room doing nothing. Helpless, he said, “Ladies, could you please acknowledge my existence?”

Fu Xiling looked up at him, her face puzzled. “Why are you still here?”

“You didn’t drive?” Tao Zhi jerked her chin toward the door. “If you hurry down now, Jiang Qihuai should still be around. You can ask him to give you a ride home.”

“No,” Ji Fan said, running an irritated hand through his hair, his face full of frustration. “What’s going on between you and Jiang Qihuai? You two got back together?”

“Yes.” Tao Zhi replied. “Can’t we?”

Her expression was calm and composed, as though this were perfectly natural and entirely reasonable. That composure made Ji Fan choke for a moment. “But you two haven’t seen each other in years.”

Tao Zhi: “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“No…” Ji Fan hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think so?”

“I just happen not to have a boyfriend either,” Tao Zhi spread her hands. “Two single adults dating—nothing illegal about that.”

Ji Fan glared at her. For a moment, he really couldn’t think of any reason to say Jiang Qihuai wasn’t acceptable.

But just because he didn’t mind didn’t mean everyone else would feel the same way.

After a long while, Ji Fan sighed, rubbed his nose, and leaned against the wall. “You can date whoever you want. It’s none of my business. But what about Old Tao? What’s he going to say?”

Tao Zhi’s expression stiffened slightly. Tentatively, she said, “From what I can see, Boss Tao seems to have become more open-minded lately. Doesn’t he watch dating shows all the time now, grinning while he digs for candy from other people’s daughters’ CPs?”

Ji Fan let out a cold laugh. “Then go ahead and try. Let’s see if he can still find that sweet when the ‘other people’s daughter’ becomes his own.”

Tao Zhi didn’t have the chance to find out what Tao Xiuping’s current thoughts were, because the next morning, as soon as she arrived at the studio, she received a call from the deputy editor of a magazine she’d met during her university internship.

The other party got straight to the point, completely straightforward and without any unnecessary preamble—directly inviting her to shoot the cover for Singo’s March issue.

The March issue was during the seasonal transition period, one of the most important editions of the year, second only to the September issue. The cover figure was usually selected half a year in advance, and the remaining time was spent finalizing creative concepts and leaving ample time for potential reshoots.

Tao Zhi was the third photographer they’d approached for this cover.

Because the schedule was tight, after Xiao Jin reviewed and confirmed that the contract was fine, Tao Zhi received the model’s photos and materials that evening, and went to the magazine office the next day.

Deputy Editor Ren Ying was already waiting at the entrance of the studio. The two had a good relationship—Ren Ying immediately gave her a hug.

As they walked in together, Tao Zhi asked quietly, “What’s going on? It’s not common to replace photographers. If the shots didn’t work out, they could’ve just redone them. Isn’t this offending people?”

“They’ve got a freshly returned heir from the States now,” Ren Ying said helplessly. “Didn’t openly fire anyone, but the photographer quit on his own. You’ll see soon enough.”

As she spoke, the two of them stepped into the photography studio.

Singo’s studio was very professional, fully equipped with all kinds of gear. By the white tea table on the side sat a man wearing a pink shirt, his hair styled in a foil perm. Perhaps Ren Ying had already informed him of who Tao Zhi was, because as soon as Xiao Jin set down the bag behind her, his gaze swept over.

“Old Tao? You look quite young.”

Tao Zhi pretended not to catch the implication in his words, unzipped her bag, and took out her camera. Her tone was calm. “Young and capable.”

Foil Perm: “……”

Even Foil Perm was stunned—he had never met anyone who could boast about themselves so calmly.

He turned his head and loudly asked, “How many years has this Tao-laoshi been in the business? Never heard of her before.”

Tao Zhi glanced at him. “I’ve been graduated for a year.”

Foil Perm deliberately put on an exaggeratedly surprised expression. “A year, huh? Then you should still be at the stage of following a mentor and learning the ropes, right?”

Inside and out, it was nothing more than saying she lacked experience and doubting her skills.

The guy’s sarcastic tone was indeed annoying—but compared to Xu Suinian when he was being unpleasant, this one was still a few levels lower.

Tao Zhi picked a fixed-focus lens and calmly assembled it, unhurried: “Little Prince, if you have any dissatisfaction with photography, I’d suggest next time you screen people properly before inviting them over. Don’t wait until someone’s already here before you start waving robes, drawing talismans, and chanting incantations. What good does it do you to offend every photographer in the circle? Planning to shoot your own magazine’s photos yourself later, or just get some third-rate photographer to fill in?”

After installing the lens, she took a few steps forward and back, checking distance and angle. “When I work, I don’t like irrelevant people muttering beside me. If you’ve got any dissatisfaction with me, don’t take a single finished shot when they’re done—then you can come back and question my ability, okay?” Tao Zhi said all this with good temper, even freeing one hand to pat his shoulder as she gently advised, “Singo’s a big company, but it can’t afford losses like this. Show some mercy, yeah?”

Once she finished, she walked straight over to the front to communicate with the cover model.

Foil Perm stared at her blankly, then turned toward Xiao Jin, incredulous. “Did she really just talk to me like that?”

Xiao Jin looked at him just as strangely. “You’re not the emperor.”

“……”

Foil Perm thought this photographer and her assistant were both quite interesting.

He started to get amused. “Fine, I’ll see what kind of magic she can pull off,” he said, then paused and sat up straighter. “Your boss—does she have a boyfriend?”

“No,” Xiao Jin replied. “But she wouldn’t be interested in you.”

“How do you know she wouldn’t be? Ever heard of fated enemies turned lovers? This is called not fighting, not knowing each other.” Foil Perm ran his fingers down his bangs, then shook his head side to side. “Besides, I’m not bad-looking, right?”

Xiao Jin, without looking at him, said flatly, “She doesn’t like guys with foil perms. Says they look like poodles.”

Foil Perm: “……”

Apparently this little prince really didn’t respond well to softness—because for the rest of the day, Tao Zhi’s ears were blissfully free from the annoying buzz of the “sorcerer.”

It wasn’t until evening, when things finally quieted down, that she found a moment to send Jiang Qihuai a WeChat message.

He was probably still busy; more than ten minutes passed before he replied: 【Pick you up?】

Tao Zhi took a sip of water, checked the time, and casually sent him her location.

His office wasn’t far from the magazine headquarters. After handing her things over to Xiao Jin and putting on her coat, Tao Zhi went downstairs, planning to wait in the first-floor lobby.

The office building’s lobby had several rows of sofas around round tables by the floor-to-ceiling windows. On the right side was a café, and some greenery sectioned off a small rest area. Tao Zhi sat on one of the empty sofas at the edge, head lowered as she played with her phone while waiting. After a while, she felt the seat beside her dip slightly.

Tao Zhi lifted her head.

Foil Perm flicked his hair. “Tao-laoshi, waiting for someone?”

Tao Zhi looked at the flying strands of his dog-like hair with a blank expression. “Waiting for my boyfriend.”

Foil Perm froze for a second. “Didn’t your little assistant say you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Tao Zhi couldn’t be bothered to talk to him anymore. She turned her head away and continued playing on her phone.

She opened her chat with Jiang Qihuai on WeChat and turned on location sharing.

At first, there was only her own small dot on the map. After a moment, Jiang Qihuai’s little marker appeared—so close it nearly overlapped with hers—and it started moving toward her.

Tao Zhi stared at the two dots, now almost touching, and let out a soft “Huh?” Then she turned her head.

On her phone screen, the two tiny coordinates overlapped completely.

Tilting her head back, Tao Zhi looked at the person standing behind her and couldn’t help curling up her lips. “I’m hungry!”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his head slightly. When his eyes met hers, his expression seemed to soften as well. “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything’s fine, anything’s fine—we’ll decide on the way.” Tao Zhi stood up, circling past the still-seated Foil Perm.

Just as she walked past, Foil Perm suddenly called out, “Jiang Qihuai?”

Tao Zhi paused and turned her head.

Jiang Qihuai turned slightly and glanced at him.

Foil Perm said uncertainly, “It is you, right? Damn, what a coincidence! Weren’t you on Wall Street? How come you’re back in China?”

Jiang Qihuai looked at him blankly, his calm face practically spelling out three words: Who are you.

Exactly the same expression he’d shown years ago when Ji Fan transferred to the Experimental High School and recognized his old enemy on the first day.

Tao Zhi almost laughed.

But Foil Perm didn’t seem to care. After an excited round of self-introduction, he started chatting away. From that pile of useless chatter, Tao Zhi managed to extract a pitiful amount of useful information—

A classmate of Jiang Qihuai’s from his master’s program, just returned to China after graduation.

You’ve already been working for over a year, and he’s just come back—how do you even have the nerve to say that?

Tao Zhi watched as Foil Perm exchanged WeChats with Jiang Qihuai. After they added each other and said their goodbyes, Tao Zhi asked curiously as they walked out of the office building, “You really don’t remember him?”

Jiang Qihuai: “Don’t remember.”

Tao Zhi tucked her chin into her scarf as he opened the car door. “I thought he was the kind of person who’s hard to forget.”

When she got into the passenger seat, Jiang Qihuai glanced at her before circling around to the driver’s side. He said nothing.

Tao Zhi didn’t notice at first. It wasn’t until they’d been driving for quite a while that she put away her phone, looked up, and realized the corners of his lips were turned downward—he hadn’t said a single word the whole time.

When the car stopped at a red light, Tao Zhi leaned closer, poked the corner of his downturned mouth with her finger, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Qihuai paused for a moment before finally asking in a low, restrained voice, “How exactly is he easy to remember?”

Tao Zhi: “……”

So he’d been sulking over that the whole way.

Holding back a laugh, Tao Zhi looked at him. “Well, he talks a lot, very lively personality.”

Jiang Qihuai nodded slightly, his expression unchanged. “Quiet ones don’t leave much of an impression, huh.”

Tao Zhi also nodded along with a serious expression. “That’s right. So what should we do about it?”

Jiang Qihuai turned his head toward her.

The winter days were short; the streetlights on both sides were already lit. The warm yellow glow filtered through the car windows and windshield, hazy yet bright. The red light at the intersection ahead lasted a long time, its glowing Arabic numbers counting down continuously.

Jiang Qihuai’s lips drooped as he looked at her for a few seconds. Then, resting one hand on the steering wheel, he leaned over. Lowering his head and tilting slightly to the side, he bit down on her lower lip—not lightly.

Tao Zhi winced and let out a soft “Tss—” “What are you doing!”

Jiang Qihuai brushed his tongue against her lip, murmuring in a low voice, “Deepen the impression.”