Zhu Kaixuan ignored Deng Diandian’s incessant chatter the entire way, remaining silent as he drove her home before promptly preparing to leave.
Her grandmother and aunt tried to persuade him to stay: "A-Kai, have dinner with us before you go."
"No, Grandma, Auntie," Zhu Kaixuan didn’t even step out of the car, offering an excuse, "I still have some things to take care of."
Middle-aged and elderly people are naturally inclined toward gossip, and his grandmother and aunt were no exception. His aunt perked up at once, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper: "What kind of things? Do you have a girlfriend you’re rushing off to meet?"
Behind her grandmother and mother, Deng Diandian made a face that looked even more twisted than if she’d eaten something vile.
A girlfriend?
Hah, as if.
If only they knew the truth—it’d shock them to death!
Her cousin had his sights set on someone else’s wife, and the evidence was stashed in his trunk.
"No," Zhu Kaixuan had always possessed the innate ability to charm people effortlessly, sweet words rolling off his tongue with ease. "If I had a girlfriend, I’d definitely tell Auntie first."
His aunt, predictably, was delighted by his flattery, patting his hand affectionately. "A-Kai, you really should hurry up. You’re already 27—no spring chicken anymore. It’s about time you settled down. I’m still waiting to toast at your wedding!"
"Ah, I’m working on it," Zhu Kaixuan replied obediently.
Before driving off, he shot Deng Diandian a glance that appeared calm on the surface.
She detected a heavy warning in his eyes but pretended not to notice, ducking behind her grandmother.
Her cousin was threatening her to keep her mouth shut.
Whether she’d comply or not depended entirely on how he behaved.
As Zhu Kaixuan’s car sped away, his aunt helped his grandmother back inside.
The old woman sighed. "That boy A-Kai… he seems easygoing, but deep down, he’s as stubborn as they come."
His aunt wholeheartedly agreed. "Isn’t that the truth? No matter how much the family nags, he’s refused to go on a single blind date all these years. My sister’s cried over it more times than I can count."
Thinking of her grandson’s prolonged bachelorhood, the grandmother heaved another deep sigh. "Back when he was in school, he clung to his girlfriend like glue—wouldn’t break up even when his teachers and parents pressured him. But now, at the age when he should be dating, he won’t even consider it. What kind of logic is that? I truly can’t understand what goes through young people’s minds these days…"
After leaving his grandmother’s house, Zhu Kaixuan drove straight home. Parking in the garage, he walked to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and carried Yun Wulai’s suitcase upstairs.
Setting it down, he made no attempt to respect her privacy, bending over to fiddle with the combination lock.
Four digits.
He swiftly turned the dials to "7758."
It opened on the first try.
7758 was derived from an old internet meme, "7758258." Her college suitcase had used the same code.
There was a certain satisfaction in still knowing a woman from her past well enough to predict such details—a faint smirk curled his lips as he unzipped the suitcase and began rifling through its contents.
The 28-inch suitcase was packed to the brim with clothes, shoes, cosmetics, and daily necessities. She’d even brought items like a hairdryer, a collapsible electric kettle, and disposable bed linens—things most people would simply rely on hotels to provide.
Her undergarments were neatly stored in a separate pouch. Her bra size hadn’t changed much over the years, but her choice in panties had—now sheer as cicada wings, adorned with intricate lace, far more extravagant than before.
None of these were truly essential. She could easily repurchase them or borrow from the bride.
Not enough to force her to come reclaim the suitcase.
But nestled inside, wrapped in layers of protective foam, was a gift box that took up considerable space.
Inside were two exquisitely crafted figurines—one male, one female. Though their faces were left blank, Zhu Kaixuan recognized them instantly as miniature versions of the bride and groom, their tiny outfits replicating the main wedding attire down to the finest details.
Accompanying them were a handwritten sketch of the wedding gown and a short congratulatory note.
This wedding gift was one-of-a-kind, undoubtedly requiring immense effort to create. No store in Jincheng—or anywhere else in the world—could offer a ready-made substitute.
Yun Wulai stepped out of the car and stood at the roadside, engulfed by the clamor of traffic. The asphalt, baked all day under the sun, radiated waves of lingering heat. The summer night was stifling, a stark contrast to the air-conditioned comfort of the car. As her body registered the rising temperature, her previously muddled thoughts cooled just as quickly, sharpening back into clarity.
Almost involuntarily, she began dissecting the entire situation from an objective standpoint.
Yun Wulai had always been level-headed. If something could still be salvaged, she fought tooth and nail to fix it. If not, wallowing in regret was nothing but self-torment.
And she rarely tormented herself for long.
Without Zhu Kaixuan nearby, the prickling shame and awkwardness that had plagued her earlier began to ebb away like a receding tide.
Having steadied herself, she hailed a cab and headed to the restaurant.
Yan Sui was already there. The moment she spotted Yun Wulai, she bounded over eagerly, embracing her warmly before teasing, "Thank you for traveling all this way to attend my wedding, oh great designer Lai."
"And thank you, Goddess of Jialan, for the honor of being your bridesmaid," Yun Wulai shot back.
Jialan High was their alma mater, and Yan Sui had long served as its ambassador, revered by students as the "Goddess of Jialan." Tomorrow, her wedding ceremony would take place right there at the school.
Laughing, the two made their way to their seats.
"Where’s Xingci?" Yun Wulai asked, noticing Yan Sui was alone.
"Fu Xingci?" Yan Sui replied casually. "He’ll probably head to Jialan later with Kaixuan to check on the venue."
Yun Wulai didn’t miss the faint glimmer of curiosity in Yan Sui’s eyes when she mentioned Zhu Kaixuan.
"Oh," she nodded, her expression unreadable.
It was Yan Sui who cracked first, breaking into a grin. "'Oh'? That’s it?"
Yun Wulai maintained her deadpan demeanor. "Mhm. What else should there be?"
While waiting for their food, Yan Sui cut straight to the chase: "Wulai, are you seeing anyone right now?" After a pause, she amended, "Or, well, given how things are abroad—any male companions?"
Yun Wulai absently traced her fork across her plate. "No."
These past few years, she’d poured every ounce of energy into Mybride, drowning in wedding dresses day and night. A full night’s sleep was a luxury, let alone making time for men.
"Kaixuan has been single all this time—at least officially. I can’t vouch for any private arrangements, but I’ve never seen or heard of anyone. He hasn’t even changed his screen name all these years." Yan Sui spoke earnestly. "I think he still has feelings for you. After everything you two shared, it’d be such a waste to let it end like this. Please think about it seriously."
Yun Wulai looked up. "What screen name? On QQ?"
Yan Sui nodded. "Yeah."
In their high school days, WeChat hadn’t yet taken off—what was popular were QQ and Renren.
Zhu Kaixuan’s QQ username was "Triumphant Return."
Whether "Triumphant Return" was grammatically incorrect remained a topic of heated debate in academic circles, with no definitive conclusion. However, at least within the scope of high school Chinese, it was decisively categorized as a grammatical error.
Rebellious and controversial—just like the love they harbored in their tender years, a love that was neither approved nor permitted.
Back then, Yun Wulai’s QQ username was "Coming Back to Triumph."
Triumphant Return. Coming Back to Triumph.
On the day they broke up three years ago, she deliberately redownloaded QQ, which she hadn’t used in ages, and changed her username.
Yun Wulai shrugged nonchalantly, brushing it off: "He probably forgot to change it, or just couldn’t be bothered. It’s not like he still uses QQ anyway."
Less than an hour had passed since her last bout of wishful thinking. In life, it was inevitable to stumble into the same pitfall, but not too frequently—one had to have some dignity.
At the very least, she shouldn’t fall twice within an hour.
Yan Sui noticed Yun Wulai’s lack of enthusiasm. Matters of the heart ultimately boiled down to mutual willingness—no amount of outside persuasion would help. She tactfully changed the subject.
The two leisurely finished dinner, and Yan Sui drove Yun Wulai back to her hotel. As they were about to get in the car, Yan Sui casually remarked, "You fashion people really live up to the name—coming back to the country with just a small bag."
Only then did Yun Wulai belatedly remember that she had, in fact, brought a suitcase back with her. She quickly realized where she had left it, suffering the second thunderbolt of the day.
Unaware that she had inadvertently played the role of the thunder god twice today, Yan Sui said, "But the mall’s about to close—no time to shop now. I’ll bring you some clothes and skincare later."
"Fine." Yun Wulai rubbed her temples, utterly drained.
Zhu Kaixuan and Fu Xingci had been best friends since middle school, sharing over a decade of unbreakable camaraderie. Now that Fu Xingci was getting married, Zhu Kaixuan, as the best man, naturally had no time to rest, having spent days helping with preparations.
After settling a few high school classmates who had traveled from afar for the wedding, the old friends—having not seen each other in years—got carried away reminiscing over drinks. By the time they parted ways, it was already past midnight.
On the way home with a designated driver, Zhu Kaixuan sat in the backseat with Fu Xingci, who turned to him and said, "Don’t forget tomorrow’s bachelor party. Dress sharp—Yan Sui’s bridesmaids are all quite pretty."
Zhu Kaixuan scoffed. "Do you even know what a bachelor party is? Yours, where you’re inviting your wife and her bridesmaids, barely qualifies."
Fu Xingci smirked meaningfully. "Never mind that. I’ve prepared a surprise for you."
Unfortunately, Zhu Kaixuan had already stumbled upon the so-called "surprise" by accident.
Wasn’t it just Yun Wulai?
Hah. Yun Wulai.
Outside the car, neon lights flickered, and streetlamps cast intermittent flashes of light into the interior. He didn’t call Fu Xingci out, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes, letting the mild buzz of alcohol wash over him.
After a long pause, he finally replied lazily, "Alright, I’ll look forward to it then."
Speaking of Yun Wulai, he remembered something important.
A full day had passed since the incident, yet neither he nor Yun Wulai had reached out—both pretending the suitcase left in his trunk didn’t exist.
That woman was as stubborn as ever, refusing to ask for her things back.
Was she really planning to buy a new wedding gift for Yan Sui instead?
Still the same old defiance.
A tipsy state was ideal—hovering between sobriety and drunkenness. In this state, one could still think clearly and control their actions, yet inhibitions loosened, and suppressed desires surfaced more easily.
Back home, Zhu Kaixuan stared at the suitcase on his bedroom floor and sent its owner a text: "You don’t want your stuff anymore?"
Yun Wulai replied swiftly: "Give it back."
The room was dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Zhu Kaixuan smirked at the message.
So quick to respond—she did want her suitcase back after all.
Had he known, he would’ve made her wait another day, just to see if she could hold out until the eve of the wedding.
But since he’d already taken the first step, he might as well play the good guy to the end: "Where are you?"
Twenty-some minutes later, a knock sounded at Yun Wulai’s hotel door.
She approached cautiously, peering through the peephole. Zhu Kaixuan’s face was slightly distorted in the fisheye lens. Unlike yesterday’s casual attire, he was now dressed in a sharp suit—though his tie was missing, the top button undone, revealing the V-shaped hollow at the base of his throat.
Proper yet with just the right hint of recklessness.
Or, as some might say, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
As if sensing her gaze, he stared straight into the peephole.
Yun Wulai undid the latch and opened the door, reaching for the suitcase with a half-hearted "Thanks."
She moved to shut the door immediately.
But a well-defined hand pressed against it, stopping her.
The door swung back slightly, and beyond the faint scent of freesia in the hallway, Yun Wulai caught a whiff of alcohol.
His eyes, dark and unfocused, resembled deep, murky pools.
She knew exactly how she looked—damp waist-length curls cascading down, the fragrance of shampoo clinging to her skin, the bathrobe loosely tied, revealing her collarbones and a teasing expanse of skin, the belt accentuating her curves, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, crimson toenails peeking out.
They had once been the closest of lovers—she knew better than anyone what he couldn’t resist.
So in this ambiguous hour, in this ambiguous place, he didn’t need to say a word. His intentions were clear.
Yun Wulai paused, then released the door and turned to walk inside.
She was a normal woman in her twenties, with normal desires—there was no shame in that, no need for pretense.
In the vulnerable hours of the night, when restraint was weakest, with a man of exceptional skill—one who had proven himself time and again—standing before her, why should she refuse?
If he could handle it without complications, there was no reason for her to play the chaste martyr.
After all, between them, one more time or one less hardly made a difference.
Zhu Kaixuan did not follow her in immediately. He remained standing at the door, his gaze—heavy with intoxication—less sharp than usual, lingering on her with a slow, almost viscous intensity.
Her swaying long hair seemed like a summoning banner for his soul.
Yun Wulai paused and turned to ask him a question: "Have there been other women in your life these past years?"
She didn’t expect a man in the prime of his desires to have remained alone during their three years of silence and separation. But at this moment, she stubbornly needed to know—if it had been another woman who opened the door tonight, would he have acted the same? Would he have still fixed her with that same blatant look, his expressions and movements so openly declaring his less-than-honorable intentions?
Instead of answering, he countered: "What about you?"
He, too, wanted to know—if it had been another man knocking at her door late at night, would she have loosened her grip and let him in? And those intimate garments in her suitcase, had their style been shaped by someone else’s preferences?
This was a battle of wills.
After a long pause, Yun Wulai arched a brow slightly, deflecting with effortless ease: "Women? No, I don’t swing that way."
