STT – Chapter 35
by Little PandaBut, I Still Really Like You.
On the plane, Lu Zizheng and Lian Xuan sat side by side. Lian Xuan seemed to be in good spirits, a smile playing at the corners of her eyes and brows. She asked Lu Zizheng, who was gazing out the window with her head turned away, “I’m sorry I was away on a business trip yesterday and didn’t get to see you. There were a lot of materials to prepare and time was tight — thank you for your hard work.”
Lu Zizheng turned back to face the seatback in front of her and replied evenly, “It’s nothing. All part of the job. You’re too polite, President Lian.”
Noticing that Lu Zizheng had been frowning with a cold expression since boarding the plane, Lian Xuan couldn’t help asking, “Zizheng, you seem like you’re not in a good mood?”
Lu Zizheng knitted her brow. At this moment, tens of thousands of feet in the air, watching the plane pierce through clouds, her heart — which should have been gripped by her fear of heights — was instead consumed by other thoughts. She kept wondering: had Jiang Huaixi tried to call her?
Hearing Lian Xuan’s question, Lu Zizheng half-closed her eyes in a manner that signaled she had no desire to talk, and said coldly, “No. You’re overthinking it, President Lian.”
Lian Xuan gazed at her for a long moment with dark eyes, then sighed softly and closed her own eyes to rest.
Over the next three days, Lu Zizheng interacted with Lian Xuan in a strictly businesslike manner. Aside from work-related matters, she gave Lian Xuan not the slightest opening for anything else. Lian Xuan could sense that Lu Zizheng was far colder this time than before — the door to her emotional world was locked even tighter — but there was nothing she could do. Several invitations to dinner were met with cold refusals, and Lian Xuan could only watch Lu Zizheng’s composed, unruffled silhouette with a wry smile.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, after days of earnest negotiations, the contract was finally signed. Lian Xuan visibly exhaled with relief, her spirits lifted. The repeated rejections hadn’t diminished her warmth toward Lu Zizheng. Stepping out of the hotel, she took Lu Zizheng’s hand, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she pleaded, “Zizheng, let’s have dinner together tonight to celebrate. Consider it my thanks for all your hard work these past few days.”
Lian Xuan’s face was full of sincerity, and in her voice there was that familiar, unconscious wheedling that Lu Zizheng once knew so well. If it had been last time, Lu Zizheng probably would have softened and given in. But now, Lu Zizheng was utterly exhausted, with no energy left to humor Lian Xuan or feel tender concern for her.
These past few days, whenever she saw something novel or delightful, she always caught herself wanting to text Jiang Huaixi to share it. When she was tired at night, or couldn’t sleep, she’d catch herself wanting to scroll through her old message history with Jiang Huaixi. But each time she pulled out her phone, she was struck anew by the desolate realization that Jiang Huaixi no longer belonged in her world.
Jiang Huaixi had spent seven years cultivating her dependence. How long would it take her to break that habit? Lu Zizheng didn’t dare think about it. She couldn’t forget Jiang Huaixi — and because she couldn’t have her, it hurt. But to forget Jiang Huaixi — because she couldn’t bear to, it would hurt just the same.
Already unable to take care of herself, how could she attend to Lian Xuan, whose sincerity she couldn’t even be sure of?
Lu Zizheng simply shook her head and refused. “President Lian, I’m tired. I’d like to go back and rest first.”
Lian Xuan’s grip on Lu Zizheng’s hand gradually loosened, and she managed a smile. “All right, then. Rest well.”
Lu Zizheng returned to the hotel, dealt with the materials on hand, and then slumped over the desk in exhaustion, dozing in a half-sleep, half-wake state.
She didn’t know how long had passed when she vaguely heard someone knocking on the door and jolted awake.
Lu Zizheng rubbed her sleepy eyes and opened the door to find Lian Xuan changed into a casual dress, a nervous smile on her face revealing those endearing dimples as she asked gently, “Zizheng, I heard the cherry blossoms on a mountain not far from here are in full bloom right now. I’d like to go see them. Would you come with me?”
Lu Zizheng pressed her lips together and looked at her in silence, her refusal obvious.
The smile on Lian Xuan’s face slowly congealed. She bit her lip awkwardly and turned away, saying quietly, “Never mind. I shouldn’t have bothered you…”
But then Lu Zizheng’s calm voice suddenly sounded behind her: “Wait for me. Let me change my shoes. I’ll go with you.”
Lian Xuan stopped and turned around to see Lu Zizheng bending over to change shoes, and in an instant her face broke into a radiant smile. “Okay,” she answered happily.
Lian Xuan said the hotel staff had told her she could drive to the halfway point of the mountain, so she drove them there.
Along the way, Lu Zizheng said nothing, silently watching the passing scenery through the window.
Years ago, during her internship, the president of the translation agency had thought highly of her and taken her along on a business trip to Japan. She’d been on edge the entire time, running around tending to work, and hadn’t carved out even a sliver of time to see Japan’s famous cherry blossoms. The moment she got back to China, she stopped home to let her mother know she was safe, then took the gifts she’d bought in Japan to Jiang Huaixi’s dorm.
When Jiang Huaixi opened the door, she was visibly surprised — Lu Zizheng had come back a day earlier than she’d told her.
Lu Zizheng noticed an easel set up in the living room. Jiang Huaixi was painting? She craned her neck to look and saw that Jiang Huaixi was painting a tree ablaze with cherry blossoms in full bloom.
Jiang Huaixi looked at the painting and asked Lu Zizheng, “Are the cherry blossoms in Japan pretty?”
Lu Zizheng was taken aback, then stammered with a wry smile, “I didn’t see them. I was busy with work — where would I have found the time?”
Jiang Huaixi couldn’t help the corner of her lip curling up as she teased Lu Zizheng, “Top ten good employee. What a dummy…”
The laughter still echoed, but everything had changed beyond recognition…
The car made it to the halfway point of the mountain and could go no further, so Lu Zizheng and Lian Xuan got out. Only then did Lu Zizheng notice that Lian Xuan was wearing thin high heels of at least seven centimeters. She followed behind Lian Xuan, watching her wobble unsteadily up the slope, feeling a surge of alarm.
Sure enough, near the top of the mountain, Lian Xuan suddenly cried out “Ah!” and stumbled. Lu Zizheng rushed forward and caught her.
Lian Xuan clutched Lu Zizheng’s hand, still shaken, sucking in a sharp breath, the pain preventing her from standing straight.
Lu Zizheng frowned. “Does it hurt a lot? Let’s go back.”
But Lian Xuan shook her head while gripping her hand, insisting, “It’s fine. We’re already here, just a few more steps. It’d be a shame not to make it to the top. Come on…”
Seeing Lian Xuan’s furrowed brow but determined expression, Lu Zizheng had no choice but to support her with both hands and slowly help her continue upward.
At the summit, a sea of crimson and pink stretched before their eyes, as if they’d plunged into an ocean of flowers. Lian Xuan found a large rock and sat down with visible relief. Lu Zizheng walked a few steps forward, gazing at the countless pink blossoms covering the mountainside, the treetops, the ground — lost in a daze.
She had finally remembered to see the cherry blossoms in Japan, but somehow it only made her sadder.
She pulled out her phone and took a few photos. For the last one, she held up a V-sign in front of the camera as usual, then sent the photo to her mother. This was a habit of many years — whenever she traveled for work, she’d snap a photo of herself at the local destination with a V-sign, letting her mother know she was fine and not to worry.
The photo was sent, but Lu Zizheng kept staring at the sent confirmation screen, unable to pull away. She wanted so badly to tell the person who once called her a dummy — to tell her that this time she’d seized the chance to see the cherry blossoms, and she’d done it with her boss, so wasn’t that clever? But… before she could even finish the thought, her phone obligingly shut itself down on low battery.
Lu Zizheng looked at the dark screen and let out a bitter laugh.
Lian Xuan had somehow moved to stand behind Lu Zizheng. She called her name, soft and gentle: “Zizheng…”
Lu Zizheng turned to look at her with indifferent eyes.
Lian Xuan’s gaze was locked on Lu Zizheng, her eyes liquid and soft. She spoke gently: “Zizheng, it was all my fault back then. I’m sorry. Those things I said — none of them were what I truly meant.”
Lu Zizheng studied her for a long moment, then lowered her eyes, her expression cold. She put her phone away without responding to the apology, saying flatly, “It’s getting dark, and your ankle isn’t convenient. Let’s head down early.” With that, she reached out to help Lian Xuan up.
Lian Xuan saw that Lu Zizheng had no response to give, and a look of sorrow crossed her face. But she only nodded in agreement.
Going up is easy; coming down is hard. Lian Xuan limped along, her expression increasingly pained. Seeing her struggle, Lu Zizheng finally couldn’t stand it anymore. When they reached a relatively flat stretch of path, Lu Zizheng sighed heavily in her heart, stopped Lian Xuan, crouched down, and said, “Get on. I’ll carry you down.”
Lian Xuan stared at Lu Zizheng’s gesture, clearly startled — and in the next instant, a smile blossomed across her pale, pain-stricken face. “Zizheng, thank you.”
Lu Zizheng walked at an unhurried pace. Lian Xuan lay on her back, arms wrapped around Lu Zizheng’s neck, unable to suppress the happy curl of her lips. After a long silence, Lian Xuan couldn’t help asking, “Zizheng, back in high school, you liked me, didn’t you?”
Lu Zizheng’s stride faltered slightly. She gave a soft scoff through her nose and answered coldly, “That was only back then.”
Lian Xuan exhaled softly near her ear, then asked in a low, earnest, and gentle voice, “What do I do, Zizheng? But… I think I still really like you.”
Lu Zizheng’s body went visibly rigid. She bit down hard on her tongue to resist the urge to throw Lian Xuan off her back.
Years ago, she had believed that Lian Xuan’s feelings were like hers — that she took love as seriously as life itself. But what answer had Lian Xuan ultimately given her?
That year, first year of high school. That day, she hadn’t slept at all the night before, plagued by insomnia again. When the PE teacher dismissed them for free activity, she and Lian Xuan went to their usual patch of grass to rest. Sitting on the lawn together, breathing in Lian Xuan’s familiar scent, Lu Zizheng felt a sense of peace steal over her, and gradually grew drowsy.
Seeing her fighting sleep, Lian Xuan playfully covered her eyes with both hands, guided her head to rest on her lap, and said with a warm smile, “Take a nap. I’ll be your knight guarding Sleeping Beauty’s dreams.”
Lying on Lian Xuan’s lap, Lu Zizheng half-closed her eyes and looked up at Lian Xuan’s gentle, smiling face. Bit by bit, she truly began to drift off.
She was a light sleeper, rarely able to fall fully asleep. Through the haze, she became aware of something warm and soft pressing against her lips. Lu Zizheng’s eyes fluttered open in confusion, and what she saw, enlarged before her, was Lian Xuan’s face — eyes closed, her long, dense lashes fluttering. In that instant, Lu Zizheng panicked and squeezed her eyes shut again, feeling the warmth on her lips, her heart pounding like thunder, filled with sweet, joyful elation.
She thought Lian Xuan had finally seen her heart — the heart she’d lowered into the dust. She heard the sound of flowers blooming in her heart, and believed that Lian Xuan would be her sun, scattering every shadow from her life, bringing spring warmth and endless light.
But that evening during self-study, Ji Yao had sought her out and said: “Lu Zizheng, don’t take yourself too seriously. Lian Xuan knows all about your unsavory past. The reason she first approached you was that she’d lost a bet with friends and approaching you was the dare punishment1. I don’t know what ideas you have about Lian Xuan now, but I hope you can see your place and not entertain any delusions. Stay away from her. The path she’s walking is not the same as yours.”
Hearing Ji Yao reveal the true reason Lian Xuan had first approached her, Lu Zizheng was stunned, panic rising in her chest. She had long noticed Ji Yao’s dislike and veiled hostility toward her. Lu Zizheng was not someone accustomed to trusting or to courage — she defaulted to retreat and withdrawal. But in that moment, she thought of the tender kiss Lian Xuan had pressed to her lips that afternoon, and a boundless courage and conviction surged up in her. She clenched her jaw and argued back: “I don’t know what Lian Xuan’s original reason for approaching me was, but I believe her feelings for me now are genuine. She’ll believe me. She’ll know that all those things from the past were baseless.”
Ji Yao looked at her as if she’d anticipated this, a flicker of sympathy crossing her face before she said with a sneer: “Genuine? I’ve told you already — you and Lian Xuan are not the same kind of people. How could you understand? In Lian Xuan’s world, how much weight does ‘genuine’ even carry?”
Back then, Lu Zizheng still didn’t believe Ji Yao’s words.
But two days later, Lian Xuan made her see the truth completely.
And now, years later, Lian Xuan was telling her that she really did like her, presenting what looked like absolute sincerity. Heh. What was it this time — another dare, another bet? Or had she simply never grown tired of playing with her? Lu Zizheng could no longer suppress the fury rising in her chest. She abruptly let Lian Xuan down, gave her a cold once-over, and said harshly, “President Lian, how much weight does this ‘liking’ of yours carry? I don’t believe you. What can you use to prove that what you call ‘liking’ isn’t just an act?”
Lian Xuan looked at the Lu Zizheng before her — cold and sharp-tongued — in disbelief, and a wave of sorrow rose in her. What could feelings be proven with? She knew she shouldn’t like her, yet she couldn’t help being drawn in. She had warned herself a thousand times, ten thousand times to stay away, and still she wanted to be close. Did that count as truly liking someone?
She remembered that year, when she had kissed Lu Zizheng with such tender care, stealing a kiss, afraid of waking her. She had lingered reluctantly before lifting her lips from Lu Zizheng’s — and before she could even feel happy, she looked up and saw Ji Yao standing not far away, watching with a cold, appraising gaze. In that moment, she felt as if she’d been plunged into ice.
Ji Yao asked her: “Do you have any idea how much pressure Elder Lian is under, how much he’s invested in you?”
Lian Xuan fell silent, wanting to flee from the conversation.
But Ji Yao cut to the heart of it: “Lian Xuan, you fought so hard to come back from England. Don’t you know how many eyes are watching you? The rumors about you and Lu Zizheng are already spreading through the school. If Elder Lian finds out — tell me, to set you straight, wouldn’t he rather send you away again?”
The expression on Lian Xuan’s face finally cracked. She bit her lip nearly to blood, unable to find a single word in response.
That night, she looked at the secretly taken photos of Lu Zizheng on her phone and sobbed through a sleepless night. Feelings, for her, were a luxury far beyond reach. When dawn came, she deleted every single photo of Lu Zizheng with red-rimmed eyes. Better to cut it clean than let it fester. Better a short pain than a long one.
But she still couldn’t bring herself to say the words, couldn’t find the right moment to break things off with Lu Zizheng — until that day, when Lu Zizheng, desperate over her uncle’s matter, came to her for help, giving her the opening.
That day, Lu Zizheng had clutched her hand, pleading with her desperately. Lian Xuan could clearly feel her own heart softening, her own pain at seeing Lu Zizheng’s desperation. Afraid she’d compromise, she’d lashed out recklessly, saying whatever cutting words it took to shake Lu Zizheng off and get away. Lu Zizheng had chased after the car for however long, and Lian Xuan had sat inside, pinching herself to keep from crying the whole way. She didn’t even have the right to cry — she was terrified the driver would notice something was wrong and report it to Grandfather.
All these years, Lian Xuan had kept Lu Zizheng in the deepest corner of her heart, treating her as the most untouchable, distant, and beautiful dream of her life. She had kept telling herself that if enough time passed, she could forget cleanly. But she never expected that Lu Zizheng would appear before her again — and from the very first moment, the very first glance of their reunion, her heartstrings had been plucked.
All these years, she had kissed other people’s lips in passing, but never again felt that racing heartbeat, that overwhelming joy and sweetness. In this lifetime, the only thing she longed for, the only thing she wanted, was that fleeting warmth she’d tasted on Lu Zizheng’s lips. Could that, perhaps, prove that she truly liked her?
Lian Xuan drove back to the hotel in silence. When it was time to get out of the car, she spoke with sudden resolve: “Zizheng, believe me. I’ll give you my proof.”
Lu Zizheng glanced at her but said nothing in response. She opened the door and got out. The moment she stepped out, the first thing she saw was a handsome man holding a bouquet of flowers, standing at the hotel entrance. When he saw Lian Xuan, he strode forward and embraced her warmly, calling out, “Xiao Xuan…”
Lu Zizheng recognized him — the man who had dined with Lian Xuan on Christmas, the fiancé she was about to get engaged to.
Lian Xuan’s face went pale the instant she saw Zhou Zhong’an. She looked instinctively at Lu Zizheng’s expression, but only saw Lu Zizheng watching them with an impassive face, ultimately offering a faint, sardonic smile, nodding at them both, and walking ahead into the hotel.
In that moment, Lian Xuan’s heart sank to rock bottom.
In the elevator, Lu Zizheng couldn’t help but let out a silent laugh. She didn’t know who was truly in Lian Xuan’s heart — but she knew who was in her arms. She wondered if Lian Xuan herself knew.
She lowered her head and recalled the time Jiang Huaixi had tossed a bouquet of roses into a trash can without a second’s hesitation, telling her “I’d rather waste than settle” with absolute conviction. A gentle smile slowly curved her lips.
But it lasted only a moment before it turned bitter.
So, Huaixi — is that why you wouldn’t settle for me?
In all this world, who could be fortunate enough to receive your refusal to settle?
She had always taken “What I gain is my fortune, what I lose is my fate; accept gain with grace, accept loss with calm2” as her personal motto. But at this very moment, she could clearly feel something called jealousy taking root and growing inside her…
Lu Zizheng returned to the hotel, charged her phone, and turned it on, only to discover multiple missed calls from an unfamiliar number. She normally didn’t care about calls from unknown numbers, but the frequency was so high that she couldn’t help wondering: had Jiang Huaixi realized she’d been blacklisted, found she couldn’t get through, and switched to a different number?
She hesitated for a long time, but eventually couldn’t resist calling back with some trepidation. She told herself she just wanted to see who it was — maybe the other party had something urgent.
The phone rang for a long time before it was finally picked up. From the other end came the cool, clear voice that Lu Zizheng knew so well. Jiang Huaixi asked, “Zizheng?”
In that moment, Lu Zizheng couldn’t help the corners of her mouth lifting. Didn’t this prove that Jiang Huaixi, just like her, cared about each other?
But the next moment, Lu Zizheng’s smile vanished completely.
Jiang Huaixi, in that voice Lu Zizheng yearned for so deeply, low and hoarse, delivered a piece of news that made Lu Zizheng feel as if the world were spinning: “Zizheng, are you still in Japan? Come back. Auntie — she’s critically ill. She’s in emergency rescue right now. The doctor has issued a critical condition notice…”
The author has something to say:
① “What I gain is my fortune, what I lose is my fate; accept gain with grace, accept loss with calm” is quoted from the internet. The first half is from Xu Zhimo, and the specific origin of the second half is unknown.
Footnotes
- A dare or penalty task in Chinese party games similar to 'truth or dare,' where the loser must perform a risky or embarrassing challenge.
- A popular Chinese internet saying: the first half ('What I gain is my fortune, what I lose is my fate') is attributed to early 20th-century poet Xu Zhimo; the second half ('accept gain with grace, accept loss with calm') has an unverified origin.
My heart. My lung too.
My heart. My lung too.