Chapter 3 Snow Night and the Doorframe
I heard they broke up after half a month.
Ji Chuan and I had been no-contact for a long time.
I buried myself in exams, lab work, papers—trying to escape that version of myself that felt so dim.
Years later a senior sister dragged me to a bar before she graduated.
“Anyone know that super handsome guy at the next table?”
“Heard he’s a big shot in tech. Starting salary with that many zeros.”
Someone held up fingers. Everyone gasped.
I looked over.
Ji Chuan sat in the middle of the group, surrounded by good-looking people.
“I’m gonna ask for his WeChat.”
A girl stood up excitedly and went over.
She came back ten minutes later.
“Didn’t get it, huh.”
“This guy was famous for being hard to chase even back in school.”
I excused myself to the restroom.
After washing my hands I came out.
Ji Chuan was standing right at the door, blocking my way.
Black turtleneck. Broad shoulders. Tall frame.
Pale neck, clean and somehow sexy.
My coat hung over his arm.
He asked, “What did I do to offend you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why block me?”
His dark eyes stared straight into mine.
It annoyed me so easily.
“Give me my coat.”
He stepped aside. “No.”
Outside in the bar alley, snow stung like needles.
He asked again,
“That guy sitting next to you—your boyfriend?”
“Learned from him, coming to bars in the middle of the night?”
I stayed silent.
He scoffed coldly.
“No other meaning.”
“Just advising you to be careful who you pick. He doesn’t look like a good guy.”
My flat gaze landed on his face.
My chest tightened at the old familiar sting.
“Are you angry?”
My voice was calm.
He laughed. “What do I have to be angry about—”
“Ji Chuan, do you want to come home with me?”
He froze.
Like he couldn’t parse the sentence.
“If not, someone else will do.”
I turned to leave. He grabbed my wrist.
That November, on the first snowy night, our secret relationship no one knew about began.
I just wanted to see.
What that arrogant face looked like when it lost control.
It looked like this.
Even in bed he pretended to be unaffected, loved teasing.
He asked wickedly,
“Someone else is fine too?”
No.
I turned my face away, trying hard not to cry.
Month after month.
We both got addicted.
There was a moment I thought maybe he liked me too.
So when he held the hairdryer, his large hand running through my hair, and asked,
“Do you like me?”
I couldn’t hold back.
“Let’s end this kind of relationship—”
And then we would really be together.
But before I finished, he let go.
The hairdryer noise died. The bathroom fell silent except for dripping water.
He stared at me for a long time.
Then he leaned against the doorframe and gave a soft laugh.
“Ending it early is fine. It’s getting boring anyway.”
“A relationship like ours doesn’t even count as breaking up, you know that, right?”
My wet hair stuck to my back.
Cold one second, hot the next.
That was the moment I really wanted to retreat. After so many years next to him, I was still so ordinary.
But I didn’t want to wrong this ordinary self anymore.