Lady

Ju Hui: [?]

Ju Hui: [You haven't contacted me since you came back from Nanchang.]

Ju Hui: [Are you in Ruobei?]

Ju Hui poked at the rice in her bowl with her chopsticks.

Bian Jiaping is so strange. He can ignore her messages, but he can't say he's busy and reply seven days later. That's never happened before.

Bian Jiaping: [Shall we talk on the phone?]

With a crisp snap, the chopsticks slid across the rim of the bowl, and Ju Hui immediately dialed a video call.

Ten long seconds later.

The video call connected, and Bian Jiaping leaned back in Yun Que's office chair. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing a casual yet weary dejection. Ju Hui's heart skipped a beat. This appearance reminded her of their reunion at the hotel, where he seemed like Hina, who disappeared into thin air in "Weathering With You," so fragile that he might vanish at any moment.

What are you looking at?

He suddenly asked, catching her gaze as it instinctively shifted downwards.

"I want to see if your ring is still there."

Ju Hui couldn't bear to look at him; he was aging too quickly—she rationally refrained from speaking her mind.

Bian Jiaping raised his left hand, and the screen shook slightly: "Here."

Ju Hui responded with an "oh," then fell silent, belatedly realizing that this was their only two video calls.

Bian Jiaping spoke first: "You and Sheng..."

“Brother Jiaping,” Ju Hui said, “I’m thinking of applying for a residency at Sheng Qijing’s gallery Tera in France. I have a new project in hand… Could you get Yun Que to sponsor me so I can ‘bring my own investment’ and apply directly with more confidence?”

She tried to keep her tone light, like she always had, but the air still froze for a moment.

"Did you and Sheng Qijing have a fight?" Bian Jiaping asked. "Is it because of the Nanchang incident? Don't be angry with him, it was just me acting on my own—"

“We didn’t argue,” Ju Hui interrupted him, her tone hardening. “Didn’t he say he would treat all employees equally? Now that I want to join, I definitely need to show some ability to convince everyone… So tell me, will you help me or not!”

On the screen, Bian Jiaping seemed to sigh: "You don't need me, Ju Hui. Sheng Qijing should have introduced you to many investors in the industry. I can't give you anything except money."

"Having money isn't enough," Ju Hui teased him with a laugh, her eyes framed by small, square white lenses. "Investing in the art market is high-risk, and I don't have any successful cases in China. Besides you, who else would invest without even seeing the project proposal these days?"

"Yes." Bian Jiaping's voice was as calm as ice. "Sheng Qijing."

"Go find him." The call abruptly ended.

The following week, it rained for three days in Ruobei.

The persimmon tree was finally relieved of its burden, feeling lighter, but the birds no longer came to visit it. Kan Yu picked out the best fruits and divided them into three small boxes, each one orange-red and plump. He only tasted one that didn't look so good and was amazed. He would go to great lengths to make a scene in the Heavenly Palace for these fruits.

"Should we send a box to Brother Jiaping?" Kan Yu asked as he sealed the box.

"Why aren't you saying you're sending it to President Sheng now?" Ju Hui didn't look up.

"Send them all, one case for me, one case for President Sheng, and another for Brother Jiaping..." Kan Yu stopped herself in time, not wanting to get slapped again, and said with a grin, "I was just saying, of course I'll listen to you, sister."

"One box is for Sister Jiashu, and the rest will be sent to President Sheng."

"Understood." Kan Yu replied.

The rain was pattering as Ju Hui worked diligently. Her brother-in-law, Wei Xia, had recently emailed her, commissioning her to design a sculpture for the library of a British college. She had accepted and was expected to produce a first draft in mid-November.

Ju Hui's project is now taking shape, having gone through a period of human civilization's evolution, from mastering the use of fire to learning papermaking, and outputting her inspiration into several executable 3D files.fbx.

"—Click!"

Suddenly, Ju Hui heard a clap of thunder.

The rain outside the window was getting heavier.

Ju Hui went upstairs and walked to the bedroom window. It was six o'clock in the afternoon. The rain was pouring down, and the outside was covered in thick, inky gray. As far as the eye could see, a kitten was yawning and drinking the rain with its mouth wide open.

"Meow, meow, meow, meow..."

Ju Hui opened the window, and the meows of a kitten broke through the raindrops coming from inside the earthen kiln, rhythmic like a police siren.

Beneath the yawning kitten's large mouth lies the kiln chamber, a spacious area where the kitten could easily leap in to take shelter from the rain. However, it soon discovers that rainwater can still seep in; water accumulates at the bottom, and if the seepage is slow, it can even submerge half its body. The worst fear is that it might tuck its head into the combustion chamber at the back—

Without thinking twice, Ju Hui grabbed her keys and rushed straight into the rain.

...

"Miss Ju?"

Cheng Yi got out of the car with an umbrella over her head. She glanced at the open gate of the loft and saw Ju Hui standing inside, her hair soaked, a few strands clinging to her cheeks. The man holding the umbrella beside her looked familiar to Cheng Yi, and after a moment's thought, she remembered: "Mr. Kan Yu?"

He had met this young man, who claimed to be Ju Hui's agent, at the company and had tried to meet with President Sheng several times.

Kan Yu turned out to be Ju Hui's agent.

Both of them looked serious, and Cheng Yi didn't know whether to back down or move closer.

Ju Hui, in particular, looked displeased: "Secretary Cheng, as a neighbor, I'm telling you very seriously, you can't feed stray cats in such a dangerous yard. President Sheng's earthen kiln has no kiln slab; a kitten just fell in. With this heavy rain, it's stuffy and doesn't drain. If I hadn't had the key to save it, it might have..."

Ju Hui stopped abruptly and lowered her head to cover her lips.

She thought about it and figured it wouldn't drown; at most, it would just get a headache. This little cat was a bit silly; it could actually get out on its own.

"I will report this to President Sheng immediately, and I will never feed them again." Cheng Yi smiled wryly. "Thank you very much, Miss Ju."

"Also," Kan Yu said slowly from the side, drawing out her voice with an air of superiority, "it's too dangerous to leave the kiln here. What if it attracts wild cats again? President Sheng is very busy and probably can't take care of it. We'll keep it safe for now. If President Sheng wants to go back, he can talk to me, his agent, anytime."

The rain hadn't let up, so Cheng Yi could only help by holding an umbrella, watching as Ju Hui and Kan Yu laboriously carried the earthen kiln back to the neighboring courtyard.

After finishing his business, Cheng Yi stood in the entrance hall to say goodbye: "It was raining today, so I'm a little late. I'm sorry to have troubled Miss Ju to wait for me. If there's nothing else, I'll head back now."

"Secretary Cheng, don't go yet." Kan Yu called out to him, with two boxes of persimmons tucked under his arm. "It's a small token of my appreciation. Please pass it on to President Sheng."

"good…"

Cheng Yi smiled and accepted it, then paused slightly, noticing a bulge at the bottom of the box.

Before leaving work, Cheng Yi carefully wiped the box clean before carrying it into Sheng Qijing's office. After explaining what had just happened, he took out the key from his pocket: "Mr. Kan Yu asked me to give this to you, saying... if you want to go back to the earthen kiln, you can go to Miss Ju's house."

Sheng Qijing stared at the small key to the courtyard gate, a round handle with a cross, exactly the same as his own, but he was more inclined to believe that Kan Yu had given him Ju Hui's key... Ju Hui actually gave Kan Yu her house key.

She accepted a stranger's friend request at 3 a.m.

Sheng Qijing's face remained expressionless, he only gave a faint "hmm," and his gaze returned to the computer screen, where an unfinished email was lit up. The subject was Tera—the gallery that Ju Hui had been longing to sign with.

A local print media outlet that had previously published Tera's accusations was questioning him about why he suddenly demanded a retraction. Weren't those bombshell allegations against Tera provided by Sheng Qijing himself?

He couldn't explain, and his apology seemed weak and ineffective; the situation was at a stalemate.

"Thank you for your hard work, Secretary Cheng. You can leave the cat feeding to us for now..." Before he could finish speaking, he looked up and realized that it was already dark outside the window, with rain pattering down. Cheng Yi had already quietly left sometime earlier.

He was alone in the office. He got up and walked to the two boxes of persimmons, using his key to cut open the tape on one of them. The plump, orange-red fruits were crammed together, except for a gap in the lower right corner, where a folded piece of paper was stuffed.

He unfolded it.

A string of numbers was written on it:

"160812"

“160812… What’s the point of this code?” Bian Jiaping’s gaze swept over the doorknob and finally landed on Ju Hui’s face. He quickly frowned and looked away. “Never mind, don’t tell me… If you can’t drink, why did you bring out the wine?”

He twirled his finger, pointing the green bottle label at himself. Riesling from Rheingau, not Lauren. A thin layer of condensation still clung to the bottle from the refrigerator.

Ju Hui hummed in agreement, took the wine away, and stood up to pour a glass for each of them: "This was a gift from Sister Jia Shu. It just arrived tonight. She described this bottle as a 'one-sip solution to all worries'."

Ju Hui smiled at Bian Jiaping, but the other party didn't get her pun and just looked at her coldly.

Ju Hui's smile faded.

The wine is poured quietly, soothing all things.

He took a deep breath; after the sweet fruity aroma, the sharp smell of alcohol pierced his nostrils.

He felt an unbearable itch for Ju Hui.

But he never took off his taut suit, and behind him was darkness; the whole house was a gray Baker Street to him.

Ju Hui clearly didn't think so. She was wearing an old one-shoulder sweater, and thin fleece trousers that dragged past her ankles, dangling on thin slippers. In the distance, the living room television was playing "Manchester by the Sea," and a dimly lit chandelier shone above the long table where the two of them were sitting.

She's used to this quiet, selfless atmosphere at work, and she invited him here today with the intention of meeting an investor.

Beside the freshly filled wine glass was Ju Hui's computer. She had already presented the new project, but he pretended not to understand and maintained his original attitude.

Bian Jiaping is ruthless, so don't blame her for being unjust.

“If you’re not willing to invest in me, I’ll have to meet other clients and drink more alcohol. I’ll have to drink it sooner or later.” Ju Hui picked up her tall glass and clinked it against another glass. “I have an arm injury, and you have a sensitive stomach. You’ll have to drink with me and practice together.”

After saying that, Ju Hui drank it all in one gulp.

In my imagination, she must be very carefree.

But the truth is, it felt like she had swallowed an ice ball. The Riesling, known for its refreshing smoothness, was stuck in her throat, and half a mouthful of chilled wine lay on the back of her tongue, unable to go up or down. The overflowing sourness and peach aroma were fighting inside her head.

"Spit it out."

At this moment, Ju Hui had no idea who Bian Jiaping was. Her eyes were tightly closed, as if styes were pressing against them, and she couldn't open them. Her whole attention was focused on the pear blossom wine on the back of her tongue. She shook her head, the wine swirling around in her head, blocking her esophagus and trachea—

Ju Hui's jaw was pinched open, as if she had just learned to breathe.

The forced-out alcohol splattered onto a tissue, staining the wedding ring on his ring finger.

Bian Jiaping turned to wash his hands; the sound of the running water was icy cold. Ju Hui stubbornly refused to apologize.

The two players took a short break.

"A contract obtained through drinking is better left unsigned." Bian Jiaping sat back down, took a deep breath, and downed his glass in one gulp. After finishing, he smoothly added, "Have you had enough?"

Ju Hui's cheeks were flushed, whether from being drunk or angry, it was hard to tell. Her arms were already folded together and pressed tightly against her body. Noticing that Bian Jiaping was watching, she let go and poured herself another glass.

This time, drink slowly, watching Bian Jiaping drink.

"Ju Hui, I've started driving."

"I called Kan Yu, he'll take you in half an hour."

He still had to watch Ju Hui's drunken rampage for half an hour. Bian Jiaping felt a deep weariness; he was always like this, unsure of his role in both denying and indulging her.

Bian Jiaping was exhausted.

"Did Sheng Qijing say something to you?" Ju Hui's fingers gripped the back of the chair tightly, her fingertips turning white. "You never fail to help me."

She stared at him, ready to react if he said no.

Bian Jiaping laughed at her: "How could that be? He doesn't even talk to me."

Ju Hui frowned: "I don't believe it."

Ju Hui abruptly rolled up her sleeves, the sweater fibers rubbing against her skin and causing a ticklish sensation. She poured him another glass: "You drink."

"Drink more."

Ju Hui poured him a full glass.

This bottle of wine is said to be 750ml, but it probably only contains 500ml. That's too little; he only drank two glasses before the bottle was empty.

But there was no other alcohol at her house, and Ju Hui was getting angry: "You're just saying this because Sheng Qijing won't help me? You're a grown man, and your mouth is like it's covered in gold. Will you lose money or lick shit if you try to do something? I declare that you're drunk right now. No one will blame you for saying whatever you want while you're drunk. Tell me, did Sheng Qijing threaten you?"

She brought the rim of the glass to his lips, and Bian Jiaping, with his eyes half-closed, chuckled at her words: "It's no wonder you're drunk. I should have drunk it sooner."

"Tell me quickly, there's no time!"

Bian Jiaping slowly drank his wine before saying, "Well, I'm drunk. You won't blame me for anything I say now?"

"certainly!"

Bian Jiaping's smile deepened, and with a kick of his long legs, the chair slid back half a meter: "Come here, unlock your phone for me."

Ju Hui got up, unlocked the screen, and handed it to him. Bian Jiaping operated it quickly, but Ju Hui couldn't see where he was pressing. She felt a little dizzy, and everything went black before her eyes, so she could only close her eyes and wait quietly.

She heard heavy breathing.

"Click".

The phone was placed face down on the table.

“Ju Hui, I’ve recorded what I’m about to say, so you won’t deny it when you sober up.” He looked up at her. “I plan to transfer a car and two houses under my name to you. The contract has been drafted. After the transfer is completed… I hope we will no longer contact each other and part ways amicably.”

abandon.

Ju Hui's mind went blank; only this word remained.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Ju Hui thought she wouldn't be able to speak, but at this moment, only they were around. She looked down at him, both far and near, as if he would disappear if she didn't ask him. His transparent body was hidden in the last button of his shirt.

“If I had to give a reason,” Bian Jiaping forced a very faint smile, utterly bitter, “Zeng Yue doesn’t like me anymore. I can’t feel her; I can only feel you.”

He suddenly reached out, put his arm around her waist, and pressed his cheek against her lower abdomen.

Ju Hui felt her steps stiffen, and he pulled her over, stumbling along.

He sighed very softly, his warm breath penetrating her thin sweater: "I really can't feel it..."

In the shadows of the entryway, Sheng Qijing watched all this, breathing shallowly.

Bian Jiaping's gaze was unreadable, as if he had already swept over Sheng Qijing countless times.

Sheng Qijing frowned.

He shouldn't stay here. He turned, grasped the doorknob, and was about to leave—

The door was pushed open from the outside. Kan Yu stood frozen in the doorway, her hand raised, her face instantly breaking into a surprised smile:

"President Sheng? You're here too? Tonight... is this to discuss a collaboration?"