Huai'an's nights were built for people who didn't want to go home.
The lights stayed on too long in office buildings, glowing through glass facades like a quiet refusal to rest. Convenience stores hummed at street corners. Bars opened their doors not with noise, but with the promise that no one inside would ask questions they didn't want answered.
Lu Wenjing had not planned to drink.
The rejection, if it could even be called that, had happened earlier that afternoon, and it had been so gentle that it left no clear place for anger to land. Qin Yuwei had listened to him carefully, her posture composed, her tone warm in the way people learned when they grew up in families where kindness was also a skill.
She hadn't said no.
She had said things like you're important to me and I don't want to rush anything. She had spoken about timing, about work, about how relationships changed when people grew older. She had smiled the same way she always did, and she hadn't reached for his hand even once.
Lu Wenjing had understood.
Understanding didn't make it hurt less.
So when he found himself standing outside a bar near the hospital district, he didn't turn away. The sign was discreet, the windows darkened. Inside, the lighting was low enough that no one looked closely at anyone else.
That was enough.
He sat at the counter and ordered something strong, then something stronger after that.
Two seats away, Shen Yiqiao had already been there for a while.
She hadn't come to drink. In fact, the glass in front of her remained nearly untouched. She had chosen the bar because it was quiet, because it existed between places—neither home nor work—and because no one expected conversation.
In the Qin family's social circle, Shen Yiqiao was known as an ice queen.
Not because she was cruel, but because she was precise. She spoke when necessary, withheld when it was not. She didn't waste warmth on people who mistook it for weakness. Over time, the lack of access hardened into reputation.
She was perfectly content with that.
Lu Wenjing noticed her only after his second drink.
He didn't recognize her at first, not really. Out of the hospital setting, without the sterile lighting and uniforms, she looked like another professional passing time before going home. He turned back to his glass, stared into it as if the answers might settle at the bottom.
"This stuff tastes worse the more you drink," he said aloud, more to himself than to anyone else.
Shen Yiqiao didn't respond.
Encouraged by the absence of resistance, he continued.
"I used to think adults drank because it made them feel better," he said. "Turns out it just makes you more honest."
She glanced at him briefly, then back at her glass.
He took that as permission.
"I had a long day," he said. "Not the kind where something goes wrong. The kind where everything goes exactly as expected, and that's somehow worse."
Shen Yiqiao remained silent.
She had perfected the art of listening without reacting. In boardrooms and family dinners alike, silence was often more useful than speech.
Lu Wenjing ordered another drink.
"There's this person," he said, leaning slightly closer to the counter. "We've known each other since we were kids. Families know each other, too. Everyone always assumed…" He trailed off, laughed softly. "Actually, I assumed."
Shen Yiqiao's fingers tightened around the base of her glass, just a fraction.
"She didn't reject me," he went on. "That would've been easier. She just… reminded me how complicated things are."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"She's a good person," he added quickly, as if afraid of being misunderstood. "Really good. Kind. Responsible. She's not doing anything wrong."
That, more than anything, made Shen Yiqiao look at him again.
She had met Qin Yuwei before, years ago, at gatherings where she herself had been little more than background. She remembered a girl who tried to soften every situation, who learned early how to disappoint people without making enemies.
"She's already seeing someone," Lu Wenjing said, his voice lower now. "I think. She didn't say it outright, but… you can tell."
He lifted his glass, hesitated, then drank it down.
"The guy's not from her world," he continued. "Met her during an internship, I think. No background, no connections. But she looks different when she talks about him. Like she's already made a decision, even if she hasn't announced it yet."
Shen Yiqiao said nothing.
She didn't offer comfort. She didn't interrupt. She simply listened, eyes calm, expression unreadable.
"That's probably how it should be," he said after a while. "I just didn't expect it to be me on the outside."
He laughed again, this time more unsteady.
"Do you think," he asked suddenly, turning toward her, "that I have any manly charm at all?"
The question hung between them, unguarded and absurdly sincere.
Shen Yiqiao looked at him properly for the first time.
He had soft features, the kind that made him look younger than his age. His shoulders weren't particularly broad. Even now, drunk and rambling, there was something earnest about him, like a large dog that hadn't learned when to stop trusting people.
She answered without hesitation.
"No," she said. "You don't."
The words landed cleanly, without malice.
Lu Wenjing stared at her.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Wow," he said. "You didn't even think about it."
"There was no need to," she replied.
He laughed until the sound broke, until it turned into something closer to a sob. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking.
"I knew it," he said hoarsely. "I really knew it."
The bartender glanced over, concern flickering across his face.
Lu Wenjing cried without restraint, the kind of crying that came from holding things together for too long. He apologized between breaths, wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, tried and failed to regain composure.
Shen Yiqiao waited.
She had dealt with worse scenes in private rooms and emergency meetings. A drunk man crying over unrequited affection barely registered as a disturbance.
By the time the bartender announced last call, Lu Wenjing was barely coherent.
"Sir," the bartender said gently, "we're closing."
Lu Wenjing tried to stand. Failed. Tried again.
"I'll call someone," he muttered, fumbling for his phone. The screen lit up, then dimmed. He frowned at it, confused. "I don't remember who."
Shen Yiqiao exhaled quietly.
She did not know his address. She did not know his family. Leaving him there was not an option.
"Can you walk?" she asked.
He nodded too quickly. "Yes."
He could not.
In the end, she supported him with one arm, ignoring the curious looks as she guided him outside.
Her apartment was close. Convenient. A fact she would later regret.
She settled him on the couch, placed a glass of water on the table, and turned away to find a blanket.
When she turned back, he was staring at her.
"You're very cold," he said softly. "But you stayed."
She froze.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, the screen lighting up with a name she did not want to see.
The message preview read: Where are you? — Qin Ruyan.