How Did The Young Lady Go Bankrupt? - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: How Did the Young Lady Go Bankrupt?

“Get back together?”

The phrasing was bizarrely ambiguous. Instead of “reconcile,” she used “make up,” which made Lu Zhiyao’s first reaction that the other party wanted to smooth over the conflicts left behind from their arguments years ago. But after so many years, those conflicts were hardly even conflicts anymore; the two of them had become strangers, and she truly couldn’t pin down what the other woman meant.

Duan Zishu had been squatting beside the sofa. Seeing Lu Zhiyao staring blankly, neither agreeing nor refusing, she pushed herself up and leaned forward.

She had naturally drooping eyes, with eyebrows that followed the curve of her eye sockets, slanted slightly downward. It was exactly this pair of eyes that had made Lu Zhiyao firmly believe, during their first meeting, that Duan Zishu must have had some hidden, untold story. Because those eyes were so sorrowful—as if she could never see any other emotion through them.

Dreams are dreams, after all—beautiful but blurry. Seeing those eyes so clearly again after so many years, Lu Zhiyao felt a bit distracted.

That was why she failed to stop the other woman from closing the distance. As if emboldened by her silence, Duan Zishu leaned over, breaking through the boundaries of normal social distance.

“Haaa…” Duan Zishu let out a soft sigh. Lu Zhiyao caught a whiff of the scent of the disposable toothpaste she’d swiped from a hotel during her travels. As if she had made some grand resolution, Duan Zishu looked up at her, and the face that had been pale moments ago actually showed a hint of color under the moonlight.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Huh?”

Lu Zhiyao came fully awake, feeling the muscles in her face uncontrollably pulling backward. “What are you saying?” She felt her composure crumbling. “We broke up so long ago! If I were any more anxious, I’d be married abroad with kids by now!”

Duan Zishu tilted her head.

“You have another girlfriend?”

“Uh, I’m single.”

Duan Zishu nodded once, as if agreeing with something. “Then let’s get back together.”

“Who, who, who said anything about getting back together?” Lu Zhiyao sat up from the sofa, counting on her fingers as she spoke to Duan Zishu: “We only dated for half a year, and we’ve been apart for four or five years now. We haven’t had a single word of contact in between—how did we jump straight to ‘getting back together’? And I haven’t even asked you what the situation is with you suddenly appearing at my doorstep. How did you even know where I live?”

Duan Zishu listened silently. When Lu Zhiyao finished, her brows furrowed imperceptibly.

“Today is the first time I’ve heard you mention ‘breaking up.’ How does that count as being broken up for four or five years?”

Lu Zhiyao froze.

Back when they’d argued, she had slapped Duan Zishu and ran away. She’d been in such a state of emotional turmoil, or perhaps she was just afraid the other woman would hit her back—that she didn’t recall actually saying the word “break up.” After that, she’d deleted Duan Zishu’s contact info, and the other party never reached out through any other means. According to plan, Duan Zishu had gone abroad to study after high school graduation, and there had been no news of her since. Even a fool would know that meant they had completely broken off their relationship. Asking “are you still mad?” years after an argument was something that only happened in jokes; in reality, no person of sound mind would have any misunderstandings about a breakup.

Duan Zishu wasn’t mentally handicapped, so what did she mean by that?

It wasn’t that she looked down on the “Young Lady,” but at this moment, Lu Zhiyao suddenly remembered Xiao Zhang’s twenty-two scammer ex-girlfriends. However, the price of a single pair of the “Young Lady’s” sunglasses would be enough to send Lu Zhiyao to the black market to be dismantled and sold for parts; it was impossible that she was after the petty cash of an ordinary person.

Or, was she acting out of lust?

Lu Zhiyao clutched her quilt tightly to her chest, looking like a straight girl who had just discovered her roommate was a lesbian.

She started right off the bat with “I want to kiss you,” and when Lu Zhiyao rejected her by saying they were “already broken up,” she immediately countered with “Let’s get back together.” Usually, someone who wants to reconcile would mention the reconciliation before bringing up other things, right? But Lu Zhiyao knew she didn’t have the kind of charm that would make the “Young Lady” pine for her for years.

“Ahem.” Lu Zhiyao cleared her throat, trying to calm herself down.

What kind of storms and waves hadn’t she experienced? Could she really be defeated by this little matter?

“Listen,” she said, putting on a very serious expression, “this watch of mine monitors sleep quality and gives me a score every morning.”

As Duan Zishu looked on, confused, Lu Zhiyao quickly finished her sentence: “Sleep interruption seriously affects the score. My sleep score has been consistently above 85, and I don’t want it to drop out of the ‘excellent’ range because I woke up in the middle of the night, understand? So, goodnight, go to sleep. Being awake for too long will result in a deduction.”

Having said that, she wrapped herself into a ball with a practiced flick of the quilt.

“What about a goodnight kiss?”

Lu Zhiyao pretended not to hear.

She heard Duan Zishu linger by the sofa for a while, as if she were about to get up and leave. They were adults; sometimes, there was no need to be too explicit with a rejection. Lu Zhiyao had changed the subject, making it clear she didn’t want to agree.

With her head covered, she felt a light touch through the quilt, and then a slight weight. Duan Zishu had placed a kiss on the back of her own hand, sending a goodnight kiss through layers of obstacles.

“Goodnight.”

Lu Zhiyao still didn’t respond.

To say she wasn’t moved at all by the proposal to reconcile would be a lie.

Not mentioning any other reason, and speaking only of the most shallow and superficial one—Duan Zishu was incredibly beautiful.

It sounded so trivial, but she truly fit Lu Zhiyao’s aesthetic perfectly.

She was the person Lu Zhiyao had loved during the time her emotions were at their most abundant; she was a secret crush come true, the bitter-sweetness of a first love. That feeling of a heart pounding until it ached was something Lu Zhiyao still remembered. Even after not seeing her for so long, her heart still accelerated on reflex.

But Lu Zhiyao knew this was just inertia. She didn’t love Duan Zishu anymore—otherwise, she wouldn’t have tried starting a new relationship in college. Although it wouldn’t be impossible to start dating again based on this inertia, she didn’t want to. Back in their student days, when it was easiest to erase class differences, she could still clearly feel the gap between them.

She didn’t want to keep wearing herself down.

Sleep!

The second half of the night was dreamless. When Lu Zhiyao woke up, Duan Zishu was still sleeping.

She didn’t want to deal with it, but she couldn’t go to work and leave the other person alone in her house, so Lu Zhiyao had to go wake her up. Duan Zishu had a habit of lingering in bed, burying her head under the quilt and refusing to get up. Lu Zhiyao coaxed her for a while, but finally lost her patience.

“Get up or don’t! If you don’t get up, get out!”

That finally settled it.

“What was the score?” Duan Zishu asked abruptly after she finished washing up and walked over to Lu Zhiyao, who was preparing breakfast.

“Huh?” Lu Zhiyao didn’t react in time.

“The sleep quality score. What was it? It didn’t drop below 85, did it?”

“Oh.” Lu Zhiyao answered, raising her hand to press a button a few times: “89. It’s okay.”

Duan Zishu nodded. “That’s good,” she said.

Too lazy to think about what to eat in the morning, Lu Zhiyao chose noodles again—they were fast to make and fast to eat. Since Duan Zishu was standing right there, she had her help with whatever was at hand. When the noodles were ready, Duan Zishu helped set the trivets. She’d intended to have her carry a bowl, but the moment she touched the edge of the bowl, she recoiled, saying it was too hot to hold.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t press her further and told her to just set the trivets and sit down.

This scene was perhaps something her high school self might have fantasized about.

However—

“Why are we eating noodles again?” Duan Zishu picked up her chopsticks. “We just had them last night.”

Fantasies never included such tedious details.

“Eat them or don’t.”

Lu Zhiyao tapped the table: “I have to go to work after I finish, and you should go wherever you need to go.”

Duan Zishu’s hand paused.

“I have nowhere to go,” she said. “Something happened at home.”

Lu Zhiyao’s eyelid twitched. Something happened at home? Tax evasion? Surely she didn’t get involved in a massive lawsuit and come to me for refuge? She looked at the time and said helplessly: “I have to go to work. When I get back, you need to explain everything clearly. I can’t handle anything too serious.”

“It won’t affect you,” Duan Zishu said, lowering her eyes.

Lu Zhiyao couldn’t say anything else. Things had reached this point; who could bear to be that cold-blooded?

“I’ll be back early.” Offering an apology that didn’t sound much like a comfort, Lu Zhiyao left for work.

Lu Zhiyao was out of it all day, her gaze drifting as she shook the milk tea. Her colleagues giggled, teasing Xiao Zhang about how the “meet-up” went, and Xiao Zhang answered evasively, saying the other person was indeed very nice. The colleague who had bet that #23 was a scammer sighed, taking on all the flyer-distributing work for the next three days.

As soon as her shift ended, she hurried away. On the way home, she thought about whether she should buy Duan Zishu something good to eat, Duan Zishu had been quite refined when it came to food back in the day. But what to buy? Duan Zishu used to bring meals from home in high school; Lu Zhiyao didn’t know which restaurants she liked. In novels, these rich people always had the numbers for high-end restaurants; they could just flip through a business card while eating, and soon a table full of dishes would be delivered. And it was always southern cuisine.

But Lu Zhiyao didn’t even know if the restaurants she occasionally visited counted as high-end, and besides, takeout from those malls was a hassle to carry back.

In the end, Lu Zhiyao kept it simple and bought a Korean fried chicken set. Fried chicken was so delicious—even the President would have to admit it was good.

And besides, how was that not a type of southern cuisine?

When she opened her door upon getting home, she saw Duan Zishu staring longingly at the doorway. When she saw Lu Zhiyao return, she stood up eagerly, looking as if she didn’t know where to put her hands or feet.

“What exactly happened?” Lu Zhiyao asked, placing the fried chicken on the table.

Duan Zishu kept her head down for a long time before saying: “Do you have any alcohol?”

“No.” Lu Zhiyao frowned; she hated drinks that numbed the nerves and left people dizzy and unclear-headed. “But I have cola. Do you want some?”

Duan Zishu nodded, took the cola Lu Zhiyao handed her, and pulled the tab with one hand. She sat leaning against the bay window, one leg dangling, the other curled up. The cola fizzed and popped as the bubbles burst. Duan Zishu watched it, looked down, and took a sip.

The sky outside wasn’t completely dark yet; there were occasional points of orange light. Duan Zishu sat watching like that, her face turned to the side, revealing her pitch-black eyes.

Her demeanor was exactly the same as it had been back then. Every move was so casual, yet as smooth as a performance. Lu Zhiyao remembered how she had been attracted to her at a glance back then, and then had fallen deeper and deeper through countless deliberately engineered “chance encounters.”

“My family went bankrupt.”

She said it in her usual, flat tone.

“What?” Lu Zhiyao seemed even more shocked than the person involved. She knew that small businesses went bankrupt or were acquired easily, but large enterprises were tied to the interests of countless people; such a massive machine shouldn’t be easily destroyed because the consequences were too severe.

“How much savings do you have left?” Lu Zhiyao asked.

She knew many big bosses prepared a sum of “absolutely safe and clean” money for their children, just in case something went wrong, so their children wouldn’t be implicated. She’d read this in novels, but Lu Zhiyao figured it was probably true.

Duan Zishu shook her head.

“Nothing is left.”

Lu Zhiyao was confused, feeling like she was listening to a story. Usually, in these tacky “cool-protagonist” novels, the wealthy ex-girlfriend who broke up on bad terms shows up at your door after going bankrupt and falling from grace—but she didn’t have the ability to sneer and toss a check at the other person to insult them.

“The people who weren’t implicated transferred their assets through certain means. Now, no one can contact them,” Duan Zishu narrated calmly, as if she didn’t care at all about the whereabouts of that fortune.

“How did they do that?”

Lu Zhiyao had only seen similar plots in novels, most of which were fabricated by authors; she had never understood how that would actually work in reality.

Duan Zishu took another sip of her cola and fell silent. Her drooping brows and eyes made her look miserable even when her face was expressionless. In this atmosphere, Lu Zhiyao felt apologetic. Just as she was about to say that she’d asked too much and that Duan Zishu didn’t have to answer if she didn’t want to, Duan Zishu spoke up.

“I don’t know either.”