It was the eighth day of the Lunar New Year.
The spring break was over, but the festive air still lingered in the city.
At around eight in the evening, inside a luxury private room of an upscale leisure club, a group of well-dressed men and women sat around a low table.
Chen Jin was leaning back on the sofa in a dark corner, arms crossed, eyes closed. The woman beside him chirped sweetly into his ear—her voice like honeyed birdsong—but he barely heard a word.
After a while, he finally opened his eyes, picked up a glass of red wine from the table, and handed it to her.
"You've been talking for ages," he said flatly. "Aren't you tired? Here—wet your throat."
The woman smiled prettily, taking the glass.
"You could at least pretend to listen," she teased before taking a sip.
"Oh, I was listening," Chen Jin drawled lazily. "You gave me a headache."
She laughed softly. "Then let me fix that for you. I've actually taken massage lessons."
Just as she raised her hands, her phone rang. One glance at the screen and she squealed.
"Oh my God—it's the director you introduced me to!" She answered in a syrupy tone, "Hello, Director Huang… Really? That's wonderful. See you tomorrow."
When she hung up, she threw her arms around Chen Jin's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Director Huang personally called me in for an audition—and it's for the female lead! Baby, thank you!"
Chen Jin pulled her hands down and said lightly, "Good. Then make sure you don't embarrass me."
"I should go home and study the script tonight…"
"Go ahead."
"Then, how about that massage tomorrow?"
"We'll see."
She pouted, murmured a few more sweet nothing's, and finally left. Chen Jin wiped his face with a napkin, just as a familiar, teasing voice came from beside him.
"Well, well, bro. New face again tonight?"
It was Xiang Yang, grinning from ear to ear. He nodded toward the door. "That girl looked familiar. I swear I've seen her before."
"Yeah," Chen Jin said casually. "She was on some talent show. Won a prize, I think."
"No wonder. She's pretty—and kind of fresh-looking."
"Too clingy." Chen Jin leaned back, irritation flickering in his tone.
Fresh-looking, he thought. If only they knew what she sounded like in bed.
"Don't tell me you're dumping her already?" Xiang Yang laughed. "What happened—someone actually managed to get under your skin? That'd be a first. I have got to meet a woman who can mess with you like that."
Chen Jin shoved him away. "Cut the crap. I'm not the main act tonight. Where the hell's Fang Zheng? Got stuck in traffic or giving birth on the way?"
"Probably both," Xiang Yang snorted.
Just then, the door swung open. A tall man walked in—long grey coat, dark jeans, and oversized sunglasses that screamed wannabe celebrity.
He took them off, revealing a handsome face, refined at first glance but spoiled the moment he spoke.
"Comrades, I have returned!" he declared with mock drama.
Fang Zheng was back.
The men burst out laughing, getting up to greet him with handshakes, hugs, and half-serious punches.
When he reached Chen Jin and Xiang Yang, he waved like an idiot. "How's my favorite duo doing?"
Chen Jin chuckled. "Still the same idiot, I see."
Xiang Yang stretched out a leg and kicked at him, but Fang Zheng dodged easily. "Hey, hey—violence is love in disguise, right? No punches, just kicks!"
He plopped down next to Chen Jin, flashing a grin. "You guys must've missed me. My ears were burning all the way here—had to be your gossip doing that."
"Miss you? My ass," Xiang Yang shot back. "I'm younger than you by three months. You're not my big brother."
Fang Zheng smirked. "Fine, I'll be your brother. Hell, I even dreamed of being A Jin's brother-in-law once—but I guess that ship's sailed."
Chen Jin shook his head. That old nickname—A Jin—was a leftover from childhood, courtesy of his mother's soft southern accent. Their neighborhood friends had copied it, calling out: "A Jin, come play!" "A Jin, we're waiting for you!" The name has stuck ever since.
"Still the same clown," Chen Jin said, tilting his chin toward a couple sitting a few tables away. "Maybe watch what you say. The lady of honor's over there."
Fang Zheng glanced in that direction and smiled faintly. "Foolish girl," he muttered, then turned back. "Tell me, man, why do women always do this? Acting all lovey-dovey with someone else just to get attention from the one they really want?"
Chen Jin frowned, not wanting to go there. Thankfully, a waiter appeared. He waved him over and ordered three bottles of beer.
He passed one to Fang Zheng, another to Xiang Yang. "Come on, boys. It's been half a year—let's drink to that."
The clinking of bottles brought back a flood of memories.
They'd been friends for almost three decades—ever since they were kids running around in open-crotch pants, getting into fights, then patching up like nothing happened. When they were ten, Chen Jin had stolen three beers from home, and the three of them had hidden in a park, pretending to drink like grown men. They'd ended up smashing a neighbor's window in their drunken play and got a "bamboo-stick feast" for it the next day.
Now, at thirty, they laughed about it.
Men didn't talk about friendship much. They just drank it out of the bottle and let the silence say the rest.
After a few gulps, Fang Zheng leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Guess what I missed the most in America?"
"Easy," Xiang Yang said with a grin. "All those girls you left behind. Got tired of foreign flavors, huh? Craving some good ol' domestic products?"
Fang Zheng wagged a finger. "Nope. What I missed most were you two idiots. I even dreamed of us running around the yard in those stupid split pants."
"Gross," Xiang Yang made a face. "You sure you didn't turn gay over there? A Jin, you better back up before he converts you."
But Chen Jin wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the door.
"Hey," Xiang Yang waved a hand in front of him. "Earth to A Jin."
Chen Jin suddenly stood up. "You guys keep talking. I'll be right back."
He strode out, leaving the other two blinking at each other.
"See?" Xiang Yang said smugly. "Told you I scared him off."
But Chen Jin wasn't running from them—he was running from doubt. He thought he'd seen something. Or rather, someone.
He walked down the hallway, and there they were—three figures standing close together. Two men, young and grinning, and a woman between them.
She was wearing a long black dress that revealed a pale stretch of back. Her hair was twisted up casually, showing the elegant line of her neck. Under the warm, dim hallway light, she looked poised, mature—seductively understated.
Chen Jin frowned. He hadn't been mistaken. Even from that fleeting glimpse through the door earlier, he could recognize her.
It really was her.