ATC 03

Chapter 3

Kyoto

Jiang Wanju didn’t think she had drunk that much. Tilting her head slightly, she studied Chen Zhuren’s face carefully.

She said, “What a coincidence.”

Chen Zhuren raised his eyebrows at her voice, replying with a brief syllable: “Sorry?”

From his reaction, Jiang Wanju got her answer—he didn’t remember her at all.

If the Forbidden City could be called the royal family’s workshop, then the Houhai area north of it was more like their back garden. Once praised as the most beautiful waterscape inside the city—green willows, blue water, stone bridges, and the warm glow of streetlights—Jiang Wanju tucked her hair behind her ear, turned to look at the shimmering lake, then at his face, and said, “Sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”

Chen Zhuren smiled.

When he smiled, the small dimple on his right cheek became more visible, a faint mark. Jiang Wanju shifted her gaze from his face to the streetlamp behind him.

Water was scarce in the city, and night had already fallen. Darkness had swallowed the faint silhouettes of mountains and the clouds dyed crimson by the sunset. Not far away stood the Yinding Bridge, surrounded by cozy little bars perfect for gatherings. In those narrow alleys, hidden talents gathered—friends chatting over a few drinks, strangers meeting by chance, laughter rising from the city bustle as old acquaintances crossed paths again.

Standing by the railing, Chen Zhuren said, “You still look like a student. Out here alone? You should head back after drinking.”

Jiang Wanju noticed his hands—long, elegant, veins faintly visible. They were the kind of hands that would make anyone who loved beautiful hands fall for them. Perhaps he was more suited to being an artist.

She asked, “Are you always this kind to everyone?”

Chen Zhuren looked at her in surprise, then slowly smiled, his tone easy and relaxed. “Kind? Thanks. You’re the first person to compliment me like that.”

The cool night breeze drifted across the lake, carrying layers of mist.

Holding the empty beer bottle, Jiang Wanju squinted and said, “You look like a good person.”

Chen Zhuren replied, “Can I take that as your way of saying you admire me?”

Jiang Wanju nodded. “Of course.”

She liked this kind of conversation—unhurried and calm—even if she didn’t know his name, even if they were still strangers.

A fleeting encounter. Jiang Wanju had always regarded relationships lightly. She only cared about achieving her goals. Once, that goal had been getting into a top university; now, it was to graduate smoothly and find a high-paying job.

Chen Zhuren asked, “Where are you from?”

Jiang Wanju answered. He didn’t seem particularly interested in her city—but he was, unmistakably, interested in her.

The night wind blew colder. Jiang Wanju pulled her coat tight and sneezed.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Chen Zhuren asked.

She shook her head.

“I know a place nearby that serves great Beijing cuisine,” he offered. “The chef’s the real deal. Want to try it?”

Jiang Wanju hesitated.

Chen Zhuren waited patiently for a few seconds. When she still didn’t answer, he seemed to understand her silence. Before he could say anything more, his phone rang.

It must have been a friend calling. He stepped aside, smiled apologetically, gestured goodbye, and walked out of her sight.

Jiang Wanju looked down at the empty beer bottle in her hand. Everything that had just happened felt like a simple, fleeting dream. The man who had once caught her teenage gaze had reappeared—only for them to exchange a few words before vanishing again into the crowd.

What a dreamlike story.

Jiang Wanju took out her phone and sent Dou Qie a short message: Let’s break up.

Sure enough, the next second, his calls came in one after another, demanding to know why, saying he didn’t agree.

Jiang Wanju sent him a photo of him with their senior classmate, and at last, he went silent.

And just like that, she ended a relationship as hastily as it had begun.

After the breakup, her college life became much simpler. Although quite a few men expressed interest in her, Jiang Wanju had already learned that love wasn’t as sweet as it seemed, and she politely declined them all.

Her roommates had long grown used to her quiet, independent nature—never causing trouble for others and preferring others not to trouble her. Still, they’d ask her opinion whenever there was a gathering or shopping trip.

Jiang Wanju majored in English. Most graduates from her department went into translation or teaching. But she was different—her goal was clear: to join LV#H.

The luxury industry, glamorous and lofty like an ivory tower, attracted countless dreamers. Even for a single internship posting, hundreds of résumés would flood in.

Jiang Wanju opened LinkedIn and searched for related openings. Any position remotely tied to luxury brands had over 3,206 views in just the past week.

A staggering number.

3,206 equally talented people standing on the same platform—and only a handful would succeed.

Once her goal was set, Jiang Wanju poured herself into studying—not just her major but every bit of information she could find about internal referrals and hiring requirements, shaping her learning around them.

She spent more and more time in the library, head buried in books, reading and studying until closing time.

Seasons passed in a blur.

On a freezing winter night after the library closed, the air outside felt sharp as glass. Jiang Wanju exhaled, watching her breath turn into a faint mist that slowly dissolved under the streetlights.

The drifting white fog blurred the night like a veil—then, as if lifted by a slender hand, the veil parted.

Two years later, Jiang Wanju was back in her dorm, unwrapping small gifts from her coworkers.

Through a senior’s referral, she had landed an internship in the PR department of a luxury brand. The workload wasn’t heavy, mostly trivial tasks—but frustrations came all the same.

For instance, an upcoming brand event: she had spent a week carefully preparing everything as required, only for the client to suddenly change their mind. All her approved designs and printed brochures became useless. She had to contact the manufacturer and cancel the contract. They were already about to print, so the person on the other end sounded annoyed. Jiang Wanju could only take it silently.

Later that night, she fell asleep on the subway and missed her stop. A safety officer woke her up at the terminal. Fighting tears, she got off and realized she was far beyond the Fifth Ring Road—an almost deserted new area.

She took another train back. When she finally exited the station and passed a closed cake shop, the weight of everything hit her. She sat on a bench, buried her head, and took a deep breath.

It was the most crushing day since she started work—and that was when she ran into the last person she wanted to see.

“Excuse me, do you need any help?”

That familiar voice made her look up in shock. She must’ve looked a mess—like a rookie just defeated by life. Meanwhile, he stood before her immaculate in a black cashmere coat and a gray scarf, leaning slightly forward with concern, the perfect gentleman. “Would you like a tissue?”

Chen Zhuren.

His appearance hadn’t changed at all—only refined further with time.

Jiang Wanju said, “What a coincidence.”

Chen Zhuren raised his eyebrows slightly. “Sorry?”

Of course—he still didn’t remember her.
Not even a little.