Chapter 1 : [Vol 1 : Pride and Prejudice] – Freedom is an Eagle, and You are the rope.

“That night, I was by the river, letting the wind blow on my face.
On summer nights, the streetlights shine bright. Once I take off my glasses, the world dissolves into dazzling halos.
So they couldn’t see me.
And so—I saw her.”

It started with something trivial: a lingering cold that dragged on for two months and eventually turned into bacterial pneumonia.
A family friend—well-versed in all things mystical—recommended a so-called master, claiming to be a Maoshan Taoist priest. The man wasted no time declaring that her family’s feng shui was bad, that her ancestors had committed sins, and that four or five spirits were following her.

Ordinary people rarely encounter this kind of talk in real life, especially in this day and age.
So she treated it like a joke, bantered along with him, until the numbers “6888” and the phrase “remote ritual” came up. Then she regretfully closed the chat window.
As a bonus, she also blocked the friend who had recommended him.
—The worst thing is being scammed by someone you know.

“Jiang Yanlin, why do you keep running into weirdos lately?”
Her friend, calling all the way from across the ocean, couldn’t help asking with genuine curiosity after hearing the story.

Yanlin kept her head down, rushing to finish work, too lazy to even glance at her.
On her computer screen, the other friend in the call was busy cooking—oil sizzling in the pan—but couldn’t resist being cheeky. She leaned toward the camera and quipped:
“Are you sure it’s just lately?”

That one line sent everyone laughing.

Yanlin wanted to say something, but the moment she opened her mouth, she started coughing.

Lin Xiaoqi was still flipping food with a spatula, while their roommate fanned smoke toward the open window, terrified the alarm would go off again. When they heard her cough, both immediately said:
“Mute yourself! Forget your crappy job for once—go to the hospital and get an IV drip.”

Yanlin looked up at the screen helplessly.
“I’m almost fine. Just not used to the climate since I came back.”

After all, she’d just returned from a coastal city. It was hard to tell which place was more humid. But compared to looming deadlines, the climate really didn’t matter.

The three friends—living in different time zones—chatted for ten more minutes, promising to meet online for drinks next time, then each hung up to dive back into their busy lives.

Silence finally settled over the apartment. Yanlin casually turned on her Bluetooth speaker and played a blues playlist.
Sunset faded. Summer night lights spilled through the windows, brushing the wooden floor with a faint glow.

Most of the time, her life looked exactly like this:
Working alone. Eating alone. Watching movies and listening to music alone.

If she could video call her scattered friends, chat, and watch them drink while she sipped lemon water—that was already one of her few sources of fun.
She’d quit alcohol for more than half a year. The last time she drank was Christmas.
So now, even if they called it “drinking together,” it was really just her watching their drunken antics from the sober side.
—Honestly, more entertaining than drinking.

After the global catastrophe that locked everyone indoors, remote work and digital entertainment had become the new normal. But for Yanlin, nothing much had changed.
Before or after, she had always lived alone, self-sufficient.

Nicely put, she was a “digital nomad.” Less nicely, she was just a “drifter,” detached from society’s structures, her income stability constantly questioned.
But who cared? Only she knew if she was living comfortably.

No clock-ins, no alarms, no obligatory socializing.
No one bossing her around.
—Anyone who tried was long gone from her sight.

By midnight, her work was finally done. Yanlin shut her laptop, changed clothes, and prepared to head out.

Her phone buzzed again—another impatient call. She quickly dabbed on some light makeup, answering with one hand.
“Ms. Jiang, are you downstairs yet?” Chen Yuran’s voice was urgent.
“On my way down,” Yanlin said calmly, touching up her lips in the mirror.

Only five minutes later, when Chen realized she’d been tricked, another call came through. This time, Yanlin ignored it and stepped into the elevator.

She didn’t mind her rhythm being disrupted—she liked unpredictable experiences.
But being dragged to a drinking party at 2 or 3 a.m. really tested her patience.

Still… who could say no when the one asking was cute little Chen Yuran?

Outside the apartment, the girl waved energetically.
“Over here!”

She wore a little black dress with spaghetti straps, long black hair spilling loose, her fresh and innocent aura shining even under nightlife lights.
Yanlin rarely saw her dressed this way. It wasn’t hard to guess why she was being dragged out tonight.

They’d first met at a mutual friend’s gathering. Chen had looked like a college freshman dropped in by mistake, out of place among strangers. Yanlin knew exactly what kind of person had invited her, so she stepped in first—taking the girl back to her own place instead.

Later, that man cursed her for stealing his “type.” Yanlin simply told him to get lost.
And once she confirmed Chen really was a college freshman, she blocked the man on the spot. Good riddance.

Chen truly was adorable. Sweet-looking, but more focused and hardworking than most aimless people.
Yanlin admired her. Which was why she never slept with her.

That first night at her place, they only watched a movie before Yanlin sent her back to campus the next morning.

Chen had tried being bold at first, but soon realized Yanlin never budged—and gave up decisively.

Now, they were just friends who occasionally grabbed a meal together.

“I’ve been hanging out at Pop Dance lately, and I met this half-American, half-Japanese performer there. His dancing is amazing. He’s performing again tonight—you have to come with me!”

Yanlin was used to Chen’s constant stream of “new discoveries.” She didn’t take it too seriously.

The club was already packed, brimming with restless summer energy. Dim lights—red and white flashing—swept over young bodies onstage, skin glowing warm in motion.

Yanlin raised a brow.
—Lap dance right at the entrance? Free of charge?

Chen darted off backstage to find her crush, leaving Yanlin to perch at the bar with a lemon soda, scrolling her phone.

She brushed off all would-be flirts—too tired from work to care.

So when another figure slid onto the stool beside her, she said automatically, without looking up:
“Sorry, this seat’s taken.”

“Yanlin? Jiang Yanlin? Is that really you?”

The woman’s voice had a hint of familiarity.
Yanlin lifted her eyes and saw a face she almost recognized—mixed-race features, clumsy Chinese, and those baby-fat cheeks.

Who was this again?

With a faint smile, Yanlin replied smoothly, “Long time no see.”

The woman’s grin widened. “It really has been! Last time must’ve been… at Qining’s birthday party, right?”

At the mention of that name, Yanlin remembered.
—Her ex’s ex’s friend’s ex.

Half-Chinese, with family roots in Hong Kong. No wonder her Mandarin had a Cantonese twang.

Yanlin still couldn’t recall her name, so she smiled politely through the small talk. For her, socializing was just filling in formulas—no novelty in it.

Finally, someone shouted across the room:
“Fiona! Your turn!”

So that was it. Fiona.

Before leaving, Fiona leaned close, all gossipy.
“Speaking of Qining—do you two still keep in touch?”

Yanlin paused, scanning her expression, then replied calmly:
“Haven’t talked in ages. Why?”

Fiona leaned closer, whispering mysteriously:
“I heard after she broke up with my friend, she turned gay.”

Before Yanlin could answer, Fiona was called back to her table.

Just then, a message popped up from Chen:
“Ms. Jiang, I’m watching the show next door! Want to come? If not, I’ll come back for you after. Don’t drink too much without me!”

Yanlin smiled, tapping out a reply. Before she could finish, another stranger sat beside her.

This time, she let it be. Something to kill time.

“Hey, you’re Fiona’s friend?”

The accent was foreign again. She looked up at a sharply defined face, the type that could pass for South American.

Plenty of foreigners around this district. This club especially.

She nodded politely. “We’ve met.”

“I’m El,” he said warmly, “Fiona’s old friend. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

Yanlin rested her head on one hand, gazing lazily at him.
“I don’t come often.”

The bar was a rare quiet corner in the noise. Even without alcohol, the air itself made her cheeks a little warm.

El was lively, open, endlessly eager to make her laugh. Yanlin watched with detached amusement.

Better to be entertained than bored.

So in half an hour, she’d heard his whole life story: learning Chinese, his first trip here, his first “love story.” He even showed her photos of his travels, plus some questionable anecdotes.

One particularly wild story had her chuckling—like listening to stand-up.

In the end, he asked to exchange contacts. She didn’t refuse.

Then, as if remembering something, he said:
“By the way—I overheard you mention Qining. She’s been a close friend of mine for years. You know her?”

Yanlin swirled her half-flat soda, thinking.
“We used to be good friends. Not anymore.”

El blinked, then suddenly lit up, as if struck by inspiration.
“Wait—I remember Qining dated a Chinese girl after Fiona’s friend. That wasn’t you, was it?”

Yanlin tilted her chin with a faint smile, letting silence be her answer.

He made a zipping-mouth gesture, as if to promise he’d keep the secret.

But whether he said anything or not didn’t matter.

To Yanlin, all that was long behind her—irrelevant, like parallel lines that would never meet again.

Even love itself had become little more than seasoning in life.
As easily as she drew people in, she was just as rarely drawn to anyone else.

—Or so she thought.

Two days later, El invited her to a private gathering.

She’d just finished a major deadline and was craving a little fun. El was genuine enough, not boring—so she agreed.

No fancy makeup, no fishing for attention. Just simple.

Speaking of fishing—she hadn’t checked her “pond” in months. The fish were probably gone by now.
Not that she cared. They were just pastimes. Someone who came when called but stayed quiet otherwise—that was all she needed. Few ever kept her interest.

El’s gathering was in a quiet, artsy neighborhood—old villas, no noisy bars, no rowdy crowds.

Traffic delayed her a little. By the time she arrived, El was already waiting outside, looking energetic, radiant like a golden retriever in human form.
—Though maybe not entirely straight.

She was just about to greet him when the roar of a motorcycle cut through the night.

A red bike screeched to a stop. The rider dismounted, tugging off a black helmet.

Long black hair spilled free. Her face—pale, sharp, dazzling.

“She’s my friend,” El said quickly, “I invited her too. I’ll introduce you.”

The woman set down her helmet, stepping toward them in black boots.

Under the summer streetlights, her face stood out—barefaced, yet strikingly bold, every feature sharp enough to make people wonder what kind of surgeon had sculpted her.

Her gaze skimmed over Yanlin, then flicked away.

The next second, she asked El:
“Who’s this? Don’t tell me this is that Mia?”

Perfect.

Yanlin smiled faintly.
—Rude little woman. Confirmed.