Chapter 6: Peacock Display

Ji Fan stumbled back home at around 3 a.m.

Ji Pei had forgotten to lock her bedroom door. Deep in sleep, she was jolted awake by Ji Fan, reeking of alcohol, throwing herself into her arms and sobbing uncontrollably.

Ji Pei, disoriented and unsure if it was day or night, patted Ji Fan’s back, trying to soothe her.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you go meet your online partner? Did the meetup flop?”

Ji Fan, hiccuping through her sobs, choked out,

“She lied to me! I met her, and she’s a woman!”

Ji Pei’s drowsiness vanished at Ji Fan’s final wail. Blinking, she sensed juicy gossip in the air.

“What? A woman?”

“Yeah, a woman.”

Ji Fan’s mouth twisted into a parallelogram as she sobbed,

“I got off the plane from S City, and she called me, saying she was waiting at the airport in a black hoodie and a red baseball cap.”

“I spotted her right away. She had long hair, so I thought she was my partner’s sister.”

Ji Pei mentally sketched Ji Fan’s online partner: tall, slim, decent figure, probably good fashion sense.

Otherwise, how could Ji Fan have zeroed in on her in a crowded airport?

It must be fate.

Holding Ji Fan, Ji Pei gently stroked her back and hair, smoothing her down.

“How does she look? Pretty or not?”

Ji Fan sniffled, wiping her tears with a tissue.

“She’s… actually pretty good-looking.”

“Well, there you go.”

Ji Pei grabbed a tissue to dab Ji Fan’s tears, suppressing a smile as she comforted her.

“Guy or girl, doesn’t matter. If you felt comfortable with her at first glance, it means you don’t dislike her. It’s just that she didn’t match your expectations.”

Ji Fan bit her lip.

“Didn’t match? Her gender changed…”

Ji Pei raised an eyebrow. “Did she pretend to be a guy to trick you, or did you two never clarify your genders from the start?”

Ji Fan faltered,

“Well… I don’t think I ever asked if she was a guy or a girl…”

“…”

“Tch.”

Ji Pei couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“What am I gonna do with you? You’re in an online relationship and forgot the most important thing—checking if they’re a guy or a girl. Bet you’ve learned your lesson now.”

Ji Fan’s voice was hoarse, her nose stuffy.

“It’s her fault! Her profile picture and username were so gender-neutral!”

She opened WeChat, thrusting her phone in Ji Pei’s face.

“Look!”

Ji Pei squinted under the light, peering at Ji Fan’s screen.

“Which one is she?”

Ji Fan realized she’d already deleted her contact and slumped onto the bed.

“I deleted her.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong, though.”

As Ji Pei took Ji Fan’s phone, a friend request popped up.

Gu Nian requests to add you as a friend.

“Ji Fan, I’m Gu Nian. You left your jacket with me.”

A dramatic, fateful BGM played in Ji Pei’s mind.

“Your online partner has a nice name—Gu Nian.”

Ji Fan’s eyes widened, pointing at the screen.

“So that’s her real name? I thought it was just her username.”

Ji Pei: “…”

She couldn’t fathom how her sister’s brain got her into the same university as her.

Ji Pei’s finger hovered over the screen, asking for Ji Fan’s opinion.

“She’s requesting to add you. Should I accept?”

Ji Fan stammered, embarrassed.

“I… uh…”

“It’s just a misunderstanding. It’s not her fault—you didn’t ask her gender either.”

“Then why didn’t she say anything…”

Ji Pei pinched Ji Fan’s cheek.

“You forgot, so maybe she did too. Maybe she was so smitten with you that she overlooked it.”

Ji Fan’s nose reddened as she turned to Ji Pei for help.

“What do I do? I yelled at her, deleted her WeChat, bought a plane ticket, and left without a word.”

Ji Pei: “Add her back and apologize.”

Ji Fan grabbed her phone and fled Ji Pei’s room. Ji Pei wasn’t sure how she’d handle it, never expecting a simple meetup to spiral into such a mess.

It was a bit scary to think about, and Ji Pei started worrying about her own situation.

Dongri was a woman, and they’d had voice calls. Her voice was delicate and lovely, reminding Ji Pei of a voice actress from a drama.

So, Dongri couldn’t be a man, but there was a slim chance she might be transgender.

Ji Pei hoped that tiny probability wouldn’t apply to her.

She glanced at her phone—it was already 4 a.m. Ji Fan had been crying in her room for nearly an hour.

Ji Pei opened her door, tiptoeing to Ji Fan’s room and pressing her ear against it.

No crying or hysterics—Ji Fan must have accepted the harsh reality.

Ji Pei sighed silently, wide awake now. She instinctively opened the messaging app, tempted to bother Dongri.

But at this hour, Dongri was surely asleep.

Bored, she scrolled through short videos on her phone. An ad popped up on WeChat, and Ji Pei opened Moments, mindlessly liking posts.

Her finger swiped through the feed until a striking photo caught her eye. She looked closer—it was posted by Jiang Xihan.

Ji Pei had over a thousand WeChat contacts, all sorted into groups with nicknames.

For example, she’d put Jiang Xihan in the “Anti-Human Creatures” group.

Jiang Xihan’s Moments were fully public, unlike those set to three-day visibility. Ji Pei could even see posts from three years ago.

Awards, trophies, and photos of Jiang Xihan in formal attire at debates—nearly every post featured her face or profile.

Ji Pei scrolled through them all, thankful WeChat didn’t show view history, or Jiang Xihan might think she was a creepy stalker.

A photo of Jiang Xihan with her hair tied up for volunteer work zoomed in under Ji Pei’s fingers. Staring at her expressionless face, Ji Pei clucked her tongue.

No wonder she was the most popular professor in the department—her looks could launch a celebrity career.

Typical Jiang Xihan, fully aware of her beauty and charisma without a trace of narcissism.

That must be true confidence.

***

Morning

Ye Wenzhu’s flower shop received a new batch of blue hydrangeas.

Two apprentices moved the flowers to the shelves. Chen Yingying inhaled deeply, only to sneeze repeatedly from the pollen.

Ye Wenzhu turned at the sound, her eyes crinkling into crescents.

“Good thing you’re not allergic, or that lethal dose of pollen would’ve had us calling an ambulance.”

Chen Yingying rubbed her nose awkwardly.

As Ye Wenzhu sat comfortably, the cash register pinged with a new order.

Chen Yingying wiped her hands and rushed over, eyes wide.

“Boss, we’ve got a big deal!”

“What big deal? Been watching too many cop shows?”

Ye Wenzhu stood leisurely and strolled to the counter.

“Let’s see what’s got you so excited.”

A buyer named Dongri, gender unknown, ordered 999 red roses, demanding they be air-freighted from France—fresh, flawless, and perfect.

As Chen Yingying said, it was indeed a huge deal.

Ye Wenzhu’s shop wasn’t cheap. Located in the pricey city center, her small store offered top-quality flowers.

Average-income families balked at her prices. Her clients were wealthy elites who cared more about status than flowers.

Were these for a proposal?

Ye Wenzhu had seen stingy tycoons walk away after hearing her prices, deeming them unnecessary for proposals.

This was a massive order. Ye Wenzhu examined the receipt, curious about the recipient.

Delivery Address: A City, XX District, XX Street, XXXX…

Ye Wenzhu noted the address—a high-end neighborhood in A City, suggesting both parties were well-off, the recipient likely wealthy too.

Then she saw the recipient’s name, nearly slipping off her bamboo chair and tweaking her back.

Recipient: Ji Pei.

Ye Wenzhu blinked, rubbing her eyes hard.

Chen Yingying asked,

“Boss, got sand in your eyes?”

Ye Wenzhu shook her head silently.

Chen Yingying leaned over, gasping.

“Huh? Boss, isn’t this the address we always deliver to? Your friend Ji Pei’s place!”

The two apprentices exchanged glances, sensing fresh gossip.

Ye Wenzhu rubbed her chin, sipping jasmine tea as she pondered.

Who was this Dongri? Another of Ji Pei’s suitors?

Many men and women bought flowers from her shop, asking her to write postcards. She’d written Ji Pei’s name at least twenty times.

This person was cunning, somehow getting Ji Pei’s exact address. What were their intentions?

Unless Ji Pei had given them the address herself—but that seemed unlikely. Ji Pei was cautious and wouldn’t share her home address with strangers.

Unless…

Ye Wenzhu had a revelation—this must be from Ji Pei’s online partner!

Checking the bill, the air freight alone cost a fortune, not to mention the rare rose variety.

This online partner was clearly loaded, likely very rich.

Relieved, Ye Wenzhu thought Ji Pei wasn’t the type to prioritize love over practicality.

But what if this Dongri was some hideous creature, like a kappa from folklore?

Ye Wenzhu nearly called Ji Pei but stopped herself from overthinking.

Maybe they were a perfect, well-matched couple. It wasn’t impossible.

Wait—Dongri was probably a woman.

Chen Yingying asked curiously,

“Boss, why’re you so happy?”

Ye Wenzhu hid her smile.

“My daughter’s getting married soon, and this old mom’s heart aches. Don’t just stand there—contact the client.”

As Chen Yingying reached for the phone, Ye Wenzhu snatched it with a cryptic smile.

“No, I’ll handle this myself!”