Nan Hong - Chapter 6
Wen Yifan's eyebrow twitched, a wave of inexplicable shock washing over her.
What the hell—
How could he—
Come back from the dead???
And what was with that question mark?
She shifted her gaze back to the five words she'd sent.
—Happy New Year! ^_^
For a moment, she felt like she'd forgotten how to read Chinese.
What she'd sent was clearly a blessing, not some offensive message...
Yet that single question mark felt oddly intimidating.
Even through the screen, she could feel his hostility radiating toward her.
His reaction was exactly what you'd expect from someone who'd completely cut ties with her. No matter what she said—even a simple New Year's greeting—he had to throw a question mark back at her face.
Wen Yifan hesitated, typing in the chat box: [Do you know it's me?]
Before she could finish, someone brushed past her peripheral vision. Instinctively, she looked up and froze—Sang Yan was standing barely a meter away, next to a girl.
The girl was slender and quietly absorbed in her phone, head tilted down.
Remembering Sang Yan's earlier phone conversation with his mother, this had to be his younger sister.
Wen Yifan had some memory of her. She'd seen her back in high school—Sang Zhi, about six or seven years younger than Sang Yan. Back then, she'd been tiny and doll-like, forcing Wen Yifan to crouch down just to talk to her.
Now she'd grown to roughly Wen Yifan's height.
"Little brat," Sang Yan said lazily.
Sang Zhi looked up. "What?"
"I heard you've been stressed lately."
"No, I haven't," Sang Zhi replied dismissively.
"Is it the college entrance exam?"
Wen Yifan was only one person away from them.
At this distance, their conversation might as well have been broadcast directly into her ears. She didn't want to eavesdrop, but their words flowed in effortlessly—
"I said no."
"Why overthink it?" Sang Yan spoke slowly, as if mechanically fulfilling some maternal assignment. "I barely studied and still got into Nanwu University. Besides, even if you're not naturally gifted, our family has enough money for you to repeat a year."
"You barely studied? You think I don't remember?" Sang Zhi shot him a look, irritation creeping into her voice. "Don't worry—you struggled to get into Nanwu, but I could get in with my eyes closed."
"..."
"And," she continued after her complaint, "I heard Mom say you quit your job today?"
"..."
"That can't be true, right?"
Sang Yan turned his head. "How is that any of your business?"
"Are you too embarrassed to admit you got fired?"
Before Sang Yan could respond, his phone rang. He glanced down and suddenly said, "If you won't listen to me, should I let your 'brother' comfort you instead?"
"What—" Perhaps recognizing the caller ID, Sang Zhi instantly went quiet. After a few seconds, she said softly, "No."
Sang Yan didn't say much more after that, walking back toward the pavilion to take the call.
Silence fell.
Although Wen Yifan didn't fully grasp all the context, being forced to eavesdrop on familiar voices at such close range left her feeling uncomfortable. Thankfully, her mask provided some sense of security.
She turned her screen back on.
Seeing the unfinished message in her input box, she realized how inappropriate it would be and deleted everything. She wanted to carefully confirm whether he knew this was her WeChat, but after thinking it over, she only cautiously replied: [?]
He was probably still on his call, as there was no immediate response.
She stared at the screen for a couple seconds.
Suddenly, Wen Yifan realized something crucial.
Even if Sang Yan had blocked her...
Her Moments posts.
Weren't blocked.
Sang Yan could still see them.
"..."
With this thought, Wen Yifan quickly opened her Moments.
She'd been so busy lately that her last post was over two months ago. Back when she was still in Yi He City, it looked like she'd shared a photo with colleagues at a bar.
Her gaze fixed on the screen.
What stared back at her was a group selfie with her former colleagues.
In the photo, everyone was grinning brightly, showing their teeth and striking various poses. Wen Yifan sat in the lower left corner, her skin so pale it appeared overexposed, gazing gently at the camera with a subtle smile.
Her features were unmistakably clear.
...
The line gradually moved into the restroom, and when several stalls opened up, it was her turn. Wen Yifan snapped back to reality, pocketed her phone, and went inside.
A moment later, she emerged.
The sink area was shared between men and women, spanning about two to three meters.
Wen Yifan turned on the faucet, her mind spinning in chaos.
So back at the bar, he'd been pretending not to recognize her.
The mass New Year's blessing deliberately excluded her.
His first instinct upon seeing her message was retaliation.
In the mirror, she caught sight of Sang Yan still standing in the same spot. He seemed to have finished his call, one hand in his pocket while the other fiddled with his phone.
She wondered if he'd replied to her message.
Just then, Sang Zhi emerged from the restroom and approached a nearby sink. But the faucet appeared broken—no water came out.
Wen Yifan had just finished washing her hands. "You can use this one."
"Thank you," Sang Zhi replied immediately.
When their eyes met, she seemed to pause momentarily.
Wen Yifan didn't notice, looking down as she pulled out her phone while walking outside. She turned on the screen—the interface was still on her chat with Sang Yan.
This time, he hadn't even bothered to send a single punctuation mark.
Understanding the reason, Wen Yifan paused and couldn't help typing: "Should we just delete each other?"
She quickly erased it.
Looking at the two question marks they'd just exchanged, she suddenly felt like this chat record was charged with tension, as if it meant: "Oh, so you're going to throw question marks around too?"
But that hadn't been her intention at all.
Wen Yifan didn't want to create any holiday drama, so she considered how to back down gracefully.
She typed one word:
【Then】
Staring at Sang Yan's question mark and her own "Happy New Year" message, she hesitated before continuing:
【being unhappy is fine too.】
"..."
After successfully sending the message, Wen Yifan found herself walking closer to Sang Yan's position. As they passed each other, she awkwardly lowered her head, catching a glimpse of him apparently opening WeChat.
His long eyelashes cast shadows as he focused on the screen.
Wen Yifan thought it might be her imagination, but she seemed to hear him let out a soft scoff.
Her back went rigid.
She kept walking for quite a while.
Only when she'd put considerable distance between them did the inexplicable guilt finally fade. Looking back at her screen, unsurprisingly, there was still no reply.
She sighed, realizing she didn't have time to dwell on this.
Feeling like she'd been gone too long, Wen Yifan hurried back to the filming location.
The scene was much the same as when she'd left.
The square was decorated festively, with plants and small structures wrapped in colorful lights, creating a holiday atmosphere. People streamed back and forth while staff maintained order, everyone looking cheerful.
All preparations were complete—they were just waiting for the new year to arrive.
Qian Weihua and Zhen Yu were chatting. Fu Zhuang stood beside them, listening intently without saying a word. When he saw Wen Yifan return, he immediately approached her cautiously.
Fu Zhuang was a new intern hired two weeks ago, a college senior. Despite his name suggesting height, he was actually quite short and thin as a reed. He had a youthful face but a surprisingly deep voice: "Sister, if you'd come back any later..."
Wen Yifan thought something was wrong. "What happened?"
"You might have only found my frozen corpse," Fu Zhuang said dramatically.
"..." Wen Yifan nodded. "Thanks for that. I needed a story angle."
"In your eyes, I'm just a news story!" Fu Zhuang complained, shivering, though his voice remained lively. "Damn, I'm freezing. This wind is making my nose run."
Wen Yifan looked at him.
Boys his age typically prioritized style over warmth, and Fu Zhuang was no exception. He wore only a denim jacket that offered zero protection against the cold, his lips already turning purple.
Moreover, he was so thin it seemed like the sea breeze might blow him away at any moment.
"It's always colder by the ocean. Next time you cover outdoor events, dress warmer," Wen Yifan said, pulling a hand warmer from her pocket. "Put this in your pocket for your hands."
"No, no need," Fu Zhuang hadn't expected to take her things. "Sister, you keep it. You're a girl—you must be colder than me."
"I already have two in my pockets," Wen Yifan replied. "I have nowhere to put this one."
"..."
This time, Fu Zhuang took it without hesitation and casually changed the subject. "By the way, Sister, have you ever seen a fireworks display before?"
"Not one this large," Wen Yifan replied.
"Does making wishes on these things actually work?"
"No."
"..." Fu Zhuang muttered, "I was hoping to wish for a girlfriend next year."
Wen Yifan laughed. "That wish definitely won't come true."
"Yifan, how can you say that!" Fu Zhuang exclaimed. "Then I'll wish to grow five more centimeters! Can guys still grow taller at twenty..."
This time, Wen Yifan didn't discourage him.
As they talked, Fu Zhuang suddenly pointed in a direction. "Hey, speaking of height, that's my dream right there. I'd be satisfied being just half a head shorter than him."
Wen Yifan looked over and fell silent.
What a coincidence—the person Fu Zhuang was pointing at was Sang Yan.
You could say they were destined to keep crossing paths, or perhaps he was simply haunting her.
He stood about ten meters away, leaning against the railing, his coat billowing in the wind, chin slightly lowered as he casually played with his phone.
Sang Zhi, who'd been with him earlier, had already disappeared.
"That's exactly the body type I dream of," Fu Zhuang sighed. "Under the witness of tonight's sky and fireworks, can I please get my head transplanted onto his body?"
Wen Yifan shifted her gaze back, amused. "Why not steal his face while you're at it?"
Fu Zhuang actually seemed to consider this, his words wavering. "Wouldn't taking two things be a bit greedy?"
"..."
Qian Weihua suddenly called them over.
Perhaps feeling guilty for neglecting them too long, he became quite earnest, discussing various precautions for the outdoor live broadcast.
Time gradually passed.
As midnight approached, the atmosphere grew increasingly festive. The LED display on the distant skyscraper had already begun its countdown, and the crowd buzzed with excitement, starting to chant along with the final numbers.
"—59, 58, 57..."
"—5, 4, 3..."
"—2!"
"—1!"
As the last number fell, countless fireworks shot skyward, drawing colorful streaks across the night before bursting at various heights. Dazzling lights bloomed into different shapes, overlapping and cascading in brilliant displays.
Everyone present raised their phones, searching for the perfect angle to capture the scene.
Once Qian Weihua had no further instructions, Wen Yifan also took out her phone to snap some photos.
When the people in front blocked her view, she shifted to find a better vantage point.
The entire display lasted over ten minutes.
Before she knew it, Wen Yifan had been pushed out of the crowd, ending up near the railing. Noticing the fireworks show was nearly over, she intended to return to find Qian Weihua when someone suddenly bumped into her.
Wen Yifan stumbled forward uncontrollably.
Then she collided with someone else.
She quickly stepped back, looked up, and instinctively said, "Sorry."
The words had barely left her mouth when she realized the person she'd bumped into was Sang Yan. He was looking down at her, his expression unreadable, apparently on a phone call.
"—Yeah, I'm getting ready to head back."
Out of politeness, Wen Yifan forced herself to apologize again.
Sang Yan casually looked her over for a moment, then nodded at her.
As if acknowledging he'd heard her.
As Wen Yifan walked away, she faintly heard him say to whoever was on the phone:
"Happy New Year."
Returning to Qian Weihua's side, Wen Yifan absentmindedly touched her face. When she felt her mask still in place, she paused, her nerves finally relaxing.
With her face covered, he probably wouldn't recognize her... right?
...
Meanwhile.
On the other end of the phone, Qian Fei—Sang Yan's college roommate and friend—was rambling when Sang Yan interrupted him twice. After a few seconds of silence: "Oh, I don't care when you're going home, alright? But thanks, bro. Happy New Year to you too."
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for what?"
"Weren't you just sending New Year's blessings?" Qian Fei replied.
"Can you not be so self-important?" Sang Yan drawled lazily. "I wasn't talking to you."