After Breaking the Ice-Beauty's Heart - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: You’re Still Just as Timid

In the evening, the supermarket was crowded with people getting off work. After a long day, many stopped by to browse, hoping to relieve their stress by buying things they didn’t really need—comforting themselves afterward with the thought: I’ll use it someday.

Supermarkets knew to seize this window of opportunity, pushing their promotional products hard when the foot traffic peaked. The exaggerated sales pitches made it hard for people to resist buying.

As a promotional worker, Zhou Nianzhi had to arrive before that rush, change into her uniform, and prepare to greet every customer who walked through the door.

Even though she was a little late today, the moment she arrived, she jumped straight into work. The boss didn’t say much—just reminded her to come earlier next time.

Zhou Nianzhi nodded quickly in agreement, continuing her task without pause.

She had worked part-time in many supermarkets before—at the cashier, restocking, carrying goods—and could handle it all. So the moment she arrived at this new supermarket, she adjusted quickly and began helping her coworkers right away.

But now she was trying out a new position: promotional sales.

Before coming, she had talked herself into it for a long time. If it weren’t for the constant lifting that left her with severe back pain—so bad she couldn’t sleep and painkillers barely worked—she wouldn’t have taken this job.

As a child, she’d disliked promotional staff in supermarkets who always approached her and her family, pitching products non-stop. She used to wonder how they could talk so much. And now? Fate had played its joke. She had become one of them.

But now that she was here, she had to accept it.

Zhou Nianzhi didn’t have time to sigh or complain. To her, finding a part-time job with manageable hours and a mild-tempered boss was already a stroke of luck.

The only problem was that her coworker was too enthusiastic.

A middle-aged woman known as “Liu-jie” (Sister Liu), nicknamed “The Loudspeaker,” didn’t seem that loud at first—until she approached Zhou Nianzhi and proved the nickname entirely deserved.

While arranging goods, Liu-jie looked at the newcomer and said loudly, “Oh! A college student working here!”

Startled, Zhou Nianzhi froze, the phrase echoing in her head. She turned to look at Liu-jie, confirming that she didn’t have a megaphone on her.

Blushing slightly, she gave a shy smile and nodded, replying gently, “Yes, I…”

Before she could finish, Liu-jie cut in, “You’re such a hardworking girl. What’s your main job?”

Zhou Nianzhi’s smile stiffened. She hesitated—should she make something up and sound impressive? Or just admit the truth—she didn’t have a steady job.

Thankfully, a customer walked in, giving her an out. She pointed toward her display and changed the subject. “Jie, I’ll go work on this first.”

Liu-jie waved her off. “Go do your best!”

Zhou Nianzhi quietly wiped the sweat off her brow. Finally, that conversation’s over.

She straightened her hair, picked up the product she was promoting, swallowed nervously, and got to work.

“Handsome, take a look at this…”

“Miss, check this one out…”

With countless greetings like “handsome,” “miss,” “little sister,” “uncle,” “auntie,” Zhou Nianzhi worked through her four-hour shift and finally collected her day’s wage.

She didn’t even have time to worry about her aching legs or the returning pain in her back. Instead, she walked under the moonlight, following the soft yellow glow of the streetlights toward the hospital.

She had chosen this supermarket job because it was close to the hospital, which saved on travel expenses.

By the time she left the hospital, it was already 11:30 p.m. With no buses running and taxis too expensive, Zhou Nianzhi sat on a planter by the hospital gates, rubbing her legs until she could finally stand and begin the long walk home.

She looked up at the brilliant stars.

Then lowered her gaze to the long shadow cast behind her by the streetlights.

She walked forward slowly—each step difficult, each one deliberate.

The late-May wind carried a chill. Dressed too lightly, she shivered when the breeze brushed against her skin.

There were few people on the road; it was quiet.

She could only hear the rustling of wind through the leaves and occasional strange noises from somewhere unseen. Zhou Nianzhi kept her eyes forward, summoning all her courage to keep from imagining things.

Fortunately, the road home was well-lit, and she made it safely.

When she closed the door behind her, she finally exhaled in relief.

She switched on the light. In the brightly lit room, she leaned back against the door, her legs giving out, sliding down slowly as if she’d lost all strength—until she sat on the floor.

The floor was icy, like falling into cold water.

Maybe it’d be better to fall into a river, she thought. At least then, no one would know.

Zhou Nianzhi stared blankly, curling herself into a ball. Hugging her knees, she couldn’t feel any warmth.

But then she shook her head.

Forget it. I don’t want to die.

She stood up, brushed off her clothes, and went to shower.

Warm water washed over her, taking some of the day’s exhaustion with it. Feeling slightly better, she took a painkiller, climbed into bed, and scrolled through some videos to unwind.

She opened the app.

First video: “A horror movie worth watching! High intensity from start to finish! It’s about someone encountering something terrifying in the dark…”

Zhou Nianzhi checked the time. Almost 1 a.m. Figures they’d push this kind of content now.

She scrolled again.

Second video: “A girl named Xiaomei… Something strange is happening in her village. Every night—”

Zhou Nianzhi: …Huh?

Two horror videos in a row? No way the third one would be the same.

She scrolled once more.

Third video: “Girls, never walk alone at night! I’m serious! Don’t scroll away! Something really weird happened these past few days. My friend saw a ghost one night—”

Zhou Nianzhi: “???”

Three videos. If this were a match-three game, they’d be eliminated by now.

She closed the app, rubbed her temples, and muttered in frustration. What the heck is my phone trying to feed me at this hour?

Do I really look like someone with nerves of steel?

Turning off the lights, she lay in bed and remembered how, in high school, she once told a scary story just to tease Song Yuli, then ended up scaring herself so badly she couldn’t sleep. She even called Song Yuli for comfort.

Later, whenever Song Yuli brought it up, Zhou Nianzhi would laugh for ages, wiping away tears as she said, “I’m totally brave now.”

Liar.

The bravest thing I ever did was suggest we break up.

She didn’t keep reminiscing. She wasn’t a high schooler who only had to worry about studying anymore. Now, she was exhausted. No matter how scared she felt, she could still sleep.

So, see, Song Yuli?
I don’t need you to soothe me to sleep anymore.

…

In the days that followed, Zhou Nianzhi kept working the evening shift. She endured Liu-jie’s interrogations and the chaotic peak hours when the crowd poured in.

She had to actively approach customers with enthusiasm, shamelessly promoting products. Even if she was ignored, she had to smile and move on quickly to the next.

She also had to respond to every question politely, remain patient at all times, and wear that practiced, professional smile.

When she met cold or indifferent people, she didn’t get upset. Instead, she was reminded of how, in the beginning, she had approached Song Yuli—warm, eager—and gotten no response.

Even so, she had persisted. Everyone said Song Yuli was an ice queen, impossible to melt.

But even ice melts under warmth and light.

So, even after all these years apart, Zhou Nianzhi still treated everyone with patience.

Everyone—except Song Yuli.

Now that the crowd in the supermarket had thinned out, Zhou Nianzhi finally relaxed and let her smile fade, sighing softly to herself.

“College girl, do you always walk home alone at night?” Liu-jie’s voice boomed suddenly, nearly scaring her out of her skin.

Startled, Zhou Nianzhi turned around, following the sound to its source.

Liu-jie handed her a tissue. “You’re sweating—didn’t even notice, did you?”

She took it, realizing that with all the customers earlier and the stuffy heat, she hadn’t even noticed the sweat on her forehead.

Smiling, she wiped her face and thought Liu-jie, loud as she was, had a kind heart. She thanked her and tried to build some rapport. “Jie, just call me Nianzhi. And why did you ask if I walk home alone?”

She instantly regretted asking.

“Oh, Nianzhi,” Liu-jie leaned in, wide-eyed, “take it from me—don’t walk home alone at night! My daughter’s friend’s aunt’s cousin saw something… not clean! I’ve noticed you always walk home alone. You’ve got to be careful!”

Liu-jie’s animated, dramatic delivery made it sound like she was reciting a campfire ghost story.

Zhou Nianzhi ignored the mispronunciation of her name in dialect and instead latched onto the phrase “not clean.”

She pursed her lips, forcing down the urge to say, “Jie, have you been watching too many short videos?”

Still, out of courtesy, she nodded and agreed. “Okay.”

But where was she going to find someone to walk her home?

She couldn’t just stop a stranger and say, “Hey, I’m scared. Walk me home. I won’t pay you.”

That’d make her sound crazy.

So, as always, she still had to walk to the hospital alone late at night, and then walk home by herself again.

Every time she walked home was a struggle. All she could do was keep telling herself: There are streetlights. Don’t be afraid.

But tonight, the sky was overcast. No moon, no stars. When she reached the intersection near her apartment, she found the streetlight was out.

Darkness slowly engulfed her.

She walked down the pitch-black road, everything around her completely silent.

Zhou Nianzhi pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight. The faint beam barely lit the path ahead, so she walked slowly, step by cautious step.

One step at a time, reassuring herself with each one.

Don’t be afraid. No ghosts. No criminals. Just walk.

Suddenly, she heard soft footsteps behind her. Light, but in this silence, they were amplified—synchronizing with the pounding of her heart.

The footsteps got closer.

She stopped. The steps behind her stopped, too.

In just a few seconds, a dozen horror movie scenarios flashed through her mind.

Swallowing hard, she brought her phone up, pretending to make a call to a family member. But her hand was shaking so much she accidentally turned off the flashlight.

Back to total darkness.

The footsteps started again.

“Zhou Nianzhi.”

“D-Don’t come any closer—I…” Zhou Nianzhi jumped in fright, hunched her shoulders, looked down, hands clammy with sweat. She didn’t even hear what the other person said—she was already blurting out nonsense in panic.

The person stepped closer, sighed lightly, and spoke with gentle helplessness:

“Zhou Nianzhi, you’re still just as timid.”