After Breaking the Ice-Beauty's Heart - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: That Familiar Back Figure Seen in the Past, in Dreams, and in Memories

A few days later, Zhou Nianzhi returned home, her arms full of packages, looking expectant and excited. She opened them one by one.

She carefully examined the hair clips, accessories, and trinkets she planned to sell. Once satisfied with their quality, she fanned herself with her left hand while searching on her phone with her right, finally settling on a location with good foot traffic for setting up a stall.

Though cold treats sold better in summer, she figured accessories were easier to store and didn’t waver in her choice.

Zhou Nianzhi unfolded her table and thoughtfully arranged the items. She wrote the prices on a sheet of paper, dug out some colored pens, and added cute little doodles beside each item.

When she finished, she admired her work for a long time and nodded in satisfaction, murmuring, “My drawing skills really have improved.”

Once she made up her mind, she glanced at the time—perfect. Rolling up her sleeves, she decided to set up her stall for two hours before rushing to her supermarket job. Her schedule was packed.

As she carried the table forward, Zhou Nianzhi dreamed of making lots and lots of money. Not that she needed a fortune—just enough to cover Sheng Ning’s medical expenses would be more than enough.

On the way there, countless thoughts swirled in her mind.

What if I get overwhelmed?

What if I sell out but there are still customers?

What if someone buys out the entire stall—table and all?

But Zhou Nianzhi soon realized she was overthinking.

Sitting behind her neatly arranged stall, wiping the sweat from her brow, she saw another stall across from her, selling similar items and drawing a good crowd. She looked down at her own full table—nothing sold yet. Not one item.

Though she was patient and understood that business required waiting, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment on her first day.

“This one is really cute.”

Suddenly, a crisp girl’s voice came from above her.

Zhou Nianzhi looked up and saw a high school girl in uniform, eyes locked on the hair clips and accessories.

Her heart skipped—her first customer!

Probably thanks to the clearly marked prices, the girl didn’t ask much. She picked out two favorite clips and a small trinket, paid happily, and walked away.

Zhou Nianzhi watched her hook the plush keychain onto her backpack’s zipper. The tiny stuffed figure bounced left and right as the girl walked, hopping joyfully into Zhou Nianzhi’s heart and bringing with it a rush of long-buried happy memories.

Back in high school, Zhou Nianzhi loved flashy little things—her head was always adorned with colorful clips, and even a plain black backpack was decorated with a rotating selection of trinkets.

Back then, Song Yuli always had a few strands of hair that wouldn’t stay tied up, constantly falling and needing to be tucked behind her ear. Zhou Nianzhi would generously take a clip from her own hair and hand it to Song Yuli.

Song Yuli, ever steady and cool, always declined.

At first, Zhou Nianzhi accepted that, but eventually, unable to bear seeing Song Yuli struggle, she clipped it onto her herself.

That bold move led to Song Yuli giving her the cold shoulder for a long while. Zhou Nianzhi later reflected that maybe she’d been too impulsive and rude. She never asked for the clip back. Much later, Song Yuli finally admitted the truth—

She’d been too shy.

So shy that she didn’t dare face Zhou Nianzhi for days.

Zhou Nianzhi almost burst out laughing at the memory, her lips curling upward unconsciously. She recalled how everyone used to chase after Song Yuli because of her stunning looks, only to be turned down coldly—every single one of them. She earned the nickname “Iceberg.”

But who would’ve thought that the same icy Song Yuli, rumored to like no one, had been flustered for days just because of a single hair clip from her?

When Zhou Nianzhi learned the truth, she couldn’t stop smiling and managed to squeeze out a sentence mid-laugh: “So that’s the real you, Song Yuli!”

“Yes,” Song Yuli had said at the time, stepping closer, smiling with curved eyes, whispering softly near Zhou Nianzhi’s ear, “Do you like it…”

“I like this one,” another customer’s voice cut in, snapping Zhou Nianzhi back from her memories.

Quickly regaining focus, she followed the direction the customer pointed, found the clip, and handed it over.

Another sale made.

Zhou Nianzhi thanked the customer, then unintentionally caught sight of a very familiar silhouette.

Too familiar.

It was the figure she’d seen in her past, in her dreams, in her memories.

At first, Zhou Nianzhi felt a wave of joy—she’d just been thinking about her, and now here she was. But the moment she saw another woman walking beside Song Yuli, all that joy vanished.

There was a loud “bang” in her head, everything went blank. It was like being scolded or slapped—there was a dull, aching pain.

Only when new customers arrived could Zhou Nianzhi barely pull herself together, forcing a smile as she handed over items and took payment. She suddenly felt relieved that she was only selling accessories—Song Yuli had once said she didn’t even like this kind of flashy stuff. What she liked was Zhou Nianzhi wearing them.

No, no, wait. They had already broken up.

Song Yuli didn’t like Zhou Nianzhi anymore.

She didn’t even have the right to be sad or question anything. All she could do was sit behind her little table and silently pray: Please, don’t come over. Don’t see me like this. Don’t see me struggling to make ends meet at a street stall.

But Zhou Nianzhi guessed wrong.

When she saw the two women walking directly toward her, her heart nearly collapsed.

No, no, no!

For the first time—and probably the only time—Zhou Nianzhi desperately hoped they’d go to the next stall instead. The same products were there too, right?

Don’t see me, don’t see me!

She buried her head as low as possible, pretending to play on her phone, trying to look like an irresponsible seller. Maybe they’d think, “Wow, this girl’s not even trying to sell. Let’s go to the next one.” She was willing to sacrifice some pride if it meant avoiding this moment.

No sound…

In gaming, when you suddenly can’t hear footsteps, it usually means—

Yep. They were right in front of her.

If this were a shooter game, Zhou Nianzhi would now be a green-smoked loot box.

And the enemy—no, the woman next to Song Yuli—pointed to a hair clip on the table and asked, “What do you think of this one?”

At that moment, Zhou Nianzhi felt like the woman was the victor, striding up confidently to loot her box, picking through her things with ease, probably judging her gear and outfit too.

Zhou Nianzhi imagined a thousand different reactions—waving them off, closing the stall dramatically, turning and walking away coolly to leave Song Yuli in regret. But she couldn’t do any of them. That just wasn’t who she was.

“Do you like it?”

Maybe because she had just been remembering this line, Zhou Nianzhi blurted it out without thinking.

Right after saying it, she wanted to disappear into the ground.

Song Yuli didn’t answer.

But the woman beside her did. She nodded and said, “It’s nice. Let’s buy it.”

Zhou Nianzhi didn’t dare look at Song Yuli. She muttered the price, and the woman paid without hesitation. But when Zhou Nianzhi saw the hand extending the money, her own arm felt heavy, as if it couldn’t lift itself to take it.

“Zhou Nianzhi.” Song Yuli finally spoke—for the first time since walking up.

“Ah?” Zhou Nianzhi responded, startled. She quickly took the money, sat back down awkwardly, head lowered, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes.

But Song Yuli didn’t look away. Even when they left to visit other stalls, her gaze kept drifting back to Zhou Nianzhi.

“You know her?” Meng Jiayin, following Song Yuli’s line of sight, spotted a slim girl in a faded black T-shirt, ponytail tied, sitting on a small stool, looking up at passersby with hopeful eyes.

The same girl from the hair clip stall. The same girl whose name Song Yuli had said.

Song Yuli nodded.

“Want to go talk to her?” Meng Jiayin asked, “You don’t have to stay with me.”

After a pause, Song Yuli replied, “No, Jiayin-jie. I’ll keep walking with you.”

Meng Jiayin chuckled and turned to look at another vendor. After a few steps, she added, “You’re afraid I won’t give you the opportunity?”

“Yes.”

Song Yuli’s honesty was clear. Everything she did today was out of the ordinary for her.

“You’re the most diligent worker I’ve ever seen,” Meng Jiayin said as she eyed some desserts, gulping down her craving. She changed the subject to distract herself, “You’re not that strapped for cash, are you? I heard you even bought a car.”

Song Yuli didn’t like talking about personal matters, but this time she obliged. “I saved during college. My family helped a bit too.”

“Ohhh.” Meng Jiayin gave a lazy response, already distracted by the smell of fried skewers. She walked over, drooled slightly, then held herself back, pinching her waist. “If I were as slim as that accessory girl, I’d be fine.”

A tremor passed through Song Yuli’s chest. She bit her lip gently, but said nothing.

Trying to keep the conversation going, Meng Jiayin asked, “So I heard you worked three jobs during university. That true?”

“Mhm,” Song Yuli answered. Then realizing it was a bit curt, she added, “It’s true.”

Meng Jiayin was starting to feel tired and yawned. “You’re so capable. I guess I’ll give you a chance to do some overtime.”

Mission accomplished, Song Yuli nodded hard. “Okay!”

“Ah—why’s it raining?”

“It’s raining! Close up your stalls!”

“Ugh, this weather…”

The street buzzed with commotion. Song Yuli stretched out her hand and caught a raindrop.

Suddenly, she remembered Zhou Nianzhi—her body tensed in panic.

“Go help your friend,” Meng Jiayin said knowingly, waving her off.

Watching Song Yuli run off in a hurry, Meng Jiayin narrowed her eyes and smiled. They said the cold, reserved Song Yuli wouldn’t bend for anyone, but here she was, begging for extra work to earn more money—and still willing to abandon that opportunity for a friend.

People, huh.

Meng Jiayin didn’t dwell on it. She stopped lingering, raised her hand to shield herself from the rain, and walked off in the other direction.