It’s About You (GL High H) - Chapter 1

The neon sign had just lit up against the gradually darkening sky, flowing with a lazy, somewhat ambiguous dark purple glow.

The shop was very quiet; it was not yet time for the bustle. The air carried the scent of lemon cleaner and the hazy fragrance that belonged to the night.

Yet Wanqi Lang could not settle down.

She leaned obliquely against the high stool on the inner side of the bar counter, having just mixed herself a glass of gin and tonic with ice; the refreshing lime should have relaxed her.

She shook the glass absentmindedly, the ice cubes clinking crisply against the walls, while her fingers unconsciously twisted a lock of curly hair that fell across her chest; she always felt as if something was about to happen.

She took an irritable sip of the drink, the cool liquid sliding down her throat, then she raised her eyes and habitually scanned the large floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Outside the window was the flow of people at the end of the workday.

A familiar figure was passing by the window, and her gaze suddenly fixed in place.

It was a woman dressed with extreme refinement, in an impeccably tailored beige trench coat, camel-colored wide-leg pants that made her legs appear straight and slender; she was clearly an elite professional just emerging from a nearby high-end office building.

Her demeanor was cold and aloof, carrying a sense of distance.

Chen Zui.

Wanqi Lang’s heart skipped a beat, and she immediately slid down from the high stool; by the time she realized what she was doing, she had already crouched awkwardly behind the bar counter.

The movement was too hasty; her knee knocked against the cabinet door, producing a dull thud that made her draw in a sharp breath from the pain. She curled herself into a tiny ball, her back pressed tightly against the freezer, even holding her breath.

Don’t see me; absolutely don’t look inside.

She crouched there praying, her ears perked up high, catching the sounds from outside the window. The click of high heels on the pavement drew nearer from afar, seeming to pause slightly at the entrance to her shop.

Would Chen Zui recognize this shop’s name?

“Boss Lang’s Bar”—blunt to the point of absurdity.

The naming back then, carried out with a touch of defiance and a declaration of independence, now felt like a massive target, leaving her nowhere to hide.

That bit of humiliating past came back to her again.

Time passed so slowly; finally, the footsteps sounded once more, unhurried, walking away into the distance.

Wanqi Lang’s taut nerves relaxed, and she let out a long breath, only then feeling the dull ache where her knee had struck.

She supported herself on the cold edge of the bar counter and slowly stood up.

Perhaps from squatting too fiercely and too quickly, combined with the intense emotional fluctuation, a wave of dizziness suddenly assaulted her. Her vision was like an old television losing signal, filled with a dense flurry of snowflakes, followed by a blanket of blackness.

“Fvck, it’s gone black.”

She cursed inwardly, gripping the edge of the bar counter tightly, taking deep breaths.

She did not know how long it lasted—perhaps only a few seconds, but to Wanqi Lang, it felt like a century.

The darkness before her eyes receded like the tide, first revealing blurred spots of light, then the outline of the bar’s overhead lamp gradually sharpening.

Wanqi Lang still braced herself against the bar counter, head lowered, fine beads of cold sweat beading at her temples, her heart lingering with residual fear.

Chen Zui had just concluded yet another lengthy meeting; she got off work early today and deliberately took a street she rarely walked, strolling aimlessly.

The hem of her trench coat swayed gently with her steps. Her gaze swept over the shops along the street, when a neon sign jumped into view.

This name made her steps halt.

Lang? The familiar syllable rolled over her tongue, and she furrowed her brow slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing through her mind; this shop name was quite distinctive.

She instinctively turned her head, peering through the spotlessly clean window into the shop. The atmosphere seemed pleasant, but it was empty, with no customers, nor did she see any staff or the owner. Only the bar counter gleamed under the overhead light.

She looked for just two or three seconds, saw no one, and a sense of disappointment welled up.

“Boss Lang…” She repeated the title meaninglessly in her heart; it was just an ordinary shop name.

Chen Zui withdrew her gaze, adjusted the collar of her trench coat, and continued walking forward along the sidewalk without lingering.

…

These past couple of days, Wanqi Lang was like a firecracker, igniting at the slightest touch. The cause was her pair of “unscrupulous” parents.

Just a few days ago, they had been complaining that the old couple lacked passion, yet in a flash, they booked plane tickets and a hotel without a word, calling it “reliving the honeymoon” and thoroughly abandoning her, the third wheel, at home.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew; Wanqi Lang scrubbed vigorously at a whiskey glass.

“Tsk, that’s just too much!” she muttered under her breath, slamming the polished glass back onto the rack with a heavy clink. She glanced around; the servers were busily at work in an orderly manner, none of them daring to provoke her lately.

This kind of solitary brooding emptiness only made her more frantic.

She pulled out her phone, unlocked the screen, and jabbed forcefully at “Weiwei Jiang.”

The call connected quickly.

“What’s up?” Shen Zhiwei’s clear, cool voice came through the receiver, with background noise so quiet it was unnatural; she was probably still in the office.

“Weiwei~ My parents actually snuck off to celebrate some thirtieth anniversary, leaving me here all alone! No matter what you’re doing, come over right now; I want to drink, keep me company drinking—you have to come!”

Wanqi Lang’s words tumbled out like a barrage, without a shred of reason.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, probably checking her schedule, then she replied concisely with a single “Okay,” and before Wanqi Lang could launch into more, the call ended.

Wanqi Lang blinked at the screen, but the corners of her mouth curved up slightly. Knowing Shen Zhiwei would come eased that pent-up frustration a bit.

While she waited for Shen Zhiwei during this time, the wind chimes at the bar’s entrance rang out crisply.

Wanqi Lang looked up idly, and in came two young women; her gaze swept over them—these two girls she recognized; they were Jiang Nian and Zhou Yang, who used to come often, but probably stopped after graduating.

The server guided them to a booth not too far from the bar counter, and soon a guy joined them.

Wanqi Lang raised an eyebrow, thinking she had not seen him before; he was a new face. While she idly fiddled with the cocktail shaker, she kept an eye on that side with her peripheral vision.

That stranger’s gaze had been glued to Jiang Nian from the start. He leaned forward, his smile bright to the point of seeming contrived.

“Tsk, the drink is not the point here,” Wanqi Lang sneered inwardly; scenes like this were all too common in a bar. She was about to look away when the bar door was pushed open again.

A cool aura instantly swept in like a chill current, tempering the bar’s mildly intoxicating warmth. Shen Zhiwei had arrived.

She had probably come straight from the office, dressed in a sharply tailored deep gray suit, her long hair neatly pinned behind her ear, revealing a smooth forehead and aloof brows and eyes. Even under the dim lighting, she exuded an aura of “keep your distance” that clashed with the bar’s vibe, yet oddly drew the eye.

Wanqi Lang’s eyes lit up immediately, as if spotting a savior; she waved vigorously at Shen Zhiwei, her face breaking into a brilliant smile, the earlier irritation vanishing.

Shen Zhiwei spotted Wanqi Lang behind the bar counter and nodded, but her steps carried her briskly through the crowd to sit on a high stool at the bar.

“I knew you were the most reliable,” Wanqi Lang said with a grin, deftly picking up a crystal glass, filling it with clear purified water, adding two slices of fresh thin lemon, and sliding it over to Shen Zhiwei. This was Shen Zhiwei’s habit; when she came here to talk business or unwind, her first drink was always this.