Afterward, she lingered for a long time – was it a month? Or two? Tang Man wasn’t sure. Her days passed ordinarily, going to the beach or accompanying Bai Huijing and his group to gem markets for procurement. Occasionally, she would join them on out-of-town trips to mine areas or pickups, which usually only happened when there was a major haul, as gem traders seldom traveled far otherwise.

During this period, Bai Huijing had established quite a reputation. Locals assumed he was a wealthy gem trader, although he could be extremely ruthless in negotiations. Tang Man had witnessed his dealings and found it jarring to reconcile that persona with his handsome, slightly tanned face from the Sri Lankan sun.

It was a month later when she encountered someone from China again. Checking her phone, she realized Yang Qing’s due date was approaching. No matter how estranged from her mother, this was an occasion that warranted a trip back. Besides, she had already been abroad for nearly half a year.

So, in the week before her departure, Tang Man visited a beachside bar in Colombo that she frequented, located near her hotel. She would often come and sit there since few bars served wormwood liquor, especially in such a remote place as Sri Lanka.

The bar was run by locals in a casual yet lively manner with distinct decor. Sitting at the wooden counter, one could gaze out at the distant sea. Nothing was more soothing than sipping wormwood liquor here during sunset and admiring the ocean view.

However, such indulgences were easily disrupted, perhaps due to her unique appearance.

Although Chinese visitors were common, with gem traders frequently coming for procurement, and Tang Man had spotted a European owner a few times who was quite generous, to the locals, foreigners were merely fat sheep ripe for fleecing. Tang Man’s looks still tended to attract curiosity, and foreigners were adept at conversation and approaching strangers, so such encounters happened daily.

Today, as soon as she entered and the wind chimes rang, she was about to head to her usual spot but noticed someone was already seated there.

A typical Asian appearance – short black hair with an attractive nape, dressed in a black shirt and pants with the sleeves rolled up halfway due to the heat, lounging lazily yet freely at the counter, one hand holding a glass filled with wormwood liquor as he chatted with the owner.

Some people exuded an undeniable charm even from behind.

Tang Man blinked before approaching. Although Asian faces were frequent, she hadn’t actually encountered many Chinese people.

“Tang,” the owner greeted her warmly as she neared.

The man turned his head slightly.

Tang Man felt a sense of familiarity. She took a seat beside him and ordered a glass of wormwood liquor, the familiar green hue catching her eye. Suddenly, she made the connection, turning to meet his gaze as realization dawned. “Chen Changyou?”

However, rather than their encounter at Chunhu, Tang Man recalled an even earlier memory. The first time she had seen Chen Changyou wasn’t at Chunhu but at the school anniversary, catching a glimpse of him playing “Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence” on the piano backstage at the auditorium.

Initially, she had mistaken him for Chen Changke due to their similar features. Now she wondered how she could have been so blind to the stark differences between the two brothers back then.

Chen Changyou recognized her too, albeit hesitantly. “Tang Man?”

“What a coincidence,” Tang Man smiled, accepting the wormwood liquor from the owner. She swirled the green liquid in the glass. “Does Mr. Chen also enjoy wormwood liquor?”

“It’s alright.” Chen Changyou didn’t often drink alcohol. This was just a casual order, purely because of the vibrant color that caught his eye. However, after tasting it, he found it quite pleasant, lacking the austerity of Swiss wormwood liquor and instead carrying a refreshing note.

Tang Man smiled. “I really like this liquor.” She adored the lush green hue and bitter taste of wormwood, reminiscent of life’s inherent bitterness.

Of course, she also enjoyed juniper berry wine, which was evidently smoother and mellower than wormwood.

To toast her last glass of wormwood liquor, Tang Man took out her phone, framing the sunset-tinged drink against the backdrop of the exceptionally charming ocean at dusk. As someone who seldom posted on social media, she couldn’t help but feel a headache as she recalled the chaotic situation back home.

So, to commemorate her final leisurely indulgence, she opened her phone and shared the photo on her social media feed, inadvertently capturing the unmistakable sight of a man’s hand in the corner – the distinct, slender fingers casually draped over the wooden counter. In the dim lighting, the bone structure undoubtedly belonged to a man.

At that moment, Tang Man remained unaware that this social media post had stirred up a hornet’s nest and would soon usher in another turbulent storm, for the distance from China to Bandaranaike International Airport was not so far after all.

Perhaps there was a natural intimacy in encountering an acquaintance in a foreign land. The two chatted over their drinks, and Tang Man learned that Chen Changyou was on a business trip, scheduled to return after about a week – in fact, this was his last day, which was why he had come to unwind at this bar on a hotel guest’s recommendation.

Their conversation stretched late into the night. After adding Chen Changyou on WeChat and returning to her hotel for a quick shower, Tang Man felt too lethargic to move, slightly tipsy and hovering between wakefulness and slumber in a pleasant state that caused her to naturally ignore her vibrating phone.

The next morning, she awoke to a deluge of messages on her old phone, not the newly purchased one – from Si Jiahe, Yang Qing, the elder Tang, and even Bel Yar, a barrage of inquiries. Tang Man opened Bel Yar’s message and felt bewildered by the content: mentions of getting into a new relationship, a one-night stand at a bar, drunken antics, and a new boyfriend.

What was all this nonsense?

She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering if she had truly overindulged the previous night and committed an unforgivable mistake in her inebriated state.

For a moment, Tang Man recalled Du Henian’s words – drinking outside really was an unwise habit. But this regret was as fleeting as a momentary firework, vanishing in an instant.

From Bel Yar’s vague remarks, Tang Man sensed a clue. Opening her social media feed, she found an influx of comments below and zoomed in on the image, indeed spotting the inconspicuous sight of a man’s hand in the corner.

What an utterly disastrous morning.

Tang Man realized that Chen Changyou, whom she had just added on WeChat, must have also seen this post. And Chen Changke had undoubtedly seen it too – the only question was whether he could recognize his brother’s hand. Tang Man found it difficult since she couldn’t even identify the elder Tang’s hands.

The photo had been posted the previous evening, nearly a day ago, long past the critical period for information dissemination. So Tang Man decided to feign ignorance.

She emerged from her room, stepped onto the balcony, and stretched leisurely, determined to put the photo mishap out of her mind. Not far below, she could see some Sri Lankan youths playing basketball on a court, their shouts resounding while scattered individuals basked under beach umbrellas, enjoying the sun. It was a pleasant day – Sri Lanka’s winter could still be considered warm, given its tropical climate.

After having a local lunch downstairs, Tang Man decided to take an afternoon nap, planning to go for a stroll on the beach once the sun had descended a bit. There weren’t many places in China where one could witness such scenic beauty.

Upon waking, she called Bai Huijing to let him know she planned to go out for a walk in the evening and to find her at the beach if needed.

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As dusk fell and the lights came on, more young couples appeared, though daylight still lingered, just less dazzling.

Tang Man strolled leisurely along the shoreline. Even during the day, people fished here, leaving small fish stranded on the beach to dry out under the scorching sun, now reduced to salted snacks. Most had been carried away by seagulls, leaving behind putrid half-bodies.

After completing a circuit, she was about to head back when a sharp pain shot through her foot, causing her to stop. Looking down, she discovered a large gash on the edge of her foot where a shard of glass had sliced through her sandal.

Fresh blood rapidly seeped from the wound.

Wincing in pain and unable to put weight on her foot, Tang Man crouched down, furrowing her brow at the sight of the bleeding gash. She remained motionless for a long while, lost in thought, before reaching for her phone to call Bai Huijing for help. But then, she seemed to hear a familiar voice.

The first time, she dismissed it as her imagination until it sounded again. Turning her head, she spotted a familiar figure not far away on the beach.

The young man wore a bright smile, his youthful countenance radiant in the setting sun’s glow. His slender frame cast a silhouette against the shade as he called out again.

“Senior Sister.”

The evening glow adorned the sky, extending to the distant sea, while the coconut trees in the distance appeared diminished.

He had journeyed alone from China to this small island nation across the Indian Ocean, traversing vast oceans and continents, spanning millions of miles.

In that fleeting moment, Pei Ling’s presence filled Tang Man’s vision.

For now, she merely called it a fleeting infatuation.