The Stolen Lover

Untitled Episode 7

The dinner spot was called "Fragrant Pine," specializing in wine and French cuisine. A towering pine tree stood in the courtyard outside the entrance. The sign was modest, softly illuminated by warm light that draped over it like a gauze skirt, hinting at countless romantic scenes beyond the wooden door. The owner was an old friend of Nan Ge's, a few years his senior. He loved wine, travel, writing, and making friends—especially girlfriends. Nicknamed Lao Pi, Nan Ge called him Lao Pi Lao. His restaurant had always catered to a niche crowd. Nan Ge joked to everyone he met that while others opened shops to make money, Lao Pi opened his to spend it.

The waiter greeted Brother Nan and immediately gestured toward a large private room. Upon entering, Brother Nan saw Feifei had already arrived. One of the other three was Nan Ge's buddy, Zhang Ming, a host from the city TV station. They exchanged greetings. The other pair looked unfamiliar, but Nan Ge nodded politely. Seeing Fei Fei seated at the head of the table with the main seat in the middle empty, Nan Ge headed straight over to sit beside her. Settling in, he grinned and asked, "What's the deal today? Seeking divine guidance or robbing the place? Why all the fuss?"

Zhang Ming quickly interjected, "Brother Nan, you've slimmed down! Looks like your running routine is paying off. How long does a lap take you now? Do you run daily or every few days?"

Zhang Ming's diversion immediately got Brother Nan's attention. He got the hint right away—no doubt about it, these two guys next to him were the hosts. Better not make a scene.

Brother Nan smoothly shifted the conversation to running and exercise. Before he could finish three sentences, the private room door swung open. Zhang Ming’s boss, Mr. Li, arrived, smiling apologetically as he entered. "Sorry I’m late, everyone. My apologies— A minor issue at the station held me up, and traffic was especially bad today. Sorry to keep you waiting." As he spoke, Zhang Ming and the other two hurriedly stood up. Zhang Ming walked over to usher Mr. Li to a seat, while Feifei also rose to greet him. Brother Nan sat there lighting his cigarette, exhaling before turning his head to glance at Mr. Li and remark, " Rain follows the dragon, wind follows the tiger. With Mr. Li descending to earth today, I'd better head out early. Otherwise, with the storm brewing, it'll be tough to hail a cab."

Mr. Li playfully feigned anger, slapping Brother Nan's shoulder twice. "You're the only one who dares tease me like this! When have I ever failed to show up when you called? That time two years ago at the dinner party when I left early—you've been holding that against me ever since! What more do you want?"

Everyone chuckled as they sat down. Zhang Ming instructed the waitstaff to serve the dishes. "Now that we're all here, let me introduce everyone. This is Mr. Li, our station director. This is Mr. Zhou, the big boss of Qihua Beauty Group—Nanjing's largest chain of beauty salons. This lovely lady is Ms. Zheng from Mr. Zhou's company. This is Brother Nan, a renowned Nanjing musician and owner of the city's most culturally rich music bar. Many stars performing in Nanjing love to drink at his place. This is Feifei, our sister station's famous host who does the midday show. She's also, um, a good friend of Brother Nan's. One more person couldn't make it last minute—just told me he'll be a bit late. That's Mr. Liu from New Land. Mr. Liu and Brother Nan have been close buddies for years too..."

Zhang Ming chattered on as the guests exchanged pleasantries. Brother Nan grasped the gist almost immediately. No doubt about it—Zhang Ming had orchestrated this gathering to secure gigs for Mr. Li and Mr. Liu.

Though Brother Nan handled such gatherings with ease, he didn't particularly enjoy them. But since all his friends were present, he just went along with the small talk. Soon, Mr. Liu arrived, and the table began to clink glasses. The more they drank, the closer they felt like family.

When it seemed everyone was ready to get down to business, Brother Nan stood up. "Everyone, keep drinking! This place is great. I'll take Feifei around to snap a few photos. These days, a beauty needs evidence wherever she commits a crime. Otherwise, it feels like attempted crime, like she's some kind of thief!"

Zhang Ming got the hint immediately. He shouted for them to hurry up and let him drink while they were gone, then let the two of them leave.

The night air in this park wasn't exactly lonely, though it was a bit secluded. Once the sun set, people vanished. Feifei strolled arm-in-arm with Nan along the gravel path by the entrance. A month or so earlier, you could still see vast swarms of fireflies, like nighttime walking sticks guiding lovers far into the darkness.

Nan held his cigarette, puffing as he walked. When smoking while moving, he always kept the ember facing his palm to avoid burning passersby.

Seeing Nan seemed preoccupied, Feifei teased, "What's up, Mr. Romantic? Feeling put out by today's setup?"

"Not at all. How could I feel wronged by a setup arranged by you and Zhang Ming? Their business is easy to handle. Old Liu will understand the situation just by seeing me here. No need for explanations. Don't worry."

"Then why's your face all twisted like you're about to get hitched to your cousin? Every arm sticking out of there's thicker than your waist. I know you hate these setups, and you don't have to suck up to anyone. Just have a few drinks to get acquainted—no harm in that. Look at Old Li, he's getting along fine with you now, isn't he?"

"Honestly, sis, I'm not complaining. My head's been spinning these past two days with all that stuff about my buddy. I'm so overwhelmed I can't even follow their conversations. Getting some fresh air is just what I need. Look at this pitch-black night—if you tried anything now, you could scream your lungs out and no one would hear me."

"Go ahead, try shouting."

"Help! Help!"

Fei Fei punched Nan Ge's shoulder. "Ugh, you're so annoying!"

Nan Ge chuckled. Hearing women say those two words always made him feel satisfied.

"Let's walk ahead and loop back around. We shouldn't keep them waiting too long."

"Yeah, sure thing."

Fei Fei leaned gently against Nan Ge's shoulder, feeling the dim streetlight sway in the wind like a flickering red candle.

When the drinks ran dry and the crowd dispersed, Nan Ge and Fei Fei returned to the bar. They claimed to want a few more drinks, but Fei Fei caught a glimpse of Nan Ge flipping through a girl’s social media feed on his watch. With a pout, she muttered, "You go ahead, I’m leaving," grabbed her bag, and walked out.

Without explanation, Brother Nan replied without looking up, "Take care, Lady Knight. Mind the larch tree on the right turn—don't let its needles fall into your heart and disturb your true energy."

This pair of bickering lovers—to outsiders, they looked like two porcelain dolls molded from the same clay, finally taking human form.

Scrolling through social feeds is like reading someone's resume. To Brother Nan, whether meticulously crafted or casually jotted, every post revealed subtle clues. It wasn't some secret martial art manual, just basic long fist techniques—with a bit of attention, one could naturally discern the patterns.

Counting backwards, between the eighth and seventh years, Xiaoyan posted mostly set photos and occasional seasonal musings. The gap between the seventh and sixth years remains blank. After the fifth year, posts shifted to pre- and post-wedding content with Xiu Cai. Considering the eight-year span, many people weren't actively using WeChat back then—especially for work-related communication, which still relied heavily on QQ. Thus, this timeline appears largely intact. The secret must lie within that content-free year. Though he'd inquired before, approaching it now with a different tone required some groundwork to make the follow-up feel natural.

Nan Ge sipped his whiskey, then sank back into deep thought. The bar's cacophony—songs, voices, clinking glasses—didn't register a single decibel in his ears.

After much agonizing, Brother Nan realized wild speculation alone wouldn't suffice. He needed to piece together her social circle from the limited clues in her social media, find someone familiar with her, and indirectly uncover her experiences during those years. Fortunately, Nanjing's social circles were small. The film industry, media circles, and her alma mater, Nanjing Arts Institute, were all interconnected. Such a stunning beauty was bound to be recognized by someone if he asked around. But this would take time, and he couldn't just sit around waiting. Nan Ge sent another voice message to Scholar, instructing him to comb through the details of Xiaoyan's life: her hobbies, preferences in food, clothing, and possessions, and any noteworthy incidents from her travels. Nan Ge wanted to use these details to test Xiaoyan's mindset, to establish a connection with her. If she still felt moved by her past, then there was still a chance for this relationship. He immediately messaged Feifei: "Check if anyone knows a Li Xiaoyan from the acting department, class of 0506 at Nanjing Arts Institute. Keep it low-key."

Soon after, Xiucai sent back an extremely long message. Nan Ge skimmed through it, then called Xiucai directly, initiating his direct confrontation with Xiaoyan.

"There's a photo of us in the Maldives I've always used as my phone wallpaper. You're leaning on my shoulder, and behind me are footprints imprinted on the sand. It's like a metaphor for how I approached you—carefully, yet sinking deeper with every step. I imagine the tide has long since washed those marks back into the sea, but I still remember how walking to your side used up all my luck. The ferry crossing at Cotton Dike was windy. I held you close and told stories of my mischievous childhood. Truthfully, I regret it now. That day, I should have done as they do in movies—taken off my shoes, rolled up my pants, and picked a few reed flowers. Then you could have held them before your eyes to see the city shrouded in haze. You could have looked at me through them, so that in my reality, you wouldn't lose sight of hope. Perhaps hope looks different to everyone. To me, it was you—our five years together. I abandoned all my ideals and pursuits, afraid to risk even a flicker of uncertainty in this life. Yet to you, hope remained an unsolvable puzzle, no matter how hard I tried. Like when you dragged me to Wuma Ferry by the river to see the snow. We walked through the snow for ages, our shoes soaked through. As I warmed your feet in the car, I asked if this counted as our proposal anniversary. You only said, "I didn't propose," then fell silent. I suppose that's the you I'll never understand. I regret not pressing further, not telling you what was in my heart. Maybe I couldn't understand, but I was willing to try. I never resented being cautious around you. That preserved flower arrangement sat on your desk for ages—I never dared ask if it was a gift from someone who won your heart. Romance isn't something a man like me could ever master. All I grasp are the flavors of fish you love, the scent of fabric softener you prefer, the days you forget your umbrella. Yet these details are too insignificant—combined, they pale beside truly understanding you. Just as now, I still don't grasp what you mean when you say things have changed, or when they shifted. When you speak of a past we can't return to, which memory do you mean? I think this time, at least, I should have pressed you. Otherwise, I'll lose even this final chance to understand you.