Perfect Girlfriends

The Woman Wrapped in Mystery

After the first day’s event, Shen Man and I found a small restaurant for dinner. The late-afternoon sunlight slanted lazily through the window, washing our faces in a warm, faint blush.

I picked at my food absentmindedly, my gaze drifting toward the street outside. My mind kept bouncing between two thoughts: the work ahead of me, and the unanswered riddle left behind by that woman earlier. At this moment, the two questions evenly split my attention, each fighting for dominance.

Gradually, the woman’s mystery gained the upper hand. I stopped eating altogether, staring blankly out the window. If I ever got the chance to see her again, I told myself, I would demand to see her ID card. If I couldn’t verify it, how was I supposed to believe she wasn’t Mo Han? But then again, with her proud temperament, would she even show it to me?

Still, I had this reckless optimism in my bones—an optimism that had always carried me through life’s low points with nothing worse than a narrow escape.

“What are you staring at?” Shen Man asked while chewing.

“A sports car—no, the sunset. Gorgeous, isn’t it?” I clicked my tongue in admiration.

She glanced outside. The sun had just dipped behind the tall building across the street, leaving only the glow of street lamps in its place. People on the sidewalks began hurrying along. In another half hour, this unfamiliar city would be lit with a thousand windows.

“You ran off earlier to chase that girl in the sports car, didn’t you?” Shen Man asked, smiling lightly, her tone frighteningly calm.

I froze. With Shen Man’s sharp instincts, she had surely sensed the half-hidden secret I’d been carrying. After a moment’s thought, I decided to tell her everything that had happened recently—even if it all sounded unbelievable.

……

I described my encounter with Mo Han in vivid detail, while Shen Man sipped her drink and listened with a look of absolute indifference. Only when I reached the part about the sports-car girl sharing Mo Han’s face but possessing an opposite personality did she frown thoughtfully.

“You like her?”

She lit a cigarette, smoke curling upward. Under the warm, dim lighting, the tiny space blurred and softened, taking on a dreamlike haze.

“Do you mean the girl in the car, or Mo Han?”

“Both.”

I lit a cigarette of my own. Smoke rose to mingle with hers, thickening the already hazy air. I exhaled slowly and said, “To be exact… I’m curious. I feel like she has a heavy story behind her. I mean Mo Han.”

Shen Man crushed her half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and let out a small, humorless laugh.

“Zhang Yixi, you’re ridiculous. A hopeless fool.”

She picked up her small handbag and stood as if ready to leave.

“Why? At least give me a reason.”

Her reaction was strange enough that I stood too, blocking her way a little.

She leaned closer, and in her heels, she was nearly my height. I unconsciously angled my body away.

“Curiosity alone is enough to make you abandon your work. If one day you fall in love, won’t you completely lose your mind?”

“I never said I’d fall in love with her.”

Even as I said it, I felt a twinge of guilt.

Shen Man’s face suddenly went expressionless. She dropped eight baffling words on me:

“Self-deception. Live with the consequences.”

Then she walked away, leaving me once again with her proud, untouchable silhouette.

“Senior! You haven’t paid the bill—!”

I hurried after her.

……

Back at the hotel, I lay on the bed and turned the TV volume up to its highest setting. Noise helped me think—or at least gave my thoughts a place to hide. I knew Shen Man wouldn’t help me analyze this. At this point, I had completely forgotten about work.

I pulled out the little note Mo Han had left before she disappeared. The elegant handwriting rose before my eyes, delicate and refined just like she was.

I had to admit it—I missed her.

I missed her serene smile, my scarf and gloves she still had, and I wondered if she was doing well. Was she still drifting from place to place?

Regret crept in. Back when we had been together, I had had so many chances to get her contact information. But I didn’t think I would miss her later; I never imagined she would vanish from my world so completely, so suddenly… leaving behind a trail of troubles I created for myself.

……

During our three days in Yangzhou, I spent my days learning everything I could about the event, and my nights driving Shen Man’s car all around the city. Deep inside, I longed to see that “sports-car girl” again. I believed that if we ever met once more, I’d finally determine whether she was Mo Han.

But disappointment was all I found. I learned every street in Yangzhou like the lines in my palm, yet I never saw the girl again.

On the final evening, the S-curve challenge at Yangzhou Station concluded with astonishing success. Shen Man credited the entire achievement to Wang Jing’s creativity. I scoffed silently. No event succeeded because of one person; anyone with a shred of sense knew that. She was only saying it to provoke me—after all, comparisons always created winners and losers. In her eyes, Wang Jing was the winner. I was the loser.

But so what?

I lived more freely than he ever could. Life was all about gains and losses. Why obsess over invisible titles and weightless glory?

……

Night thickened like makeup on a performer. Shen Man drove the car down the highway at high speed. Aside from the occasional comment about work, she said nothing. To her, my performance these past three days had been unqualified. But I felt I had tried—my notebook was nearly filled with observations and insights. That emotional mismatch sank us into a long, heavy silence.

The darkness outside lulled me half-asleep. In a drowsy haze, I suddenly saw it again—the red Porsche Boxster. Our car was going at least a hundred, but the Porsche still gave the impression of slicing past us like a blazing arrow. God knew how fast she was driving.

I strained to see the driver, but the roof was up this time. I couldn’t make out a thing. As the car pulled farther ahead, panic flared in my chest.

“Senior, go faster!”

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to grab the wheel myself.

“That’s a Porsche. This is a Mini. If you want us both dead, keep urging me,” she snapped, giving me a sharp side-eye.

Even at its limits, the little Mini whined pathetically. I slumped back into my seat, helpless. The Porsche dissolved into the night again—another brilliant brush with fate, and nothing more.

Countless questions spun in my mind.

If she was on the highway, that meant she had left Yangzhou.

If she left Yangzhou… where was she going?

Was she really Mo Han?

What a mysterious, maddening woman…