Perfect Girlfriends

The Singles’ Party

After a day of clear skies, the next few days had been nothing but drizzling gray. I dropped a coin into my piggy bank—a ritual I’d kept for a long time. I wanted to see, before this chapter of my solitary life ended, exactly how many gloomy days I had endured.

Yes, for every overcast day, I dropped a coin in. Today, the transparent glass jar was full. If tomorrow brought more rain, I’d have to find a new jar.

“Not a small number of unhappy days,” I muttered to myself, rifling through cupboards for a fresh bottle. “Once I’m not single anymore, I’d better appreciate every moment.”

I crawled across the floor, stretching desperately for the elusive glass jar trapped under the bed.

“My little donkey, I never ride him~~ One day I thought I’d take him to the market… holding my little whip, feeling so proud…”

My phone rang. The ringtone—innocent, childlike—cut through the room. I twisted my body, fumbling for my phone in my pocket.

“Hello…” I panted, switching one foot to nudge the bottle closer. I had to focus—critical moment.

“What are you doing at this ungodly hour? Careful you don’t ruin your kidneys,” teased Wang Zi over the line, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Glass—glass—glass jar!” I muttered, my toes finally brushing it. I stretched forward, muscles taut…

“Glass? Gay? You’re changing tastes now? I knew single life was rough, but you’re not that desperate, are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Cut the crap. Let’s talk business.”

“Tonight at BOBO Bar—there’s a singles’ party… come check it out.”

“What time?”

“7:30. And bring your good buddy… haha!”

Amid Wang Zi’s ridiculous laughter, I hung up and yanked the jar from beneath the bed with a satisfying tug.

I sank to the floor, catching my breath, watching the glass jar spin idly. I shook my head and laughed. Ridiculous, I thought—me, spinning in place like this bottle, lost and aimless.

At the office, I punched in, brewed a cup of tea, lit a cigarette, and dove into a game online. It was the off-season for sales; the headquarters didn’t host many events, only sporadic ad campaigns. Gaming was the only place I felt any sense of control.

“Zhang Yixi, playing games again?”

“Yeah, want to join? It’s fun,” I replied instinctively, carried by habit.

“You treat this company like a retirement home! Everyone else works their asses off, and you lounge around?”

My hand froze mid-mouse click. Damn. Sure enough, there was Shen Man’s face, brows furrowed in that familiar expression of anger.

“28-year-old woman of prime age, why make yourself look like a lifelong endocrine mess?” I teased, knowing I had crossed a line.

The moment I mentioned her age, her expression contorted violently. Smooth brows shot straight up and down—her delicate face struggling to handle it.

“Senior, calm down. Don’t let your face go stiff. You’re not married yet!” I added casually, further poking the hornet’s nest.

“Zhang Yixi…”

The air grew hot and tense with her barely restrained fury. I smiled, closed the game window, and stubbed out my cigarette.

Shen Man, Marketing Director at the Nantong Buick 4S store. My position here owed everything to her. She wasn’t just my superior—she was my senior from university, same major. In her presence, I had perfected my reckless, unrestrained antics, often evolving into sharp-tongued, sarcastic teasing.

Sometimes, human interactions are delicate. Had it been Mo Han—the woman from that night—I could never have dared such freedom. A sudden thought of her flitted through my mind. Strange.

“The next batch of VIP cards needs design. Coordinate with the ad agency’s design team. And tell them—if it’s as tacky as the last batch, don’t bring me the invoice with a straight face,” Shen Man finally spoke, her voice steady, controlled.

I forced a smile, nodded, and lowered my voice: “Senior… Wang Zi said there’s a singles’ party tonight at BOBO Bar. Are you going?”

She snorted. “A singles’ party? Hmph. What kind of nonsense is that?” She shot me a glance, clicked her heels in those sharp little pumps, swayed her hips with each step—thud thud—and left. I watched her arrogant retreat, increasingly certain she was extraordinary. No wonder she didn’t care about a singles’ party—suitors were never in short supply.

“Senior’s already 28!”

“Zhang Yixi, how many times have I told you not to call me ‘Senior’ at work?”

“Got it—Senior!”

Once she left, I immediately sent instructions to the ad agency via QQ. Task done in seconds—no reason for drama. Today’s work was simple. Life was unusually calm. Closing the chat window, I returned to my digital escape, ruling my virtual domain. At this company, no one could touch me.

Night fell as usual, but my soul stirred. Not for work—tonight was the singles’ party. Don’t get me wrong, I was there to drink, not flirt with a roomful of office girls.

Entering BOBO Bar, the air hit me with a mix of abandon and chaos. Women gyrated wildly to the pounding music, their waists twisting in hypnotic rhythm. My head spun.

“Yi Xi! Over here!” Wang Zi’s voice pierced through the cacophony.

A circle of men and women sat around the sofas, assorted drinks scattered before them. I found an empty spot and dropped down.

Habitually, I scanned the crowd. No one familiar. I had no idea where Wang Zi had dredged up this motley crew.

“How do we play tonight?” I asked.

He glanced at me: “Do whatever you want with a dozen or so girls.”

“Don’t be so wild…”

He ignored me, announcing to the group: “This is a buddy from college. Not ugly. If anyone likes him, buy him a drink.”

Cheers erupted. I smiled faintly, thinking how unimaginative this so-called ‘singles’ party’ was. But Wang Zi would be thrilled—ten-plus girls were more than enough for his amusement.

“Xi Xi…”

Suddenly, Wang Mengmeng appeared, backpack slung, pulling off her Spongebob knit cap, and flung herself toward me.

I froze, yelling at Wang Zi: “Why’d you drag her here?”

Before he could answer, she’d climbed onto me, arms wrapped around my neck, her innocent, radiant smile lighting up her face:

“I’m single too! Why can’t I join the party?”