The beginning of 2023 felt like a slow collapse for Susu.
She lost her job in January.
Between February and April, she lived alone in the aftermath of a ten-year marriage that had quietly ended. On the day of the divorce, she left with only a suitcase—and her cat.
Her body reacted before her mind did. Eczema spread across her face, stubborn and painful. She avoided mirrors, avoided people, avoided explanations.
In June, she found a new job.
Before starting, she gave herself a week off and went to Suzhou. She wasn't searching for anything—just space.
That night, she downloaded a social app called Social, almost by accident. She scrolled without expectations. That was when Yike appeared.
He was from Suzhou. Calm. Unassuming.
Their conversations were light—no pressure, no promises. They discovered they had something in common: both single, neither looking for love, but both open to a steady, respectful connection.
One day, he asked if she wanted to have a drink. Susu stared at the screen longer than she expected. She had never gone drinking with a man she barely knew. Yet that night, she said yes.
"I drink responsibly," he told her."No touching. I'll just tell you some good stories."
The bar was on the second floor, a small table tucked inside. A little loud—but safe.
He arrived ten minutes early. Black T-shirt. Rimless glasses. Six feet tall. White shorts and sneakers. Clean, restrained.
Susu wore a blue qipao embroidered with hydrangeas. They were twelve years apart in age. She decided not to hide from it.
He asked what she wanted to drink and patiently explained the menu. She chose one. He added the bar's signature drink. By the third glass, she noticed something quietly undeniable—he was watching her. Not boldly, not intrusively. Just softly, attentively, whenever she looked away. When she met his gaze, he quickly looked aside.
At 10:30 p.m., they decided to leave. Before heading downstairs, he paused and said,"You're very beautiful. Exactly my type."She blinked, then smiled. "Thank you."
While waiting for the car, the street was quiet. He glanced around, then asked gently,"Can I?"
She didn't have time to respond. He leaned in and brushed her lips—barely there. A question more than a statement.
"If you don't want to, it's okay," he said."I'll take you home. You can think about it."
Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of her hotel. He walked her to the entrance, hesitated, and asked again. She could see it—his restraint, his fear of crossing a line.
In that moment, she thought: life had already fallen apart once. If she wanted something, she would choose it. She nodded.
"I'll go get something," he said softly. "Wait for me."
She sat on a bench, watching the city lights. A few minutes later, he returned. They walked into the hotel together. When the door closed behind them, the night in Suzhou finally grew quiet.