Background music will play when true love appears

Red Brick’s unwritten rule: after a long business trip, you get a paid day off.

Ming Shuzhen sprawled on her small apartment’s bed, scrolling through Red Brick’s public account.

Xinjiang’s poems were posted, beautifully formatted, with plenty of likes and comments.

Reading the comments, Ming Shuzhen wondered if one might be from Xinjiang’s unconventional mom, admiring her daughter’s work from a distant research institute.

She sent Zhong Shuo a video call request.

It disconnected after one ring.

In the past, Ming Shuzhen would’ve stopped there, knowing Zhong Shuo was likely gaming. But her heart was a mess—she needed Zhong Shuo to chew her out to feel better.

Sure enough, Zhong Shuo picked up the second call.

Her side was noisy, probably in an esports room with teammates.

Despite the chaos, Zhong Shuo’s booming voice cut through.

“Ming Shuzhen! You trying to die? I’m mid-tower push, why’re you calling?”

Her lion’s roar grounded Ming Shuzhen.

She mewed like a kitten, “Big Zhong Shuo, I’m upset.”

Hearing her tone, Zhong Shuo ditched her game, grabbed her phone. “What’s wrong? Work trouble? Didn’t you just get back?”

She eyed Ming Shuzhen’s glum face on the video.

“Let’s drink,” Ming Shuzhen whined, pouting.

“Wait for me.” Zhong Shuo called to her teammates, grabbed her jacket, and headed out. “I know a great spot—let’s broaden your horizons.”

“Sweet~” Ming Shuzhen purred, “Waiting.”

Slumped on the bed, she felt hollow.

Two and a half hours had passed since Ming Shuyan’s apology. From deplaning to the office, then home, forcing herself to eat with Wu Yuanchu and Ming Jianchang, to now, lying around all day until evening, with the sun down and Zhong Shuo up and working—she was still reeling.

Ming Shuyan, her boss, said she liked girls and “kissed” her—though she blamed the alcohol.

But! Her kitten ears perked. It was her first kiss! Okay, teeth on lips, not lips on lips, no tongue.

Ugh. A warning sign rose in her mind—thinking of tongues? What’s wrong with you?

Zhong Shuo arrived fast. Ming Shuzhen went downstairs to find her car.

No sign of Zhong Shuo’s flashy motorcycle. Checking her phone, she saw a message: “Drinking, sister! Took a cab—think I’d drive drunk? Can’t risk my license.”

Ming Shuzhen laughed, looking for the taxi. A nearby car honked.

Zhong Shuo leaned out the window. “Donate those eyes if you don’t need ’em.”

“Oh.” Ming Shuzhen rolled her eyes, climbing in.

She always acted like she’d fight Zhong Shuo when scolded, but secretly, that familiar loud voice soothed her.

Once seated, the driver hit the gas.

“Spill. What’s up?” Zhong Shuo slung an arm around her, resting her head on Ming Shuzhen’s.

Ming Shuzhen sighed, glancing at the driver, whispering, “My boss kissed me.”

“What!” Zhong Shuo’s shout rivaled a newborn’s wail.

“Shh!” Ming Shuzhen pinched her hand.

Zhong Shuo, already quieting, yelped from the pinch.

Ming Shuzhen caught the driver’s glance in the rearview, feeling bad for the noise.

“Quiet!” she hissed.

“Wait, what? Your boss? The one with the same name, the hot lesbian? She kissed you where—lips?” Zhong Shuo rambled.

“You’re broadcasting to the world!” Ming Shuzhen groaned, forgetting to correct the name mix-up. She’d whispered to keep it private, but Zhong Shuo’s yell made it impossible for the driver not to hear.

“Fine, fine, I’ll whisper,” Zhong Shuo said, using a hushed tone.

“What happened?” She poked Ming Shuzhen.

Ming Shuzhen slapped her back.

“So!” She glared, whispering about the lipstick, Ming Shuyan’s orientation confession, and her apology.

Zhong Shuo blinked. “Got it.”

“Got what?” Ming Shuzhen stared.

“She was drunk. It wasn’t a kiss. Big deal—you’re the one making it a thing, which says *you’ve* got issues.”

“Issues?” Ming Shuzhen gaped. “How’s that not a kiss? Normal people don’t ‘taste’ lipstick like that!”

Zhong Shuo grinned. “What, you want her to take responsibility?”

Ming Shuzhen pouted. “It just feels… weird. She apologized, I said drop it, but…”

“You said drop it, but you’re still obsessing,” Zhong Shuo said, eyeing her.

*Sigh.* Zhong Shuo ruffled her hair. “Congrats, babe, you’re in love.”

—

Zhong Shuo took her to an all-female bar—not strictly a lesbian bar, but plenty of lesbians frequented it.

It wasn’t a gay bar, so they stamped hands, scanned IDs, and let them in.

The bar wasn’t crowded yet.

Zhong Shuo led her to a square table.

“Order what you want—I’m paying,” she said.

“I dragged you out—I’ll pay,” Ming Shuzhen countered.

The music was loud; they leaned close to talk.

Zhong Shuo didn’t argue, ordering her usuals.

“Big Zhong Shuo, am I only like this with my boss, or would I react this way if someone else kissed me?” Ming Shuzhen, having eaten dinner, drank freely, downing a sweet cocktail in one go.

Zhong Shuo knew her drinks were low-proof, letting her vent.

“Correction: not a kiss, just teeth on lips.”

“She meant to kiss me—why else apologize like that?” Ming Shuzhen blinked, grabbing another drink.

“She apologized for being rude,” Zhong Shuo said, cradling her head.

“Pillow, you’re in a dangerous spot.”

“How?” Ming Shuzhen leaned on her, letting Zhong Shuo support her.

“People in love act like you, but has your boss said she likes you or wants to be with you? No, right?”

Ming Shuzhen shook her head.

“Exactly. You’re crushing, but it’s one-sided,” Zhong Shuo shrugged.

“I didn’t say I’m in love,” Ming Shuzhen argued, frowning.

Zhong Shuo propped her up. “You asked if you’d feel this way with someone else. Let’s test—let me kiss you.”

Ming Shuzhen covered her mouth. “No! You think I’m cute and want to mess with me.”

Zhong Shuo laughed. “Why not say your boss was messing with you?”

Ming Shuzhen’s eyes blurred. “We’re too close. I wouldn’t feel *that* with you.”

“What feeling?”

“Like…” She recalled post-kiss. “Heart pounding.”

“Remember your butterfly theory? Liking someone so much it causes stomach pain?”

“Yeah,” Zhong Shuo glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you get stomach aches seeing her. Get that checked.”

“Not seeing her—just moments where my heart flutters, then my stomach cramps.”

“…” Zhong Shuo chugged her drink. “If you weren’t my friend, I’d smack you with this bottle.”

“Why?” Ming Shuzhen whined.

“You’re embarrassing! Who is this boss? I’ve never seen butterfly theory in action—you some kind of love guru?”

“I don’t know,” Ming Shuzhen pouted. “I don’t get my feelings. Liking her feels weird—we’re both girls. But not liking her hurts. She kissed me, acts like nothing happened. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but I can’t let it go. What do I do, Big Zhong Shuo?”

“Damn,” Zhong Shuo muttered.

“So what now? She apologized, you said drop it—what’s next?”

“I don’t know,” Ming Shuzhen said, forlorn, propping her chin. “If this were a drama, true love would have background music. I’d know—she’s the one, I’d run to her.”

“But no music, and your ‘true love’ is vague, same gender, your boss. You don’t know whether to dive in or force yourself to move on,” Zhong Shuo finished.

“Mm,” Ming Shuzhen nodded heavily.

“My Pillow,” Zhong Shuo hugged her. “Can’t escape love’s pain.”

“I hate Ming Shuyan,” Ming Shuzhen huffed.

“So her name’s Ming Shuyan,” Zhong Shuo noted. “I hate her too.”

A voice came from the stage—a girl with loose hair, T-shirt rolled up, showing her navel.

Despite the AC, Ming Shuzhen felt cold for her.

“This song’s for my special guest. She’s aloof, rarely around, but today she’s here. This first song’s for her. Have fun, everyone~”

Unlike typical bar MCs, her voice was clear, like snapping bamboo.

Zhong Shuo looked up. “Sounds like a confession.”

Ming Shuzhen, stirred by Zhong Shuo’s comment, nodded. Mentioning “my life” meant someone important.

The music started—Lady Gaga’s *Telephone*.

*“Hello, hello, baby, you called, I can’t hear a thing.”*

Her speaking voice was unremarkable, but her singing was powerful, with a unique bite on “hello.”

Ming Shuzhen, sipping her drink, perked up at Gaga’s song, watching the singer.

Zhong Shuo, knowing her love for Gaga, grinned. “Worth coming, huh?”

Ming Shuzhen smiled.

She’d just wished for true love’s background music, ideally Gaga’s, to signal *she’s here*.

—

The singer was immersed, lights building the vibe, the crowd heating up.

Zhong Shuo danced with the crowd, trying to pull Ming Shuzhen, who waved her off, sulking on the black leather sofa.

“Come on, Gaga’s song! No dance?” Zhong Shuo tugged.

“Can’t dance,” Ming Shuzhen mumbled.

“Liar.” Zhong Shuo knew she’d studied dance from six to eighth grade, stopping after exams. No way she couldn’t.

Pulled up, Ming Shuzhen felt dizzy from the drinks and movement.

She pinched Zhong Shuo’s hand, signaling she was done, needing to sit.

The music was loud, the bar dim. Zhong Shuo missed her cue.

“What’s wrong?” she shouted, leaning in.

Ming Shuzhen shook her head, pointing to the sofa, slipping free.

Back on the sofa, she grabbed her drink.

Zhong Shuo, seeing her mood, stopped dancing and sat. “If you’re still down about your boss, you’re wasting Earth’s air and water. Even sleeping’s better than this moping.”

Ming Shuzhen drooped, leaning on Zhong Shuo’s shoulder, gulping her drink as cheers erupted.

She glanced at the stage. The navel girl had pulled someone up.

The music switched—Gaga’s *Hey Girl*, original track, no singing.

Few could cover Gaga’s intensity. Even the navel girl’s performance felt weak.

The original track soothed Ming Shuzhen’s ears.

The navel girl was confessing to her “life’s person.” Ming Shuzhen craned to see.

The person’s build resembled Ming Shuyan’s—long hair, a stylish shirt.

*Boom.* Her mind flashed: *Ming Shuyan*.

*True love needs background music, Gaga’s best, so I’d know—she’s worth risking everything for, my lifelong partner.*

The music roared, electronics buzzing, but it felt off, like a demagnetized tape.

Onstage, one was vibrant, eyes sparkling with shadow, working the DJ booth. The other—long, wavy hair, subtle makeup, a chic shirt with loose sleeves, watch visible—stood calmly, neither annoyed nor engaged, unreadable.

Ming Shuzhen’s heart tightened, studying her expression.

Zhong Shuo, unaware, joined the buzz. “They’re a couple, right? Their vibe’s so in sync.”

Ming Shuzhen didn’t blink but answered, “Why?”

“Just vibes. The other one’s not a regular—bit stiff, but not resisting. Super accepting. They feel like sisters, probably always together, even look alike. Couples get that way—kissing makes you look similar.”

“…” Ming Shuzhen turned slowly, staring at Zhong Shuo. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to puke.”

Her voice was too calm; Zhong Shuo thought she was joking.

Ming Shuzhen pulled her along. Zhong Shuo caught up. “This way, sister, you okay? I ordered low-proof drinks.”

Ignoring her, Ming Shuzhen pushed toward the bathroom.

*“Hey girl, can you hear me? Hey girl, do you feel me?”*

Gaga’s retro tone played. *No true love music, please—not now, it’s too sad.*

—

In the bathroom, Ming Shuzhen retched acid into the toilet.

Zhong Shuo supported her, handing her water when she finished.

“Geez, if I knew your tolerance was this bad, I’d have taken you to a KTV for sunflower seeds.”

Ming Shuzhen rinsed her mouth, smiling bitterly. “The two onstage—good match?”

Zhong Shuo laughed. “Your brain’s all over the place, sick and still meddling.”

“Tell me,” Ming Shuzhen pressed, frowning.

“Perfect match. Didn’t I say? Kissing makes them look like sisters.”

Ming Shuzhen turned and vomited again, head throbbing, unable to stop.

“Let’s go. I’ll make you honey water,” Zhong Shuo said, rubbing her back.

Ming Shuzhen shook her head, splashing cold water on her face. “I want to hear more songs.”

“KTV then.”

“No.” Her eyes lit up. “I want to hear Navel Girl.”

“Navel Girl?” Zhong Shuo laughed. “Alright.”

Back at the table, *Hey Girl* still played.

*“We can make it easy if we lift each other. Hey girl, hey girl.”*

The stage was empty—hence no song change.

“That was my boss,” Ming Shuzhen said, eyes on Zhong Shuo, tone casual, like pricing onions.

“What?” Zhong Shuo’s eyes bulged, forehead creasing.

“Yeah.” Ming Shuzhen closed her jaw for her.

“No, she… you… I… damn!” Zhong Shuo pointed at her, then the stage.

“What’s that mean? Your boss is stringing you along while meeting girls here?” Her voice pitched. “Time management guru, huh?”

“No,” Ming Shuzhen said, still rational enough to defend her. “I misunderstood. Overthought it.”

Ming Shuyan said she knew her orientation—no other intent. Was she subtly flaunting a girlfriend? Just tasting lipstick, nothing more…

*Little Pillow, why’re you so delusional?*

Zhong Shuo watched her face shift—hurt, then mocking self-smile—alarmed, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t worry, Pillow. Screw that woman. Who needs her, playing ambiguous games?” Zhong Shuo, who’d thought the stage pair looked good, now felt blind.

“Let’s go,” Ming Shuzhen said, eyes down.

“Yeah, I’ll call a car.” Zhong Shuo glanced worriedly.

Meant to drink and vent, now she was more blocked.

After vomiting, Ming Shuzhen’s head buzzed. With Navel Girl gone, she decided to head home and sleep.

Leaving, Gaga’s *Hey Girl* echoed. Beautiful voice.

—

Outside, the cold wind snapped her awake.

Ming Shuzhen shivered, waiting with Zhong Shuo for the car.

“I’m cold,” she mumbled.

Zhong Shuo bear-hugged her, tucking her head into her chest.

“You’ll suffocate me,” Ming Shuzhen protested, struggling briefly before nestling in.

When the car arrived, she lifted her head.

And saw a Cullinan. She hadn’t seen one before, but the person beside it was familiar—the one she’d just cried over.

Zhong Shuo saw too, cursing softly, covering Ming Shuzhen’s eyes. “Don’t look.”

She urged the driver, “Bypass them, please.”

“Wait,” Ming Shuzhen said urgently.

Through the window, she stared. Navel Girl, in a long black coat, stood with Ming Shuyan.

No physical contact, but a woman in a white coat hugged Ming Shuyan, letting her touch her hair, looking close.

Zhong Shuo gaped. “Your boss—3P?”

Ming Shuzhen didn’t know “3P” but felt it was harsh in context.

Her face darkened, watching the trio laugh.

“Still going?” Zhong Shuo checked her expression. “It’s freezing—show off in the car or at home, not on the street. What about city civility awards?”

Another woman appeared—not from the bar, dressed neatly, short hair, travel-worn.

She hugged Ming Shuyan first, then the others.

Zhong Shuo smirked. “4P.”

“Let’s go, Pillow. Quit tomorrow. Your boss is no good,” Zhong Shuo said, wanting to shake her awake.

“She didn’t see me, right?” Ming Shuzhen had been buried in Zhong Shuo’s coat. Ming Shuyan shouldn’t have recognized her.

Zhong Shuo sighed heavily. “Driver, go.”

The car roared, speeding past the Cullinan.