Wednesday was the day Shen Miaomiao hit the worst writer's block of her life.
She had spent the entire morning staring at the document for Chapter Ten of her novel. Her two leads had progressed from testing each other to a stage where their ambiguity needed to be made unmistakably clear. Yet every direction she tried felt wrong.
“A confession? Too greasy.”
“A sudden late-night meal? Too slow.”
“An elevator breakdown and an accidental kiss? That's practically a CEO-romance template.”
By noon, she had drafted four different versions and deleted all of them. More than five thousand characters had vanished into the recycle bin, and the document on her screen was still painfully blank.
Lin Xiaotong came over with a cup of milk tea. “Miaomiao, are you all right? You've been frowning for half the day.”
“I'm stuck.” Shen Miaomiao slumped over her desk. “My leads are supposed to confirm their feelings, but I can't write the moment. Anything I come up with is either corny or fake.”
“Then ask Mr. Lu.”
Shen Miaomiao stiffened. “Ask Devil Lu? He'll probably say my whole setup is shallow, tear it to pieces, and tell me to start over.”
“But he does know stories,” Lin Xiaotong said reasonably. “And he always gives useful feedback.”
Useful was useful. Terrifying was terrifying.
Shen Miaomiao managed no more than a miserable groan. Still, once night came and she returned home, she could not stop thinking about Lin Xiaotong's suggestion.
At midnight, she opened WeChat and found the chat window she had been trying very hard not to open first.
[Anonymous User 9527]: L, are you there?
[L]: Yes.
[Anonymous User 9527]: I have a question. If two adults have been flirting for ages and both of them know something is there, what makes them finally realize it is more than ambiguity?
The reply came after a short pause.
[L]: You're forcing a plot point.
Shen Miaomiao sat up straight.
[Anonymous User 9527]: What do you mean?
[L]: Adults rarely reach that point because someone suddenly says, “I like you.” That is only one possible result. The real change is usually that one of them begins to break an old habit.
Shen Miaomiao blinked at the screen.
[L]: For example, a man normally goes straight home after work. One day, he begins stopping by her desk naturally and asking whether she wants to get dinner. He does not confess, but he changes his behavior for her.
[L]: Or he remembers that she drinks milk tea half-sugar with no ice. When she works late, he brings it to her without being asked. That is not a grand gesture. It is a privilege that enters daily life.
[Anonymous User 9527]: A privilege that enters daily life...
[L]: Habitual infiltration.
The words landed like a switch being flipped.
Shen Miaomiao's fingers began flying across the keyboard. Why had she been looking for a spectacular scene? What she needed was not a dazzling declaration but the quiet way occasional concern became a habit no one could replace.
The male lead could order an extra late-night meal without thinking of it. He could remember every food restriction the female lead had. When someone made things difficult for her, he could stand up before she even asked.
And it could not be one-sided. She could begin waiting for his late-night meal. When trouble came, he could be the first person she thought to call.
[Anonymous User 9527]: I get it! Their relationship changes when they start taking each other for granted in the best way.
[L]: Exactly.
[L]: Mutual habitual infiltration is the sweetest part.
Shen Miaomiao stared at that final line for a long time.
She was usually someone who hated chatting for no reason and handled problems herself whenever she could. Yet now, when she was stuck, she had come to L first without even noticing. At midnight, talking to him had become as natural as breathing.
Did that count?
The thought startled her so badly that she quickly pushed it away.
It was only a writing experiment. Work. Nothing real.
The next afternoon, Shen Miaomiao was summoned to the editor-in-chief's office.
Lu Chen looked up from a file. “How is Chapter Ten?”
She hesitated, then admitted, “I'm stuck at the point where they confirm their feelings.”
“You're trying too hard to make it look like a confirmation,” Lu Chen said. “For adults, tension doesn't have to come from a declaration. Let them break their habits for each other. Give each other a habitual privilege outside the workplace.”
Shen Miaomiao froze.
Habitual privilege.
The exact phrase L had used the night before.
Lu Chen did not seem to notice her shock. He set a quarterly project plan on the edge of his desk. “Don't rush it. Think it through, then write.”
He returned to his work as if he had said nothing extraordinary.
But Shen Miaomiao left the office in a daze. Once again, the two tracks in her mind had lined up with frightening precision.
Could L really be Lu Chen?
She wanted to ask. She also feared that if she did, whatever precarious balance existed between her work and this strange midnight companionship would shatter.
So she did what she had become best at doing: she used both of their advice.
That night, Chapter Ten finally began to move. In Chapter Eleven, the male lead ordered an extra late supper as naturally as breathing; the heroine, facing her first real trouble, thought of him before anyone else.
As Shen Miaomiao typed, she could no longer tell whether she was writing those two fictional people—or herself and L.
Her heartbeat quickened anyway.