Twenty-eight-year-old Su Wanqing owns a 12-square-meter corner bakery called "Fish and Stars." She is a Pisces, an amateur astrologer who can translate zodiac signs through desserts - Cancer gets sea salt caramel cheese, Virgo is measured with a vernier caliper, and Sagittarius's Christmas tree star must be hand-painted in gold. She is also the kind of person who is used to waiting for others. Waiting for pediatric rehabilitation doctor Chen Yuzhou to pick up cakes every Thursday, waiting for Lu Yan, a financial city executive upstairs, to package care with a business plan, and waiting for Zhou Yechuan, who is filming a documentary, to open the door and use the heater at two in the morning. In the past three years, she has lived her empathy as pleasing, and her indecision as gentleness, thinking that she will be needed if she does not refuse, and that being seen means being loved.
Until the snowy night of my twenty-eighth birthday, three thoughts were spread out on the operating table at the same time.
She asked herself for the first time: Do they love the real Su Wanqing, or the Cancer rising person who always smiles, always waits, and always helps others lick their wounds? This is not a sweet fairy tale about a fat girl who counterattacks and conquers three male gods, but a realistic fable about a Pisces woman who spent ten years going from "desiring to be liked by everyone" to "learning to only please herself." Three urban men with their own imperfections have become three important aspects in her horoscope - opposition, acceptance, and departure. And she finally understood: love is not salvation, but choice. The correct answer to the multiple-choice question is not who to choose, but to write your own answer sheet and wait for others to mark it. Moderate sweetness and astringent aftertaste. Suitable for reading alone at night under the city lights.
11 Million views, 120,000 words, dedicated to all those who live with gentleness as armor.
