WHF Ch 13 – Shura Field 

Sitting next to Yu Tianbai was none other than the man who had once famously declared, “The Northeast isn’t that big.” He was one of Yu Tianbai’s exes, a young factory director with a face reminiscent of a North Korean.

What’s the most lethal opening line when you run into an ex at someone else’s wedding?

“How have you been?” Too reserved. “How are you still alive?” Too blunt. “What was your name again?”

Too fake.

The man, noticing Yu Tianbai’s silence, tilted his head and asked in a low voice, “You haven’t forgotten my name, have you?”

The corner of Yu Tianbai’s mouth twitched. “No, I haven’t. Sun Jiu.”

Sun Jiu seemed pleased with the response, offering a sincere smile in return, one that appeared far more genuine than Yu Tianbai’s strained grimace.

What are the odds of running into an ex at a stranger’s wedding?

Not as low as you’d think. People move, places stay still, and if you keep moving, you’re bound to cross paths eventually. But when adults meet again, they tend to prioritize decorum, which often leads to anything but. If Yu Tianbai were five years younger, he might have flipped his glass in the man’s face—hell, maybe the whole table too—despite having consoled himself while getting a haircut that their breakup was “amicable.”

The breakup with this man was a cold war, though it’s hard to say who was freezing out whom. It started with a petty argument about meeting each other’s families, the kind of thing that sounds trivial when you say it out loud. Back then, Yu Tianbai was convinced he was in the right, so he didn’t bother apologizing. He didn’t block the guy either, because he was giving him a chance, waiting for him to come crawling back with an apology. But a year passed, and even after the man’s profile picture changed from a landscape to a solo shot, not a single unread message appeared.

That was it, then—a clean break, or so Yu Tianbai thought as he approached his twenty-ninth birthday. Now, with just a few months until thirty, he still held firm to the belief that exes are as good as dead. Yet here was this “dead” man, resurrected and sitting primly right beside him.

And looking sharp as hell, to boot.

If the groom weren’t up on stage sniffling, Yu Tianbai might’ve mistaken this for Sun Jiu’s own wedding. The man was in a crisp suit, hair neatly styled, his eyes bright and lively—looking even more vibrant than when they’d parted ways.

In contrast, Yu Tianbai was still in the fleece he’d worn when he got out of the car, hatless because his cap was still in the hands of some rich kid.

A silent scream roared through his mind.

“Changed your taste?” Sun Jiu’s gaze shifted to the pack of Chunghwa cigarettes on the table.

“No.” Yu Tianbai’s reply was curt, but it felt like an excuse.

The conversation died there, the emcee’s impassioned speech echoing through the hall. Sun Jiu, however, wasn’t done talking. Yu Tianbai didn’t look at him but could tell his chair had scooted closer.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you this past year.” The voice came from his left, mingling with the grand music filling the venue. “I want to say I’m sorry.”

Yu Tianbai’s brows furrowed sharply, impossible to hide.

“No need for that.”

With a look of disdain, he forced a smile, summoning every ounce of politeness he had left.

“There’s no such thing as ‘no need,’” Sun Jiu said, his tone turning serious within five minutes of their reunion. “The most important thing for a couple is communication, honestly reflecting on our mistakes.”

Yu Tianbai’s barely-upturned lips fell flat again.

“If I recall correctly, we broke up a year ago. Seems a bit late for this talk.”

It was a clear signal to shut up, but the suited man beside him didn’t flinch. After a moment’s pause, he spoke again as if he hadn’t heard Yu Tianbai at all.

“I hope we can honestly reflect on our mistakes.”

As the words landed, Yu Tianbai turned his face away, biting his lower lip in silence. The hall was bustling, and no one noticed the verbal sparring in this corner.

“I might’ve been wrong, but we’re done. Do you get that?”

He decided to reiterate his stance.

But facing this man, Yu Tianbai lacked his usual composure. Maybe it’s because people always want to save face, and when someone who once loved you has seen all your flaws, meeting again makes it hard to act carefree.

Hearing his response, Sun Jiu cleared his throat, adjusting the buttons on his suit jacket. He lifted his chin and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Yu Tianbai took a deep breath. The tension eased slightly, but not by much. He propped his hand on the table.

“Same old, same old. Still the usual business.”

“But you’d usually be heading north by now. You’ve long passed Changchun, yet you’re still in Dehui—” The man paused. “Did you forget something?”

People have a flaw: when someone hits a nerve, they can’t help but glance at their weak spot. Yu Tianbai was no exception, so when he heard this, his eyes flicked to his left pocket. Then he realized the man was watching where he looked.

“No.” Yu Tianbai denied it verbally, but it still sounded like an excuse.

His ex was still staring at him. Predictably, he was about to repeat his point for the third time—something that would surprise most people.

Sure enough, two seconds later, the young and talented Factory Director Sun opened his mouth again. “So, I hope we can—”

“We have nothing left to talk about.”

His patience finally worn thin, Yu Tianbai turned his face away. Just as he was about to stand, a hand suddenly pressed down on his on the table.

The man had leaned in close, his suit jacket brushing against Yu Tianbai’s fleece, his face near Yu Tianbai’s left cheek. At this distance, even the scent of his aftershave was unmistakable. Yu Tianbai held his breath. The sudden physical contact wasn’t exactly repulsive, just unfamiliar. He didn’t pull away.

“Let go,” he said, lowering his voice.

The man didn’t move. After a moment’s pause, he replied, “I don’t think we ever really broke up.”

Yu Tianbai stared at the galaxy of lights on the ceiling, rolling his eyes smoothly. Five years ago, he would’ve stood up and flipped the guy without hesitation. But he admitted he’d grown softer, too timid even to make a scene. He heard a deep breath, as if the man was inhaling his scent.

Now even the emcee was glancing their way.

Fine, let them look. A wedding crasher would make things even more entertaining—give the emcee something to gawk at.

But then Yu Tianbai realized the emcee wasn’t looking at him but at the door behind him. Was there really a wedding crasher?

The thought had barely formed when a chair flew past Yu Tianbai’s face—yes, flew—crashing into the lavish feast on the table before him. The table erupted in chaos: shattering plates, screeching friction, and clattering noises filled the air. Even the sweet-and-sour fish at the table’s edge slid two meters across the floor.

What a waste.

That was, absurdly, Yu Tianbai’s first thought. But then he realized the chair had been aimed at him.

The sound of breaking dishes finally stopped, and the hall fell silent for a split second before erupting into screams, footsteps, and curses. Someone in the chaos even cheered. The man beside him had pulled back, staring at Yu Tianbai with disbelief. Caught in that gaze, Yu Tianbai froze for a few seconds before slowly turning his head, following the crowd’s eyes toward the door.

The hall’s lights were on now, and the onlookers, like fish waiting to be fed, all turned toward the center of this so-called wedding-crashing spectacle—a stunningly handsome man with sandy blonde hair.

And here’s the kicker: this ridiculously familiar-looking handsome guy.

Just like their first encounter at ten in the morning, every appearance by Xiu Ma brought Yu Tianbai a surprise. Whether at a villa’s gate or a wedding venue, whether as an enemy or—well, an enemy—could they ever meet normally?

Xiu Ma stood in the middle of the hall, like an enraged dragon prince, holding a second broken chair. Its leg, from five meters away, pointed straight at the tip of Yu Tianbai’s nose.

Under the gaze of the entire crowd, Xiu Ma spoke.

“Everything I want, I fight for. I fight hard, until I get it.”

What the hell did that mean—and why was that his opening line? Yu Tianbai raised an eyebrow, struggling to keep his expression neutral, but he could feel his heart racing. He was making a decision.

“So,” Xiu Ma’s voice carried across the hall, “you can’t just ditch me on the road and run! That’s not what I want. I’ll catch up to you. I will catch up to you!”

There was no denying it: those words, paired with this scene, created some inexplicable ambiguity. The crowd’s shock turned to suspicion, and even Sun Jiu, behind Yu Tianbai, noticed the shift. He stood up too.

“Didn’t you say your taste hasn’t changed?” His voice trembled, the first syllable even cracking.

Yu Tianbai wanted to laugh, and he did, staring at Xiu Ma with a genuine smile.

The man stepped closer, seemingly clutching a piece of broken plate. He asked, “Is this what you forgot in Changchun?”

Yes, he forgot a guy so striking most people wouldn’t encounter in a lifetime. Yu Tianbai wanted to say it, but right now, the thing he’d forgotten was more pressing. Without turning, he shook off the hand grabbing him and headed for the door.

Xiu Ma watched Yu Tianbai approach step by step, then flung the chair in his hand. The debris flew several meters, landing outside the crowd. He raised his gaze, looking down at the man before him. When their eyes met, Yu Tianbai’s first words nearly knocked him off balance.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

This time, it was Xiu Ma’s turn to be stunned. Yu Tianbai pressed his lips together, wiping the smile off his face, and glanced down at Xiu Ma’s midsection. Xiu Ma froze under the scrutiny.

Then Yu Tianbai lowered his voice and said quickly, “Fight with me.”

With that, he looked up, and under the hall’s soft, warm lights, the face of this nearly thirty-year-old man glowed with happiness.

And then Xiu Ma took a punch to the face.