As expected, the “great place” Ke Fei mentioned turned out to be a mixer. However, this wasn’t your ordinary mixer—it was, apparently, tailored for people like me who were already engaged. Attending such an event was akin to a college student visiting a water park during the last week of summer vacation: clinging to the final threads of youth and unleashing all your charm before the constraints of legal marriage set in. To put it bluntly, it was a social event for premarital one-night stands.
The mixer’s origin story was as bold as its purpose. It was said to have been started by a corporate white-collar worker who, after nine years of a hedonistic lifestyle, accidentally got a woman pregnant and had to surrender to the institution of marriage. Before tying the knot, he threw a self-funded pre-wedding party at the bar of Taipei’s most luxurious hotel. The event was open to engaged individuals or anyone seeking a one-night fling. Participants could pair up and leave together—or even indulge right on the spot if the chemistry was right. Whether the organizer successfully got married or lived happily ever after was unknown. However, the guests who tasted the event’s “freedom” were hooked and carried on the tradition, hosting similar mixers week after week, inviting more soon-to-be-married men and women to join.
Given the sensitive nature of the event and the fact that the world is, indeed, extraordinarily small, strict measures were in place to ensure anonymity. Unlike Ke Fei, a seasoned socialite, most participants had to go through a rigorous vetting process to confirm that there were no overlapping social circles among attendees. Furthermore, all participants were required to use pseudonyms during the party—even revealing something as vague as a company stock code was strictly forbidden.
And so, tonight, Ke Fei became “FiFi,” and I was “Vivian.”
Ke Fei claimed that the anxiety of being “almost married” was the ultimate aphrodisiac. She said that the idea of reckless, no-tomorrow sex drove men wild, and that any man who mentioned he was “about to get married” would instantly be devoured by her, down to the bone. As for me, I wasn’t here to play the hunter or the prey. My plan was simply to have a few drinks, wander around aimlessly, and listen to a few hormone-driven men shower me with compliments—just as a small act of rebellion against Hao Yi.
It felt like hiding a comic book in your school bag and waving it in front of the strictest teacher—not significant, but enough to make yourself feel a little better. A harmless, mischievous indulgence.
The intentions of the party were glaringly obvious, and a restless energy filled the entire room. Men and women were discreetly sizing each other up. After a few rounds of shots and warm-up games, the atmosphere began to loosen. By the time I regained my senses, a few seasoned participants were already cozied up in a corner, whispering sweet nothings—or had disappeared entirely. Ke Fei had drifted to another table, playing the social butterfly she always was.
That left me sitting alone on the sofa, staring at my phone.
As the clock crept closer to 11 p.m.—the time I usually checked in with Hao Yi—I felt increasingly uneasy. I’d told him earlier in the afternoon that I’d be having dinner with friends tonight, but he hadn’t replied. I wasn’t sure if he’d seen the message, and that uncertainty made me more anxious.
“Stop looking at your phone!” A slightly tipsy Ke Fei walked over, dragging two men with her. “Here, let me introduce you to Anderson. He’s been sneaking glances at you for ages! Anderson, you better not bully my friend, or you’ll have me to deal with!”
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