She didn’t dare go downstairs.

Nine fifteen in the morning. Sunlight fell on the underwear on the carpet by the sofa’s feet. Jin Yiken had won two rounds of the game, winning a watch from Si Bolin. And her hair that she’d washed in the morning was almost dry. She’d been slowly curling it around her fingers, curling it for quite a while now, but still hadn’t gone downstairs.

Wearing just a single soft loose sweater, legs propped on his lap, he sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, starting the third round with Si Bolin. The prize for this round was Pengzi’s limited-edition jersey. It didn’t belong to either of them yet, but had naturally become the game’s stakes. This man’s luck had been incredibly good since early morning. Right now, he was single-mindedly riding his winning streak to crush his next-door neighbor. Si Bolin was also unconvinced, saying he’d slept late yesterday, that half of him was still in dreamland right now, that he was letting him win.

“Slept late?”

“Slept late.”

This question and answer—clearly the same three words—yet seemed to contain some code that only men understood. Long Qi glanced over there. Just then, Jin Yiken stared at the screen and replied: “Your daddy here didn’t sleep all night. I’m letting you win twice.”

She pulled back her calf and kicked at his waist. His body swayed. He looked at her. She rolled her eyes at him. He continued playing the game.

She also continued scrolling on her phone, randomly browsing Weibo.

Just as she was thinking she might as well never go downstairs and let Jin Yiken bring her meals every day, her phone dinged. A message notification banner appeared at the top of the screen. Lian Shaozi, whose number she had saved, sent her a message. Seven words.

—Come down for breakfast, child.

…

As the saying goes, ginger is spicier when old. She had thought last night’s visit was unnoticed by gods and ghosts, yet someone with eyes observing six directions and ears hearing eight had known everything clearly. When Jin Yiken passed the second floor, he had wandered through his brother’s study—entering empty-handed, exiting full-handed, taking away a box of Jin Shaogao’s game discs and Jin Shaogao’s soul.

And Long Qi was a bit apprehensive.

The shameless thing Jin Yiken did with her last night upstairs—there was no way she could speak of it in front of his mother. No matter how she thought about it, she felt it would be a blow to Lian Shaozi. She walked two steps forward in the corridor, then one step back. But he walked openly and confidently, hands in pockets, carrying the box of game discs, his pace never stopping. Passing her was like passing Auntie Wu. Anyway, he’d done the bad deed, there was no way back. This lifetime he could only depend on her for survival. Nothing wrong with that. After he entered the living room and grabbed an apple from the fruit plate to eat, only then did she enter the living room.

She immediately saw Lian Shaozi drinking morning tea on the sofa bathed in sunlight throughout the hall.

Wearing a white sweater and soft gray wool trousers, sitting in the light, turning book pages. On the small golden high-legged tea table were fresh roses. On the other side of the sofa were three or four square large Valango suitcases. In the hall, besides Auntie Wu, there were two other people moving about hurriedly. Long Qi had seen them—they were the two personal assistants, one male and one female, who had accompanied Lian Shaozi when she first had tea with her. They wore white gloves, going up and downstairs, carefully transporting some expensive coats covered in dust bags.

On the small table was a transparent file folder.

“Auntie.”

“Madam—” Her greeting and Auntie Wu’s call sounded almost simultaneously. It was hard to tell who interrupted whom. Auntie Wu hurriedly entered carrying a bouquet of white roses. Meeting Long Qi’s eyes, Long Qi didn’t continue speaking. Only then did Auntie Wu turn toward Lian Shaozi to continue: “Another bouquet has been received.”

…

She was referring to flowers.

On one side of the living room, the dining table was already filled with many bouquets of white roses in different sizes. Lian Shaozi didn’t look up: “I know.”

The hand holding the teacup briefly paused ten centimeters above the small table, composed as if receiving a newspaper was a routine matter. After she finished reading a long sentence on the page, she took a sip of warm tea and said: “Insert them.”

“Ah, okay.”

Jin Yiken had no interest in those roses.

But Long Qi was immensely interested, and also interested in the suitcases beside them. While she studied these things, Jin Yiken studied the file folder on the small table. She gave him eye signals. He didn’t notice, gnawing on the apple while staring there, cheeks slowly moving. The two didn’t meet eyes. Lian Shaozi spoke up and asked: “Porridge or toast, Qiqi?”

“Porridge,” she replied. Two seconds later, her brain caught up, reread the question, and changed: “Toast.”

“Serve half a bowl of porridge, toast three slices of bread, make two fried eggs, and heat up everything else on the table.” Lian Shaozi instructed, still without looking up. Three seconds later, she amended: “Four fried eggs. The child tired herself out last night.”

…………

…………

Jin Yiken was truly her biological son. Having been deeply steeped in Mrs. Lian’s tactics for over twenty years, even at this blatantly obvious level, he still patiently said nothing, eating and drinking as he should, looking like a dissolute young master accustomed to being left to his own devices. The sound of spoon and dish clinking while eating porridge rang softly. But his eyes weren’t idle—they still stared at the file bag under his mother’s hands, glancing every half minute. Half a room full of roses and suitcases didn’t attract him. This little thing had him quite concerned. After ten minutes of tasteless eating time, he finally spoke: “Mom.”

“Mm.”

“Lao Ping came by?”

“Came by.”

“He left that thing?”

“Mm.”

“You looked at it?”

“Looked at it.”

…

“Why would Lao Ping want to…”

Long Qi’s questions were still at the first one. About to ask, Jin Yiken had already whooshed up from his seat and went over there, snatching the file folder and opening it, pulling out a sheet of paper. Long Qi now had an impression—she finally remembered the most recent dealing with Lao Ping was asking him to get a report. Get a report… Right.

Right.

Damn.

Blood test report.

All her laziness vanished at once. There was a feeling of being both shocked and cold. How did this report come out so fast? How did it even arrive here directly? It caught her completely off guard. She’d been planning to light incense sticks before going to get the report. Her psychological preparation wasn’t ready. The groundwork hadn’t been laid. It just came like this—brutally smashed over in the living room full of sunlight. When Jin Yiken lowered his head to look, she froze in her chair. Her feet were numb. She was genuinely frightened. She couldn’t get up. But Lian Shaozi had already finished her tea and stood up, picking up her handbag and saying: “After finishing breakfast, change your clothes and come out with me.”

She walked two steps, then turned back, using her handbag to press against Jin Yiken’s arm: “Last night I let you go because I was busy with the divorce. The sofa on the rooftop is a dowry I brought from your French grandmother’s home. It’s aged, makes noise, but I still like it. You are not allowed to spend the night there. The same words will be copied to your brother when he turns eighteen. Also, don’t do things with the mentality that you can hide everything from me. The reason your mother is your mother is because she understands her son completely clearly—she just doesn’t say it.”

“Moreover, that fur is quite irritating,” Lian Shaozi put down her handbag and walked, her gaze still directed at Jin Yiken. “I’ve never liked being on it. Your girlfriend won’t like it either—she’s just indulging you and not saying so.”

He’d finished reading the report and finished receiving the lecture. He glanced at his mother, then looked over at Long Qi.

Lian Shaozi left.

But she had completely absorbed every word Lian Shaozi said.

Too many key points, too much information. For a moment, she didn’t know which to process first. But the most obvious meaning she understood. Continuing to look at Jin Yiken, looking at that paper thin as a cicada’s wing in the sunlight, watching him insert his hands into his pants pockets, tilting his head slightly toward her.

“Do you want to look?”

…

…

HIV.

Negative.

Infection possibility ruled out.

The stone that had been hanging for most of the year just quietly disappeared with the stamp on this report confirming everything. She leaned against the table, looking at the black text on white background on the report. Her loosely tied hair had fallen in strands by her cheeks. The morning sunlight was so beautiful it made one forget the bone-piercing cold and snow of last night. Suddenly there were no hypotheticals, nothing to be afraid of. The fried eggs were delicious, the bread toasted golden, the heat-clearing white porridge had the perfect consistency. The flowers were sweet, the tea fragrant. Even the ticking sound of the clock was pleasant. The emotional fluctuation at this moment wasn’t very dramatic, but it was genuinely the happiest moment for her in the past six months. Then, putting the paper down, she looked at Jin Yiken and said: “Organize a gathering. Let’s drink.”

The gathering was organized, but proper business had to be handled first.

Lian Shaozi had a schedule. She’d been waiting in the car until they finished breakfast. Then the vehicle set off. Jin Yiken drove. Long Qi sat in the passenger seat. Lian Shaozi was in the back seat with red lips, a formal hat, and white suit, legs crossed, looking at a few thin sheets of A4 paper on her lap. After the car had traveled halfway, as if she’d finally finished studying the lines of black text on the paper, she looked up and said a sentence—that she’d always enjoyed reading Bao Deming’s works, and also enjoyed drinking the tea brewed by Mrs. Bao.

…?

Director Shao had leveraged half a circle of connections but never managed to drink a cup of tea with Old Master Bao. With Lian Shaozi, it seemed like casually greeting an old friend. Long Qi immediately realized where this car was headed, and also remembered the previous mention of “Lian Shaozi wanting to take her” along. Jin Yiken didn’t pick up the thread. Lian Shaozi continued: “People of our generation—when we were studying, we didn’t encounter the development of the internet. Whatever we liked, we delved into and researched. Back then, I loved reading Bao Deming’s novels. In my spare time, I would paint, using seven or eight days to paint the artistic conception described in eight words from his novels, sending them to his wife who was working as an art editor at the time. There was no response, so I just kept painting. After painting for two years, in my high school graduation year, I received a letter from his wife asking me to submit a draft for the cover of Bao Deming’s new novel within a week… That was my first odd job.”

“Back then, my mom’s monthly salary was one-tenth of her pocket money,” Jin Yiken supplemented. “But she entered the circle.”

Long Qi recalled how formidable a female powerhouse Lian Shaozi had been as the former editor-in-chief of *Jay* magazine before she devoted herself to supporting her husband and raising children. The top-tier major publication covering finance, fashion, internet, entertainment, and various other major fields that she single-handedly founded—Long Qi had browsed through issues in Jin Yiken’s study during high school. Back then, she thought his mother was simply a life winner, the standard prestigious university plus family paving the way plus husband support career model. Only today did she learn that her first job was also earned by persistently painting for two years herself.

Just like before Lao Ping signed her, she’d worked as an etiquette model for two years, accepting all kinds of chaotic commercial activities, standing for an entire day in ten-centimeter high heels. During the busiest commercial performance period, Jin Yiken had felt sorry for her, confidently researched foot massage and helped her massage once. Not only did his improper force make her leg limp for three days, it also caused her to lose a week’s worth of commercial income. In the end, she happily kept him on her blacklist for half a month, until he borrowed Shu Meng’s WeChat account to transfer three times the amount she should have earned as “compensation.”

…

Thinking about it still made her a bit angry. She glanced at Jin Yiken. He had no idea she would associate to such a distant event, concentrating on driving. Her gaze moved up, looking at the rearview mirror: “So are we going to see Old Master Bao now?”

Lian Shaozi smiled.

“What would we see him for? Stubborn old man. Even if I held a hundred million in front of him, he wouldn’t be willing to give me the copyright.”

“?”

“In all those years of drinking tea with Mrs. Bao, I’ve always known one thing—her husband loves watching movies very much, doesn’t reject fringe culture, watches all kinds of movies, and there’s one person’s movies that her husband never misses.”

“Who?”

“Yan Wenjing.”

Lian Shaozi didn’t play any riddles at all. When Long Qi wanted to know, she told her straight. Her tone didn’t change at all. Long Qi’s expression didn’t change either, but internally an atomic bomb exploded. She thought, what is this situation, what is this mentality, what is this level of cultivation—it would take her several lifetimes to achieve. A full two minutes later, she slowly asked: “So we… are going to see Yan Wenjing?”

The car continued driving smoothly. Jin Yiken controlled the steering wheel with one hand.

Lian Shaozi said: “No.”

Before she could let out that breath, she heard Lian Shaozi say: “We’re going to see Lu Zimu.”