In the end, Jiang Yan prepared a beautiful spread of three dishes and a soup: potato braised with beef brisket, braised chicken wings in soy sauce, stir-fried small green vegetables, and a tomato-and-egg soup.

The colors were vibrant and the aromas were rich. Lin Tao ate until she was utterly stuffed, finally setting down her chopsticks only when she physically couldn’t continue. She picked up the iced cola on the table and took a small sip, then patted her stomach in contentment and said, without the slightest attempt to conceal it: “Your cooking is actually better than my mom’s.”

Jiang Yan hadn’t eaten much and had already put down his chopsticks before her. At her words, he simply smiled and reached for a paper napkin, pressing it gently against the corner of her lips and giving it a light dab. “Done eating?”

“Done.” Lin Tao leaned back against the chair, posture lazy, eyelids drooping. Her fingers rested on her stomach and tapped a careless, arrhythmic beat. She looked like a well-fed cat, docile and about to doze off.

Jiang Yan curved the corner of his mouth and carried the empty dishes into the kitchen.

Lin Tao heard the movement and brought the remaining bowls and plates in after him. The two of them stood side by side, squeezed together at the sink, talking quietly.

The light inside the room was a warm, dim amber. On the transparent glass of the window, the reflections of two figures — one tall, one shorter — swayed gently.

By the time they had tidied everything up, it was just past eight o’clock.

Jiang Yan washed his hands clean and reached into the cabinet beside him for a clean towel to hand her. He asked quietly: “Head back home?”

“Let’s stay a little longer.” Lin Tao held the towel and caught his hand with it, her fingertips pressing against the web of his thumb. “I want to spend more time with you.”

Jiang Yan suddenly laughed. “Alright.”

It was still early. The two of them went upstairs to his room. Jiang Yan found a movie to watch — a suspense thriller with very high ratings.

Once the movie started, Jiang Yan leaned over and switched off the lights to set the mood.

On the tea table sat the strawberries he had just bought that evening.

In-season strawberries — full and plump, their color a rich, vivid red. One bite and crimson juice flooded out; the fruit was intensely sweet.

Lin Tao ate two on her own before remembering there was a person sitting right beside her. She held one out. “Want one?”

In the dim light, the strawberry in her hand flickered in and out of visibility with the changing brightness of the screen. Jiang Yan turned his head and leaned toward her — and at that moment the screen suddenly went dark.

The next second, the lips that should have bitten the strawberry pressed, unexpectedly, against the back of her hand instead.

“……”

Lin Tao immediately went rigid all over. She could hear his low, quiet laugh near her ear. She shoved his head away and grumbled: “What are you laughing at.”

Unperturbed, he tilted his head slightly and bit off the strawberry she was holding. The warm, soft press of his lips — whether intentional or not — brushed lightly across her fingers one more time.

A deliberately slowed-down motion. From any angle, it was the sort of thing that made a person’s imagination run.

Lin Tao, who had zero experience in romance, had absolutely no ability to fire back at him at all. She could only shove the fruit plate at him in mortified frustration and say through gritted teeth: “Feed yourself!”

“No.” He placed the fruit plate back in her hands. His voice was pitched lower on purpose, making the tone sound intimate and lingering. “It tastes sweeter when you feed me.”

“……”

The film ran for two hours in total. When it reached its tragic ending of mutual destruction, Lin Tao felt a complicated mix of melancholy and thoughtfulness about the storyline.

From the opening — an unidentified male corpse in a hotel room — the narrative had unraveled piece by piece to expose a ten-year-old unsolved case: a family of four, brutally killed in a massacre. When the police caught the suspect and his interrogation became public, Lin Tao had expected some shocking revelation — but what emerged instead was a tale of an unhappy family, parents who valued sons over daughters, and a psychological wound that had festered into something monstrous and led him down a path of no return.

At the film’s end, the director, using the anonymized format of a broadcast, aired over five minutes of interview audio. Every interviewee was a woman — each from an unhappy family, each never given adequate weight by her parents, each living in the long shadow of a traditional preference for sons over daughters.

One interviewee’s words stayed with Lin Tao.

“I can’t deny that my parents love me. But I also can’t ignore the fact that all the self-doubt and insecurity in my life were given to me by them.”

The closing credits rolled.

Jiang Yan was just about to get up and turn on the light when he heard Lin Tao’s voice: “My dad is a wonderful husband, and a very capable leader. I always used to think he was a wonderful father too.”

Jiang Yan got up and turned on the light anyway. In the light, he could see the reddened rims of the girl’s eyes. He said nothing — he simply pulled her into his arms.

“He really is a good father.” Lin Tao said. “It’s just that, compared to a daughter, he seems to prefer having a son.”

That night conversation — the argument between Fang Yisong and Lin Yongcheng — had been lodged in Lin Tao’s heart like a splinter all this time.

It sat there, crossing everything, impossible to ignore.

The room fell into silence for a moment.

“It’s actually very common for older generations to hold such preferences,” Jiang Yan said, gently patting her on the back. He couldn’t find more words of comfort than these. “After being passed down through centuries, ideas like that are still deeply rooted in many people’s hearts. We can’t change the way the older generation thinks. But I can promise you that in our home, that will never happen.”

He caught her chin gently and tilted it up. He leaned down and pressed his lips warmly to her forehead. In his words was a tenderness too great to measure.

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl. As long as it comes from you — I’ll love them.”

Lin Tao’s eyes went red again. He moved his lips down and kissed her at the corner of her eye. His fingertips followed and gently brushed there. “Don’t cry.”

Jiang Yan held her close, her head resting in the crook of his neck. His throat moved. “In my world, there is only you. You are all I love.”

The girl let out a stifled sob. Burning tears slid from the curve of his neck down into his collar.

In all the time Jiang Yan had known her, this was the first time he had ever seen her cry — those small, suppressed sobs that she was trying so hard to hide, grief welling up without outlet.

He held her and listened to the sound of her crying, and felt a dull ache in the very center of his chest.

He ached for her terribly.

……

Lin Tao didn’t stay long.

The next day was New Year’s Eve — the day for families to gather together. Lin Yongcheng and Fang Yisong had rushed back from out of town the night before, only to find an empty house. They immediately called Lin Tao.

At that moment, Lin Tao had just finished crying. Jiang Yan had brought her into the bathroom, where a hot, damp cloth was being pressed gently against her eyelids.

The urgent ringing of her phone broke the quiet.

Lin Tao recognized it as the special ringtone she had set for her parents. She went outside to take the call, had a brief conversation, and in the end said she’d be right home.

After she hung up, Jiang Yan came over. He touched the still-reddened corners of her eyes gently. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

Outside, the night had deepened. Lin Tao declined. “I can get a taxi by myself.”

He didn’t agree. He took the black down jacket hanging nearby and put it on, then picked up her coat as well. “This is a boyfriend’s obligation.”

“……”

During the New Year holiday, many shops and restaurants around the area had temporarily closed — but the taxi service ran three hundred and sixty-five days a year, twenty-four hours a day, without exception.

Jiang Yan called a ride.

By the time the two of them walked out to the lane entrance, the driver had already arrived. He was parked at the side of the road with the window rolled down, smoking. When he saw the two of them approach, he quickly stubbed out the cigarette and leaned his head out. “Are you the ones who called? The number ending in XXXX?”

“Yes.”

Jiang Yan opened the car door. Once Lin Tao had climbed in, he got in after her.

The driver started the engine. In the rearview mirror, he took a couple of looks at the passengers in the back seat — clearly both young — and out of friendly concern, asked: “Big New Year’s Eve, why aren’t you two at home?”

Lin Tao gave a small sound and replied: “We’re heading home right now.”

“Oh, I see.” The driver kept his hands on the steering wheel. Once the car turned out of the narrow lane, he said cheerfully: “Are you two siblings? Which school do you go to?”

Lin Tao: “?”

Jiang Yan: “……”

The atmosphere froze.

The driver thought he’d said something wrong and asked in confusion: “You’re not siblings?”

“No, we’re not siblings…”

Before Lin Tao had a chance to explain, the driver cut in with full conviction: “Then you must be older sister and younger brother?”

Lin Tao: “……”

Jiang Yan: “?”

“You two look much better than my kids at home.” The driver brought up his own children, his tone simultaneously exasperated and full of love. “Though, appearance isn’t everything — mine may not have been born particularly good-looking, but their character is first-rate, truly one in ten thousand, and don’t even get me started on their grades.”

Lin Tao: “……”

Excuse me?

Uncle, what exactly do you mean?!

You’d better explain yourself, otherwise I’m giving you a one-star review.

Lin Tao wanted to laugh but was also genuinely annoyed. It took a while to think of any response at all. And Jiang Yan, sitting beside her, hadn’t said a single word since they got in the car.

But this driver seemed to have an extraordinarily thick mental hide — if you don’t speak, no matter; you can just listen to me. He talked by himself the entire ride, and eventually turned on music for good measure.

The car passed through streets with barely a person in sight. The music floated past them and was gone.

“A good day… today is a good day……”

Fortunately the distance wasn’t far, and with the roads nearly empty during the holiday, it took only about twenty-odd minutes for the car to stop.

Lin Tao’s head was ringing from the string of old-fashioned, ear-catching songs. The moment the car stopped, she pushed open the door and bolted out.

Jiang Yan stayed behind to pay.

“Eighteen yuan and eighty cents in total. It’s the New Year — I’ll round it down for you. Eighteen flat.” The driver turned to look at the young man in the back seat. “Alipay or WeChat?”

“Cash.” Jiang Yan reached into his pocket for his black leather wallet and pulled out a twenty-yuan note, holding it out.

The driver reached to take it. Jiang Yan didn’t let go.

“……”

A standoff lasting a few seconds.

Jiang Yan released the note. He said in a calm, measured voice: “We are not siblings. Nor an older sister and younger brother.”

“?”

He raised an eyebrow, glanced at the figure standing outside the car, then looked back at the driver’s completely puzzled expression. His tone carried an inexplicable note of pride.

“We are a couple.”

The night was deep. In the residential compound, every household had their lights on — brilliantly lit, as bright as day.

Jiang Yan walked Lin Tao all the way to the foot of her building. On either side of the path stood tall parasol trees, stripped down to bare branches in winter. Lamplight filtered through them, scattering delicate, fragmented shadows across the ground.

“Go on up.”

His hands were tucked in his pockets.

Lin Tao tugged at the zipper of his down jacket. Tentatively, she asked: “Are you really not coming to my house for New Year?”

Jiang Yan gave a soft, derisive laugh. He reached out and ruffled her hair. “If I actually showed up at your house right now, I’d be afraid your parents would throw me out the door.”

“……”

Lin Tao frowned and said nothing.

Jiang Yan knew what she was thinking. He slid his hand downward and pinched her cheek. “I’ll be going to Guan Che’s place tomorrow.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. I go every year. Uncle Guan and my father were classmates — they were very close. Auntie Guan has always looked after me too.”

He clearly wasn’t lying. Lin Tao reluctantly let herself feel a little more at ease. “Okay then. I’ll head up now.”

“Go on up.”

Lin Tao took three steps, turned around to look. Then three more steps, turned around again. When she reached the second floor, she looked out through the stairwell window and saw him still standing below. She opened the window and called his name.

“Jiang Yan.”

He heard her voice and looked up, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What?”

“It’s late. Head back soon.” The girl stood at the window, her upper body leaning out. “I’ll be home in just a second.”

Jiang Yan looked at her and felt there was nothing particular to worry about. He nodded. “Alright.”

He turned and headed out of the compound.

Light and shadow shifted across everything. The scenery on either side of the path stretched far into the distance. The young man walked in the light, his posture straight, his steps sure and steady.

Lin Tao stood at the window watching for a long time. In the end she took out her phone and snapped a photo.

An empty road, a young man’s figure stretched endlessly long by the light. Everything around him was bright and illuminated — and yet it seemed as though none of that brightness quite had anything to do with him.

Lin Tao let out a quiet sigh. She waited until his figure had completely disappeared before turning to head upstairs. She had taken several steps before remembering she should use the elevator.

During the winter night, a wind picked up and snow began to fall — and didn’t stop until dawn.

New Year’s Eve.

Lin Tao got up early. When she pulled open the curtains, she found the entire residential compound blanketed by the night’s snowfall — a vast expanse of white. Every eave and corner carried traces of the snowfall’s passage.

Fang Yisong and Lin Yongcheng had a rare day of rest. They’d been up since early morning, busy in the kitchen.

When they came to knock on her door, Lin Tao had just finished washing up.

“You’re awake — we thought you’d still be asleep.” Fang Yisong had, for once, changed out of her professional attire and was wearing comfortable home clothes. Her loosely curled hair was tied up carelessly, her expression gentle and warm. “Come out. Time for breakfast.”

Lin Tao shook out the clothes she was holding and smiled. “I’ll be right there after I change.”

“Okay.”

It was rare for the three of them to all sit together at a meal, and the atmosphere at the table was warm and easy.

Lin Tao bit into a glutinous rice ball and idly glanced at the two of them. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She didn’t know whether they were putting on a very convincing performance, or whether things had genuinely blown over. Her mind was full of questions — but none of them made it out of her mouth.

After breakfast, Lin Yongcheng voluntarily rolled up his sleeves and went to tidy the kitchen.

Lin Tao and Fang Yisong sat in the living room and chatted. The topics were nothing more than school performance and the annual question about romantic relationships — the one that came up every year without fail.

Ever since Lin Tao started middle school, Fang Yisong had talked with her every year about topics like puppy love — not to stop her, but mainly to prevent anything from happening at an age when it shouldn’t be happening. In this regard, they were open-minded enough. But in certain areas where things were not yet permissible, they were firmly, absolutely not permissible.

When Fang Yisong raised the topic this year, Lin Tao’s answer was different from previous years.

In the face of her parents’ open-mindedness, she offered equal honesty: “I have a boyfriend.”

Fang Yisong didn’t seem particularly surprised. She asked: “Is he a boy from your class?”

“Yes.” Lin Tao met Fang Yisong’s calm, steady gaze. She touched the tip of her nose, a little bashful. “He’s my deskmate.”

Fang Yisong stroked her hair. Her smile was soft and warm. “Then he must be a very good boy.”

Hearing that, Lin Tao thought of Jiang Yan.

Thought of his words, the things he had done, the person he was.

A smile gradually rose to her eyes — a light she couldn’t conceal.

“He is the best boy I have ever met.”

Author’s Note: Normal updates resume tomorrow!