Before coming over, Qin Yeyun called Lin Yingtao. Lin Yingtao had planned for the three of them to go out for dinner after Jiang Qiaoxi finished work. However, Qin Yeyun was extremely tired. After sitting for a while at Lin Yingtao’s place, she went to rest in the guest room. Lin Yingtao poured her a glass of iced fruit juice, but she never got up to drink it.
Qin Yeyun only woke up when Jiang Qiaoxi returned from work. By then, she no longer felt like going out. Jiang Qiaoxi changed his shoes in the entryway and walked into the guest room wearing his shirt. Qin Yeyun was lying under the air-conditioned blanket, talking to Lin Yingtao who sat on the edge of the bed. Qin Yeyun turned her head, glanced at Jiang Qiaoxi, and extended her hand from under the blanket to wave, “Hello, handsome.”
Jiang Qiaoxi smiled. As he unbuttoned his cuffs, he said to them, “Carry on chatting.” Then he left.
Lin Yingtao quickly called out, “Jiang Qiaoxi!” She stood up and walked to the door, exchanging a few words with Jiang Qiaoxi as he came back. Qin Yeyun watched Lin Yingtao’s cheerful back – she was still the same, always happy to see Jiang Qiaoxi. Everything about her, like her tone of voice, involuntarily lifted, though she might not have realized it herself.
Lin Yingtao asked Jiang Qiaoxi to help turn off the pot in the kitchen later. Jiang Qiaoxi asked a few questions and then agreed. When she returned and sat back on the bed, the room was once again left with just the two of them.
“Hey,” Qin Yeyun put down the half-finished fruit juice on the bedside table and asked Lin Yingtao, “Does Jiang Qiaoxi ever cook?”
Lin Yingtao rolled her eyes and muttered with a smile, “What would he cook? He doesn’t know how.”
“He’s so smart!” Qin Yeyun chided, hitting her lightly. “You should teach him!”
“Never mind,” Lin Yingtao turned to look at her, surprisingly defending Jiang Qiaoxi, “He’s too busy…”
Qin Yeyun shifted further onto the bed. She leaned against the headboard and opened the air-conditioned blanket. Lin Yingtao crawled in, nestling against her side. “You just pamper him,” Qin Yeyun said, wrapping her arm around Lin Yingtao’s shoulders. Their slightly curled hair ends intertwined. “This man, how did he choose you from such a young age?”
Lin Yingtao looked up at her. “What do you mean by ‘choose’?”
Qin Yeyun lowered her eyes to look at Lin Yingtao’s expression.
“If one day he…” Qin Yeyun began worriedly, but trailed off, hesitating to continue.
Lin Yingtao stared intently at Qin Yeyun’s face for a good while.
“I wish I had such a pretty nose…” Lin Yingtao suddenly said enviously.
Qin Yeyun tapped her forehead. “We’re talking about something serious!”
Lin Yingtao couldn’t help but keep looking at Qin Yeyun’s exquisitely beautiful face.
She remembered how as a child she always envied Jun Ji-hyun or Liu Yifei.
“Whose name is on the deed of the house you bought?” Qin Yeyun asked softly.
“Both of ours,” Lin Yingtao replied.
“What about the car?”
“His.”
“Tell him to change it to yours!” Qin Yeyun said immediately.
Lin Yingtao frowned. “But I don’t drive much… and he bought it with his own money.”
“You’re already married,” Qin Yeyun said helplessly, trying to change her perspective while she could. “The money he earns is your money too… Don’t differentiate whose money it is. Jiang Qiaoxi earns so much if you don’t hold onto his money tightly, what if something happens in the future?”
Lin Yingtao scratched her ear and said to Qin Yeyun, “Nothing should happen, right…”
Qin Yeyun and Lin Yingtao were childhood friends who grew up together, but their perspectives differed greatly in many aspects. Qin Yeyun had always been more mature, loving to experiment with cosmetics and being very fashionable. When Qin Yeyun learned to use a curling iron and became obsessed with nail polish, Lin Yingtao was still just a simple girl who would be content with new hair clips and a new dress.
Later, in university, to earn pocket money, Qin Yeyun tried various jobs. She did small business at night markets, then opened an online store when many night market vendors still didn’t pay much attention to Taobao. She dated a supplier for a while. Over the years, as the online store gradually grew, the men around her naturally changed like the seasons. Now, Qin Yeyun had long since shed that old cocoon, her wing tips raised high. She no longer needed to trouble her poor father with phone calls or force herself to smile and watch a man’s face while trying to maintain a relationship.
Now, when Qin Yeyun had free time, she would work at a beauty salon. When busy, she would meet suppliers all over the country. She had a customer service team, and as for shipping, she had entrusted it along with her team to her elderly father. It was now August, and the popularity of weight loss products was about to pass. She needed to quickly arrange autumn goods and pre-order new winter styles.
In business, you’re either chasing time or being chased by it. In this aspect, perhaps Qin Yeyun and Jiang Qiaoxi had more in common. Even the fatigue they showed in front of Lin Yingtao was so similar.
Lin Yingtao wanted to reach out and touch but didn’t dare. Leaning against Qin Yeyun, she said, “I wish I had such a pretty nose…”
Qin Yeyun glanced down and pushed her forehead away with her hand. “Forget it, you might end up losing your nose one day from messing around—”
Lin Yingtao’s life was comfortable and happy. She was like an anchor, deeply rooted in the soil of her hometown.
Qin Yeyun, on the other hand, was used to drifting outside, only occasionally wanting to return, like a cat, curling up in a familiar place before slipping away again.
“Yeyun,” Lin Yingtao asked, “Do you have a boyfriend you want to marry now?”
“No,” Qin Yeyun said immediately.
Lin Yingtao looked at her.
“Beijing is a special place,” Qin Yeyun sighed softly. She brushed her hair behind her ear with her vermilion-painted fingers. “The men I want to marry don’t want to marry me, and the ones willing to marry me, I don’t particularly want to marry—”
“Is it because you don’t like them?”
“No,” Qin Yeyun thought for a moment and said frankly, “It’s because marriage is complicated, and I’m young now and have some money.”
Qin Yeyun said she was only twenty-four and wasn’t in a hurry to make a decision. “If I’m still not married by thirty-four,” Qin Yeyun pondered, “then I’ll have a child on my own and throw myself a wedding.”
She then asked Lin Yingtao, “How does it feel to marry someone you’ve liked since childhood?”
Lin Yingtao, who had been listening intently, thought for a moment and said, “It’s quite nice.”
For Lin Yingtao, the greatest benefit of marrying Jiang Qiaoxi was probably that her heart, which had been suspended for over a decade, could finally rest.
“Before, when he was in Hong Kong, I often didn’t know what was happening with him. My travel permit was just the regular kind, and as just a girlfriend, even if something happened, I couldn’t stay long if I went over,” Lin Yingtao reflected. “It was the same when we were little. He lived with his parents, and even if I wanted to ask how he was, I couldn’t… But now, no matter what happens to him, I’ll be the first to know. Whether he’s sick, working overtime too late, drinking a bit too much at gatherings, where he’s traveling for work, the local weather, if his clothes are warm enough if he’s eating well, his colleagues, his brother and sister-in-law, and even if something were to happen, the police and doctors would probably call me first.”
Society is built on layers upon layers of connections. And in this web of relationships, because of a marriage certificate, young people have now chosen their “top priority” anew.
Qin Yeyun gazed at Lin Yingtao’s face, falling into silence.
The timer in the kitchen went off. Jiang Qiaoxi bustled about in the kitchen, dishing out the stewed ribs. “Yingtao!” he called his wife from outside, “Are you two coming out to eat?”
Lin Yingtao was in the guest room, telling Qin Yeyun about an embarrassing incident in Hong Kong when they were still living in a rented apartment: “It was one of those tiny, tiny rooms, with a bed only 1.2 meters wide. I was hungry one night, and my stomach was growling,” Lin Yingtao said, holding her stomach. “He heard it and got up, put on a jacket. I thought he was going to take me out for a late night snack because I knew Hong Kong had many delicious late-night eateries—”
Qin Yeyun watched her, smiling. When Lin Yingtao told stories, she always used her hands and feet, her face animated.
“But then he said,” Lin Yingtao suddenly put on a serious face, trying to look cool as she imitated Jiang Qiaoxi’s lowered voice, “I’ll make you something to eat.”
Qin Yeyun burst out laughing, clapping her hands.
“And then I,” Lin Yingtao raised her eyebrows excitedly, “I thought he might, for example, cook some instant noodles or maybe he had bought some snacks in advance and put them in the fridge—”
“And then?” Qin Yeyun asked.
“Then!” Lin Yingtao slapped her knee with her left hand and gestured with both hands to form a plate. “After a while, he came in with a plate of stir-fried vegetables, you know, those leafy greens, several limp strands on the plate!”
Qin Yeyun chuckled, “He cooked for you?”
“Because the fridge we were using then, there was only one per floor, a shared one, you know, with many residents. Often, things Jiang Qiaoxi and I put in there would disappear, taken by someone,” Lin Yingtao said, and then imitated Jiang Qiaoxi’s tone again, sounding very serious, “This was all that was left in the fridge, I just quickly stir-fried it…”
Qin Yeyun was puzzled, “You bought vegetables while living in a rented room?”
Lin Yingtao said seriously, “I originally wanted to use it to make porridge for him, for vitamins, just add a few chopped vegetable leaves.”
Qin Yeyun’s mouth twitched, starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.
“Then he brought it in, it was the first time he cooked for me!” Lin Yingtao said to Qin Yeyun, looking troubled. “I thought I should try it, I was quite touched.”
“Was it good?” Qin Yeyun raised her eyes, glanced at the door, and then looked back at Lin Yingtao as if watching a show.
Jiang Qiaoxi called from the kitchen several times with no response. He pushed open the guest room door to see Lin Yingtao sitting cross-legged on the bed, her back to him, engrossed in conversation with Qin Yeyun.
“I picked up one strand and ate half of it,” Lin Yingtao stuck out her tongue dramatically, “It was so salty! I thought blanched vegetables couldn’t be the worst, even if you can’t cook, you shouldn’t add so much salt, it’s common sense—”
“Then what?” Qin Yeyun laughed.
“Then I felt that Jiang Qiaoxi himself was quite defeated, he always thought he was quite smart, you know, and I discovered his big weakness,” Lin Yingtao was saying when suddenly a large hand covered her hair from above. She instinctively looked up, her words still flowing, “Then we had no choice but to use his black mug to pour out water… to wash the vegetables before eating…”
Qin Yeyun couldn’t help but laugh. She smoothed her hair and tied it up with a hair tie. She said to Jiang Qiaoxi, who was now bending down and playfully squeezing Lin Yingtao’s cheeks, “Handsome, your father-in-law cooks so well, you should learn from him.”
Lin Yingtao went to the kitchen to dish out some side dishes. The refrigerator was full of bottles and jars, all homemade pickles brought over by her parents. Lin Yingtao opened the rice cooker, took out the warmed jujube buns, stacked and arranged them in a bamboo basket, then took out the warmed sausage that had been heated with them, sliced it onto a plate, and carried everything to the dining table.
Qin Yeyun was used to eating takeout and rarely cooked for herself. She took the jujube bun Lin Yingtao handed her, watching Jiang Qiaoxi in his dark shirt, top button undone, looking every bit at the investment banking elite, yet habitually breaking apart such a homely food to eat.
Jiang Qiaoxi whispered something, and Lin Yingtao, who had just sat down, looked up at him again and leaned towards him. Qin Yeyun watched as Lin Yingtao tasted a bit of the side dish Jiang Qiaoxi had picked up with his chopsticks. She picked up the dish and returned to the kitchen. “It’s not very sweet,” Lin Yingtao turned back to Qin Yeyun with an apologetic smile, “It was just pickled, let’s add some salt.”
Qin Yeyun looked back at Jiang Qiaoxi, who was turning his head to watch Lin Yingtao in the kitchen, even though he could only see her back.
Could such an intelligent man, a legendary academic prodigy, really be stumped by something like cooking? Qin Yeyun observed as Lin Yingtao returned, setting down the side dish. Lin Yingtao asked expectantly, “Try it, is the flavor alright?”
Yes, Qin Yeyun thought. Back then, when Jiang Qiaoxi lived alone in Hong Kong, he couldn’t even cook for himself, not even able to stir-fry the simplest vegetables. How could he not make Lin Yingtao worry about him day and night, thinking of him constantly, when he was so “helpless” and alone? It was like those red high heels she held in her hands during their school days, like that cherry necklace that replaced the amber one. The academic prodigy wasn’t truly helpless at all.
After the meal, Jiang Qiaoxi rolled up his sleeves and took on the task of clearing the table. He saw Lin Yingtao taking Qin Yeyun to the study.
In a corner of the study, a computer was on. Qin Yeyun glanced at it as she walked by, seeing a document page full of English and symbols incomprehensible to ordinary people – likely Jiang Qiaoxi’s work. Sometimes, Qin Yeyun truly admired Lin Yingtao. This girl and Jiang Qiaoxi were such different people, yet they managed to get along so well. What once seemed like a precarious relationship to outsiders had led to marriage.
How much common ground did they share? What did they talk about in their daily lives? Could Lin Yingtao understand what Jiang Qiaoxi thought about every day? Qin Yeyun sat down on the sofa, noticing the coffee table in front of her was piled with old photo albums and many selected old photographs. Lin Yingtao sat down beside her. Lin Yingtao gathered the scattered photos on the table and said, “Yeyun, look, these are the ones Jiang Qiaoxi and I picked out these past few days, from our time in Qunshan—”
Qin Yeyun immediately understood: “Oh, are you using these for the wedding?”
“Yes,” Lin Yingtao looked up at her, smiling. “But these… are mostly my photos, only a few have him in them…”
Lin Yingtao glanced back at the door and whispered to Qin Yeyun, “I called his father and his former teachers, asking for some of his childhood photos. Otherwise, Jiang Qiaoxi wouldn’t ask, and he doesn’t have any…”
Qin Yeyun thought that perhaps Jiang Qiaoxi didn’t need a partner who shared much common ground with him in his career.
He just needed an anchor.
Just like Qin Yeyun, sometimes in her rented apartment in Beijing, when she was truly exhausted, seeing a message from Lin Yingtao pop up on her phone often felt so intimate it made her emotional.
These people, each developing their careers away from home, drifting, and experiencing the rapid changes of the world every day, would feel that some things had remained unchanged upon hearing Lin Yingtao’s voice.
“I threw away all my childhood photos,” Qin Yeyun said, looking down at Lin Yingtao’s childhood album.
Lin Yingtao asked, “Why?”
Qin Yeyun sniffed and pulled out a photo from the album. It showed the Workers’ Club at the Qunshan construction site in 1999, with a red banner celebrating the 50th anniversary of the founding of the nation hanging in front. To the right of the club, across a road, was a small, low doorway.
That was where Qin Yeyun had lived as a child, her family’s small shop connected to the single dormitories.
“That door is so small,” Qin Yeyun couldn’t help but remark.
Lin Yingtao persisted, “Yeyun, why did you throw away your childhood photos?”
Qin Yeyun looked up at her, pointing at her face: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m so beautiful now! I was ugly and awkward as a child, what if someone saw those photos…”
“Who would see them?” Lin Yingtao said, “They’re all kept at home…”
“You never know,” Qin Yeyun looked at her, “What if a thief broke into our house, or if someone came to visit? My dad is so honest, he might just show people my old photos, and he doesn’t understand how gossipy people online can be these days…”
Although Lin Yingtao couldn’t fully empathize with her feelings, she could tell it was a serious matter.
“But… don’t you want to keep something?” Lin Yingtao asked.
The old photos in the album captured snippets of ordinary life from the past, as well as some extraordinary holiday memories: children gathered around a cake, candlelight illuminating every once carefree face, adults in the background discussing national affairs with furrowed brows while holding newspapers. But in the eyes of young Lin Yingtao and her friends, there was only the cake and its tantalizing frosting.
“We’ll disappear eventually,” Qin Yeyun suddenly said, looking at Lin Yingtao. “People die, photo paper decays, memories fade. What can be left behind?”
Lin Yingtao sat beside her, looking up at her.
“When we were little, I thought our group was the most important in the world, the world’s ‘children,'” Qin Yeyun said to Lin Yingtao with a bitter smile. “But now, I’m about to turn 25 in the blink of an eye. At 25, I even have to start using anti-aging skincare products.”
“You can’t feel it in the provincial city,” Qin Yeyun said. “But in Beijing, every day there are so many, so many girls prettier and younger than me popping up. I don’t even know where they come from. The way they look at you, it’s as if they’re saying, ‘You 90s old aunt, you should be eliminated.'”
Lin Yingtao couldn’t help but smile.
“We’re not the world’s ‘children,’ it won’t always care for us,” Qin Yeyun gazed at Lin Yingtao. “We’re just our parents’ children, or maybe just our children.”
Life is so long, yet humans themselves are so small. If not for memories, for some lingering attachment to where we came from – be it to parents or old friends – each day, each year, and some accumulated mementos, what else could prove we ever existed?
Before Qin Yeyun left, Lin Yingtao asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”
Qin Yeyun changed her shoes and walked to the door, smiling inexplicably, “I have my own home, why would I stay at yours? My dad is waiting for me!”
When she was young, Qin Yeyun had also once dreamed of a grand, spectacular wedding, but now she didn’t think that way anymore. Just like when she was little, she had wanted the kind of normal family that other children had, like Lin Yingtao’s or Yu Qiao’s, but later she realized that ultimately wasn’t meant for her.
Carrying a box of milk from her family’s supermarket downstairs and two boxes of health supplements her father had given her, Qin Yeyun rang the doorbell of the Yu family’s home.
Upon hearing her voice, Aunt Yu exclaimed happily, “Is that Yeyun? You’re back!!”
Since childhood, Qin Yeyun had always run to Yu Qiao’s house whenever she had time. If the relationship between Lin Yingtao and Yu Qiao was equal, Qin Yeyun was more like Yu Qiao’s younger cousin, Yu Jin – someone Yu Qiao had to pay attention to and take care of.
“Oh my!” Uncle Yu stood inside the door, tall and sturdy, holding a cigarette butt, exclaiming in surprise, “My girl, how did you become so beautiful!”
Qin Yeyun walked in with a smile, putting down the gifts she brought. Uncle Yu patted her shoulder, and then she heard Aunt Yu say, “I’ll give Yu Qiao a call, see where he is—”
“No need, no need!” Qin Yeyun hurriedly waved her hand, “I just came to see you and I’ll be on my way!”
The Yu household, whether in Qunshan or after moving to the provincial city, had always been a lively place. People sat everywhere, and back then, when Qin Yeyun sat there to play, she even felt a bit cramped. Yu Qiao would often sit not far from her, reading sports newspapers, but he could barely read for long before someone called him, “Son!” “Yu Qiao!” “Brother!” Yu Qiao would often get impatient but had to stand up to deal with his family’s enthusiasm.
For a while, even Du Shang lived here, and if Lin Yingtao and Cai Fangyuan came over to play, the house would instantly become like the Beijing subway during rush hour, unable to squeeze in another person.
More than once, Qin Yeyun had heard Uncle Yu mention at the dinner table that he wanted Yu Qiao to move out as soon as he started university as if this would make the house more comfortable for everyone else.
But now, Yu Qiao had moved out.
Grandma Yu was old and went to bed early every day. Yu Jin was about to start his third year of high school and, being introverted, spent his days studying behind closed doors. Only Uncle and Aunt Yu were left, sitting quietly at home, suddenly making everywhere seem desolate. They were both happy to see Qin Yeyun visit.
Several photo frames hung on the wall, with family photos of the uncle, aunt, and Yu Qiao as a child, as well as Yu Qiao’s photos – he wore a white pilot’s shirt with three-stripe epaulets, smiling at the camera.
Qin Yeyun looked at the man in the photo for a while.
Qin Yeyun was like a second daughter to this family. When she was about to leave, Uncle Yu went to call Yu Jin out of his room, almost mistakenly calling him “Yu Qiao.” “No need, no need to see me off!” Qin Yeyun hurriedly said.
Yu Jin came out, taking off his glasses and changing his shoes with his head lowered. Uncle Yu’s large hand patted Qin Yeyun’s shoulder again: “See her to the gate.”
There were few pedestrians late at night in the provincial headquarters’ residential area. Qin Yeyun walked under the streetlights, seeing a slightly hunched figure waiting at the entrance of the community in the distance.
It was her father.
Yu Jin had grown taller since childhood but seemed even more wooden, like a wooden stake following silently beside Qin Yeyun, not saying a word.
Qin Yeyun called out to him: “Yu Jin, you don’t need to see me off anymore, go back.”
Yu Jin was stunned, staring at Qin Yeyun’s current face, blinking his eyes.
“You should be starting your third year of high school, right?” Qin Yeyun looked at him and smiled, “You should study hard, and try to do better than Yu Qiao in the exams.”
Yu Jin opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.
Qin Yeyun continued, “Yu Qiao isn’t home much, so don’t just focus on studying. If Uncle, Aunt, or Grandma Yu need anything, you’re the only boy in your family now, you should help out.”
Yu Jin nodded immediately.
Under Yu Jin’s gaze, Qin Yeyun walked back to her father’s side, and together with her dad, they disappeared into the night.
In late August, Cai Fangyuan flew back from Shanghai. The spacious villa he had purchased in the provincial capital before the New Year was finally fully renovated and ready for occupancy.
Lin Yingtao received a message from him: “Are you and Jiang Qiaoxi free tomorrow? Come over to my place for hotpot.”
“Who else is coming?” Lin Yingtao asked.
“Who else could it be? Just a few old friends,” Cai Fangyuan replied.
Ever since meeting Qin Yeyun, Lin Yingtao had been feeling particularly nostalgic for her old friends and classmates. She took out old photographs from her album, scanning them to save digital versions on her computer—even if the physical photos deteriorated one day, she’d still have the data.
In the evening, Jiang Qiaoxi left work early and drove to pick up Lin Yingtao. As she changed clothes, Lin Yingtao suddenly felt discomfort in her stomach.
Emerging from the bathroom with a glum expression, she was embraced by Jiang Qiaoxi as they entered the elevator together. He asked wistfully, “When will Jiang Chunlu arrive?”
Several cars, mostly with out-of-town license plates, were parked in front of Cai Fangyuan’s villa. As Lin Yingtao pushed open the door, unfamiliar young people immediately came to greet them.
Cai Fangyuan was gathered around a long dining table with a group of people, preparing a hotpot. He looked up, noticed Lin Yingtao and Jiang Qiaoxi entering, and waved his chubby hand: “Hey, come over here!” As he spoke, he introduced them to those nearby: “These are two of my childhood friends. You should know Jiang Qiaoxi, and next to him is his wife…”
Lin Yingtao stood by the door, supported by Jiang Qiaoxi. Looking at the room full of unfamiliar faces, she realized that Cai Fangyuan’s “old friends” weren’t exactly who she had expected.
Indeed, their group had left for big cities to study six years ago. Everyone had made their own new “old friends” since then.
Lin Yingtao sat at a corner of the table, next to Jiang Qiaoxi. A young woman beside her noticed Lin Yingtao’s discomfort and asked what was wrong, offering her some pain medication.
Upon inquiry, Lin Yingtao discovered the woman was an intern at Cai Fangyuan’s company. Curious, the young woman asked, “So you two grew up with our boss?”
At the head of the long table, Cai Fangyuan was speaking quietly on the phone. His hair was slicked back with gel, and even the way he held his phone exuded a certain swagger. Lin Yingtao watched him from afar, finding it amusing how money had changed him over the years.
Meanwhile, Cai Fangyuan frowned as he listened to his high school classmate, Huang Zhanjie, explaining on the phone why he couldn’t make it.
“I’ve already set out your bowl and chopsticks, and now you’re not coming?” Cai Fangyuan said. “Even Lin Qile is here.”
Huang Zhanjie, overwhelmed and nearly in tears, replied, “I’m right up against a deadline!”
“Alright, alright. Get your work done then. Next time,” Cai Fangyuan conceded.
“Oh, right,” Huang Zhanjie added, “Speaking of Lin Qile since she’s marrying Jiang Qiaoxi, how much are you planning to give as a wedding gift?”
Cai Fangyuan paused.
“Whatever I feel like giving,” he said. “Come on, we’re close friends. What’s there to worry about?”
Huang Zhanjie fretted, “I don’t know how much to give! None of our other classmates have gotten married yet… Should I… should I give 10,000 yuan?”
“Wow!” Cai Fangyuan exclaimed, shocked. “You’re loaded…”
“You should eat a little,” Jiang Qiaoxi said firmly, placing a cooked shrimp ball into Lin Yingtao’s small spoon after blowing on it to cool it down. On special occasions, Lin Yingtao was fine when she wasn’t feeling unwell, but once discomfort set in, her face would sour, and she’d lose her appetite.
Lin Yingtao looked at him, then lowered her head to eat the shrimp ball.
Cai Fangyuan hung up the phone and smiled across the table, “Lin Yingtao! Why are you still acting like a child?”
Lin Yingtao raised her eyes again, looking at Cai Fangyuan across the steaming hotpot.
Cai Fangyuan laughed, “Look how Jiang Qiaoxi spoils you!”
Lin Yingtao asked him, “Why are only Jiang Qiaoxi and I here…”
Before she could finish, Cai Fangyuan understood what she meant, despite the room being full of people.
“What can we do?” Cai Fangyuan said. “Not everyone has a summer vacation. You think everyone’s like you?”
The people around them laughed, and Lin Yingtao smiled too. She said, “Everyone should have a summer vacation.”
Cai Fangyuan retorted, “Dream on! If Du Shang took a summer break, who’d treat patients? If Yu Qiao took time off, who’d fly the planes?”
At the dinner table, Lin Yingtao heard many stories about Cai Fangyuan’s current life in Shanghai. She also shared some embarrassing incidents from his school days, mentioning Douban groups and comic websites. Cai Fangyuan repeatedly told her to be quiet, even personally placing a large shrimp on Lin Yingtao’s plate, saying, “Can’t shut you up, can I?”
After dinner, Cai Fangyuan insisted that Jiang Qiaoxi and Lin Yingtao stay longer: “You two can go home anytime. Come on, let’s hang out a bit more. Stay until nine, alright?”
Lin Yingtao’s stomach was still uncomfortable. She accepted a cup of hot water from Cai Fangyuan but didn’t join the others for board games. She followed Cai Fangyuan upstairs to a room with a bed.
“Come on,” Cai Fangyuan said, unusually gentle as he supported Lin Yingtao’s arm. He went to close the curtains. “Lie down here for a while. If you need anything, just press the bell by the bedside.”
Lin Yingtao sat on the edge of the bed, putting down her cup. “Why is there even a bell?”
Cai Fangyuan explained helplessly, “My dad insisted on installing it! Said all important leaders’ bedrooms should have one!”
Lin Yingtao smiled at him.
Downstairs, a game of Werewolf had already begun. Jiang Qiaoxi, unfamiliar with the rules, was reluctant to join, but Cai Fangyuan pulled him in, saying, “I don’t know how to play either. Let’s just wing it!”
The young female intern across from them laughed, “Manager Jiang, don’t listen to our boss. He’s very good at this game!”
Jiang Qiaoxi smiled and sat down next to Cai Fangyuan.
As the cards were being dealt, the person to Jiang Qiaoxi’s left briefly explained the rules of Werewolf. Suddenly, Cai Fangyuan on his right asked, “I heard from my dad that Uncle Jiang is returning from Sudan next month?”
Jiang Qiaoxi nodded at him.
“What about Aunt Liang?” Cai Fangyuan asked softly, looking at him. “Is she coming back too?”
Jiang Qiaoxi took his identity card and said, “Who knows?”
Playing Werewolf without background music felt lacking. Cai Fangyuan’s company planner went to the TV and rummaged through the drawer of old Hong Kong films.
He pulled out a copy of “A Chinese Odyssey Part Two: Cinderella,” glanced at the cover featuring Stephen Chow and Athena Chu, and inserted the disc into the DVD player.
Cai Fangyuan looked at his identity card and immediately adopted a sly expression. Jiang Qiaoxi followed suit, checking his card before hearing Cai Fangyuan say, “Ask me if you don’t understand anything.”
“Manager Jiang,” a female employee across the table smiled, “Is this your first time playing Werewolf?”
Jiang Qiaoxi had just finished analyzing his judgments of everyone present, as others had done, causing an uproar. “It is,” he said innocently, looking at the girl.
The girl immediately covered her eyes with both hands, avoiding Jiang Qiaoxi’s gaze.
“It affects my judgment too much!” she said.
After the first round, Jiang Qiaoxi and Cai Fangyuan, as the two werewolves, managed to end the game successfully.
As the second round began, Jiang Qiaoxi glanced at his identity card and started exchanging meaningful looks with Cai Fangyuan.
The planner said, “When Manager Jiang and Boss Cai exchange those looks, you know they’re up to no good! They’re planning to kill someone!”
The artist across the table slapped the table and exclaimed, “They must be the two werewolves again!”
“Don’t misunderstand!” Cai Fangyuan quickly clarified, waving his hands. “We’re both good guys this time!”
Jiang Qiaoxi sat to the side, nodding without saying a word.
He only spoke when it was his turn, his words concise and clear. No matter how others questioned him, his logic moved swiftly, resolving doubts in just a few sentences. If someone said they didn’t understand, Jiang Qiaoxi could repeat his explanation a second time, identical to the first, leaving no room to doubt the truth of his words. He was particularly adept at “dumbing down” his theories.
The receptionist across the table cupped her face and said dreamily, “Manager Jiang explains things so clearly! I understood everything!”
Cai Fangyuan, cracking sunflower seeds, said, “Back in elementary and high school, he was always explaining things to his wife. You know, that’s how he learned to explain things to idiots!”
As the second round neared its end, everyone still believed Jiang Qiaoxi was the Seer, even after the werewolves had killed the innocent Cai Fangyuan.
The real Seer, who had died early on, had been covering his face for over ten minutes. He finally looked up and exclaimed, “Manager Jiang! You’re so devious!”
Cai Fangyuan, halfway through cracking a sunflower seed, was left stunned by Jiang Qiaoxi’s true identity.
At the start of the third round, everyone immediately voted to eliminate Jiang Qiaoxi. It was unanimously approved, making him the first to be voted out.
Jiang Qiaoxi sighed and tossed his identity card aside. “You guys are no fun to play with.”
He went upstairs to spend time with his wife.
Downstairs, Cai Fangyuan advised the single female employees of his company: “My childhood friend here has always been brave in pursuit. Look what a great husband she caught!”
A female employee pouted, “Then why don’t you ask your childhood friend to come down and share some tips with us?”
Hearing this, Cai Fangyuan laughed, “I doubt she could sum up any tips… The tip is, her husband just happened to like her back!”
On the TV screen, Zhizunbao gazed at Zixia Fairy.
“Once, I had a sincere love right in front of me, but I didn’t cherish it. Only when I lost it did I deeply regret…”
Lin Yingtao sat up in bed as Jiang Qiaoxi came to her side. She leaned into his embrace.
“At first, when Cai Fangyuan said he was inviting a few ‘old friends’ for hotpot, I thought they would all come…” Lin Yingtao’s chin rested on his shoulder.
Jiang Qiaoxi held her and smiled. “They’ll all come on our wedding day.”
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Our Generation – Chapter Notes:
“A Chinese Odyssey Part Two: Cinderella”: A classic nonsensical romantic comedy produced by Stephen Chow’s Star Overseas in 1994. Based on “Journey to the West,” tells the story of Zhizunbao’s encounter with Zixia Fairy, their subsequent romance, and his eventual transformation into Sun Wukong. The line “Once, I had a sincere love…” is a famous quote from the film.
“Dayeye”: A large villa.