HomeThe Eaves that Trip the MoonChapter 11: The Call Connected, But She Didn't Answer

Chapter 11: The Call Connected, But She Didn’t Answer

Looking down from the window on the twelfth floor, nothing could be seen clearly.

Cheng Wanyue closed the window and sat on the sofa for a while before going to take a shower. She propped her sprained foot on a chair, trying to keep the medicated patch from getting wet.

The scrape on her knee wasn’t serious, though it stung a bit when soap bubbles touched it.

Moving with one leg was inconvenient, so she showered slowly. After coming out of the bathroom, she tossed the blouse and shorts she’d just taken off into the washing machine.

By the time her hair had air-dried naturally, the clothes were also washed. She hung the blouse on the balcony and leaned in to smell it.

The laundry detergent Cheng Yanqing bought was different from the kind Qing Hang used, and it smelled different, too.

She had the night off work, but her original plan had been to go see a performance. When Cheng Yanqing returned home from work and found her still there, neither watching TV nor using her phone, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking about.

Cheng Yanqing had sharp eyes and noticed the medicated patch on her ankle as soon as he entered the room. “What happened to your foot?”

“I accidentally took a fall,” Cheng Wanyue stretched lazily. “I’ve already been to the hospital. It’s nothing serious. My phone got smashed, though, so could you help me request a week off from Qi-jie?”

“Your phone got smashed?” Cheng Yanqing casually tossed what he was carrying onto the table, sat down beside her, and lifted her foot onto his lap to examine it carefully. “Where did you fall?”

Cheng Wanyue said, “I went to my friend’s place this morning to get a key, remember? It happened in the hallway. There was some oil on the floor that I didn’t notice, and I slipped.”

Before she’d left for work, Cheng Yanqing had already saved the phone numbers of her boss, the store manager, and the other band members in his phone.

“It must hurt a lot. Is one week enough? Why not take a month off?”

“A month? I might as well just fire my boss,” she closed her eyes and leaned back casually. “Stay home and sleep all day.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cheng Yanqing had been concerned all along. “Just quit. I’ll take care of you.”

Cheng Wanyue hadn’t come to Beijing to make money or become famous, but she did need a job. She had previously thought that the place’s hours and location were quite suitable, and she wasn’t picky about other aspects. But now her attitude had changed.

Meng Qi was Zhou Heng’s cousin, and Zhou Heng was Qing Hang’s roommate. At present, there probably wasn’t a better option than her current workplace.

“You need to start saving money for your future wife’s wedding dress, ring, house, and prepare for the wedding. I’m not crippled or unable to move. Many people with disabilities don’t become idle and dependent; they’re self-sufficient.”

Cheng Yanqing nodded in agreement. “Mm, you’re right. I’ll reflect on that.”

He called Meng Qi to explain the situation, requesting only a week off as Cheng Wanyue had asked.

“What do you want to eat tonight?” Cheng Yanqing rarely let Cheng Wanyue eat takeout, barbecue, fried skewers, or other unhealthy foods, only occasionally allowing her to indulge. As long as he had time, he always cooked at home.

“I already ate at that Shaanxi noodle place up front, but I can still join you for a bit more.”

“We’ll stir-fry four dishes tonight. You watch some TV first.”

“Mm.”

With her sprained ankle, Cheng Wanyue would only be in the way if she went into the kitchen. She wasn’t actually hungry, but when Cheng Yanqing finished making dinner, she ate quite a bit of each dish.

Her family had never let her do household chores. Living together in Beijing, Cheng Yanqing took on all the cooking, dishwashing, and floor-mopping duties. Practice makes perfect—he’d gotten faster at these tasks after getting used to them.

Cheng Yanqing video-called with his girlfriend every day. He was smoking on the balcony and didn’t pay much attention during the call, but when he was about to return to the room, he noticed two men’s garments hanging on the clothes rack.

He kept the cigarette between his lips and pushed open the balcony door. “Cheng Wanyue, you didn’t buy these for me, did you?”

Cheng Wanyue glanced outside, her expression completely composed. “Of course not. These were worn by someone else.”

“Then explain why someone else’s clothes are here,” Cheng Yanqing remembered they weren’t there when he left in the morning, so it must have happened in the afternoon. His expression grew complex. “Your foot is injured like this, and you still managed to bring someone home?”

She said, “They didn’t come inside.”

“So what’s the deal with these two pieces of clothing?”

“I wore them back, of course,” she didn’t intend to explain further, and hopped back to her room on one foot. “Remember to get my phone fixed tomorrow.”

The TV in the living room was still on, playing a mindless variety show. Cheng Yanqing looked up at the men’s shirts and shorts on the clothes rack and took a drag of his cigarette.

She had come to Beijing right after graduation. He wasn’t sure if she’d had boyfriends during university, but even if she had, they hadn’t worked out. She’d never brought anyone home before.

She could date now, he supposed.

Qing Hang had worked a night shift yesterday and could take today off.

He had been awake for thirty hours straight now. His body was exhausted, but he felt no desire to sleep.

The apartment had poor soundproofing. Lying in bed, Qing Hang could hear Zhou Heng’s footsteps and voice as he walked around. Zhou Heng liked to play games and usually only went to wash up before bed. He had a gaming group with his childhood friend Xu Qian, and it was quite lively every day.

At half past twelve, Zhou Heng returned to his room after showering, and the living room finally quieted down.

Qing Hang reached for the switch by the bed and turned on the light. As he sat up, he looked at the dress draped over the chair, with a visible yellowish oil stain on the hem.

He didn’t understand fashion, nor did he know much about the clothing brands popular among young women nowadays. Though Cheng Wanyue had been particular about clothes in the past, not everything she wore was a designer label; she often wore T-shirts that cost just a few dozen yuan.

She had said it couldn’t be purchased anymore, so it probably wasn’t an ordinary piece.

The second hand of the clock made another round, and the light bulb flickered once before Qing Hang came back to his senses. He got up, took the dress, and went to the balcony.

This type of fabric absorbs oil, making it difficult to clean after a long time. He soaked it in water for ten minutes, scrubbed it clean, and hung it up to dry. The next morning, he retrieved the dry dress before Zhou Heng woke up.

Perhaps because of this dress, he kept startling awake throughout the night. Each time he fell back into a drowsy sleep, he would enter another dream. Some scenes felt like they had happened, yet familiar as they were, they also felt somewhat strange—after all, they were just dreams.

Qing Hang’s wardrobe was simple, and the dress looked out of place among his clothes.

The image of her sitting on the bed changing clothes yesterday reappeared in his mind—the blouse and dress hem tangled together, intimately inseparable.

The door was suddenly pushed open, and Qing Hang instinctively stuffed the dress under the blanket.

Zhou Heng was still brushing his teeth. He had meant to say something, but when he opened the door, he saw Qing Hang’s strange sleeping posture and unfriendly gaze. He was a bit surprised but understood.

Adult men, you know.

Everyone gets it.

“Sorry,” Zhou Heng quickly apologized and closed the door. “I’ll remember to knock next time.”

In such moments, anyone would feel uncomfortable being interrupted. Zhou Heng thought about waiting until evening to speak, but Qing Hang came out of his room ten minutes later.

“That was quick?” Zhou Heng raised an eyebrow.

Qing Hang knew what he was thinking, but didn’t bother to explain. “Tomorrow evening we’re meeting the landlord to sign the contract for another six months.”

“Fine, either you go or I go. This time, let’s pay the rent for the next half year all at once, otherwise he’ll keep nagging us every couple of days. It’s annoying,” Zhou Heng stood in front of the mirror, working gel into his hair, and joked, “I saw you preparing a resignation letter a while back. I thought you were planning to leave Beijing.”

Qing Hang’s resignation letter had only gotten as far as the title “Letter of Resignation.”

“Not for now.”

“Has another hospital tried to poach you? Your department head admires you so much, he won’t let you go easily.”

Qing Hang simply said, “No, it’s because of something else.”

Zhou Heng understood what Qing Hang meant—even if he wasn’t leaving now, he would eventually.

“Don’t be too hasty. Think it through carefully. Other hospitals might offer better conditions for now, but they can’t compare to this place for future development. Qing Hang, this is Beijing, the most desired place for medical students.”

If Qing Hang hadn’t understood this principle, he wouldn’t have come to Beijing in the first place.

The contract matter was simple—just change the dates on the previous contract and sign it again.

Qing Hang’s work kept him busy, and he only had time to check his phone during breaks.

Just four days. Wait a bit longer.

Zhou Heng got off work late. It was Qing Hang’s turn to cook today, and since he had the next day off, dinner was more elaborate than usual. After Zhou Heng returned home, he was almost inseparable from his phone, not even putting it down while eating. Whenever the phone vibrated, he quickly picked it up to look, smiling as he replied to messages.

That time in the office, when a colleague had teased Zhou Heng about inviting Qing Hang to dinner at Hutaoli with ulterior motives, he had been in this same state.

Had she gotten her phone fixed?

Or bought a new one?

Qing Hang didn’t play games. After cleaning up the dishes, he returned to his room. The dress was neatly folded in the wardrobe. He looked at it for a while before dialing that familiar number.

The call connected.

But she didn’t answer.

(Zhou Heng is not the second male lead. The second male lead hasn’t appeared yet.)

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