The window latch was broken.

This residential area was a mixed neighborhood, and nearly all the lower floors had security bars installed—except for the Chen family’s apartment on the second floor. No thief would dare break into Chen Yi’s home.

When teenage Chen Yi came home, he would parkour his way up, climbing with his long arms and vaulting nimbly through the window. One midnight during a heavy rain, Miao Jing heard window tapping in her sleep. When she looked out, she saw a muscular hand gripping the windowsill and a fierce, rain-soaked face looking up at her—she nearly fainted.

If he could climb up, it meant others could too. With the broken latch—either Chen Yi needed to stay home as a deterrent, or he needed to fix it.

The next day, Chen Yi slept until late morning. The house was silent; Miao Jing wasn’t home. She’d left bread and milk on the dining table. He wolfed down a few bites and headed out.

He first went to the auto repair shop. The owner and several workers were hunched over an engine. They warmly greeted Chen Yi when they saw him. Spiky was washing cars and called out “Brother Yi.” A second-hand Cadillac drove out of the garage—Chen Yi’s car was an imported model from years ago. The original owner was a local crime boss Chen Yi had worked for. After the boss got into trouble, his assets were seized for debt payment, and the car changed hands several times before reaching Chen Yi.

“Changed the seal ring and reapplied sealant. Take it for a test drive. If it still doesn’t work, we’ll need to replace the transmission.”

“Alright.” Chen Yi caught the flying car keys. “Thanks.”

The old model had an imposing exterior with strong muscle car vibes, but it leaked oil badly. Repairs and modifications were expensive. After acquiring it, Chen Yi didn’t drive it often—sometimes he’d take it out for business meetings to maintain appearances, and sometimes he’d lend it to friends who needed to look impressive. When the shop owner asked about this, Spiky explained.

“Brother Yi used to run with people who drove this car. Got attached to it, you know?”

Everyone joked: “So it’s an old flame, huh? Was this a massage parlor special?”

Chen Yi raised an eyebrow: “Where else but massage parlors? Ever seen thugs drive luxury cars to give back rubs and pick up girls?” His tongue pressed against his palate as he gave an ambiguous smile. “Back then I was just a valet, dozing off outside the massage parlor at 3 AM, dreaming about owning this car.”

The Cadillac was parked under the pool hall’s sign. The stairway leading down was lit with colorful neon lights. The pool hall was in the basement, with eight tables—one competition-grade Joe table, the rest mid to low-end Star and Jianying tables. There was also a bar serving drinks and snacks, mahjong rooms, darts, and claw machines.

The pool hall usually attracted more male customers. Chen Yi hired two pretty girls as part-time playing partners. He played too, either in competitions or teaching girls who came specifically to learn from him. With attractive men and women around, and affordable entertainment, this pool hall had always done good business.

That evening, Miao Jing came home a bit late. The house was dark and empty. The window latch she hadn’t discussed was fixed, but cigarette butts and ashes were piled on one corner of the coffee table, and Chen Yi’s dirty clothes were draped over the sofa.

The black quick-dry T-shirt was cheaply made, but his muscular physique gave it shape and definition. It reeked of tobacco and sweat. Miao Jing showered first, then mixed her clothes with his, added detergent and scrubbed the collars and sleeves, then put them in the washing machine for a thorough wash. Finally, after spin-drying and shaking them out, she hung both his and her clothes on the balcony, where they gave off the fresh scent of laundry detergent.

The next evening, Chen Yi left the pool hall after washing his face and went to a residential area. He ate at a roadside restaurant, then sat on a red plastic stool smoking while waiting for someone.

Zhou Kang’an, off duty and in casual clothes, was passing by the street vendor to buy some braised dishes for his noodles at home when he spotted a young man in black sitting nearby, hunched forward with his elbows on his thighs, a striking eyebrow visible under his buzz cut.

“You’re back?”

“I’m back.” Chen Yi offered him a cigarette and patted a plastic bag beside him. “Thanks for helping with the permit.”

Two cartons of imported cigarettes Chen Yi had brought back from Yunnan.

Zhou Kang’an was also a heavy smoker—the criminal investigation unit had lots of overtime and late nights, running on either cigarettes or Red Bull. He took Chen Yi’s cigarette, took a drag, and raised his eyebrows with an appreciative sound.

“You rascal, smuggling isn’t allowed. Where’d you get these? How many did you bring back?”

Chen Yi flashed a mouthful of white teeth, saying cheerfully: “Captain Zhou, illegal business only counts above 50,000 yuan. What I brought doesn’t even qualify as illegal trading. Bought a few cartons from the banana fields, for personal use and sharing with friends. Stop interrogating me.”

Zhou Kang’an had a personal relationship with him and didn’t refuse: “Stay out of trouble.”

“I’ve been clean for years now. What trouble could I get into?” Chen Yi gave a wry smile. “My pool hall relies on your protection.”

“Get lost, cut that nonsense.” Zhou Kang’an smiled. “If there’s another gambling report, just come to the station yourself.”

“Those are just competitions. I know the limits.” Chen Yi thumbed his chin. “My sister’s back, so I don’t even need your intervention—she’d be the first to not let me off.”

“Oh? Miao Jing’s back?” Zhou Kang’an recalled past events with mixed feelings. “She’s graduated college, right?”

The young man’s eyes held hidden pride: “Graduated a while ago. Found a pretty good company job.”

“That’s good. You two siblings… just live a good life.”

They chatted briefly in the night without saying much more. Chen Yi strode away on his long legs, stopped at the intersection, thought for a moment, and went home.

The house was pitch black—Miao Jing hadn’t returned from wherever she’d gone. He turned on the lights to find a clean, tidy home. The coffee table gleamed, and in the bathroom, his socks and underwear were in two separate basins—the old rule: Miao Jing wouldn’t wash his intimate clothing or let him put them in the washing machine; they had to be hand-washed.

At 8:30 PM, his phone rang.

A soft, gentle voice: “Brother, can you come pick me up?”

Chen Yi stared at the wall clock, frowning: “Where are you?”

“Had dinner with colleagues, had some drinks, about to finish.” Miao Jing gave an address at a Hunan restaurant in the new development zone, quite far from downtown. At this hour, buses had stopped running, and taxis were scarce in that area.

Miao Jing had started her new job these past few days.

Though Miao Jing appeared delicate and aloof, she had none of the melancholic artistic temperament—instead, she possessed an incongruous metallic coolness. She was an engineering student who studied mechanical engineering in college. She could swing wrenches in workshops and design CAD models. She’d performed exceptionally well during her four years of university and was recruited by an auto company after graduation, becoming an automotive engineer working in production workshops and data testing facilities.

Though Teng City was a small place, its economy was decent. The local lithium battery industry has attracted car companies to transition to new energy vehicles. When a car manufacturer set up a vehicle manufacturing plant and testing center in Teng City, with production lines already starting, Miao Jing saw the news. She networked through connections, discussed salary and position with HR, and successfully transferred back to Teng City.

The factory was in a remote location, but there were shuttle buses to downtown. After joining the company, Miao Jing handled onboarding procedures and connected with her department. The automotive industry was male-dominated, with few female engineers. Miao Jing switched from flowing dresses to loose blue and white work clothes, wore a high ponytail, and carried herself with a rare decisiveness beyond her clear beauty.

The first week was new employee training and team building. The new facility had many new employees, lots of fresh graduates. Though Miao Jing was two years older, she didn’t seem more mature. Standing out among the group of men, she received special attention. After work, everyone went out for dinner to build relationships, and Miao Jing joined in, getting along well with her colleagues.

The dinner table was mostly men with a few women. Everyone was around the same age and chatted enthusiastically. Most weren’t locals. When someone asked about Miao Jing sitting in the corner, all eyes turned to her. She softly said she was from Z Province, had studied in Teng City for a few years before, and happened to find work opportunities to return. Discussing departments, Miao Jing was in Structural Engineering, and there were several junior colleagues from the same department and major in the private room. Among them, an earnest young man spoke up—Lu Zhengsi, also from Z Province, who became the first to get Miao Jing’s WeChat contact.

The new colleagues all lived in company dormitories except Miao Jing, who lived in the city. As the dinner was ending, companions offered to send her home, but Miao Jing waved them off, politely saying a friend was coming to pick her up.

The group walked out of the restaurant’s main entrance. A black Cadillac was parked by the roadside, with a young man in a white T-shirt and jeans leaning against the hood. His presence was commanding. He was looking down, smoking, and when he flicked his finger, the falling ash revealed a flash of red ember. Hearing voices, he silently lifted his eyelids for a glance, his eyes cold yet bright, staring intently, mouth closed and wordless, smoke rolling in his mouth as if something wild and fierce might pounce out at any moment.

Miao Jing paused, looking straight at him, her lips curved in a smile. Her fingertip tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she said cheerfully that her friend had arrived. She waved goodbye to everyone and walked gracefully toward the black sedan.

Chen Yi had already thrown away his cigarette, crushing it under his foot, and started the car to wait.

Miao Jing naturally took the passenger seat, first scanning the interior—empty without a single decoration. She lowered her head to fasten the seatbelt, her cool voice carrying a hint of playfulness: “This car suits your style.”

Chen Yi raised an eyebrow—damn “Massage Parlor King.” Whenever he drove this car, even if he’d just come from a construction site, people would assume he’d just left a foot massage parlor.

“Been drinking?”

Her cheeks had a slight flush, and her eyes were a bit unfocused.

Miao Jing spoke simultaneously, pulling out a wet wipe from her bag: “Is the seat clean?”

“Just sit down, you won’t get dirty.” Chen Yi darkened his face and gritted his teeth. “If you’re so capable, you could’ve taken a taxi back yourself.”

“I’m not that capable. If you hadn’t come, my colleagues would have sent me home.” Miao Jing leaned back in her seat, stretching her limbs contentedly.

Chen Yi remembered the group of admirers from earlier and frowned: “What kind of job is this, all men?”

“They’re all recently hired engineers. It’s a vehicle plant with four major workshops. It’s normal to have more men than women, but there are female colleagues too. You didn’t notice earlier, but there were two women.”

Chen Yi certainly knew about this auto company—it was a major factory backed by the local government, and their front-line workshops had recruited many mechanical vocational school and college graduates locally. He just hadn’t expected Miao Jing to be there too.

The area was desolate. He watched the road, his tone disapproving: “What position? How do you commute?”

“Eight to five, the company has shuttle buses to downtown. I work on vehicle architecture, mainly system layout and some verification testing of body components. Just got back, need to develop gradually.”

At a red light ahead, Chen Yi kept his face cold, light dancing in his eyes: “Elite university graduate, eight thousand a month—for that salary, come to my pool hall. I’d pay that much even with just a middle school diploma.”

Miao Jing was unbothered, silently watching the scenery outside. As they entered the city, she observed the roadside shops: “Stop ahead, there’s a shoe store. I need some sneakers—too much walking in the workshop, these flats hurt my feet.”

She bent down to rub her ankle. Chen Yi’s gaze inadvertently slid over, seeing her cross her legs, a light blue patent leather flat dangling from her toes. Her foot was snow-white with faintly visible blue veins, her round heel flushed pink with a red mark from the shoe back, leading up to a slender white ankle and gracefully curved calf.

He quickly averted his gaze, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The car stopped at the curb, and he leaned back heavily, exhaling: “Got money?”

“If I don’t, will you pay?”

Chen Yi pulled out his wallet and tossed it at Miao Jing: “Buy a good pair.”

“Oh.” She opened the door, rifling through his wallet—an ID card, several bank cards, a dozen red bills, enough.

Twenty minutes later, Miao Jing returned enthusiastically with shopping bags: “The shoe store had a sale, 100 yuan off for every 700 spent. I bought you a pair too.”

When she’d cleaned the house those first few days back, Miao Jing had also organized the shoe cabinet, throwing out his old shoes.

She showed him: “Black ones, look good?”

One black pair and one white pair—not a couple of shoes, but each in their preferred style.

Chen Yi gave them a cursory glance: “They’ll do.”

Miao Jing put the shoes back in their boxes, placed them in the back seat, and asked casually: “Who’s been buying these things for you these years?”

“Girlfriend.”

“How long have you been together?”

“This one, over a year, almost two years.” He thought for a moment, speaking slowly, “We get along well.”

“Good.” She sat quietly, looking somewhat lazy yet perfectly calm. “When do I get to meet my sister-in-law?”

“Whenever you want to meet, you can.”

“Then let’s set a time, have a meal, get to know each other.”

Chen Yi kept his face rigid and said nothing.

The car stopped at their apartment building. Miao Jing waited for him to park so they could go up together, but Chen Yi rolled down the window: “You go up, I have something to do.”

She stood by the car window, her clear, bright eyes looking at him: “What could you have to do this late?”

“Going to the pool hall.”

Miao Jing made a move to get in the car: “Then take me to see what kind of pool hall can pay employees eight thousand a month.”

Chen Yi secretly ran his tongue over his back teeth. He turned off the engine, sitting motionless in the driver’s seat, pulling out a cigarette: “Miao Jing, have you thought it through, coming back to work here?”

She tilted her head, her ponytail long since loosened, a strand of hair floating gently in the tender evening breeze: “Haven’t I already come back?”

“Coming back is good, gives us siblings some company, might even need to look out for each other sometimes.” He got out, slamming the car door shut, his handsome face fierce with twitching muscles. “When we each settle down and establish our careers, we’ll have relatives to visit.”

Miao Jing’s gaze swept across his face, her tone perfectly composed: “That’s if anyone’s willing to marry you.”

They went upstairs one after the other. Miao Jing inserted her key to open the door, her movement suddenly freezing—there were lights on inside and sounds.

A pair of red high heels on the floor, keys, and some late-night snacks on the dining table, and the sound of running water from the bathroom. Miao Jing turned to look at Chen Yi, her fine brows slightly furrowed, her expression calm to the point of indifference, standing silently at the doorway.

Chen Yi noticed her unusual expression and felt something odd himself. Seeing the high heels on the floor, he froze for a moment, frowning with his hands on his hips, leaning against the doorframe, exhaling dejectedly.

Tu Li was working the night shift today.

He pushed Miao Jing: “Don’t block the way, go in. Your sister-in-law is here.”

Tu Li heard voices from the bathroom: “Chen Yi?”

There seemed to be a muffled response from outside.

“My hair conditioner and hair mask, why are they all changed?”

“Come out.” Chen Yi knocked on the door, growling in a low voice, “Put on clothes and come out.”

Five minutes later, Tu Li came out dressed—wearing one of Chen Yi’s loose T-shirts that reached her upper thighs, nothing underneath, braless up top, toweling her wet hair.

“Did you hire a cleaning service? The house is so clean—”

Chen Yi stood directly in front of her, his face dark as a pot bottom, jaw clenched, his expression somewhat off. Tu Li’s gaze slid sideways to a slender figure, meeting a pair of beautiful eyes. Tu Li startled, then quickly recovered, her gaze fixed intently on Miao Jing, her face turning from pale to red, shoulders trembling. She gritted her teeth and suddenly swung her hand, slapping Chen Yi across the face.

“SLAP—”

The crisp sound echoed in the dead-silent home.

“You brought a woman home? You’re secretly seeing other women?” Tu Li’s tears burst forth. “You bastard, no wonder you wouldn’t let me come over.”

Miao Jing calmly turned and walked to her room.

Chen Yi hunched his back, gritting his teeth, then gritting them again, turning his head to look at Miao Jing, roaring in frustration: “Damn it, that’s my sister!”