Nan Hong - Chapter 18
Although Wen Yifan knew Zheng Kejia couldn’t keep anything to herself, she hadn’t expected her to act as if nothing had happened when they met. But within half an hour, Kejia had already reported everything.
Just as she stepped out of the hospital, Wen Yifan’s phone rang.
It was Zhao Yuandong.
Through faint static, her voice came, hesitant:
“Ajiang, Jiajia said she ran into you at the city hospital. Are you back in Nanwu?”
Wen Yifan crossed the street toward the bus stop, letting out a soft “mm.”
The moment she made a sound, silence fell between them.
Zhao Yuandong sighed. “How long have you been back?”
“Not long.”
“Are you planning to settle down in Nanwu?”
Wen Yifan hesitated, then answered honestly, “I don’t know.”
“Then take your time deciding. Nanwu isn’t bad,” Zhao Yuandong said gently. “Mom just worries about you being alone outside. If you get time off during New Year, come home. Don’t spend it by yourself.”
“Mm.”
Zhao Yuandong went on, voice full of small concerns: “It’s colder now, wear more layers. Don’t skip meals because of work. Take care of yourself, alright?”
Wen Yifan sat on the bus stop bench, listening absentmindedly. “Okay.”
The line went quiet again.
After some time, Wen Yifan heard the faint sound of sobbing. Her eyelashes trembled.
“Ajiang…” Zhao Yuandong’s voice broke, “Mom knows you blame me. All these years, I haven’t done my duty as your mother… I’ve been dreaming about your dad lately. He’s blaming me too—”
“You can say whatever you want,” Wen Yifan cut in, voice suddenly sharp, “but don’t bring up my dad.”
Silence.
Realizing her own emotions were rising, she quickly lowered her gaze, smoothing her tone: “Don’t cry. I’m doing fine. If I have time, I’ll come see you.”
Zhao Yuandong said nothing.
Wen Yifan curved her lips into a faint smile. “And you’ve done your duty as a mother well.”
—Just not toward me.
The bus arrived. Wen Yifan stood, ended the call, and boarded. She found a seat by the window, watching the blurred lights streak past as the bus pulled away.
Her thoughts emptied out slowly. Negative emotions hollowed themselves into some hidden place, pressed down and buried deep.
By the time she got off, she had already adjusted her expression.
—
Maybe because she’d slept enough that morning, Wen Yifan felt energized all day.
After the police station, she returned to the TV station, spent the afternoon editing sound and writing scripts, then cleared out her backlog late into the night.
When she finally looked at the clock, it was close to eleven. Startled, she packed up quickly and rushed to catch the last subway.
The station was quiet, only a few late commuters scattered across the platform. Wen Yifan found a seat, opened her phone, and noticed a transfer notification—two hours ago, Zhao Yuandong had sent her 3,000 yuan.
Her lips pressed together. She immediately transferred it back.
—
It was around eleven-thirty when she unlocked the door.
She bent to take off her shoes, then lifted her head—meeting Sang Yan’s gaze from the sofa.
“…”
For a brief moment, Wen Yifan envied him.
When she’d left that morning, he was sprawled there. After a full day outside, she returned, and he was still in the same spot. Like some idle, wealthy young master with nowhere to be.
The TV was on, playing a random family drama, but he wasn’t watching. A mobile game blared loudly from his phone, sound effects clashing with the TV noise.
Wen Yifan said nothing. She planned to shower first, then if his “presence” was still this loud, she’d send him a message to quiet down. At least that would give him some face.
She turned toward her room.
“Hey.” Sang Yan’s voice stopped her.
She glanced back warily. “What is it?”
Sang Yan didn’t look up from his game. “I, as a person,” he said slowly.
“…Hm?”
“I have a problem.”
Wen Yifan bit back a retort—only one?
“I’ve got a strong sense of security. Before I can sleep, the door has to be locked.” He finally looked up at her, expression pointed. “Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”
The tone made it clear—because of her, his rest was disturbed.
“I also lock the door when I get home,” Wen Yifan said evenly. “If you go to bed early, that’s fine. I’ll lock up when I come back later. You don’t have to worry.”
“What I mean is,” Sang Yan drawled, half-reclining and looking up at her arrogantly, “it has to be locked before I sleep.”
“…Didn’t I tell you when we signed the lease? My work often runs late. You agreed to that.”
“Right.” Sang Yan nodded, unbothered. “So from now on, if you’ll be back after ten, just let me know in advance.”
Wen Yifan fell silent. “And if I do?”
“Of course it won’t make a difference.” He smirked. “It’s about respect. Otherwise, if you stay out all night one day, am I supposed to leave the door unlocked till morning, lying awake in fear?”
“…”
Too many quirks.
Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing, Wen Yifan simply said, “Fine. I’ll let you know if I’ll be late.”
She was about to leave when he added, “Also.”
“What now?”
“Business,” Sang Yan said bluntly. “Will you help?”
Wen Yifan almost refused. But then she remembered that crumpled twenty yuan he’d lent her all those years ago. The words stuck in her throat. “…Really only ninety-nine percent of the price?”
In the end, Sang Yan relented—slightly.
The “friend price” he gave her was 89%.
Wen Yifan had no idea what possessed her to agree.
—
Back in her room, she opened her phone. In her group chat with Zhong Siqiao and Xiang Lang, they were discussing their meetup. Regret stabbed as she typed:
[How about Overtime?]
The replies came fast:
Zhong Siqiao: [Isn’t that where we went last time?]
Zhong Siqiao: [Sang Yan’s bar?]
Wen Yifan: [Yes.]
Zhong Siqiao: [Why? I want to try somewhere new.]
Xiang Lang: [Sang Yan opened a bar?]
Wen Yifan: [Because.]
Wen Yifan: […]
Wen Yifan: [I have something to tell you.]
Zhong Siqiao: [Say it.]
Xiang Lang: [What is it?]
Wen Yifan: [The roommate I mentioned before—it’s Sang Yan.]
The chat froze.
Xiang Lang: [?]
Zhong Siqiao: [???]
Zhong Siqiao: [You two are living together???]
Zhong Siqiao: [My memory of him is still him telling you to keep his jacket as a memento!!]
Zhong Siqiao: [What’s going on?? Tell us everything!!]
Wen Yifan: [I’ll explain when we meet. He said he’d give us a discount.]
Zhong Siqiao: [Oh? Then fine. How much?]
Wen Yifan: [89%.]
Zhong Siqiao: […]
Xiang Lang: […]
Zhong Siqiao: [Tell him to get lost.]
Zhong Siqiao: [That’s not a discount. That’s daylight robbery.]
Wen Yifan: […] [I already agreed.]
—
In the end, they gave in and set the meetup at Overtime.
Thursday night, as Wen Yifan left, Sang Yan stepped out too, dressed in a dark windbreaker zipped to the collar.
“We’ll be there after dinner,” Wen Yifan said, unsure if he’d made arrangements. “When we arrive, just give them my name?”
“Tell them mine.”
“…Okay. Thanks.”
Her phone rang—Xiang Lang.
“We’re at your neighborhood gate,” he said lightly. “Can’t drive in. Come out, we’ll see you right away.”
“Okay. Just a minute.”
“No rush,” Xiang Lang said warmly.
“What do you mean no rush!” Zhong Siqiao’s voice yelled from the background. “Wen Yifan! Hurry! I’m starving!”
Laughing, Wen Yifan slipped on her shoes. “Alright, I’m coming to save your life now.”
Closing the door, she noticed Sang Yan also locking up. The two entered the elevator together.
She pressed “1.” After a pause, she asked, “Want me to press B1 for you?”
“No need.”
They rode down in silence.
Outside the gate, Wen Yifan immediately spotted Xiang Lang and Zhong Siqiao waiting, with a tall man beside them—Su Hao’an.
He looked up just as Sang Yan came out behind her.
“Did you two come out together?” Su Hao’an asked.
The three pairs of eyes landed on Wen Yifan.
“…Yeah.”
“Then let’s all eat together,” Su Hao’an said easily. “Xiang Lang, remember? We used to be desk mates.”
“I remember,” Xiang Lang smiled.
Zhong Siqiao was quick to agree.
As they arranged cars, Sang Yan walked past Wen Yifan, pausing to tilt his head at her. His voice was low, drawling:
“I know this is something worth bragging about—”
Wen Yifan: “?”
“—but the fact that we’re living together…” He clicked his tongue. “You don’t have to announce it to everyone.”
“…”