Jiaqi hadn’t slept well, and the next morning she went to work with dark circles under her eyes. The company had borrowed a TV station’s studio to shoot a commercial, and it was there, in the hallway, that she unexpectedly ran into Ruan Jiangxi.
Dressed in a tailored suit, a black pearl brooch gleaming at her collar, Ruan Jiangxi carried herself with effortless grace. Her lacquer-dark eyes shimmered, dazzling in their beauty.
She greeted Jiaqi warmly.
“Can we go downstairs for coffee after work?”
Jiaqi agreed.
Instead, they ended up in a small shop, sharing fruit ice cream like college roommates on a scorching afternoon. Before them, tall glasses overflowed with fruit, the air thick with the sweetness of honey. Their voices slowed, softened by the languid bliss of the moment.
Ruan Jiangxi bore subtle resemblances to her brother, Ruan Zhengdong. When he ate a peach, he would squint slightly, lips pursed like a cat.
She began to reminisce.
“My brother was so naughty when he was young. He and Heping were infamous for tormenting people and dogs alike. At noon, when everyone napped, they filled the exhaust pipes of cars with sand. When the drivers started them, the engines coughed and died. The guards thought it was sabotage, even brought police dogs to investigate. Of course, my father knew immediately—it could only be Ruan Dongzi and Meng Heping, the two little bastards. My father beat him soundly that day. My grandfather, who spoiled him endlessly, was furious and ignored him for days. Later, when my grandfather passed away, my brother was still abroad. He rushed back too late. The first time I ever saw him cry was at my grandfather’s bedside, clutching his hand, refusing to let go. They tried to change my grandfather’s clothes, but my brother fought them off until my mother and I pulled him away. You didn’t see him then…”
Her eyes gleamed with memory.
“Actually, my brother is a person…”
Jiaqi paused, then said quietly,
“He is a very good person. But there is nothing between him and me.”
Ruan Jiangxi’s bright eyes misted.
“I know. He vomited blood this time, but it wasn’t gastric bleeding. We kept it from him—it’s liver cancer. My grandfather had the same disease. But my brother… he’s only thirty-three.”
Her voice broke. Jiaqi froze, stunned.
Liver cancer. The words felt impossible. How could Ruan Zhengdong, who could finish five sets of squash and swim laps with ease, be so gravely ill?
Ruan Jiangxi sobbed.
“Even with a transplant, the success rate is only forty to fifty percent. And livers are scarce. Even with money, we must wait. My mother is so worried, she hides it from my father. I thought… if you could just go along with him, make him happy, even for a few days…”
She wept into tissues that wilted in her hands like half-bloomed lilies.
“My brother treats you well. Others can’t see it, but I know. He never says it, but he does. Jiaqi, I’m begging you—just coax him, make him happy for two days.”
Jiaqi’s heart churned like a boiling Sichuan hot pot—bitter, sweet, sour, and spicy all at once.
Ruan Zhengdong had indeed treated her well, though always in ways difficult to understand. Once, when she had offended a key department and nearly lost an important case, she had been desperate, standing outside an office building on the verge of tears. He appeared, asked casually,
“What are you doing here?”
She forced a smile.
“Nothing. Looking for someone.”
“Oh.” He offered her a ride back.
Days later, the department that had stonewalled her suddenly relented, granting approval with exaggerated politeness. The director even asked her to greet her CEO. Only then did she learn that Zhengdong had intervened with a single phone call, spinning a tale of comradeship that wasn’t true but worked all the same.
She had called to thank him, offering dinner. He brushed it off.
“Why? Is it your birthday? I’ll be abroad. Go to the jewelry store, pick something. I’ll send a card.”
She laughed.
“I don’t want jewelry. Just give me cash.”
He paused, then said simply,
“Okay.”
Eventually, she did treat him to dinner. And later, in the dead of night, her phone rang.
“Didn’t you say you’d treat me? Come on, treat me now.”
She groaned, half-asleep.
“It’s one in the morning. I have work tomorrow.”
“Jiaqi, You Jiaqi, I’m not joking. I just landed. The flight was delayed. I’m starving. Come feed me.”
“Make instant noodles.”
“Is that edible? Get up. I’ve been hungry for twenty hours. Get up quickly.”
She nearly cried from exhaustion.
“Eat something else. I want to sleep.”
“Get up! Keep your word, You Jiaqi. Don’t sleep. Come downstairs, I’ll pick you up.”
At last, defeated, she dragged herself up, washed her face, tied her hair into a ponytail, and went down. The late autumn night was icy, the north wind cutting to the bone. She shivered, regretting not wearing a down jacket.
When he arrived, he was smiling.
“I saw you jumping from a distance, like a little white rabbit.”
She wanted to curse him, but the warmth of the car heater slowly thawed her frozen breath.
She was still dizzy in the car, but when she stepped out, the restaurant before her blazed with light. Handsome men and elegant women in evening clothes lingered over midnight snacks, their laughter rising into the cold night air. She blinked in surprise.
“It’s so cold, and there are still so many people eating in the middle of the night?”
Ruan Zhengdong strode forward, pulling her along.
“I’ve never seen anyone like you. Only you would go to bed at ten o’clock. Embarrassing, like a child. Eat more, talk less, and don’t fuss about me.”
Soon, steaming crab roe dumplings and clay pot wontons were set before her. The broth was so rich she nearly swallowed her tongue. Feeling guilty about the cost, she ventured,
“How about just two dishes?”
But Zhengdong waved the waiter over.
“Add a bowl of premium Nine-Finger Shark’s Nest and a bowl of fresh fruit bird’s nest.”
She cried out, “How could you be so cruel?”
He calmly ate his wontons.
“If you’re going to eat, eat your fill. The plane food was appalling. I’ve been starving, and you said you’d treat me. Won’t you let me eat properly?”
She glared. Could shark fin possibly fill anyone up?
He reassured her,
“Don’t worry. Shark fin and bird’s nest here aren’t expensive.”
Not expensive? The menu had no prices for women, a sure sign of exclusivity. When the bird’s nest arrived, whole and glistening beneath fresh fruit, she felt her heart sink. The bill came to over two thousand yuan. She paid, remorse gnawing at her.
In the car afterward, she accused him bitterly,
“Rich feasting and drinking, while the poor freeze to death on the road.”
He only laughed. Warm and full, she drifted into drowsiness in the back seat, listening half-heartedly to his story about a Taiwanese girl he’d met in San Francisco. The heater’s breath lulled her, and she slipped into sleep.
In her dream, a cold wind swept through. She curled up, trembling—until someone pulled a blanket over her, fingers brushing her hair aside. Instinctively, she leaned closer. The embrace that followed was hesitant, tender, like butterfly wings brushing her lips. It was just like long ago, when Meng Heping would secretly kiss her awake each morning. The dream carried the faint scent of cigarettes and mint. She murmured something and sank deeper into sleep.
She woke to Zhengdong’s voice. The car was parked beneath her apartment. The heater roared; his coat lay on the passenger seat. Outside, only the orange glow of streetlights pierced the silence. It was nearly six in the morning.
She gasped.
“It’s such a short distance, and you’ve been driving for over three hours? Isn’t this a Maybach? Why so slow?”
He retorted,
“Because it’s a good car. The old man scolds me every time I drive it. I even lied that I’d sold it. If anything happened, I’d be dead. And you—born in the Year of the Pig? You can sleep anywhere. Aren’t you afraid I’d sell you off?”
She snorted.
“You don’t need the money. At most, you’d dump me on the East Ring Road.”
He shot back,
“With someone like you, no one would want you. If you were beautiful, you’d be raped. But you’re broke, so you can’t even be robbed.”
Her heart stung.
“You cost me over two thousand yuan, and you still dare say that.”
He smiled slyly.
“If I didn’t spend over two thousand yuan on you, how else would you think of me so often?”
Even his arrogance sounded like a love line. She yawned.
“I’m going upstairs. It’s dawn. I need to change for work. You should sleep too.”
He glanced at her in the mirror.
“Whether I sleep or not—that’s none of your concern.”
She teased,
“You’ve been gone seven or eight days. I wonder how many women are waiting for you.”
His face darkened.
“I was in America for over a month, and you say seven or eight days?”
She glared, slammed the door, and kicked it with her heel. Only in the elevator did she shiver, hugging herself. A scent clung to her sweater—cigarettes and mint. She cursed inwardly. He must have smoked while she slept, filling the car with secondhand smoke.
He disappeared for days. Then came his call.
“Where have you been?”
“At work. Where else?”
“Why do you sound like that? Do you have a cold?”
She had been sick for days, still forcing herself to work. He was the first to notice. She admitted,
“Yes, I have a cold.”
“Then let’s eat Ma Xiao. It’ll cure you.”
She sighed.
“I don’t have money.”
“Then I’ll treat you.”
“I don’t have time.”
He hung up, furious. Perhaps he would never call again.
That evening, feverish and exhausted, she trudged home. A horn sounded. His Maybach gleamed behind her.
“See? I never argue with women,” he said smugly as she climbed in.
At a red light, her silence unsettled him.
“Why so listless?”
She held out her hand. His cool fingers pressed her forehead, lingering too long, as if lost in thought.
“Hey, the light’s green,” she murmured.
He startled, then turned left.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“I’ll just take medicine at home.”
“No. Hospital.”
And so she found herself under the harsh lights, trembling at the sight of the needle. He chuckled softly.
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
As night fell, the room emptied. The television droned, the IV dripped steadily. Sleep-deprived and feverish, she finally surrendered to slumber.
Someone touched her hand, and her eyes widened. The nurse was already removing the needle. Beside her, Ruan Zhengdong remarked with a faint smile,
“You can fall asleep anywhere.”
She rubbed her eyes, still groggy.
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
His grip on her hand was too firm, and she winced, pulling away to press the small cotton ball against her skin herself. Her stomach growled audibly, and almost on cue, his did the same.
“Let’s eat,” he said simply.
It struck her then—perhaps the only time they ever stopped quarreling was when food was set between them.
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