Xia Chan placed the cage on the passenger seat before circling around to the driver’s side. But before she even sat down properly, she saw He Huaisheng open the door, take the cage out wordlessly, and set it in the back seat.
He Huaisheng then slid into the passenger seat, closed the door, straightened his clothes with quiet precision, and said calmly, “Let’s go.”
Xia Chan: “……”
He Huaisheng added, “Huaiyin Road.”
“……” Xia Chan felt her mood sink. “You won’t give me a single cent of salary, yet you want me to be your part-time driver too.”
Grumbling aside, she still started the car and headed toward Huaiyin Road.
When they arrived, Aunt Shen came out warmly to greet them.
Xia Chan intended to leave immediately, but Aunt Shen urged kindly, “Miss Xia, stay for dinner before you go.”
Xia Chan smiled politely. “No, I’ll eat once I get home.”
But before she could even turn away, He Huaisheng snatched the car key from her hand and slipped it into his pocket. “Eat first, then leave.”
Xia Chan glared at him. If Aunt Shen hadn’t been standing right there, she would’ve said plenty. This man truly had no sense of boundaries.
Inside, she realized Shen Xuefei was also home, sitting at the dining table with her laptop open. She greeted both of them with a soft smile and pointed to the sofa. “Miss Xia, please sit.”
Aunt Shen returned with two cups of hot tea. Xia Chan thanked her and settled onto the sofa.
Nearby, Shen Xuefei conversed with He Huaisheng in sign language. He nodded, set the cat cage on the floor, and followed her to the dining room.
Xia Chan watched for a moment, then looked away, expression blank. After lingering a while, she finally squatted down and opened the cage.
The cat, grumpy from being cooped up too long, bristled. Xia Chan gently scooped it into her arms, smoothing its fur. Perhaps her embrace was warm; the cat surprisingly didn’t resist.
After a moment, Aunt Shen peeked out from the kitchen and frowned. “Xuefei, you should talk in the living room. Look at you, leaving our guest alone.”
“Okay!” Shen Xuefei replied immediately.
Soon she returned, apologizing with a friendly smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Xia. I ran into a problem in my research and got caught up explaining things to Huaisheng…” Her gaze drifted to the cat. “This is…?”
“Oh,” Xia Chan glanced at He Huaisheng, “it was sent by Mr. He’s sister.”
Shen Xuefei hurried over. “Can I hold it for a moment?”
Xia Chan handed the cat to her.
After a few affectionate pets, the cat wriggled away and leapt to the floor.
“What’s its name?” Shen Xuefei asked.
Xia Chan answered before He Huaisheng could, “Tangtang.”
“Is it a female?”
Xia Chan didn’t reply.
He Huaisheng nodded and signed something.
“I don’t mind,” Shen Xuefei said, “but I’m not home during the day. My mother is, so I should ask if she’s okay with it.”
She went to the kitchen.
He Huaisheng sat opposite Xia Chan, his gaze lifting toward her.
Xia Chan’s face remained calm and unreadable.
Soon, Shen Xuefei returned. “My mother said yes. She just has never raised one before and is worried she won’t do it well.”
He Huaisheng nodded and continued signing.
Xia Chan couldn’t understand any of it. She took out her phone and began scrolling.
Something brushed her leg. She looked down—Tangtang had wandered back. The cat hopped onto the sofa without hesitation and curled right into Xia Chan’s lap.
Xia Chan’s mood lifted slightly. She stroked the cat’s head. It responded almost immediately, eyes closing, purring softly.
“Tangtang seems to really like Miss Xia,” Shen Xuefei remarked with a smile.
“Hm,” Xia Chan murmured.
“Have you raised a cat before?” Shen Xuefei asked.
“I have.”
Shen Xuefei turned to He Huaisheng. “Why not ask Miss Xia to help take care of it for a few days? My mother can’t move around well, and I’m afraid she won’t manage.”
He Huaisheng looked at Xia Chan.
“My place is small,” she said lightly. “The cat would feel too confined.”
The atmosphere tightened subtly.
“Then leave it here,” Shen Xuefei said with a conciliatory smile.
Dinner soon began.
Xia Chan made brief small talk with Aunt Shen, then grew quiet again. After the silent meal, Shen Xuefei helped clear dishes while Aunt Shen escorted them out.
When He Huaisheng noticed how slowly Aunt Shen walked, he paused, doubled back inside, and carried the cat cage out himself.
Xia Chan walked ahead, wordless.
After several meters, He Huaisheng called out, “...Xia Chan.”
She stopped.
He approached, hesitating. “The cat… could you…?”
“How long?”
“Two weeks.”
Xia Chan grabbed the cage from him. “If you don’t pick it up in two weeks, I’ll throw it out onto the street.”
Without checking whether he understood, she strode off toward the alley entrance.
At the car, she held out her hand.
He stared at her.
Xia Chan frowned. “The key!”
He returned it.
She unlocked the car and was about to climb in when she spotted a familiar vehicle—He Huaisheng’s long-unseen Lexus—parked ahead.
“Mr. Ding came to pick you up?”
Just as she spoke, the driver’s door opened, and Fu Ruyu hopped out.
Xia Chan’s face darkened instantly. A wave of anger surged through her. She said nothing, got into her car, and slammed the door.
“Xia Chan—” He Huaisheng called urgently.
She threw the cage onto the passenger seat, ignored him completely, swung the steering wheel hard, and sped off.
In the rearview mirror, the figures of He Huaisheng and Fu Ruyu shrank into dots.
No matter how far she drove, anger still simmered inside her.
This man was unbelievable. Someone else came to pick him up, yet she had to be the one inconvenienced.
Approaching home, she suddenly remembered the “big trouble” still sitting in her car. Her mood soured further.
After wrestling with the impulse to ignore it, she sighed, turned the car, and went to buy cat supplies. She didn’t know what the cat usually ate, but if He Qin raised it, it must’ve been pampered. Imported products, top-tier brands—her wallet took a fatal hit.
Taking everything home, Zhou Lan was immediately displeased and demanded the cage be thrown out.
Xia Chan snapped, they quarreled fiercely, and she finally stormed into her room with the cage and slammed the door.
She sat there fuming until the cat’s soft meow reminded her to open the cage.
She prepared the balcony with litter, spread a fluffy blanket on the bedroom floor, then declared her terms: “From now on, you sleep here. Don’t leave the bedroom. And if you dare scratch anything—you’re going out on the street!”
The cat flicked its tail and stepped on her slipper.
Xia Chan: “……”
She opened a can of food. The cat immediately trotted over. Xia Chan held it away. “And one more thing. You’re not called Tangtang anymore. Your new name is Fugui, got it?”
The cat leaned toward the can.
“Fugui,” Xia Chan repeated sternly, “did you hear me?”
The cat meowed.
Satisfied, Xia Chan put the can down.
After a few bites, the cat lifted its head and meowed again.
“At least you have some conscience,” Xia Chan muttered.
She smelled of cat now, so she grabbed clean clothes and took a bath. While blow-drying her hair, she felt something vibrating under her leg—her phone.
The messages were all from He Huaisheng.
He explained he’d asked Ding Yonggui at noon to pick him up from Huaiyin Road at seven, but then forgot to cancel after he met her. Ding Yonggui was busy, so he had Fu Ruyu fill in.
Then he explained his work required frequent traveling between two places in the coming weeks. The cat couldn’t be left alone or brought with him, so he originally planned to leave it with Aunt Shen…
Xia Chan’s fingers hovered over the screen for a long time. She replied to nothing.
She locked the screen and continued drying her hair.
More vibrations. She ignored them until her hair was almost dry.
A new message: Downstairs. Come down.
Xia Chan stared at it before replying: Sleeping.
He answered: Don’t be angry.
Angry? What was she even angry about?
She was just a convenient tool—driver, messenger, cat caretaker, and occasionally, when it suited him, the “secretary” who flirted back.
She’d fooled herself, thinking he was deaf, thinking his life must be inconvenient, thinking he needed someone.
She didn’t reply again. He didn’t follow up.
Whether he actually came downstairs, she never knew.
Two weeks passed quickly.
Fugui adapted amazingly well. Aside from stepping on her chest every night and scaring her half to death, the cat was obedient and clever.
The return date came, but He Huaisheng made no move.
Xia Chan thought a long time before messaging him.
He replied quickly: The day after tomorrow. I’ll pick it up then.
Xia Chan glanced at Fugui clawing the carpet, picked it up. Fugui meowed twice, trying to escape. Xia Chan held it firmly and tapped its head. “Fugui, you’re leaving the day after tomorrow. After that, we’re done.”
That day, after work, she caged Fugui, put it in the car, and went to meet He Huaisheng.
From a distance, she saw him leaning against his car, smoking.
She eased off the accelerator, slowing, eyes fixed on him as she approached.
He looked up.
She looked away, parked, got out, and handed him the cage.
He took it silently and placed it at his feet.
“I still have things to do,” Xia Chan said. “I’ll leave first.”
He looked at her.
She bit her lip, turned, and reached for the car door—
Then the faint scent of smoke drifted over.
A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, sliding around her waist, tightening—
Pulling her firmly into his embrace.
Xia Chan reacted almost without thinking. The moment He Huaisheng reached out to steady her, she twisted away, struggling hard, then abruptly pushed him back.
He Huaisheng didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at her in silence.
Xia Chan knew she had overreacted. But if she didn’t draw a line now, this tangled mess would never end.
She lifted her head. A thousand thoughts surged through her heart — tangled, bitter, tender. She had considered every possible ending, good or bad, and in the end she refused to let herself choose blindly.
Her voice came out hoarse. “…… Then let it be like this.”
She was just an ordinary woman. Vanity, loneliness, sympathy — all these small emotions came and went, but none of them ever led to a good ending.
He Huaisheng’s gaze deepened. For a moment, it was impossible to read any emotion in his eyes.
After a long silence, he bent down, picked up the pet cage on the ground, and walked toward his car.
Xia Chan didn’t look after him again. She let out a long breath, opened her own door, and got into her car.
·
Mid-October had barely passed when Chongcheng slipped into several days of nonstop rain. The season changed abruptly, and Xia Chan caught a cold without noticing. Her whole mood felt like the weather—cold, damp, heavy, unable to lift itself from the ground.
It happened to be Liu Baona’s birthday, so when Zhou Xiu urged her to join the gathering, Xia Chan forced herself to perk up and attend.
The little girl loved noise and excitement, and many young men and women had been invited. Xia Chan felt increasingly out of place in the lively crowd, but fortunately, Chen Aijia was just as incompatible with the atmosphere — the two slipped aside to avoid the commotion and talked gossip in a corner.
It was still the hotel’s same old ambience. Now that Xia Chan had left the environment, looking back, she found it strangely dull.
Seeing her expression, Chen Aijia asked with concern, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I took cold medicine. I’m just a bit sleepy.”
“Then why don’t you go back early?”
Xia Chan shook her head. “I just got here. Leaving now would make Baona uncomfortable.”
Chen Aijia smiled. “I can’t keep up with young people anymore.”
Before long, Baona and her friends got ready to start dancing again. The moment the music blasted, Xia Chan’s head buzzed violently — she couldn’t stand it anymore. She said goodbye to Baona and prepared to leave.
Chen Aijia couldn’t stay either and followed her out.
It was still early outside. The two found a dessert shop to sit down and eat something before heading home.
Xia Chan ordered hot chocolate and sipped it slowly.
Chen Aijia suddenly asked whether she had met anyone suitable at the company.
“No. I’m busy with work. I don’t have the mind for that right now.”
The two fell silent. They seemed to share the same invisible fatigue.
After a moment, Chen Aijia smiled. “By the way, Baona’s been close to that octopus in your company lately. You know who I mean?”
“Zhang Yu?”
Since the cocktail party earlier in the year, Xia Chan and Zhang Yu hadn’t crossed paths. The secretary’s office and the PR department were separated by several floors. They rarely met now.
“How did they even get acquainted?” Xia Chan asked, surprised.
“Your Xinghui PR department works with Kaizer a lot. Zhang Yu’s been there several times. They crossed paths naturally.”
Xia Chan thought for a moment. Those two personalities were equally silly and naïve — they matched in a strange way. She asked, “Then why wasn’t Zhang Yu here today?”
“Probably working overtime.”
Chen Aijia sighed. “Young people act fast. Unlike us—always hesitating, always thinking twice before doing anything.”
Xia Chan thought it was true and smiled. “You’re freer than me. If only I were half as carefree as you.”
Chen Aijia shrugged. “Being carefree only works when nothing hurts. But if something really burns you… who can stay calm?”
Xia Chan glanced at her. “What exactly burned your hand?”
Chen Aijia quickly waved it off. “Hey, just an example.”
Xia Chan drifted into her own thoughts again, silent.
After a moment, Chen Aijia asked, “Why do you look like something’s bothering you? Did something happen between you and He Huaisheng?”
Xia Chan snapped out of it. “No… nothing. I’m just tired. And I’m going on a business trip to Pengcheng next week.”
Chen Aijia changed the topic. “You’re in Xinghui — do you know how Ruyu’s doing these days?”
Xia Chan paused. “I’m not sure… She’s been following He Huaisheng. She’s probably in Yangcheng most of the time.”
Chen Aijia let out a soft sigh.
The note in that sigh felt complicated, like it held countless tangled meanings.
…
After the meal, they left the dessert shop.
Xia Chan offered to send Chen Aijia home, but she refused. “No, a friend is picking me up. Go home, get some rest.”
Xia Chan didn’t insist.
But not long after driving off, headlights flashed sharply in the rearview mirror.
She eased off the accelerator and glanced back — then froze.
A red Lamborghini was parked at the roadside.
A secret she hadn’t intended to touch suddenly unfolded in her mind.
She immediately stepped on the accelerator and sped off. Only when she had driven far enough did she slow down slightly.
A red Lamborghini. Few people she knew drove one. If it was the same one she had ridden in — the one He Huaisheng borrowed — then the true owner of the car…
Connecting that to the phone call Chen Aijia had just made, Xia Chan felt a jolt of shock.
After that night, she tried asking indirect questions several times, but every time Chen Aijia either dodged the topic or brushed it aside. This only solidified Xia Chan’s suspicion.
…
At the end of October, Xinghui was preparing an international home furnishing exhibition in Pengcheng, and Xia Chan was assigned as the project lead.
When she arrived, she barely had time to breathe. She inspected the exhibition hall with her team, finalized layout plans, and confirmed the product supply schedule.
Two days before the exhibition opened, the shipment from Chongcheng arrived — but six sets of products were missing.
Xia Chan called Chongcheng immediately. Only then did she find out that the catalog they used there wasn’t the final version. A team member had mistakenly sent the wrong file.
There was no time to blame anyone. The priority was finding replacements.
She contacted every Xinghui dealer in Pengcheng and managed to locate four of the six missing sets. But the last set — a particular sofa and coffee table — was unavailable anywhere in the city. The exhibition opened the next morning. Chongcheng was more than 1,700 kilometers away. Transporting overnight was impossible.
The team gathered to brainstorm solutions but came up empty. They could remove the sets from the catalog — but if they did, Xia Chan would be held responsible afterward.
In the middle of the stalemate, Xia Chan stood up. “Continue setting up the exhibition. Leave space for those two sets.”
She returned to her hotel room alone.
Sitting on the bed, she hesitated for a long time before finally opening her contacts, finding a name, and sending a message.
He Huaisheng replied almost immediately: Wait a moment.
Xia Chan clutched her phone anxiously.
Fifteen minutes later, he wrote: It’s doable.
After she told him the full situation, he said he would send a truck over right away.
Yangcheng and Pengcheng were less than 200 kilometers apart. The shipment could arrive within a few hours.
Xia Chan finally felt her heart settle. She thanked him.
He replied simply: You’re welcome.
At 8 p.m., the truck arrived. Xia Chan supervised the unloading, rushed to the exhibition hall, and confirmed everything by 9:30.
She hadn’t eaten yet, so she stepped outside to find dinner.
…
After eating rice rolls in a small shop, her phone vibrated.
Has the shipment arrived? he asked.
She replied immediately: Yes, everything is ready.
Good, he wrote back.
Xia Chan stared at the screen for a long time, her appetite suddenly fading.
…
The exhibition lasted three exhausting days. They secured several large orders, even a few international ones.
When everything ended, Xia Chan gave her team a day off before returning to Chongcheng.
She herself returned to the hotel, collapsed for a while, then went out to buy food — barbecue and cold beer from the nearby snack street.
But when she walked back to the hotel entrance, a black car was parked there.
A quiet premonition rose in her chest.
She recognized the Toyota.
She stood there for a moment, uncertain.
The car blinked its headlights twice.
Xia Chan gritted her teeth and finally walked over.
The rear window lowered.
It was him.
They looked at each other, neither speaking.
After a long moment, He Huaisheng opened the door and shifted slightly inward.
Xia Chan hesitated only a heartbeat before bending down and getting in.
The driver pulled away from the hotel. Xia Chan didn’t ask where they were going.
She still held the barbecue and beer in her lap. The cold beer pressed against her stocking-clad legs, sending a chill through her body.
After a moment, she felt his gaze shift toward her — and then a warm, firm hand closed around hers.
Her fingers trembled involuntarily, but his grip only tightened, tight enough that a flicker of pain shot through her knuckles.
Neither spoke. In the quiet back seat, only their breathing filled the space.
Finally, Xia Chan cleared her throat softly. “I… The barbecue’s getting cold. Do you want some?”
He Huaisheng paused, then loosened his grip.
Xia Chan lowered the car window slightly, letting the cold night wind sweep in.
She turned to him and held out the bag.
He glanced at it but didn’t take it.
So she took out a can of beer, opened it, and drank a large gulp. The cold stung her throat, and she shivered.
Suddenly, He Huaisheng reached over and took the can from her hand.
Xia Chan froze.
He tilted his head back and drank. His Adam’s apple rose and fell in a slow, deliberate motion.
When he finished, he crushed the empty can in his hand and tossed it out the window with a sharp bang.
Any other day, Xia Chan would have scolded him for littering, lectured him about public morals.
But under his cold, unreadable gaze —
She couldn’t force out a single word.
After a long moment of stalemate, it was Xia Chan who couldn’t endure first. She turned her head away, dodging He Huaisheng’s gaze.
The atmosphere in the car did not ease in the slightest. It stayed tense, stretched thin for nearly twenty minutes, until the vehicle finally pulled into a quiet residential community and came to a stop.
He Huaisheng got out from the opposite side. Xia Chan looked through the window—this seemed to be a newly developed estate, half of it still unsold. Scattered lights glimmered faintly from a handful of occupied units.
He Huaisheng waited outside for a while. When she still didn’t move, he walked back and opened the door for her.
Xia Chan lifted her head and met his eyes—cold, unreadable, no hint of emotion flickering through them.
Looking down at her, He Huaisheng said, “You really do have a backbone. If you’re this tough… why come to me?”
The tone was harsh, but his aura didn’t waver.
Xia Chan pressed her lips together and remained silent.
She knew she had been acting strangely recently—saying one thing, doing another, completely unlike her usual self. This man was like an abyss to her. She kept being drawn in, yet didn’t dare stare directly. She only dared to glance sideways, sometimes tossing out small tests, hints—yet the moment he responded, she would panic and run.
Cowardly, timid—and infuriated at herself for feeling this way about someone who had no obligation to her.
Xia Chan bent down and stepped out of the car.
He Huaisheng moved half a step back, still looking down at her.
Xia Chan looked up as well. Her heart twisted, knotted—and from the mess of conflicting thoughts, a stubborn longing surfaced.
She gritted her teeth, slowly reached out, and took his hand. For a moment, the only thing in her chest was a desperate, no-retreat kind of determination.
—She felt it: He Huaisheng’s hand trembled slightly.
Xia Chan stepped closer, lifted her face toward him. “He Huaisheng, I…”
But after thinking and failing to find words, she gave up entirely. Instead, she raised her hands, looped them around his neck, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.
He Huaisheng paused for a beat, then grabbed her waist and pressed her against him.
The kiss was a battle—lips and teeth like weapons, each taking what they could, breathlessly claiming.
Xia Chan’s legs weakened first. She couldn’t help retreating, silently begging for mercy.
He Huaisheng didn’t relent.
Finally, she met his eyes. All she could do was whisper, pleading softly, “Go upstairs… okay?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and strode inside.
Xia Chan could barely keep up, constantly feeling dragged along by him.
When the elevator doors slid shut, he lowered his head again, kissing her fiercely—both of them burning hot, like lovers in the middle of a fever.
Xia Chan let herself stop thinking entirely.
Once inside the apartment, He Huaisheng didn’t turn on the lights. He slammed the door shut, turned, and pressed her back against it.
At today’s exhibition, she wore a fitted blazer and a tight skirt—formal attire that usually felt like armor, giving her confidence when paired with enough preparation.
But right now, all of it had become obstacles.
She hissed at the pain of his grip, gritted her teeth, and whispered, “I need to shower… I’m sweaty…”
He Huaisheng didn’t respond—or perhaps didn’t hear.
Her “armor” was stripped away piece by piece. One leg lifted, and He Huaisheng pushed in without hesitation.
Xia Chan hissed sharply—it hurt, but not only pain.
Her balance wavered; she reached out, grabbed the wall, and accidentally hit the switch. The sudden jolt hurt so badly it felt like her phalanges cracked—she gasped involuntarily.
Light flooded the room, bright and milky, revealing everything.
Xia Chan bit down and glanced at him.
His ink-black hair fell messily, his brows drawn in discomfort too. The line from his collarbone to his jaw—clean, sharp, too captivating to look away from.
Almost without thinking, Xia Chan reached out and touched his Adam’s apple.
At the same time, her head buzzed from the force of everything.
It truly felt like a war now—pain and desire feeding each other, climbing higher, igniting something fierce and consuming.
She looked at him, the corners of her eyes sharp like blades.
Finally, Xia Chan grabbed onto the last flicker of clarity and stopped him. “…Did you forget something?”
The layout of this apartment resembled the other two, but smaller—about seventy square meters, just one bedroom.
Inside, the room was orderly; the air dry and clean.
He Huaisheng took the necessary precautions, then stood to turn off the lights.
Xia Chan caught his hand. “Do you really want the lights off?”
He Huaisheng paused.
Having witnessed her parents’ divorce and Zhou Lan’s humiliating downfall, Xia Chan’s sense of security toward close relationships was naturally fragile.
At this moment, she felt as though she stood at the edge of an abyss.
She knew what falling meant—and she was prepared.
Xia Chan pushed him back, climbed over him, straddling him—and looked down.
But she didn’t move further. She stared into his eyes, biting her lip, silent.
She had to see him clearly—at least let him see her clearly.
After a long while, she slowly straightened, slapped his waist lightly, and lowered herself onto him.
This time was different.
Last time had been excitement, curiosity, that glass of red wine, and the story he told that left her dazed.
But this time she was sober—clear and resolute.
She took the helm, and the two of them became a boat riding wild waves.
The waves crashed against the rocks; water and mist rose and scattered—desire swelling, spreading, finally drowning them both…
·
Xia Chan was exhausted, unwilling to move even a finger. She remembered she still needed to place an order for the treadmill she’d promised Zhou Lan—she really needed to start exercising, otherwise she’d have no strength next time… if there was a next time.
The air carried a murky, intimate warmth. It made Xia Chan feel strangely safe—as though she and he were sharing a secret too dirty for the world to see.
After lying still for a long moment, she forced herself upright.
He Huaisheng pulled her into his arms, voice still hoarse. “What is it?”
“I’m hungry. I want to eat.”
She truly was. She hadn’t eaten any barbecue earlier, and what little energy she had left was long gone. Her stomach growled loudly.
After a beat, He Huaisheng rose. “I’ll go buy something.”
While he was out, Xia Chan showered. Hot water streamed down, and she hissed at the tenderness—still aching slightly.
After drying off, she rummaged through his wardrobe, found a loose T-shirt, and slipped it on.
She grabbed the purse near the door, retrieved her phone, and replied to messages from teammates asking about meeting times. Then she texted He Huaisheng:
Help me buy makeup remover oil and clean underwear.
He replied: What size?
Xia Chan sent back a shocked emoji: Didn’t you touch it?
He didn’t reply.
Xia Chan laughed so hard she nearly rolled off the bed.
Half an hour later, he returned with two bags.
Smelling the food, Xia Chan immediately stole the box from his hands. Inside were red bean glutinous rice balls, chicken soup dumplings, and crab-roe shrimp dumplings.
She was about to dig in, then hesitated. “Can I eat on the bed? You’re not… a Virgo, right?”
“……” He Huaisheng just stared at her.
Seeing he didn’t object, she happily set the food on the nightstand, climbed onto the bed, and ate without bothering with elegance.
He Huaisheng was messaging someone on his phone.
Xia Chan tapped his shoulder. When he looked over, she asked, “Work?”
He shook his head.
She smiled and continued eating.
Soon she finished everything. She cleaned up on instinct and went to wash up.
By the time she was done, it was nearly dawn.
He Huaisheng went to shower after her.
Xia Chan, sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone, heard his phone buzz. Reflexively, she turned—and saw a WeChat notification flash on the lock screen:
Brother! Happy birthday! Congrats on getting older again!
Xia Chan froze, staring.
It disappeared before she could read further.
Her own phone displayed the time—just past midnight.
She sat quietly for a moment, then stood and walked into the living room.
She picked up her scattered clothes, put them back on, grabbed her wallet and his spare keys, and left.
There were no shops nearby. She checked her phone, found a 24-hour café, and walked there.
While paying, He Huaisheng messaged: Are you back?
Xia Chan quickly typed: No, I just stepped out to buy something.
Walking back with the paper bag, she added: I’ll be back soon.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the apartment.
She unlocked the door—and saw He Huaisheng sitting on the sofa in loungewear.
Xia Chan changed into slippers and stepped in, holding the paper bag but hesitating.
He Huaisheng stared at her, confused.
Suddenly, Xia Chan felt childish—like a high school girl newly in love. She remembered making heart-shaped chocolates for her deskmate boyfriend on Valentine’s Day—carefully packed, one by one. Scarves, rings, chocolates—they all seemed pretentious to her now.
She hesitated, then hid the paper bag behind her and murmured, “Um… I think it’s your birthday today? Happy birthday.”
He Huaisheng stiffened.
Xia Chan didn’t want to explain. She turned, intending to throw the bag away.
But He Huaisheng stood up, caught her arm, and took the bag.
Before she could stop him, he’d already opened it.
Inside was a chocolate mousse—lopsided, not very pretty.
Xia Chan shifted awkwardly.
He Huaisheng looked at her.
She didn’t speak, too embarrassed. She turned and headed to the bedroom.
She changed out of her suit, still wearing his T-shirt, and came out with her dirty clothes.
Just as she stepped out, He Huaisheng walked in—nearly colliding with her.
She stopped, noticing he held two porcelain plates. The mousse cake had been cut into two pieces, each on a plate.
He held one out to her.
Xia Chan hesitated, then took it and followed him back to the living room.
The two plates sat on the coffee table.
Xia Chan looked at him. “…Make a wish. Even though there’s no candle.”
He shook his head.
Xia Chan said, “Then… should I make one for you?”
He neither agreed nor refused.
She paused, then said softly, “I hope everything you want succeeds. And… that you’ll be happier than now.”
She glanced at him—and thought, quietly, At least right now… I’m very happy.
There is wine tonight; to be drunk in this moment is probably happiness.
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