Chapter 24: The House That Love Built

 

She called Ruan Zhengdong and told him she'd be back a day late—still had a few things to finish.

He didn't question it. "Sure, a day later works. But I'm charging interest."

It was the kind of joke he always made. She let it pass.

---

The day unfolded like a dream, yet every moment felt startlingly clear.

Meng Heping drove her to the western suburbs to see the first housing development he'd ever built. Villas nestled among trees, quiet and picturesque. One of them was his—a traditional courtyard house.

When she saw the spacious old-fashioned kitchen with its brick stove, he smiled. "I promised you. Finally made it happen."

It was a joke from years ago, but he'd taken it to heart. All these years of hard work, of earning and building, had led to this: a big house and a traditional stove, just for her.

"I used to imagine we'd raise chickens and ducks," he said. "Plant a grape trellis in the back. Have a few kids. On summer evenings, we'd all eat dinner underneath it. The kids would ask, 'Dad, how did you win Mom's heart?' And I could tell them about everything we went through."

She listened, smiling. Winter sunlight played across his forehead. He smiled back.

They both knew the truth—there was no going back. Everything was irreversible. Yet they stayed clear-headed, letting the pain creep in slowly.

They didn't talk about tomorrow. Their understanding was quiet, the kind old friends share when they meet again after years apart. They drove to a nearby farm stand and bought vegetables.

It was her first time cooking on a traditional stove. They both coughed from the smoke. Getting the fire started took forever. The rice turned out mushy, the vegetables slightly undercooked, but at least everything was edible.

Finally, they sat down together, facing a table full of dishes.

"The fire was too strong," she said, laughing. "I couldn't turn it down like a gas stove. I panicked and burned half of it."

He didn't pick up his chopsticks.

"Eat," she said quietly.

He lowered his head, slowly lifted some vegetables to his mouth, and chewed. They ate in silence, swallowing each grain of rice little by little.

Everything they'd shared had been beautiful. Even if they couldn't relive it, the experience itself had been worth it.

After dinner, she went to wash the dishes. There was a dishwasher, but she stood at the sink anyway, scrubbing each plate carefully until it gleamed. Meng Heping picked up a cloth and stood beside her, drying everything she washed. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting his long shadow across the floor.

Jiaqi placed the clean dishes into the sterilizer.

As she stood on tiptoe, he suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

She flinched but didn't pull away. Didn't turn around.

He buried his face against her back. She was still so thin, her shoulder blades delicate and sharp. Even after all these years, he could still recognize her scent. He remembered.

That was his happiness—the woman he'd once known.

"Bliss," he whispered.

She didn't answer.

"In the future, you have to be happier than me."

The tap water kept running. He stood motionless, like a statue. After a long silence, he spoke again.

"You have to be happier than me. Because I'll always be waiting for you."

"I'll wait for you. Forever. A lifetime."

"If I can't wait for you in this life, I'll wait in the next one."

"Even if I can't wait for you then, I'll keep waiting. Life after life. Until I finally see you again."

She couldn't speak.

The water kept flowing, like rain. The torrential downpour of life, like endless ropes whipping them, unstoppable.

They could never go back.

Those youthful, passionate loves—those unforgettable moments—were etched into their hearts, bit by bit. Untouchable. Unforgettable.

"Promise me something," she finally said.

"Okay."

"Whatever you want me to promise, I will."

---

He drove her to the airport.

Her luggage was just one small piece, carried in her hand. She turned to him. "We agreed—you can't get out of the car. You can't walk into the terminal. You have to turn your face away. You can't look at me. And when I leave, you can't remember me anymore. From now on, you have to forget me. Forever."

Every time she said "don't," he nodded and smiled. A heavy nod. Always smiling.

"I'm leaving now," she said. "Turn away."

He obeyed, turning his face to the side, his back to her.

She picked up her suitcase, climbed out of the car, and hurried toward the terminal.

He sat there, obediently facing away the entire time.

He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, trying his best to maintain the smile. Tears ran silently down his face.

He knew he couldn't do it. But he'd promised everything.

He would promise her anything.

No matter what she asked for, as long as she wanted it, he would say yes.

Behind her stretched the massive airport, planes roaring in and out of the sky.

One of them carried her away from him.

He'd promised never to look back. Never to watch her leave.

From that moment on, they were worlds apart.

---

Jiaqi walked quickly. As she entered the departure hall, the announcement crackled overhead: "Flight FM1521 to Shanghai has begun boarding. Passengers on this flight, please proceed to the gate immediately."

The hall was packed. Countless travelers leaving home or returning to it. Standing in that sea of people, she felt only weakness and confusion.

Ruan Zhengdong always said she possessed a kind of solitary courage. Only she knew it was actually cowardice. So she constantly forced herself to be brave, convinced herself she really was.

Her so-called courage was just a snail's shell—seemingly hard, actually fragile.

She was simply a coward trying to escape.

She couldn't command herself anymore. So many people moving around her, yet she felt a loneliness that made her tremble.

Her legs were so weak she could barely stand. She set her luggage down and sank into a chair.

People streamed past. Her mind went blank. She felt utterly exhausted. She wanted to go home. Just wanted to go home. She was so tired she felt like crying, but couldn't. Exhausted to the core, she just wanted to go home and sleep. But she knew she didn't mean her apartment. She meant home—the home where her father was. A warm, small home where she could be a child again, leave everything to her father, stop thinking about anything.

As long as there was a home, she just wanted to go home.

She was so weary. She just wanted to go home.

If she could, she wanted to become a child again. Go back to that quiet, safe little house—that was her home.

She had no strength left to persevere. No strength left to be brave. She just wanted to go home.

To let everything go.

It seemed so far away. But it was only a little over an hour's flight.

---

She caught a taxi outside the airport. The sky was darkening. The city's twilight seemed colder than Beijing's.

The driver was reluctant to make the long trip. She added a hundred yuan and he agreed.

They drove straight onto the highway. Holly bushes in the median strip, trimmed flat. Because of the speed, in the hazy night, the neatly arranged plants looked like a fence, almost connected. Small orange-yellow dots reflected in the headlights, forming a long and lonely queue.

The taxi driver played music. The CD quality wasn't good—it skipped in the middle, crackling slightly.

An old song on repeat: "Waiting for you to love me...waiting for you to love me..."

Such a cheesy song. The theme from some TV series years ago. So persistent, so determined. But who has enough courage to truly carry love to the end?

The small town looked especially peaceful in the scattered lights.

She hadn't returned since her father's death.

She walked down from the bridge, stood at the familiar alley entrance. The sound of televisions drifted faintly from houses on both sides. But she couldn't go any further.

She knew. Knew that everything was gone forever. Everything she'd had. Her home. Her beloved father. All gone.

The clear winter sky glittered with stars. The cold wind chilled her hands and feet.

After her father died, to repay the fifty thousand yuan debt, she'd sold the house they'd lived in together for decades. She scraped together the small compensation from the factory, what little she'd saved from work, everything spent on medical bills. Deposited it all back into the bank account and sent it to Shenyang.

She didn't want to owe him a single penny. Neither did her father.

She didn't want her father to suffer any humiliation because of that person or that incident.

That was a debt she owed. She couldn't even protect their last home, so she had to use it to preserve her father's final dignity.

That was the place where she and her father had lived for nearly twenty years. After going to university, the days she spent coming home during breaks felt incredibly precious. Every time she returned, seeing the corner of that small building behind the wall in the distance, she felt sudden relief.

She was home.

No matter how hard or tiring things were outside, as long as she thought of home, of home still being there, she could endure the hardship.

As long as there was a home, her home was there. A warm light would always be waiting for her.

No matter when, no matter where, no matter how far she eventually went, she knew her father would be home, waiting.

But now she had no home anymore.

She'd had to sell it to buy back her last remaining dignity.

The day she sold the house, she didn't cry. But she finally understood what it meant to be heartbroken. From birth, she'd lived in that little building. Every step, every window, every corner held memories of her time with her father. Every cabinet door, every chair bore his fingerprints.

That was what she cherished most. The only thing she had left.

But she couldn't even keep those memories. She had to sell them when she had nowhere else to turn.

That's when she understood what despair meant. What it meant to be broken.

She sold what she cherished most. And in return, lost it all forever.

She had no face to return. To face everything she'd shared with her father.

Those beautiful, precious times. Those warmest, most comforting memories.

She dragged her suitcase back to the bridge.

The stone slabs of the railing were cold and icy. Sitting down felt like years ago, when she was a young girl who'd forgotten her keys after school, waiting here for her father to come home.

Just a little longer, and he'd push his bicycle across the bridge, his familiar figure gradually appearing.

The river was silent. The wind bitterly cold. Lights from houses on both sides reflected in the water, shimmering with warm orange.

But no one would ever come back to open the door for her. No light would ever be her home again.

Over the years, in the hardest times, she'd cried. Hidden under the covers, weeping silently. But no one would ever again wipe away her tears with a gentle hand.

Over the years, she'd returned here with nothing.

Empty-handed, exhausted, with nothing left. Not even her heart, which had turned to ash.

She didn't know how long she sat there. The lights in distant houses went out one by one. The night grew thick as ink. The wind chilled her to the bone.

And she could never go back.

A despairing emptiness and cold made her shiver.

She could never go back.

The river flowed silently in the darkness beneath the bridge. She leaned against the railing, her vision blurring.

"Dad, I'm back."

"Dad, please help me. I have no choice. I don't know what to do."

"Dad, I want to go home. I miss home."

"I just want to go home. Please. Let me go home."

---

A new inn had opened on the other side of the old street. A small sign, freshly painted, with a pair of red lanterns hanging at the entrance. Tourism had picked up in recent years, and now there were several decent hotels in town.

The lights were still on. She knocked.

The young landlady didn't recognize her but warmly welcomed her in.

Everything in the upstairs room was new. Even the curtains had fresh, vibrant orange patterns. It was a standard room with a small bathroom and a gas water heater. The landlady patiently showed her how to adjust the temperature.

She took a hot bath. It was midnight. The entire ancient town was almost asleep. The sound of rushing water was lonely yet clear. The hot water stung her skin.

She hadn't brought a hairdryer, so she quickly dried her wet hair with a towel. Jiaqi felt utterly exhausted and fell asleep.

She woke groggily just before dawn. Her whole body burned hot, her skin feeling tingly and painful against the blanket.

She knew she had a fever. But she was so tired she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. Her mouth was dry, lips chapped and painful. Even her breath felt scalding. She got up and poured herself water, but it was so hot she only managed a couple sips before falling back asleep.

She had a jumbled dream. Vaguely remembered being sick as a child, her father touching her forehead to check if the fever had subsided. His hand was cool and gentle, like a feather brushing against her skin.

A little while later, she dreamt of the last time she was in the hospital getting an IV. She was asleep. The nurse was removing the needle. Ruan Zhengdong leaned over to look at her, gently pressing the cotton swab against her skin.

Suddenly, she was alone in an empty hospital. No doctors or nurses. The long corridor deathly silent. She felt cold all over, pushing open the doors of each ward, but they were all empty. She didn't know what she was looking for, as if she'd lost something important but couldn't find it. Just trembling with fear, pushing open every door. But she couldn't find what she was looking for.

She woke from the dream. Through the curtains, sunlight cast an orange shadow.

She felt a pang in her chest, pressed her hand there, and couldn't move for a long time.

Perhaps it was the fever. She was extremely weak.

Finally, she struggled up and slowly walked to the town medical station.

After all these years, it was still so basic. The doctors and nurses were all young people she didn't recognize.

The doctor prescribed medicine. Even the most common cold had left her feeling depleted.

The IV drip was slow. It took a long time to finish. She sat alone in the infusion room on a bench, watching the medicine drip down. She hadn't eaten anything since last night, but she didn't feel hungry. Just numb. Mechanical and sluggish.

Someone passed by in the hallway outside, walked past, then suddenly turned back.

"Jiaqi?"

It took her a while to recognize him. Uncle Sun, her neighbor who'd lived downstairs for over ten years.

Uncle Sun was both surprised and delighted. "Jiaqi, is it really you? You're back? What are you doing here?"

She didn't know how to answer. Could only force a smile.

Uncle Sun had come to pick up medicine, but he stayed with her until the injection was finished.

He insisted she come home with him. "We lived in the same building for over ten years. You're like my own daughter. How can you not come see me? Besides, you're sick. Come home and let Aunt Qiao make you some hot porridge. When you've caught a cold, eating something hot makes you feel better."

She could only nod.

After a pause, Uncle Sun said, "Jiaqi, we've actually been waiting for you to come back."

She didn't understand what he meant. Not until she walked through the familiar courtyard gate and saw the familiar house. Standing in the courtyard, looking up at the familiar little building, the familiar windows, everything she'd once had—her nose tingled and she almost burst into tears.

Uncle Sun said, "Why don't you go upstairs and see?"

But she just shook her head.

She didn't dare. Her so-called courage was just a desperate gamble because she had no home.

She was a child without a home, with only herself, so she had to be brave.

No matter what she faced, she had no support. So she deceived herself into thinking she was brave. In reality, she was just too weak to admit she had no way out, no support. So she had no choice but to be brave.

She had no right to wail. So she swallowed all her tears.

Because she had no way home. Home was lost to her.

Aunt Sun saw her like this and tears filled her eyes too.

"Good child," she said. "It's been bought back. He bought the house for you. Don't be sad anymore."

Jiaqi didn't understand until Uncle Sun brought out the keys and Aunt Sun took her hand and walked her upstairs.

When the key went into the lock, when the familiar door opened, everything in the house appeared before her eyes.

Everything was still in the same place.

Her home with her father was still here. Still here.

She'd always thought she would never have a home again in this world.

She'd always thought she would never be able to stand here again.

She'd always thought such miracles didn't happen.

She couldn't stop her body from trembling. She covered her mouth to keep from crying out loud.

Uncle Sun spoke. "Now that you have such a good boyfriend, your father would be relieved if he knew. Last month, when Mr. Ruan came, he said he wanted to buy the house. Old Li refused at first. In the end, Mr. Ruan offered a hundred and fifty thousand yuan—enough to buy the best new house in town. We all found it strange. But then Mr. Ruan explained he wanted to buy it for you. He said you'd lived here for so many years, this house was your home. He just wanted to give you a home. No matter how new or nice a house might be, it wouldn't be home for you. Only this house, only this place, was your home."

"Old Li and all us neighbors felt he'd really gone through a lot, traveling to this unfamiliar place for you. So Old Li didn't hesitate—sold the house to him for only sixty thousand yuan and started looking for a new place the very next day. Mr. Ruan kept thanking Old Li, thanking all the neighbors for their help. He treated us to a meal at the best restaurant in town. Such a kind man, though he can't drink. We tried to persuade him until we were hoarse, but he only had a small glass. He said it was because everyone was so hospitable, treating you like a daughter and not an outsider, so he couldn't refuse. We said, 'How can our son-in-law from Dongpu not know how to drink? Jiaqi, after you get married, you'll have to train him to hold his liquor.'"

Uncle Sun laughed as he spoke. "He gave me the keys, asked me to help clean the house from time to time, said he'd return them to you when you came back. He even wanted to pay us for cleaning, but I said we'd lived upstairs and downstairs for so many years—helping you clean occasionally, how could we take his money? When you come back for your wedding banquet, we'll just have a couple more drinks."

Aunt Sun said, "Jiaqi, you've met a good man. You'll definitely be happy for the rest of your life."

Tears streamed down her face, as if all the tears she would ever shed in her life were pouring out in this moment.

Inside the envelope with the house key was Ruan Zhengdong's handwriting—so fluent and elegant, containing only one sentence:

"Jiaqi, I've finally waited for you to come home."

He'd been waiting. But he'd never told her about this thing he'd done for her.

A month ago, when he left Beijing, he came here and bought this house for her. He'd even found her home.

Yet he'd never told her.

He'd never told her what he'd done for her.

At no time, in no place, had he ever mentioned it.

Whether it was helping her solve problems at work or helping her find her keys, she would never know how much time and effort he'd spent behind the scenes, taking responsibility for each and every one of her needs.

He'd said, "Because I love her wholeheartedly, I've used all my strength."

He truly had. He'd used all his strength to love her, regardless of how she treated him.

He'd been waiting for her.

Waiting for her to fall in love with him.

When she was sick, he was the first to notice. When she encountered trouble, he always helped. Every time she cried, he knew.

Because he loved her wholeheartedly, he knew what she was thinking. No matter what happened to her, he knew.

She'd always thought she was moved. But now she couldn't feel moved anymore.

She'd made him wait so long. Until now, until today. And only now was she truly giving her all.

When she was young, she'd fallen in love with someone, believing mutual love meant forever.

So many things happened afterward. She'd always thought she no longer had the strength to love someone else.

But when she turned around, he was still there. Always waiting for her.

She'd spent so much time, little by little, gradually forgetting, gradually growing, struggling and hesitating all the way to this point. Even wavering in the face of the final choice. Only today did she know what it truly meant to love someone.

Only today did she feel she had the courage to start over.

To forget everything from the past. To end everything that was.

Only today did he wait for her.

Only today did she wait for him.

She wanted to go back. If it was still possible, if there was still time, she wanted to start over. With all her heart.

---

Thoughts:

The story follows Jiaqi, a young woman caught between two loves: Meng Heping, her first love from youth, and Ruan Zhengdong, the steady, devoted man who has patiently waited for her heart.

Jiaqi spends one final day with Meng Heping before returning to her life, confronting the impossibility of their relationship. Emotionally devastated, she flees to her hometown only to discover that Ruan Zhengdong has secretly bought back her childhood home—the house she'd been forced to sell after her father's death. This selfless act, done quietly without expectation of recognition, becomes the moment Jiaqi finally understands the depth of his love and realizes she's ready to love him fully in return.