Lina had no idea that, in Zhao Panpan’s mind, she was starting to look a lot like Zhao Grandma.
So when Zhao Panpan spoke, it landed like a quiet jab. Lina didn’t like it one bit.
“I’m the manager, so I’m just supposed to work myself to death, is that it?” Lina snapped. “We’re a team. Shouldn’t we be helping each other?”
She stared at Zhao Panpan, irritation burning in her chest—partly from the endless overtime, partly from the feeling that no matter how much she did, the work never seemed to end.
Zhao Panpan stayed calm. “Helping each other should go both ways. It shouldn’t mean I’m the only one staying late to help you.”
Her gaze shifted briefly to Lijuan, who had dark circles under her eyes from being pulled into overtime again and again. “Even if it were my own family, I wouldn’t let myself give like that. I’m not a saint—I can’t love everyone equally.”
She actually found it a little ironic.
When her own family pushed her too far, she used to feel angry, hurt, and even question herself. There were times she felt so overwhelmed she wanted to disappear.
But when it came to people who didn’t matter to her, she didn’t feel that same anger anymore. She could respond calmly and clearly, instead of breaking down like she used to with the Zhao family—crying, yelling, and ultimately being labeled difficult.
Funny how that works. Everything you go through settles into you eventually. Hardship, especially—it toughens you up, makes your skin thicker, your bones stronger.
Lina was about to argue back, but Lijuan quickly pulled her aside. “Panpan, my sister’s just exhausted today. Don’t take it to heart. Go home and get some rest—you’re pregnant, after all.”
Only then did Lina’s eyes drop to Zhao Panpan’s belly, as if she had just remembered.
Zhao Panpan smiled, clocked out, and left.
Lina let out a sigh. Over the past few days, Zhao Panpan had worked so smoothly that she’d almost forgotten she was pregnant. “Tell me, is Xu Guoguo sending me help or trouble? When her belly gets bigger, are we all supposed to tiptoe around her? Treat her like she needs special care?”
Lijuan yawned. “Sis, I think you’re still biased against her. She’s pregnant, yes—but her work hasn’t slipped at all.”
She pulled out a notebook from a folder and handed it over. “Look at this. This is what Zhao Panpan’s been doing this past week.”
Lina flipped it open, a little surprised.
The notes were neatly divided into sections—each department’s working hours, responsibilities, and the overlapping tasks between customer service and other teams were all clearly marked.
Further in, there were daily logs, dated and organized. Each task was listed one by one, numbered. Every time something was completed, it was checked off.
If something wasn’t finished, it was marked with a star, along with notes on when it needed to be done and who was involved.
Everything was clear at a glance—what mattered most and what could wait.
Lina’s eyes lit up slightly. “She writes this every day?”
Lijuan nodded. “Sis, we run around all day like headless flies and still can’t finish everything. But she doesn’t even look that busy, and yet she gets everything done. Honestly… we should think about that.”
Lina pressed her lips together, saying nothing. But in her mind, she had already decided—she would watch Zhao Panpan more closely tomorrow.
Zhao Panpan, of course, knew nothing about this conversation.
She left work in a good mood and even stopped to buy two bags of cherries on the way home.
When she arrived, she knocked on her landlady’s door. Ignoring the older woman’s cold expression, she held out one of the bags. “Grandma, these cherries are really sweet. Try some.”
The landlady glanced at them. “I have diabetes. I can’t eat them.”
Then she shut the door with a loud bang.
Zhao Panpan just smiled to herself, went upstairs, and let herself in. After washing up, she curled up on the balcony in a beanbag chair, reading a book on nutrition.
At first, it felt dry and boring. But once she got into it, she found herself completely absorbed.
She liked this feeling—filling her mind, little by little. She liked being alone more and more.
If only the Zhao family could completely forget about her, that would be even better.
Late that night, Zhao Grandma called.
“I heard from your father you haven’t called them in a long time.”
Zhao Panpan said nothing.
Zhao Grandma sighed. “He’s still your father. You can’t be so heartless. The Dragon Boat Festival is coming—buy a few gifts and go see him. Say a few nice words, and he’ll forgive you.”
That calm she had built up wavered just a little. “I need his forgiveness?”
She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t wronged Zhao Yongwei. So why should she go asking for forgiveness?
And buy gifts for him? He didn’t deserve that.
“Panpan, you’re a woman, and you’re divorced. That lowers your value. You’ll need to rely on your father in the future. If you soften a bit now, you’ll have someone to support you later. Otherwise, being out there alone—it won’t be easy.”
Zhao Panpan let out a slow breath. “I don’t need to rely on him. Not before, not now, not ever. Whether I have value or not is for me to decide—it has nothing to do with him. If he would just stop trying to take my money, I’d already be grateful.”
“Don’t speak so absolutely. Life is long—you never know when you might fall on hard times. You’re not young anymore. Leave yourself some room…”
“Even if I end up picking through trash and begging, I still won’t rely on him!”
What kind of elder, who truly loves a child, would say something like, “You might end up unlucky”?
Her hand rested gently on her lower abdomen.
In that moment, she understood something clearly—sometimes, you just have to accept that not all parents love their children.
From the moment she decided to keep this baby, she had been quietly looking forward to their arrival. She found herself wanting to buy so many things, wishing for a safe, smooth life for the child.
And still, it never felt like enough.
She wanted to give more, so she kept learning more.
And in that process, she finally understood—love is often the feeling that you haven’t given enough.
Between parents and children. Between husband and wife. Between family.
If the love is real, you want to give more, not take more—and even then, you still feel like it’s not enough.
“Grandma, did you know my father wanted to take all the money from my divorce to buy a house for Zhao Tianqi?”
“Isn’t that how it should be? As the older sister, you should help your younger brother. You have money now, so you should use it to buy him a house. If you don’t support him, then when we’re gone, you won’t even have a family to return to. You’ll understand how hard that is.”
A little more disappointment settled in her chest.
So her grandmother had known all along.
And still chose to stand on their side.
“I didn’t choose to be the older sister,” Zhao Panpan said quietly. “That’s not a reason to expect me to sacrifice everything for him. And honestly, if I don’t have a family to go back to… I think I’d be freer. Happier.”
She paused, then made herself say it.
“Grandma, if you’re only calling to speak for Zhao Yongwei or Zhao Tianqi, then don’t call anymore. I’m grateful you and Grandpa raised me. But what I’ve given back over the years is already more than what you gave me. If this continues, even the little bit of affection we have left will be worn away.”
When she finished, she hung up.
Through the glass, she looked out at the lights in the windows across from her. One by one, they blurred together, her thoughts drifting, replaying scenes from her childhood with her grandmother…