After finalizing the list, Qiao Xin let out a long, relieved breath. It was 5:00 PM. For the first time since Lin Qing’s passing, she actually felt hungry—in the previous days, she had only forced herself to eat a little out of necessity. Now, she found herself craving the claypot rice noodles they used to frequent together.
She grabbed her keys and headed out. Lin Qing owned a domestic sedan. Since their apartment was so close to their workplace, they usually walked, so the car had been sitting in the parking space for a long time. Qiao Xin decided to drive it out; she planned to rent a small van first so that stockpiling would be easier tomorrow morning.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the complex, she reached the claypot noodle shop. She ordered a spicy bowl and sat down to wait. As she browsed for car rental companies on her phone, she settled on one nearby that charged 150 yuan a day for a small van.
She called to confirm the details and agreed to meet the owner in forty minutes. As she hung up, her food arrived. She said “thank you” and reached for her chopsticks, but the owner hurriedly stopped her. “Careful, miss! It’s hot.”
Qiao Xin snapped out of her daze. Perhaps the shock of Lin Qing’s death had hit her harder than she realized; her mind had felt sluggish lately. “Thank you, boss. I was just looking at my phone and wasn’t paying attention.”
The owner simply smiled and walked away.
She let the noodles cool for a moment while checking their account balances. Their savings for a down payment on a house totaled 2.8 million yuan. She had 100,000 yuan in their reserve account. Although she hadn’t agreed to the car accident compensation, the other party had wired one million yuan to her—she didn’t even know how they had obtained her account number, but they had texted her after the transfer. Qiao Xin hadn’t replied then, and she certainly wouldn’t reply now; their hollow remorse could never bring back her lover’s life.
Then there was Lin Qing’s final salary and bonuses, totaling 325,310 yuan, and her own resignation pay, which would be 8,100 yuan in two days.
She also checked their public housing fund accounts. After eight years of working, Lin Qing had 325,242 yuan, and she had 258,300 yuan. Each of their medical insurance cards also held tens of thousands. While those funds couldn’t be withdrawn as cash, they could be used to buy medicine. She decided to make time tomorrow morning to close the housing fund accounts, and the money would arrive in three working days.
The total came to over 4.81 million yuan. Staring at the number, Qiao Xin couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. If Lin Qing were still here, with this money, we could have had a cozy home. Just the two of us, enjoying three meals a day through all four seasons for the rest of our lives.
She shook the thought away and finished her meal. Forty minutes later, she arrived at the rental shop she had found online.
The owner, a middle-aged man, was incredibly enthusiastic. Qiao Xin was straightforward—she paid the 1,000-yuan deposit and 1,050 yuan for a week’s rental. She only took the keys, saying she would come to pick up the van tomorrow morning; she didn’t want to leave Lin Qing’s sedan there overnight.
It was still early when she left, the sky not yet dark. She drove to a nearby night market street, famous for its rich variety of snacks from all over the country. She wanted to stockpile a wave of these—if she never got to eat them again, she knew she would miss them terribly.
She parked in the outside lot. From a distance, she could see the street lined with food carts. A spark of excitement lit up in her. Knowing that Lin Qing was waiting for her in another world and having the space felt like a sudden rebirth. The crushing weight of her sorrow seemed to dissipate. It wasn’t that she was being dramatic; she loved life, but there were things in life worth cherishing for eternity.
Grilled gluten, sausages, fish tofu, stinky tofu, duck blood, buns, and all sorts of skewers—she ordered the entire stock the vendors had prepared for the day. The shopkeepers were stunned, but Qiao Xin decisively transferred a 500-yuan deposit. The owners’ faces immediately beamed as they pocketed the QR codes, turning away new customers and telling Qiao Xin to come back in a while to collect her haul.
Luosifen rice noodles, claypot noodles, stinky tofu, teppanyaki squid, malatang, potato noodles, takoyaki, grilled cold noodles, Orleans-style chicken and duck legs, chive pockets, savory crepes, roujiamo (meat burgers), liangpi, deep-fried dough cakes, fried oil cakes, grilled starch sausages, roasted chestnuts, stir-fried rice noodles, Xinjiang rice noodles, Cantonese rice rolls, duck blood vermicelli soup—she ordered fifty portions of every single item.
She borrowed a small pushcart from one of the vendors and made her way down the street from start to finish. Once she had gathered a batch, she wheeled them to her car. Under the cover of the open trunk, she used her mind to whisk everything into the space. A quick mental check showed the food neatly organized in a corner of her dimensional storage.
She made trip after trip—second, third, and so on. It took over an hour to collect everything she had ordered. The vendors had no idea how large her “car” actually was, and since she kept returning with the pushcart, none of them bothered to ask questions. Qiao Xin was more than happy to keep it that way.
Exhausted from all the running around, Qiao Xin felt hungry again. She dove back into the food street for a portion of spicy mixed noodles. It was delicious, so she immediately ordered fifty more portions to take away. Seeing a milk tea shop next door, she went over and ordered one hundred cups of every flavor they offered.
Her funds were limited, and she still had a long list of supplies to prepare. If there was money left over later, she would buy more, or perhaps she could just buy milk tea powder and make it herself. She and Lin Qing had both loved experimenting with food; it started because they couldn’t afford to eat out, but eventually, they had grown to love the process of cooking itself.
She got home past nine, washed up, and collapsed into bed.
In her dream, she found herself back in Lin Qing’s era. He looked incredibly frail, having not eaten all day, and no one had come to check on him. Qiao Xin paced beside him, shouting anxiously, “You idiot! Are you trying to starve yourself to death? Eat something, drink some water, and go to sleep!”
“Lin Qing, you jerk! Just because I’m not by your side, you’ve given up on living? Find something to eat! You have a fever, and you need medicine—you’re going to die if you keep this up!”
Everything was in vain. Lin Qing just sat there, listless. Just as Qiao Xin was about to lose her mind with frustration, Lin Qing suddenly whispered, “Xinxin, if I die again… do you think I’ll be able to return to your side?”
Furious, Qiao Xin screamed, “Return to what, you idiot? Your body has already been cremated and buried by me!”
Lin Qing’s lips curled, as if he wanted to say more, but a violent coughing fit seized him, and he couldn’t get another word out.
Qiao Xin’s heart ached until her eyes turned red. This time, her voice softened, growing strangely calm. “Lin Qing, don’t be like this. Get well soon. Wait for me. I promise I will come to find you. Wait for me.”
No sooner had she spoken than her body began to dissipate against her will. But this time, it seemed as if Lin Qing had heard her. She had told him to wait. Emboldened, Lin Qing shouted out, “Xinxin? Is that you? Did you come for me? I’ll wait! I will definitely wait for you, Xinxin!”
The despair in the boy’s eyes finally vanished. He began to scramble around the room, determined to head into town to find a doctor and buy medicine. For days, he had felt as if someone was nearby, but today, he was certain: it was his Xinxin. Since she told him to wait, he would hold on, no matter what.