June, top floor, no air conditioning.
By afternoon, the room Fu Qing rented felt like a steam cooker. Heat pressed down from the ceiling, making it hard to breathe. Sweat trickled down his temples, and tears smeared across his face; the two mixed together and dripped onto the table.
Blowing her nose while muffling her voice, Lu Yufei encouraged herself, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Lu Yufei, you are a strong little girl.”
The tissue was rough. The skin around her nose was already red from blowing it, and before even two minutes had passed, sweat started rolling down her cheeks again, with fine beads popping up on her philtrum, stinging her eyes until tears surged forth once more.
She wasn’t strong in the slightest.
She blew her nose again, gently pressed a tissue against her face to wipe away the sweat, and looked down at the bowl of stir-fried green peppers and eggs on the table.
The food had already gone cold, with a ring of grease clinging to the rim of the bowl. She had already lost her appetite, and looking at it now made her even less inclined to use her chopsticks.
Besides, it was leftovers from yesterday anyway.
Lu Yufei picked up the bowl, walked over to the trash can in the corner, and dumped the food inside.
The balcony door was open. Holding the empty bowl, she walked over to the doorway. A gust of wind blew through—though it was hot, at least it was moving air, which was better than nothing.
Call it a balcony, but it was really just a narrow strip lined with cheap white ceramic tiles. A clothesline stretched across overhead, hung with a few of Fu Qing’s T-shirts.
The entire space was simply partitioned into three sections: The left side was enclosed to form a tiny bathroom, with the toilet squeezed into the corner, a sink so narrow you could barely turn around in it, and a showerhead mounted directly on the wall. On the right wall hung a stainless steel basin, next to which sat a low, folding mini-table serving as a stove, topped with an induction cooker and a small cooking pot—that passed for the kitchen. The middle section featured a concrete half-balustrade without window glass, serving as the only place where one could catch a breath of air.
Lu Yufei couldn’t help standing there a bit longer. Leaning against the doorframe, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
The female lead hadn’t appeared yet. According to the novel’s plot, Fu Qing’s true romantic storyline was still a long way off. Why not just team up with Fu Qing and live a makeshift life together for now? When the female lead finally entered the picture, she could gracefully slip away without delaying their romance.
Lu Yufei opened her eyes, walked over to the basin on the right, pumped a dollop of dish soap, and washed the bowl and chopsticks in a few quick motions.
Turning back into the room, she pulled open the wardrobe to find a pair of pajamas and take a shower. The moment the door opened, she froze.
The wardrobe was packed to the brim with the original owner’s clothes, many of which still had their price tags attached. She flipped through them at random: a Chanel tweed jacket priced at fifty-five thousand; a Burberry trench coat at twenty-one thousand.
Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered those three stacks of acrylic storage boxes in the corner. She squatted down and pulled open the topmost box, the lid popping right off upon lifting.
A black Chanel medium classic flap bag with silver hardware. In this condition, it could sell for at least over thirty thousand on Xianyu. Stuffed right next to it was a medium Louis Vuitton monogram tote; the handles were only slightly discolored, so selling it for six thousand would be no problem. There was also an Hermès Picotin—an elephant gray color in nearly brand-new condition, going for over twenty thousand through personal shoppers; even if she sold it secondhand, starting at twelve thousand wouldn’t be hard.
Digging further down, she found two red-bottomed shoes, a pair of Jimmy Choo sequin high heels with virtually no wear on the soles, along with two Hermès silk scarves and an unopened pair of Dior sunglasses. Tallying up the smaller items came out to a baseline of ten thousand.
At the very bottom of the wardrobe was a file folder containing the original owner’s ID card, contracts, and most importantly, purchase receipts and credit card slips stacked neatly without a single one thrown away.
Even though Fu Qing was so broke he lived in a dumpy studio like this, he hadn’t touched a single thing belonging to the original owner and was even earning money to support her. He was truly… —A saint!
Squatting on the floor with the Chanel bag hugged to her chest, Lu Yufei rapidly calculated in her head: the bag could fetch fifty thousand, the shoes and accessories a little over ten thousand, and the clothes another seventeen or eighteen thousand. Put it all together, and it came to around eighty thousand.
Though a debt of over one hundred thousand couldn’t be completely wiped out, it would at least tide her over for the time being.
Excited enough to nearly jump, she immediately downloaded and registered on Xianyu. She placed the items one by one in a spot with good lighting, picked up her phone to start taking pictures, and dug out the receipts from the file folder to match the codes and upload them.
By the time she finished listing everything, the sky outside had already grown dark, and people were already messaging her to inquire about details.
Delighted, Lu Yufei leaned against the edge of the bed to reply to buyers. Right then, a WeChat notification popped up: a message from a contact nicknamed “ATM.”
[Lots of orders today, won’t be back for dinner tonight. Order yourself some takeout.]
Followed immediately by a transfer notification: 200 yuan.
It was obvious that the person who sent the message was Fu Qing.
Staring at that orange-red transfer box, Lu Yufei suddenly felt a heavy, dull feeling in her chest, an indescribable sensation.
Instead of accepting the transfer, she exited the chat, deleted the three-character nickname, and changed it back to “Fu Qing.”
After updating the name, she went back to the chat box, returned the transfer, and sent a single sentence: (I still have money.)
Fu Qing didn’t reply again.
Exiting the chat, she opened a food delivery app to browse and ordered a fifteen-yuan bowl of wontons. While waiting for the food delivery, she picked up her phone again to snap a few more detailed shots of the Picotin bag to update the listing.
For the entire evening, Lu Yufei chatted with buyers on Xianyu. Most people asked a couple of questions and left, but one person proved exceptionally persistent, nagging back and forth about the Chanel bag—first asking to see the laser sticker details, then checking the serial numbers on the authenticity card, and a few minutes later sending a string of skeptical questions: “Your price is a lot cheaper than personal shoppers. Is it authentic? Are you sure?”
Patiently, Lu Yufei photographed the interior label, laser code, and purchase receipt one by one, but the person still doubted its authenticity and demanded a video.
Worn out, she tossed her phone onto the bed. Take it or leave it. We’ve been bickering all evening, I can’t be bothered to reply anymore.
She rummaged through the wardrobe, looking for a pair of pajamas to wear after her shower. But every single one of the original owner’s pajamas was more outrageous than the last—black lace camisoles, wine-red deep V-cut silk, and a backless gown that plunged all the way down to her waist.
Picking one up to take a look, her face heated up, and she balled it up and shoved it back into the corner.
After searching for a long time, she finally found a blue slip dress in the corner made of pure cotton with a simple design—probably the most plain piece of clothing the original owner owned. Lifting it up to inspect it, she decided it was long enough and wearable.
After taking a shower, Lu Yufei walked out while drying her hair. Just as she reached the side of the bed, the screen of her phone lit up.
A Xianyu notification popped up on the lock screen: [Buyer has paid, awaiting shipment—Jimmy Choo…]
Before she could even finish reading the words, she let out a cry of “Ah!” and jumped straight up in place.
Suddenly, something gave a gentle nudge against her stomach, like a little fish blowing a bubble. It was a sensation Lu Yufei had never experienced before—very novel.
Holding onto the wardrobe door with one hand and pressing her lower abdomen with the other, she stood stock-still, hardly daring to breathe.
Her belly moved again. Even lighter than before, as if something was gently tapping against her palm from the other side of her skin.
Clutching her stomach, Lu Yufei slowly sat down at the foot of the bed, her legs feeling a bit weak. “…Sorry, sorry,” she whispered to her belly, her voice still trembling slightly. “Mom was just too excited a second ago, I didn’t mean to.”
As soon as she said it, she stunned herself. “Mom”?
Gently touching her belly, she never expected those two words to slip so naturally from her lips.
Suddenly, the sound of a key sliding into the lock came from the doorway. Fu Qing was back.
Pushing the door open, Fu Qing had sweat stains dampening his shoulders and back. Seeing Lu Yufei sitting at the foot of the bed with one hand pressed against her stomach and a strange expression on her face, he paused in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?”
Raising her head, Lu Yufei’s eyes shone brightly, her voice filled with wonder: “Just now… the baby moved.”
Standing in the doorway with his hand still resting on the doorknob, Fu Qing wore a blank expression for a split second. Then he closed the door, took two steps forward, and fixed his gaze on the hand she had pressed against her stomach.
“Really?”
“Really.” Lu Yufei nodded, finding it amusing herself as the corners of her mouth curled up. “It just moved twice. Maybe I was too excited just now and woke it up.”
Perhaps because Fu Qing’s gaze was far too intense, she suddenly spoke up and asked, “Do you want to touch her?”
Looking at her, Fu Qing replied in a somewhat hoarse voice, “Can I?”
Knowing that this child was his only remaining family, Lu Yufei felt a mixture of tenderness and sorrow in her heart.
“This is your child too,” she said softly. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Fu Qing didn’t speak further. He crouched down beside the bed and extended his right hand, placing his palm close to her slightly rounded lower abdomen.
His hand paused in mid-air for a fraction of a second before gently pressing down, long-fingered and clearly jointed, his fingertips covered in a thin layer of calluses.
Through that layer of pure cotton blue dress, Lu Yufei felt his warm palm trembling slightly.
Holding her breath, Fu Qing remained motionless as well. The room grew so quiet that only the humming drone of the refrigerator remained.
After quite a while, there was no movement at all.
Feeling a bit awkward, Lu Yufei muttered under her breath, “She must have fallen back asleep… It really did move just now, though.”
Pulling his hand back, Fu Qing slowly stood up, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I’m going to take a shower.”