After being heartlessly dumped on the side of the road by her ex-wife, Pei Ran turned around and walked toward the bus stop.
She had to make a trip back to Zhao Wanqing’s apartment to retrieve her luggage. Last night, her move into Zhou Yang’s place had been far too rushed; she had only brought her immediate personal belongings, leaving the majority of her luggage behind at the apartment.
The rickety old bus ambled along for twenty minutes. By the time it arrived at the apartment stop, it was already lunchtime.
She took the elevator upstairs, walked to that familiar door, and characteristically pulled out her key, only to find that it wouldn’t go into the lock.
Pei Ran froze for a moment, then tried again.
It still wouldn’t fit.
The lock had been changed.
Staring at the brand-new keyhole, her heart sank with a thud.
Just then, a voice called out from behind her: “Miss Pei?”
Pei Ran turned around and saw a woman in professional office wear standing in the hallway, holding a folder. Searching through her scrambled mix of memories, Pei Ran finally recalled who she was. She was Zhao Wanqing’s assistant, Wei Xue.
“President Zhao instructed me to wait for you here.” Wei Xue’s face bore a practiced, professional smile. “The lock on this apartment has already been replaced. Your luggage has been packed up and placed in the fire escape at the end of the hallway. Please retrieve it as soon as possible.”
Pei Ran followed the assistant’s pointing finger. At the end of the corridor, the door to the fire exit stood open, inside of which sat two suitcases and a cardboard box. This was the entirety of everything she owned up to this point.
Assistant Wei seemed exceptionally skilled at resolving canary-related affairs for her boss, speaking at a rapid pace: “As for those pieces of jewelry, President Zhao granted you free usage rights over them during the duration of your relationship. Now that the relationship has ended, they must all be reclaimed in full. You have no objections to this, correct?”
The other woman went through the motions of asking for Pei Ran’s opinion, but Pei Ran was supposed to be nothing more than a brainless canary. Even if she was dissatisfied with such treatment, what could she possibly do about it? How could a lone arm hope to twist against a heavy thigh?
Pei Ran couldn’t help but inwardly curse Zhao Wanqing for being such a stingy Zhou the Skinflint; she really hadn’t left her a single thing!
“In addition,” Assistant Wei pulled out a piece of paper from her folder and handed it to Pei Ran, “President Zhao asked me to hand this over to you.”
Pei Ran took it. It was a check for a small amount, not even as much as the check Zhou Yang had given her earlier.
“President Zhao said that for the sake of old times, this money counts as a breakup fee. From now on, please refrain from contacting her ever again.”
Pei Ran originally hadn’t expected to reap anything from her former patron in the first place. The fact that the woman had given her a check was already a pleasant surprise; it would be foolish to turn down free money. She stuffed the check into her pocket and asked in a calm tone, “Is there anything else?”
Wei Xue froze for a moment, evidently not expecting Pei Ran’s reaction to be so indifferent.
Based on her understanding of this vanity-driven woman, Pei Ran should have cried, thrown a tantrum, and begged to see Zhao Wanqing just to seize the chance to wring out a larger sum of money.
The usually meticulous Assistant Wei actually found herself temporarily at a loss for words: “That’s… all.”
Pei Ran nodded, walking into the fire exit without a single trace of regret. She extended the pull handle of her suitcase and picked up the cardboard box. The box was heavier than she had imagined; she stumbled slightly and nearly lost her balance. Wei Xue, quick on her feet, reached out to steady her.
“Thank you.” Pei Ran quickly regained her balance and pulled back slightly.
The elevator doors slid open, and she dragged her luggage inside, the mirrored wall reflecting her disheveled face.
Seven’s voice sounded cautiously in her mind: “Ranran, are you okay?”
Pei Ran spoke truthfully: “Not really.” Most importantly, she had no idea where she was supposed to go right now.
Back then, the original host had abandoned her wife and child, completely burning bridges with her parents and friends. Now, aside from Zhou Yang’s place, she couldn’t find a single place that would take her in.
Yet among all those people, Zhou Yang was the absolute last person she wanted to turn to.
“How about…” Seven asked tentatively, “You contact the original host’s parents?” In a predicament like this, aside from her parents, there likely wasn’t anyone else who would be willing to accept her.
Pei Ran sat beside a flower bed in hesitation, her suitcase resting against her leg as the autumn wind blew her hair into disarray.
The word “Mom” sat quietly in her contacts list, yet her finger hovered above the screen, hesitating to press down.
Even though she knew leeching off her parents like this was thoroughly unprincipled, Pei Ran bit her lip. After weighing it over and over, she finally pressed the call button.
She had expected a long string of unanswered rings, but the call connected after just two chimes.
The voice of Pei Ran’s mother, Li Xiulan, came through the receiver, carrying a hint of uncertainty along with a cautious, hopeful expectation, as if she was afraid the call was a wrong number, yet equally afraid she had misheard.
“Ranran?”
Even though this was the original host’s mother and not her own, Pei Ran’s nose still twinged with sorrow, and her eyes uncontrollably welled up with tears. “Mom…”
The other end of the line fell silent for a moment before Li Xiulan’s voice instantly turned anxious: “Ranran, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Pei Ran opened her mouth, only to find that she couldn’t bring herself to say it no matter what.
Leaving so heartlessly back then, abandoning her wife and child without ever turning back. Not coming home for three years, without even making a single phone call to her parents. And now, having been dumped by her patron, she was slinking back like a coward; it was truly shameful.
Li Xiulan was driven frantic on the other end: “Ranran? Say something! Don’t scare Mom!”
Pei Ran closed her eyes, her voice choked with tears: “It’s nothing. Mom, I just miss you guys a little. Can I come home and stay for a while…”
After blurting out those words, Pei Ran’s entire face burned bright red from shame.
She waited for her mother to scold her.
To scold her for bringing it on herself, for getting what she deserved, for abandoning a good life back then to run off with some wild woman, only realizing her regret now that she had been dumped.
Yet Li Xiulan did not scold her.
Hearing that her daughter was fine and simply wanted to come home for a visit, she seemed to sigh in relief, her voice smoothing out.
“This is your home. You can come back whenever you want. Your dad, your brother, and I are all here. Your room has been kept for you all this time, and I clean it squeaky clean every single day. Tonight I’ll have your dad make a few more of your favorite dishes; just make sure to come back a little early, okay?”
Hearing her mother’s words, Pei Ran’s tears fell like a snapped string of pearls, uncontrollable as they pattered down onto her phone screen.
“Mom, I’m sorry…”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Li Xiulan’s voice was trembling too. “It’s enough that you’re coming back. I’ll talk to your dad, don’t be afraid.”
Over all these years, she had broken everyone’s hearts, assuming her family would have given up on her as well. She had never expected that they had been waiting for her return all along.
The call disconnected. Pei Ran held her phone, taking a moment to calm herself down in solitude. Once her eyes were no longer red, she stood up, dragging her luggage as she walked toward the bus stop.
She didn’t hail a cab. After all, things were different now from before; every penny had to be saved carefully. Furthermore, she had another specific use for the money Zhou Yang and Zhao Wanqing had given her.
The rickety old bus ambled along for nearly an hour before finally arriving at the edge of the old city district.
Pei Ran stepped off the bus, pulling her suitcase behind her as she walked down the alleyway.
She was all too familiar with this alley.
Old houses of blue brick and gray tile, moss growing along the foot of the walls, and the old locust tree at the entrance of the alley had grown a full circle thicker than in her memories. The autumn leaves covered the ground, crunching softly underfoot.
She walked up to a faded red-painted wooden door and stopped.
The door wasn’t shut tight; it stood ajar, as though waiting for a returning traveler. Pei Ran drew a deep breath and pushed the door open.
In the courtyard, Li Xiulan stood on the steps wearing an apron, still holding a spatula in her hand.
The moment she caught sight of Pei Ran, her eyes instantly turned red.
“Ranran!”
Li Xiulan rushed over in quick steps and pulled Pei Ran into a tight embrace.
The spatula pressed awkwardly against Pei Ran’s back, hurting a little, but she didn’t pull away. Leaning on her mother’s shoulder, she caught the familiar scent of soapberry.
“Mom…” Her voice was muffled, filled with an indescribable grievance.
“You’ve grown thin, so much thinner.” Li Xiulan stroked her face, her eyes filled with unstoppable heartache. “You child, how did you let yourself starve like this…”
Pei Ran’s father, Pei Jianguo, stood at the doorway wearing a washed-out gray jacket, his hair turned more than half white. Watching his wife and daughter embrace outside the door, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only managed:
“What does it look like standing outside? Come inside and talk.”
His voice wasn’t loud, carrying a sort of deliberate sternness meant to act tough.
Li Xiulan pulled Pei Ran by the hand into the house, chatting endlessly as they walked: “Your dad heard you were coming back and specifically went to the market to buy a bass. He remembered you love eating it.”
The square table in the central room was set with a feast of dishes.
Braised pork belly, steamed bass, sweet and sour pork ribs, stir-fried greens, and tomato egg soup- every single item was a favorite of Pei Ran’s.
Pei Jianguo was already seated, his bowl and chopsticks arranged with neat precision. Li Xiulan pressed Pei Ran into a chair and served her a large bowl of rice: “Eat more! Look at how thin you’ve become.”
Pei Jianguo didn’t say a word the entire time, keeping his head down as he ate. Yet his chopsticks kept “accidentally” reaching over toward the dish of steamed bass, picking out the tenderest belly meat, and then “accidentally” placing it into Pei Ran’s bowl.
Pei Ran looked down at the fish meat piled high into a small mountain inside her bowl, her eyes turning red once again.
“Dad, that’s enough. I can’t eat that much.”
Pei Jianguo grunted, “If you can’t finish it, leave it.” Having said that, he picked up another piece of pork rib and dropped it into her bowl.
Li Xiulan chuckled softly beside them.
After finishing the meal, Li Xiulan went to the kitchen to wash the dishes, while Pei Jianguo sat in the living room watching television. The TV volume was turned up high, but his eyes weren’t watching the screen at all; his peripheral vision kept darting over to Pei Ran, seemingly desperate to know how his daughter had changed over the years spent away from home.
After about ten minutes, Pei Jianguo suddenly stood up, walked into the inner room, and brought out a quilt, pushing it into Pei Ran’s arms.
“Your mother cleaned up the room for you. The quilt is fresh, fluffed cotton; it’s warm. If you’re tired, go to sleep early.”
Holding the quilt, Pei Ran felt an overwhelming sting in her nose: “Thank you, Dad.”
Pei Jianguo’s footsteps paused briefly. He let out a soft “Mm,” then entered the master bedroom and closed the door.
Li Xiulan emerged from the kitchen, wiped her hands, and led Pei Ran back to her own room.
Pei Ran’s room was not large, but it was kept very clean. The bedsheets were freshly changed, the pillow fluffed up soft, a small nightstand lamp sat beside the bed, and a cluster of old photos was pinned to the wall.
Driven by curiosity, Pei Ran walked over to the stack of old photographs, trying to recall memories belonging to the “original host” through these relics of the past.
Pinned as the very first picture was a black-and-white photo: a young woman holding an infant, smiling with immense tenderness. The woman in the photo was Pei Ran’s mother, Li Xiulan.
Pei Ran pointed at the baby, her tone carrying a hint of surprise: “Is this me?”
Li Xiulan sat down beside her. “Yes, you were only eight months old back then.”
As her gaze shifted backward, the girl in the photos grew progressively older. Li Xiulan pointed to a photo of three-year-old Pei Ran sitting in the courtyard eating watermelon with juice smeared all over her face, laughing without a care in the world, and said, full of nostalgia, “This was when you were three.”
“That year, your dad planted a grapevine in the courtyard, but you insisted on eating watermelon. So he had no choice but to go to the market, buy the biggest watermelon he could find, and pretend to tie it onto the grapevine, telling you it was a watermelon grown right off the vine.”
Pei Ran continued looking further back, spotting a family photo featuring herself, her older brother Pei Lei, Pei Jianguo, and Li Xiulan.
She stared at the faces of the family of four in the photo, then looked at her own face, remarking offhandedly: “Mom, why do I feel like I don’t look like any of you at all?”
Her beauty was simply too striking; she didn’t look like a child born into a family like this at all.
The speaker spoke without thought, but the listener took it to heart.
Li Xiulan’s expression flickered subtly for a single instant before quickly returning to normal: “When you were little, the neighbors all said you won the genetic lottery, that out of the whole family, you turned out the prettiest, enough to become a model in the future!”
The grown-up Pei Ran hadn’t managed to become a model, but she had ended up becoming a mistress to a wealthy patron instead.
Thinking of this, Pei Ran lowered her head in shame.
Li Xiulan added: “They say children inherit features from skipping a generation. Truth is, you look like your grandmother on my side. It’s just that she passed away early and didn’t leave any photos behind; otherwise, you’d see it right away.”
Pei Ran truly had no memory of her maternal grandmother; growing up, she had never seen her once. Hearing Li Xiulan say this now, she took it at face value.
“It’s getting late.” Li Xiulan stood up. “Get some rest early. I’ll have your brother come back for dinner tomorrow.”
Mother Pei walked away with hurried footsteps. Pei Ran looked up at the album on the wall, then glanced back at the closed door, feeling a faint suspicion stirring in her heart. She had merely mentioned “not looking like you guys” offhandedly; was there any need for such a drastic reaction?
“Seven,” she called out softly in her mind.
“Doesn’t my mom’s reaction seem a bit strange?”
The system went quiet for a moment, answering cautiously: “Not really…”
Pei Ran felt as though the system was hiding something from her, but she refrained from pressing further. She was far too exhausted today and lacked the spare energy to ponder other matters; all she wanted was to lie on the bed and get a good night’s sleep.
What she didn’t know was that at this exact moment, around the corner at the alley entrance, a black sedan sat parked in complete silence.
Zhao Wanqing’s assistant, Wei Xue, pulled out her phone and placed a call to Zhao Wanqing: “President Zhao, Miss Pei has returned to her parents’ house.”
On the other end of the line, Zhao Wanqing paused briefly before quickly instructing: “Keep an eye on her. Do not let anyone from the Zhao family get close to her.”
Wei Xue acknowledged: “Understood.” She didn’t understand why President Zhao was so tense over a discarded canary, even going so far as to dispatch her specifically to keep watch.
However, she didn’t ask any questions.
Unless she had a death wish, she had no desire to uncover President Zhao’s secrets.
Since she had been ordered to watch over and protect Pei Ran from the shadows, she would simply perform her duty to the best of her abilities.
The long, endless night had only just begun.
Pei Ran had no idea that a brand-new storm meant for her was about to arrive.