Three hours later, the night flight streaked red across the dark sky, overlooking the countless lights of Li City below.
The plane landed, night travelers returning home like falling leaves. Following the signs, they collected their luggage. Students dragged their suitcases out, where most parents had already been waiting patiently at the exit.
Yu Kexia spotted her father in the crowd, waved with a smile, and said to Shan Jiqiu and Lu Yun: “Let’s go together—my dad can drive you home.”
Shan Jiqiu glanced at Lu Yun. Seeing no objection, she nodded: “Alright.”
Tan Junhao waved to his own family and grinned at the three: “Then Yu Kexia can send you two. I’ll head off first.”
The three nodded in varying degrees—basically telling him to scram.
Teachers Zhao Fengping, Xu Zhi, and Liu Yan oversaw the departures, making sure each student left with their parents. In the end, only Shan Jiqiu and Lu Yun remained, speaking with Yu Kexia’s father.
“Lu Yun, Shan Jiqiu.” Xu Zhi beckoned them. “Anyone picking you up? If not, ride with me. It’s late, not safe to go alone.”
Yu Kexia jumped in before they could answer: “Teacher Xu, the three of us are together.”
Xu Zhi: “Alright then.”
And so, past eleven, under Li City’s long night, they parted ways at the brightly lit airport, each returning home.
…
When Shan Jiqiu arrived home, a small night lamp glowed in the living room—warm, soft, silent. At this hour, Shen Suyue was surely asleep.
The old house in Shuhan No. 6 compound didn’t insulate sound well. She tiptoed, closed the door carefully, slipped off her shoes without making a sound, and put on slippers. She set her backpack on the single sofa, then crept toward the secondary bedroom. Slim fingers turned the knob gently, opening a crack. The warm yellow light from the living room slipped inside, mingling with moonlight from the window. Through the gap, she saw the figure on the bed turn over, followed by soft snores. Her cool eyes warmed, lips curving unconsciously into a smile. She closed the door quietly, turned back to fetch her backpack.
Bending down, her gaze caught a note pinned under the remote on the coffee table. She picked it up. The handwriting was neat: *Chicken soup in the pot. If you’re hungry, eat some before bed.*
Carrying her backpack and the note, she entered the master bedroom.
Moments later, she emerged again, heading straight to the kitchen. She flicked on the light and lifted the pot lid. The fragrance of chicken soup rose with the steam, filling the air. She hadn’t eaten much that evening. The smell made her realize how hungry she was. She ladled a large bowl of soup and meat onto the counter. One hand pinched her ear against the heat, the other pulled out her phone as she stepped onto the balcony to call. Her voice was clear and soft in the night: “Want chicken soup? I can’t sleep. Just say yes or no. Then open the door.”
She opened her front door just as the one opposite opened too. Taking the key from the wall hook, she pressed a finger to her lips and whispered: “Quiet—Grandma’s asleep.”
Lu Yun nodded, thumb pointing behind him, voice lowered: “You go first. I’ll carry it.”
Like a routine they’d long mastered, the two moved in sync, heading into each other’s homes.
As soon as Shan Jiqiu stepped inside, the cool air-conditioning washed over her. She went straight to the kitchen, deftly pulling bowls, chopsticks, and spoons from the cupboard.
Lu Yun had already carried the chicken soup in, setting it easily on the dining table before going back to close both doors.
When he returned, Shan Jiqiu was seated, tableware neatly arranged. He pulled out the chair beside her and dropped into it.
“Here.” Lu Yun scooped a chicken claw into her bowl, his voice back to its usual teasing drawl. “Eat a claw—like cures like.”
Shan Jiqiu liked chicken claws, but hated his phrasing. So, in retaliation, she tapped her chopsticks twice against the table, then dipped them into the soup pot and dropped a piece of meat into his bowl.
“Courtesy returned.” She lifted her chin. “Like cures like.”
Lu Yun picked up the “courtesy” with a grin, his brows arching, eyes deep and playful. Under the soft dining-room light, he seemed wrapped in a glow—effortlessly charming.
“Chicken backside? Like cures like?” He drawled. “Qiu-baby, are you eyeing my backside? That’s a pretty heavy taste.”
Shan Jiqiu, mid-sip of soup, choked at his words: “Cough, cough…”
Lu Yun laughed and handed her a tissue. “So easy to tease?”
“Tease your sister—cough, cough…” Her face flushed red, voice hoarse as the soup stung her nose.
He patted her back, still smirking: “I *am* teasing my sister. No mistake there.”
Shan Jiqiu looked up, words caught in her throat.
He didn’t notice the flicker of emotion in her eyes, just kept talking: “Funny, wasn’t it you who used to call me ‘Brother Ah Yun’ all the time? Why don’t you anymore?”
Shan Jiqiu: “…”
Lu Yun adopted a mock-serious tone: “Once a brother, always a brother. You can’t call me Ah Yun when you need me, then switch to ‘Lu Second’ when you don’t. Makes you sound fake, cold, and sharp-tongued.”
“Finished?” Shan Jiqiu brushed his hand off her back, her voice steady again.
“Pretty much.”
“You got rat poison at home?”
“No.” He sipped his soup casually. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Her smile was thin, words squeezed through her teeth: “I saw a talking rat. Thought I’d poison it.”
Lu Yun: “…”
Suddenly, the soup didn’t taste so good.
“Looking for a fight?”
“Gladly.”
“….”
The next morning, Shan Jiqiu shuffled in slippers toward the bathroom, but hearing the sound of frying from the kitchen, she detoured.
In the cramped space, Lu Yun stood tall, one hand on the pan handle, the other working the spatula with practiced ease. His height dwarfed the stove hood, making the kitchen feel even smaller. Her mind flicked back to last night—her sour mood, his careless words, their spat. Yet she’d slept soundly, straight through till morning.
Still, speaking first was impossible. Teenage girls had their own stubborn pride, unreasonable but universal. She pressed her lips together, turned away. Just as she reached the living room, she ran into Shen Suyue carrying soy sauce.
“Grandma.” Shan Jiqiu hurried to take the bottle from her.
Shen Suyue changed shoes, muttering: “School starts in a few days, and you still sleep till noon. Look at Ah Yun—up early, already helping in the kitchen. And you, young lady?”
Shan Jiqiu smiled, deliberately raising her voice: “Well, if you eat someone’s food, you’ve got to do the work.”
From the kitchen, the boy’s lips curved faintly, turning off the stove with unhurried grace.
Shen Suyue tapped her arm lightly, giving her a look: “Nonsense. Go wash up.”
“Okay.”
After washing, Shan Jiqiu tied her hair, circled the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, finishing the last loop of her ponytail.
Shen Suyue opened the conversation: “This year, because you two missed the preliminaries while saving someone on the road, you’ve only got this one chance left. Don’t be careless.”
Shan Jiqiu replied calmly: “Once is enough.”
Shen Suyue turned to Lu Yun: “What do you think of the training content?”
Lu Yun said: “Some of it’s useful.”
“….”
And so, the elder and the two youngsters ate while chatting about the competition.
Shen Suyue was an old teacher, a math instructor. She had taught many proud students over the years. In her career, she had devoted herself to ensuring children didn’t waste their youth, didn’t squander their time—steadfast and dedicated. She was plainspoken yet perceptive. Even without great fortune, she lived with clarity, always able to face life with a smile. Now, as she spoke with the two children before her about math competitions, her bright eyes lit with a long-lost glow. Perhaps this was what lifelong passion looked like.
After lunch, Shan Jiqiu helped Shen Suyue wash the dishes.
“Grandma, you’ve got such a big heart. Last night you didn’t even wait for me to come home—you just went straight to bed.” Shan Jiqiu’s tone carried a hint of complaint.
Shen Suyue glanced at her, continuing to scrub with dish soap: “You called me after landing, said Xiaxia’s father was driving you home. What was there to worry about?”
“True enough.” Shan Jiqiu set the dried bowl aside, head lowered—then suddenly thought of last night.
“What’s on your mind?” Shen Suyue asked.
Shan Jiqiu didn’t intend to hide it: “Last night at Jinnan Airport, I saw Shan Zhaobin.” She paused. “And his wife and son.”
Shen Suyue’s hands didn’t falter, her tone unchanged as she rinsed the dishes: “Did he see you?”
Shan Jiqiu shook her head. “No.”
“And how did you feel?”
In truth, if she didn’t dwell on it, there wasn’t much feeling at all. But in that moment, watching their happy family scene, she’d felt a pang—an ache in her chest, an irritation in her eyes. To say she didn’t care at all would have been a lie.
“Not much. Just… they looked happy together.” Shan Jiqiu gave a wry smile.
“Then why that expression?” Shen Suyue pressed.
Shan Jiqiu tucked her emotions away: “I didn’t expect to see him. It was sudden, that’s all.”
Shen Suyue turned on the tap, water trickling as she spoke gently: “Parents aren’t something you can choose. That’s a child’s fate. The past couldn’t be chosen, but the future is yours—you can change it. Everyone comes into this world crying. Life isn’t easy for anyone, and no one can live forever in the past. Once you truly learn to let go, once you understand the meaning of life, you’ll see a different sky.”
Shan Jiqiu nodded, then suddenly hugged her grandmother tight: “Anyway, I’ve got the best grandma in the world. Heaven hasn’t treated me too badly. You’ll live a long, long life—wait for me to grow up, then just enjoy your peace and happiness!”
Shen Suyue chuckled, patting her hand: “Go on, don’t fuss with me. Didn’t Ayun say he’d take you shopping?”
“What would I buy with him?”
“Quarreled again?”
“…”
“I can tell when you two ignore each other.”
“It’s his mouth—too cheeky.”
“Little Ah Yun puts up with you plenty. Don’t throw childish tantrums.”
“I don’t.”
“If not, then go play with him. Don’t just stand here pestering me.” Shen Suyue gave her a sidelong look.
“…”
Shan Jiqiu was shooed out of the kitchen and found Lu Yun sprawled on the living room sofa, watching TV. His long legs stretched carelessly across the space between the sofa and the coffee table, almost too long to fit anywhere. The afternoon sun blazed through the balcony window, gilding his tousled black hair with a halo of gold.
She remembered a line from *Warnings to the World*: *Most people see only appearances, not the bones beneath.* But looking at him, she thought perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. He was someone with no “bones” at all—yet somehow, at a glance, you could sense the strength of his character.
Lu Yun turned his head, catching her gaze. He gave her homey outfit a quick once-over, then returned his attention to the TV without much interest.
She didn’t need to look to know—the sound told her it was the infamous scene of Nanny Rong tormenting Ziwei.
T/n: Scenes from Princess Pearl (Huanzhu Gege).
“Planning to go out dressed like that?” Lu Yun switched the channel.
Shan Jiqiu walked over, looking down at him: “Why tell Grandma you’re taking me shopping? Shopping for what?”
Lu Yun pressed the remote lazily, glanced at her, and then buried his eyes back in the screen. His lips curved faintly: “Didn’t you say you wanted to poison me? I’m taking you to buy rat poison.”
At that, Shan Jiqiu spun on her heel and strode quickly toward her bedroom. But her lips betrayed her, curving upward. Ah—so this was his way of making peace.
Lu Yun watched her hasty retreat, her impatient figure disappearing into the room. His temples throbbed twice. That brat, was she really planning to poison him?