Yang Zhiyan stood at the doorway of the spare room, one hand resting against the doorframe as her gaze drifted toward the balcony beyond. In her mind, she was already planning the layout.
This could be my studio.
The worktable would go by the window. The fabric shelves would line the wall. Sunlight would stream in from the left—bright enough to work by without glaring into her eyes.
“So? What do you think?” Grandma Qin asked from the living room, one hand resting on the back of the sofa.
Yang Zhiyan turned to face her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She wanted to say, It’s wonderful.
Or It’s beautiful.
But neither word seemed enough.
In the end, she simply said, “Grandma Qin… this apartment is too big.”
Grandma Qin chuckled and walked over to stand beside her, looking into the empty room as well.
“It is a little spacious,” she admitted. “But you’ll be living alone. Having extra room is a good thing. A young woman should have a place of her own.”
Yang Zhiyan lowered her eyes, absentmindedly running her fingertips over the smooth wooden doorframe. The lacquer finish was flawless.
“Grandma Qin…” she said, looking up again. Her voice carried the same nervousness she’d had as a child asking a teacher a question. “With such a big place… wouldn’t it make more sense to have roommates? Living here by myself…”
“No roommates.”
Grandma Qin interrupted without hesitation.
“I don’t want roommates. Too many people. Someone’s bound to damage the place.”
Yang Zhiyan blinked.
Grandma Qin continued matter-of-factly.
“This apartment is for my grandson. He’s working out of town right now, and who knows when he’ll come back. Since it’s sitting empty anyway, I might as well rent it out and have someone keep an eye on it.”
Yang Zhiyan listened quietly, but a knot formed in her stomach.
She knew perfectly well what housing prices were like in Haicheng.
A fully renovated three-bedroom apartment in Prosperity Tianxi, complete with premium-brand appliances and in such a prime location…
The rent had to be at least eight or nine thousand yuan a month.
Her salary was only eight thousand. If she paid market rent, she wouldn’t even have enough left to eat.
As if reading her thoughts, Grandma Qin patted her shoulder and guided her to the sofa.
The cushions were perfectly balanced—not too soft, not too firm. Sitting down felt pleasantly enveloping.
“Zhiyan, I won’t beat around the bush.”
Grandma Qin pulled a neatly printed lease agreement from her canvas bag and placed it on the coffee table. Then she took out a pen, uncapped it, and laid it beside the contract.
“I’ve known your master, Mu Fei, for decades. We’re old friends. She’s mentioned you many times—said you’re sensible, hardworking, talented… a truly good child.”
Yang Zhiyan’s fingers curled unconsciously against her knees.
“The day we met on the street, when you squatted down to help me pick up my fruit, I thought to myself, This girl is a good one.”
Grandma Qin looked at her warmly.
“After I got home, I called Mu Fei and asked about you. She told me you’ve been looking for a place to live, that your family’s situation isn’t great… and your sister-in-law…”
She paused before finishing the sentence.
The silence said enough.
“So I’m renting this apartment to you for 3,500 yuan a month.”
Yang Zhiyan froze.
Three thousand five hundred.
For a moment, she thought she’d misheard.
“Grandma Qin… are you sure?” She leaned forward, her voice tightening. “In this neighborhood? With this layout? Three thousand five hundred? Are you sure you don’t mean eight thousand five hundred?”
Grandma Qin laughed softly, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes folding together like a fan opening and closing.
“I’m not short of money, dear.”
She said it simply, without the slightest hint of showing off—just stating a fact.
“My children have families of their own, and my grandchildren don’t need me to worry about them anymore. Even my pension is more than I can spend. This apartment would only sit empty otherwise. Renting it to you gives it some life. A lived-in home stays in better shape.”
She paused, meeting Yang Zhiyan’s eyes.
She had her own little selfish hope.
Such a gentle, considerate girl…
If only…
No, some things depended on fate.
“So. Three thousand five hundred a month. You take good care of the apartment. You’ll cover the utilities and management fees, and you won’t need to worry about anything else. What do you think?”
Yang Zhiyan sat there as sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming the backs of her hands.
She clenched her fingers slightly against her knees, her nails pressing into her palms.
The faint sting reassured her.
This wasn’t a dream.
“Grandma Qin…”
Her voice trembled, but every word was clear.
“Thank you. Truly… thank you.”
Her eyes reddened, though she refused to cry.
Don’t cry.
Not in front of Grandma Qin.
That would be so embarrassing.
But the ache in her nose grew stronger. She almost reached up to rub it before lowering her hand again.
Seeing her watery eyes, Grandma Qin didn’t offer comforting words or hand her a tissue.
She simply reached over and gently patted the back of Yang Zhiyan’s hand twice.
“Don’t thank me. You’ve earned this,” she said. “Mu Fei taught you for three years, and every time she talked about you, she’d praise you until my ears practically grew calluses. Then I met you and realized she hadn’t exaggerated at all.”
Yang Zhiyan blinked hard, forcing the tears back.
She picked up the pen and carefully read through the contract page by page.
It was a standard lease agreement, neatly printed, with clear terms and no hidden tricks.
One-year lease.
Monthly rent: 3,500 yuan.
One month’s deposit and three months’ rent paid in advance.
Under the tenant’s responsibilities was one simple clause:
Take good care of the property and keep it clean.
Everything else was routine.
She signed.
Grandma Qin signed as well.
Two copies.
One for each of them.
As Yang Zhiyan slipped the contract into her bag, her fingers were still trembling.
She held onto it tightly inside the bag. The crisp edges pressed firmly against her palm, solid and reassuring.
She looked out the window.
The sunlight.
The spotless living room.
The bright kitchen.
The bedroom.
And the little room that would soon become her studio.
For the first time, she had a space she could truly call her own.
She suddenly wanted to make Grandma Qin a qipao.
One she designed herself.
One sewn by her own hands.
A gift for this elegant, kind-hearted elderly woman.
“Grandma Qin.”
She stood and looked at her earnestly.
“I’d like to make you a qipao. By hand. Please don’t refuse.”
Something flickered briefly in Grandma Qin’s eyes.
It disappeared so quickly that Yang Zhiyan wondered if she’d imagined it.
“That sounds wonderful.”
Grandma Qin smiled.
“A woman’s wardrobe is always missing one more dress. You make me a beautiful qipao, and I’ll wear it proudly everywhere I go.”
Yang Zhiyan laughed.
Her eyes were still red, and she probably looked a mess, but she didn’t care.
She pocketed the keys, and the two of them went downstairs together.
Standing outside the apartment building, the May breeze carried the fresh scent of newly cut grass, mingled with the cool mist drifting from a distant fountain.
“I’ll take you home, Grandma Qin,” Yang Zhiyan offered.
“No need. Someone’s coming to pick me up,” Grandma Qin replied. “Go take care of your own things. There’s no rush to move in.”
Yang Zhiyan nodded.
Grandma Qin turned and walked away.
After a few steps, she suddenly stopped and looked back, as though she’d just remembered something.
“Zhiyan.”
“Yes?”
“My grandson…”
She paused, the corners of her lips slowly lifting into a knowing smile.
“I’ll introduce the two of you sometime.”
Yang Zhiyan smiled and nodded without giving it much thought.
Grandma Qin turned around again.
The setting sun stretched her shadow long across the green lawn.