Yang Zhiyan paused mid-motion while washing the cherries.
“What is it?”
“What is it?” Jiang Siya echoed, raising her voice. “When I came upstairs, I ran into him in the hallway. He was standing at his door wearing dark loungewear. Really tall, and honestly, pretty handsome.”
She stopped for a moment, recalling the scene.
“But that look in his eyes… oh my God.” She patted her chest dramatically. “I was almost scared to death.”
Yang Zhiyan turned to look at her.
Jiang Siya wasn’t someone who startled easily. Her father was in business and had taken her to countless social functions growing up. She’d shared banquet tables with plenty of influential people.
“It couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” Yang Zhiyan placed the washed cherries into a fruit bowl and wiped her hands on her apron.
“How couldn’t it?” Jiang Siya followed her into the living room and sank into the soft sofa.
“The way he looked at me—it was like I was about to steal something from his doorway. Before I’d even processed it, he slammed the door shut with a bang.”
Yang Zhiyan pictured the scene in her mind: Qin Yuzheng standing in the doorway in his dark loungewear, expressionless as he stared at Jiang Siya before turning around and closing the door.
For some reason, she found it a little amusing.
“He probably… just likes his peace and quiet,” Yang Zhiyan said.
Jiang Siya shot her a long, scrutinizing look.
They had known each other for six years. She knew Yang Zhiyan wasn’t the type to make excuses for strangers.
“Are you close with him?” she asked.
“Not really.” Yang Zhiyan crouched beside the coffee table and set down the fruit bowl. “He’s just my landlady’s grandson. He lives across the hall. A few days ago he came over for a bowl of ginger tea because he had a cold.”
Jiang Siya arched an eyebrow.
It wasn’t much of a reaction, but it carried a world of meaning.
Without saying anything, she popped a cherry into her mouth, chewing slowly while keeping her eyes fixed on Yang Zhiyan.
“Your landlady’s grandson,” she repeated thoughtfully, as if tasting whether there was another meaning hidden in those words. “How old is he?”
“I’m not sure. Around thirty, I guess.”
“Married?”
The question caught Yang Zhiyan off guard. She shook her head before answering,
“Grandma Qin said he isn’t.”
“That old and still unmarried?” Jiang Siya spat the cherry pit into her palm before tossing it into the trash. “Think there’s something wrong with him?”
“He’s Grandma Qin’s grandson,” Yang Zhiyan replied, sounding as though that alone answered everything.
“Grandma Qin rents me this place for such a low price. He caught a cold, so I made him a bowl of ginger tea. Isn’t that just normal courtesy?”
Jiang Siya simply looked at her in silence.
Feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, Yang Zhiyan stood up.
“I’m going to start cooking.”
She turned and slipped into the kitchen.
Soon, the rhythmic sound of chopping echoed through the apartment.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
The knife struck the cutting board quickly and steadily.
Jiang Siya sat on the sofa with the fruit bowl on her lap, eating cherries while watching the kitchen.
The kitchen door was open. She could see Yang Zhiyan’s back.
She wore a blouse with loose blue trousers and a light gray apron tied into a neat bow behind her waist. The ribbon ends swayed gently with each movement.
She chopped scallions, ginger, and garlic.
She blanched the pork ribs.
She peeled lotus root and cut it into chunky pieces.
When the water in the clay pot came to a boil, she added the ribs and lotus root together with several slices of ginger, covered the pot, and lowered the heat to let it simmer.
Next came the chicken wings.
She scored the backs of each wing twice so the marinade would soak in better, then added cooking wine, soy sauce, oyster sauce, and honey before massaging everything together by hand.
Then she prepared the shrimp.
She trimmed the whiskers, removed the veins, rinsed them clean, and arranged them neatly on a plate in a flower-like circle.
Every movement was practiced and efficient.
It was obvious she’d done this countless times before.
Leaning back against the sofa, Jiang Siya watched the busy figure and suddenly felt a pang in her heart.
Such excellent cooking skills…
She’d learned them growing up in that family.
“Zhiyan,” she called from the living room, “after you moved out, didn’t your family make a huge fuss?”
The chopping paused briefly before resuming.
“They did,” Yang Zhiyan answered from the kitchen. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear. “My mom demanded that I pay her living support.”
“What?!” Jiang Siya sat bolt upright, nearly knocking over the fruit bowl.
“Your mother’s barely in her fifties, and she’s asking you for support? Why doesn’t she just rob a bank?”
Yang Zhiyan poked her head out from the kitchen doorway, still holding the kitchen knife.
A faint smile rested on her face.
It carried helplessness.
And relief.
“That’s why I moved out.”
Then she disappeared back into the kitchen and continued chopping vegetables.
Jiang Siya set the fruit bowl down and walked over, leaning against the kitchen doorway as she watched Yang Zhiyan slice tomatoes.
Each slice was thin and perfectly even.
“Zhiyan,” Jiang Siya said quietly, more serious now, “you did the right thing. A family like that… you should’ve cut ties long ago.”
Yang Zhiyan swept the sliced tomatoes into a bowl, set down the knife, and rinsed her hands beneath the faucet.
Droplets fell from her fingertips into the stainless-steel sink with soft, delicate splashes.
“It’s not about cutting ties.”
She turned off the water and looked at Jiang Siya.
“It’s about no longer being tied down.”
Jiang Siya looked at her, her nose suddenly stinging.
She walked over and hugged Yang Zhiyan from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.
“You’re going to have a wonderful life from now on,” she murmured against her shoulder.
Yang Zhiyan gently patted the hands wrapped around her waist without saying anything.
The soup bubbled steadily inside the clay pot.
White steam escaped from beneath the lid, filling the kitchen.
The rich aroma of pork ribs and lotus root blended together—warm, comforting, like an invisible quilt wrapping the entire home in warmth.
Across the hall.
Qin Yuzheng sat on his sofa with several documents spread across the coffee table.
He hadn’t gone out all day.
He’d taken two work calls that morning, handled a few matters, and then had nothing else to do.
Weekends weren’t much different from weekdays for him.
The only difference was that today, he’d deliberately brought work home.
He’d been sitting on the same sofa for over an hour.
He’d read the same document three times without absorbing a single word.
Because he’d been listening for sounds outside the apartment across the hall.
So earlier, he’d deliberately left his own door slightly ajar and sat on the shoe bench by the entrance, pretending to tie his shoelaces.
About ten minutes later, the elevator arrived.
A woman stepped out.
He immediately stood up and opened his door.
The woman froze when she saw him.
He glanced at her.
Round face.
Red lipstick.
A goose-yellow dress.
Carrying shopping bags.
Not her.
Without saying a word, he closed the door again.
Then he silently cursed himself.
What are you doing, Qin Yuzheng?
You’re a Party secretary.
Squatting by your front door just to see whether she’d come home… deliberately opening the door… and…
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with the heel of his hand.
Pathetic.
The word surfaced in his mind.
Even he found it funny.
Lately, he’d been calling himself “pathetic” more and more often.
It was practically becoming a catchphrase.
After thinking for a moment, he picked up his phone, found Liu Minlan in his contacts, and dialed.
“Ah Zheng, you’re such a busy man. What made you think of calling me?” Liu Minlan’s lazy, teasing voice came through the speaker. Children’s laughter echoed in the background. He was probably home with his family.
Qin Yuzheng cleared his throat.
Hearing that familiar cough, Liu Minlan seemed to realize something.
Qin Yuzheng heard him tell a child, “Go find Mommy, okay?”
The background gradually quieted.
“I have… a friend,” Qin Yuzheng began awkwardly.
“He likes the girl living across the hall. What’s the best way to pursue her?”
There was a brief silence.
Then Liu Minlan burst out laughing.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “You actually bought the apartment across from hers that fast?”
“It’s not me.” Qin Yuzheng’s voice remained perfectly calm, though the tips of his ears were already burning red.
“It’s my friend.”