“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never met him,” Li Fengxia said dismissively. “Let me tell you about him. My cousin is named Zhou Yuanzhi. He’s thirty-two this year, handsome, and most importantly—do you know what makes him such a catch?”
She paused deliberately, waiting for Yang Zhiyan to respond.
Yang Zhiyan refused to take the bait.
“A civil servant,” Li Fengxia emphasized. “He passed the exam. A government job—a lifelong iron rice bowl.”
Yang Zhiyan lowered her gaze to the hand gripping hers. Li Fengxia’s fingers were plump, her nails painted a pale pink, and the gold wedding band on her ring finger gleamed under the light.
“A man with qualifications like his? If he weren’t related to me, you wouldn’t even have a chance.”
She smiled.
“He’s in high demand now. Plenty of families are lining up to marry their daughters to him.”
Yang Zhiyan understood exactly what she meant.
She gently withdrew her hand, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and spoke quietly but clearly.
“Sister-in-law, I’m not thinking about getting married right now. My career is only just beginning, and I’m still studying under Teacher Mu…”
“Work, work, work,” Li Fengxia cut her off, the smile on her face fading. “You call yourself a qipao designer. To put it bluntly, you’re just a seamstress. What kind of future does that have?”
Yang Zhiyan’s eyelashes trembled slightly, but she said nothing.
“Zhiyan, let me be honest with you.” Leaning back against the sofa, one hand resting on her pregnant belly, Li Fengxia softened her tone as though coaxing a child.
“A woman loses her value after twenty-five. While you’re still young, hurry and find yourself a good husband. Wait a few more years, and it won’t be you choosing men—it’ll be men choosing you.”
“I’m not trying to choose anyone,” Yang Zhiyan replied. “I just want to master qipao making.”
“What’s the point of learning that?” Li Fengxia’s voice rose before she quickly lowered it again, remembering why she was having this conversation.
“You graduated from college. You could have studied anything, yet you insisted on making qipaos. Your mother spoils you, and your brother spoils you too. But I’m not that easygoing.”
Yang Zhiyan remained silent.
She sat neatly on the edge of the sofa, her back perfectly straight, both hands folded on her knees.
Teacher Mu had taught her this posture. Someone who made qipaos had to carry herself with elegance first.
“Let me tell you the truth, Zhiyan.” Li Fengxia lowered her voice, her expression suddenly turning serious.
“Your brother and I are married now. You can’t keep living in your parents’ home forever.”
Yang Zhiyan looked up at her.
“This house only has three bedrooms.” Li Fengxia glanced down at her stomach, tracing a circle over it with her palm. “Once the baby is born, this room of yours will belong to your little nephew.”
The living room fell silent.
The variety show on television continued playing. A female celebrity laughed so hard she doubled over, her shrill laughter spilling out of the speakers and grating on Yang Zhiyan’s ears.
Slowly, Yang Zhiyan lifted her head and looked at Li Fengxia.
“Sister-in-law… are you trying to drive me out?”
Under that calm gaze, Li Fengxia shifted uncomfortably. She looked away, picked up the glass of water on the coffee table, took a sip, and set it back down.
“I already said—I’m doing this for your own good.”
Before she could finish speaking, footsteps came from the kitchen.
Yang’s mother walked out wearing an apron.
“Yanyan, you’re back?” She came over to the sofa and sat on the small stool opposite Li Fengxia, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Mom.”
“Yanyan,” Yang’s mother began gently, her voice cautious, afraid of ruining her daughter-in-law’s plan. “Your sister-in-law isn’t trying to kick you out. I know you’ve always been a sensible child, and I know you’re busy learning the craft from Teacher Mu…”
“Mom,” Yang Zhiyan interrupted. “You agree too?”
Yang’s mother hesitated. She looked at Li Fengxia, then at her daughter, and finally sighed.
“Yanyan, it’s just that his qualifications really are excellent. He’s a civil servant with a secure government job. Countless girls wish they could marry someone like him. And he’s related to our family, so we know exactly what kind of person he is. He won’t mistreat you.”
“Look at how your sister-in-law has treated our family all these years after marrying in. Do you really think someone she introduces could be a bad match?”
As soon as she finished speaking, Yang’s mother glanced nervously at Li Fengxia, seemingly worried that her daughter-in-law might be displeased.
Li Fengxia nodded in satisfaction and immediately continued.
“Zhiyan, just make some time tomorrow to meet him. Just one meeting. If you don’t like him, we can talk about it afterward. It’s not as if meeting him means you have to marry him.”
“That’s right,” Yang’s mother quickly agreed. “Just meet him once. There’s no harm in taking a look. I can even go with you.”
Yang Zhiyan sat there while the two women took turns persuading her, playing off each other perfectly.
It seemed they wouldn’t rest until she had been pushed out of the house.
She should start looking for a place to move into as soon as possible.
She didn’t argue.
She didn’t make a scene.
Growing up, she had never been good at arguing. In this family, her parents made the decisions. Her brother and sister-in-law made the decisions.
She never had a say.
The only time she had insisted on her own choice was after graduating, when she told the family she wanted to study qipao craftsmanship.
That argument had lasted an entire month.
Her father had smashed three teacups.
Her mother had cried countless times.
In the end, they simply couldn’t change her mind and reluctantly let her go.
So it wasn’t that she was incapable of resisting.
It was just that some things weren’t worth exhausting herself over.
“Fine.” Yang Zhiyan stood up, her voice soft. “What time tomorrow? And where?”
Li Fengxia’s eyes lit up instantly. She straightened in excitement, no longer leaning back or cradling her stomach, suddenly full of energy.
“Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Coffee Bene on Renmin Road. I’ll have my cousin wait for you there. He’ll be wearing a blue suit—you won’t miss him.”
Yang Zhiyan nodded without another word and turned toward her room.
Just before she reached the door, she heard Li Fengxia lower her voice behind her, unable to hide the smugness in it.
“See, Mom? I told you Zhiyan is such a sensible girl…”
Yang Zhiyan pushed open the door, stepped inside, and quietly closed it.
The room was small.
A bed.
A desk.
A wardrobe.
Several books on qipao tailoring were stacked on the desk, along with an old pattern book Teacher Mu had lent her. Its yellowed pages were filled with pencil sketches of Republican-era qipao patterns.
She didn’t turn on the light.
Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Outside, the streetlamp shone through the curtains, casting a dim golden glow across the floor.
She sat there for a while before reaching out to touch the wall beside her bed.
On the other side was her sister-in-law’s bedroom. The soundproofing was poor, and she could vaguely hear cheerful voices drifting through the wall.
This room would no longer belong to her much longer.
The apartment was in her brother’s name.
But she had contributed 100,000 yuan toward the down payment.
Two years earlier, when they bought the apartment, she had just won 50,000 yuan in a qipao design competition. The other 50,000 yuan had come partly from her own savings and partly from money she had borrowed from Teacher Mu.
She had even helped pay the monthly mortgage.
And now they were saying this room belonged to her future nephew.
How laughable.
She had always been the unnecessary one.
Yang Zhiyan lay down and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
An overwhelming sadness settled quietly in her heart.