Li Suian returned home, washed up, and lay down in her room. Suddenly remembering the clothes Wen Qi had lent her, she scrambled out of bed and picked up the neatly folded garments from the head of the bed.
The clothes were of excellent quality, with a satisfying weight to them. Even Li Suian, who had never worn expensive clothing, could tell these weren’t cheap.
A faint fragrance clung to the fabric. She couldn’t resist bringing it to her nose and inhaling—the scent grew more distinct, a crisp, clean aroma of grass and wood.
The young girl felt a flutter of delight. Her resolve to marry Wen Qi as her live-in husband grew even firmer. The man was not only handsome but fragrant too—when a sweet-scented beauty was right before you, who would choose a stinky man?
With that thought, she pulled out her phone, opened Wen Qi’s WeChat, deliberated for a long moment, and sent a message.
[Brother Wen Qi, what do you like to eat? I’ll bring you breakfast tomorrow morning.]
After waiting two or three minutes, the other party replied, but it was very much in his style.
[No need.]
Li Suian shoved her phone under her pillow and burrowed into the covers to sleep. She shouldn’t have asked in the first place!
She’d get up early tomorrow and make something to bring him. They always said that to capture a man’s heart, you first had to capture his stomach. She would work hard and fatten the man up—then see if he could still remain indifferent.
With plans for tomorrow morning running through her head, Li Suian quickly drifted off to sleep. But on the other end of the phone, Wen Qi was still staring blankly at his device, the screen frozen on their chat interface.
When no reply came, the man’s brow furrowed slightly. She must be angry, right? And rightly so—if he were the one offering warmth and getting coldness in return, he’d be angry too.
But that was just how he was. He didn’t know how to respond to others’ enthusiasm, and he didn’t want to be a burden. He couldn’t repay that kindness. He only wanted to live out his final moments in peace, leaving without any lingering attachments.
It was fine if she was angry. Once she realized he wasn’t worth knowing, she’d stop bothering him.
That was what he told himself, but as he lay in bed idly playing with his phone, his finger somehow wandered into Li Suian’s Moments.
He never looked at other people’s Moments. He never posted anything himself either. But subconsciously, he’d grown curious about that young girl. She was like a little sun—loud, energetic, and full of fire. Her Moments should be interesting.
The most recent post was from yesterday. Li Suian had shared several photos.
“March 17th—I must have been cursed with bad luck today. Sob My trusty ride of three years broke down. But thankfully, a kind-hearted and beautiful neighbor came to help~”
In the nine-grid photo layout, there was a picture of the young girl squatting miserably by the roadside like an abandoned puppy, and another of Wen Qi helping her tow the vehicle. As he looked at them, Wen Qi didn’t even realize his lips were curling up slightly.
He continued scrolling.
“March 15th—Today’s Da Hu is the most handsome dog in the whole village! Now accepting marriage proposals—if you have a pretty little lady dog at home, leave your contact info!”
The accompanying photo showed sturdy Da Hu wearing a pair of broken sunglasses Li Suian had picked up off the road, perched on his head. He actually looked pretty dashing.
Wen Qi seemed to be sinking into it, his finger scrolling slowly downward—and then he accidentally liked one of Li Suian’s posts!
In that instant, the always-cold-and-distant Wen Qi panicked, struck by the shame of being caught peeking at someone’s private life.
He swiftly canceled the like, then, in a futile attempt to bury the evidence, hid his phone under the covers—as if, by not looking at it, the deed had never happened.
He turned off the light and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to sleep. But half a minute later, his hand groped through the darkness, found his phone, and he curled up entirely under the blanket with a rustling sound. The glow reappeared, and he clicked the like back on.
…
Li Suian, of course, had no idea about someone’s inner turmoil. She slept soundly through the night, and the next morning, before dawn had even broken, her reliable biological clock woke her. She glanced at the time—it wasn’t even 6:30 yet.
She washed up, then headed to the kitchen to whip up breakfast. There was an old pumpkin from last year’s harvest at home, along with a leftover piece of Chinese yam. She decided to make a pumpkin and yam porridge—Wen Qi had a sensitive stomach, and this soft, mushy food would suit him best.
She peeled the pumpkin and yam, washed them clean, and cut them into small pieces before tossing them into the blender. She added some milk and water, then set it to the soy milk mode to blend and cook.
She also had her own breakfast to prepare. In these parts, the most classic morning meal was rice noodles or er si. She had already soaked the dried er si the night before, so all she needed to do was boil some water and cook it up.
While the blender whirred away with the pumpkin and yam porridge, she went to gather the things she’d need for her trip into the mountains later. Her days were always packed—she was busy from the moment she got up.
She set a small pot on the induction cooker, brought the water to a boil, dropped in the softened er si, and cooked it through, adding a few leaves of greens on top.
Once the er si was done, she ladled it into a bowl and topped it with a spoonful of the meat sauce she’d stir-fried herself. Around here, they called the topping for er si or noodles a “hat.”
She usually stir-fried a batch of meat sauce and kept it in the fridge, so in the mornings she could scoop out a spoonful for her breakfast—fragrant, colorful, and delicious.
She also cooked a small bowl for Wen Qi. His stomach condition meant he couldn’t handle spicy food, but luckily she’d also prepared a fresh pork topping. She added some chopped scallions to the er si, along with a drizzle of garlic oil, Sichuan pepper oil, and soy sauce—the aroma was irresistible.
She sat down to eat her own breakfast, and even made a portion for Da Hu. How could she bear to watch Da Hu go hungry when she was eating her fill? He was family.
After finishing, she grabbed the insulated lunchbox she’d prepared for Wen Qi, hopped on her three-wheeler, and headed out to work.
It was still early, and she didn’t want to disturb Wen Qi’s sleep. She parked the three-wheeler at his front gate, tiptoed inside, and set the lunchbox by his bedroom door.
Slipping in quietly, then slipping out just as quietly—the whole act had an endearingly sneaky charm.
Only after she’d left the courtyard did she send Wen Qi a message, telling him to remember to eat breakfast. He’d see it when he woke up.
The girl sped off on her three-wheeler like a gust of wind, and at that very moment, Wen Qi’s door opened.
He’d always been a light sleeper—the slightest sound would wake him. He’d known the moment Li Suian arrived at the courtyard gate, because the girl’s footsteps were unmistakable.
She was always brimming with vitality, and her footsteps carried that same crisp, energetic drive. Even though she’d deliberately lightened her steps today, he could still tell it was her.
He opened the door and saw the insulated lunchbox on the ground. In that instant, a warm current flowed through his heart like spring thawing the frost.
He picked up the lunchbox and noticed a pink sticky note on it, bearing neat, elegant small-script handwriting: “Brother Wen Qi, make sure to eat a good breakfast! Let’s both clean our plates—and don’t forget to send me a photo.”
Wen Qi smiled—a faint, subtle smile that came from the heart. But after the smile, a trace of confusion crept in. Why was she being so kind to him? A man with one foot in the grave didn’t deserve such treatment.
Wen Qi’s heart was in a mess. He opened the lunchbox, and the aroma wafted out, his stomach betraying him with a growl of hunger.