He Qi had thought she could be frank about whether the person last night was male or female, but before she could seize the initiative, she blurted it out and got questioned by Chen Jin.
Reporting something proactively is vastly different from being forced to answer.
Her mind paused for a moment. She hadn’t even thought of crossing any boundaries, yet now she felt inexplicably guilty. She closed her eyes, pretending not to have heard.
Chen Jin frowned tightly, pressing further: “Is it a man?”
Amid the silent tension, Chen Jin’s hands inched tighter, the firm forearms wrapping from her back to her waist. Through the silky sheen of her pajamas, the slow movement felt like a python crawling on her skin.
This was a different form of pressing closer.
Finally—
“It’s a man.”
When Chen Jin’s fingers reached the edge of her abdomen, He Qi suddenly opened her eyes and answered calmly, a near-indignant heat rising inside her.
She knew her anger was irrational and baseless, so she restrained it and explained fully: “It’s the friend of Li Jiajia’s cousin I mentioned before. He studies near Tong University, happened to be awake, and came to help.”
That was the truth. She had tried every method—selecting all car types on the ride-hailing app, calling Li Jiajia, even intending to ignore Fang Yi’s social media post, willing to burn a little longer with fever rather than bother anyone.
So what was there to feel guilty about? She asked herself. She had no choice but to accept the help of a male friend—what was suspicious about that?
She raised her eyes, ready to chastise Chen Jin for his suspicion, but met a slightly lonely gaze.
The wet, fragile expression made her justified anger instantly dissipate.
He Qi felt confused, flustered, and a bit ashamed. Her eyelashes trembled twice as she forcefully pulled Chen Jin’s hands away and sat upright on the bed.
“Aren’t you going to work?” she asked, quickly sitting on the bed edge, adjusting her disheveled clothes, trying to steer the conversation back to familiar territory.
“This afternoon,” Chen Jin replied, cooperating. Then he added: “Your mom called me these past two days.”
“What?” Thunder struck. He Qi couldn’t hide her panic and urgency: “What did she say? Pushing for marriage again?”
Chen Jin lay on his side, soothing her: “Nothing like that. Just asking about our relationship.”
He Qi frowned: “Then that’s just laying the groundwork for nagging later.”
Frustrated, she went to wash up. When she returned, Chen Jin was still lying on her bed. She wanted to change her pajamas, picking through her wardrobe while asking, “Aren’t you going back to your room to sleep?”
No answer came. She pulled off her top, and then heard the sound of someone spreading a blanket—probably Chen Jin getting up.
She turned her back to the bed, put on a soft cashmere cardigan, buttoning it from top to bottom. As she finished the last button, Chen Jin stopped at the doorway, suddenly asking: “What’s his name?”
“What?” She instinctively looked up.
Chen Jin repeated: “The guy who helped—what’s his name?”
“Fang Yi.” She looked at him calmly, finishing the last button.
Chen Jin nodded and returned to his room.
He Qi changed into pants and went to the study.
Though she had been repeatedly sick these past few days, she hadn’t neglected her work. She read one book after another, her mind constantly sketching out ideas for new stories.
Having finally slept soundly, she felt unusually refreshed, like a person recovering from chronic rhinitis—everything she did now felt full of energy.
She flopped into her swivel chair, opened her computer, and typed out her ideas without editing.
This time, she wouldn’t make animals the main characters. She decided to write a story about a little girl named Judy, the only child of a wealthy family. Loved by her parents, living in luxury, envied by others, but excessively kind.
The story begins with her wealthy parents moving to a new house and hiring a renowned carpenter to show different decorating styles. The parents only choose the style for their own bedroom and let the girl pick hers.
The girl eagerly examines all the designs and favors a minimalist blue style. Just before deciding, the carpenter strongly recommends a flashy pink style, saying all girls in the area love it and praising the crystal chandelier. The girl hesitates, wondering if the carpenter would be disappointed if she didn’t choose it. Her parents urge her to decide; looking at the carpenter’s expectant expression, she reluctantly nods.
Next, a gardener brings flowers for the backyard. The girl loves tulips but notices her mother playing with lily petals, so she eventually points to the lilies.
Finally, a pet vendor brings puppies for guarding the yard. The girl plays with a lively little puppy and wants her father to buy it, but sees him inspecting a pedigree hunting dog. Hesitating, she eventually agrees to the hunting dog.
The story ends with the family moving into their new home. The girl stands in her new room, seeing everything she didn’t like, and bursts into tears. Surprised, her parents ask, “Why are you crying? Isn’t this everything you wanted?”
The girl cries and explains everything to her parents.
He Qi decided to name the kind girl “Judy” and titled the document “Judy’s New Home.”
Writing this story wasn’t particularly difficult, but since there was no time limit and she remembered the lessons from her previous work, He Qi chose to polish it for several extra days. Only when she was certain it was as perfect as she could make it did she find the public submission email for Echo Publishing and send her information along with the manuscript.
After submitting, she received an automated reply saying that if she didn’t hear back within a month, she could submit it elsewhere.
“A month,” He Qi thought, propping her chin with one hand.
During the waiting period, she continued reading relevant books in large quantities, spending every day at her computer turning inspiration into concrete words. Yet much of it didn’t become complete stories, buried as drafts in various documents.
Still, two or three pieces were satisfactory enough that she persistently submitted them to Echo Publishing.
Unexpectedly, about a week later, He Qi received a reply.
She had just finished breakfast downstairs and was heading upstairs, thinking about the story opening she had written yesterday. She sat at her desk, and her phone buzzed.
She didn’t rush, opening her document first, then checked WeChat. Seeing a red notification next to the name “Li Xiulan,” her heart raced.
“Children’s literature is the world of children, not your platform.”
He Qi stared at the message in confusion. Why was she being dragged out for criticism again? She had clearly promised not to bother Li Xiulan anymore.
Then, a spark of realization hit. She hurried to open her email, and sure enough, there was a message from Echo Publishing.
Having first seen Li Xiulan’s stern criticism, He Qi had no expectations as she opened the email. She quickly scanned it, slightly disappointed.
The usual thank-you-for-submitting phrasing came first… then a note that her story had passed the initial review… followed by the contact information for Luoluo, an editor in the children’s literature department…
Wait!
He Qi’s eyes went wide.
She stared at the words “passed the initial review,” rereading them several times to confirm she wasn’t hallucinating.
Passed, passed the initial review?!
She quickly glanced back at Li Xiulan’s message on her phone, scrolling up slightly. The chat history was sparse—just one scroll to the top—and she clearly remembered the scene when she first saw that line:
“But if I ever find that your work isn’t even at the level to pass the initial review, don’t send anything to me again. It’s a waste of both our time.”
So Li Xiulan was suddenly willing to “waste time” with her because she had passed the initial review?
He Qi forced herself to suppress the thrill inside, replying to Li Xiulan with a restrained, “Okay, Teacher Li,” then added Luoluo on WeChat using the information in the email.
Luoluo took nearly twenty minutes to accept. After a brief greeting, she expressed her appreciation for He Qi’s story.
“However, the language and some plot handling still need improvement. Let’s discuss specifics after the second review results come in.”
The editor, named Luoluo, was clearly very busy. She sent several long messages, covering everything before disappearing.
He Qi paid little attention to the details, feeling encouraged. She spent half an hour in her swivel chair digesting the good news before diving back into reading and writing.
Luoluo said the second review would take at least two weeks. He Qi tried to push it out of her mind, pretending it didn’t exist, so she wouldn’t be anxious every day—she continued her routine of eating, reading, writing, submitting, and sleeping.
As her document collection grew, her writing speed visibly increased. The word count and completeness of each story steadily improved.
She spent day and night in her study. Sometimes, when she walked to the living room and saw Chen Jin, she didn’t even notice when he had come home. Living under the same roof, they barely exchanged a few words all day.
Half a month had passed since the fever incident. Li Jiajia, exhausted from work, finally managed to take a full day off and invited He Qi to her place for hot pot.
Since Chen Jin wouldn’t be home until evening, He Qi happily agreed, first buying a large bag of ingredients and condiments, then taking a taxi to Li Jiajia’s apartment.
She had just greeted the security guard and was walking in when she suddenly heard Li Jiajia’s booming, furious voice:
“Damn it! People like you deserve to be hit by a car when you go out!”