“Sister.”
Realizing who was waking her, He Qi finally understood how the word “regret” was written. She felt an unbearable irritation, unwilling even to open her eyes.
Fang Yi noticed her trembling eyelashes, knew she was awake, and anxiously asked:
“Sister, why are you sleeping out here? It’s really unsafe.”
He Qi slowly opened her eyes, only to have her contact lens slip. She blinked repeatedly before her vision cleared.
Fang Yi crouched in front of her, shielding her from the cold night wind. The collar of his black jacket flapped in the breeze. He slightly furrowed his brow, staring directly at her.
The park lights were old, emitting a dim, melancholy yellow, highlighting tiny dust particles in the air.
Her face hurt, probably from the tears that hadn’t been wiped in time, leaving it dry and flaky.
She opened her eyes without saying a word, staring blankly. Fang Yi, noticing her state, softened his voice:
“Sister, let’s go to the car first. It’s cold and unsafe out here…”
She felt he was noisy and blurted out:
“Is it really safer in your car?”
Fang Yi froze for two seconds. Realizing what she meant, his eyes widened slightly—but there was no misunderstanding, no shame, no anger. He simply shifted back half a step, avoiding her gaze for the moment.
“If you’re worried, we can call Jiajia…”
Ningshi had little nightlife; the outdoor silence was deep at this hour. Fang Yi’s careful words drifted weakly in the air.
He Qi’s heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes, unsure what she was doing. Rising from the bench, she rubbed her temples, apologizing:
“Sorry.”
She realized it had been a completely reckless thought from the start.
She wanted to say more, but Fang Yi had already stood up, deliberately avoiding her gaze and looking toward the parked car:
“Let’s go there first.”
The car had moderate heat. They sat side by side, eyes forward, speaking nothing.
She had engineered this situation herself and felt deeply regretful.
Fang Yi was much younger. In the past, interacting with him had felt like watching over a little brother—never awkward, always a kind of detached amusement. She had watched him try hard to find topics, feel awkward in silence, cautious in conversation, quietly pleased when things went well, all while she remained unbothered, safe.
But now, she had thrown herself down from that elevated adult perspective, having said something thoughtless to Fang Yi.
Regardless of motive, he had gone through trouble to find her. She had repaid his kindness with harsh words.
Once reason returned, so did guilt and unease. She bit her inner lip, embarrassed and unsure what to say.
Finally, Fang Yi spoke:
“Sister, there are wet wipes in the storage box. Open a new one and wipe your face.”
He Qi made a soft sound of acknowledgment, opened the box in front of the seat, and asked casually:
“How did you find me?”
“I saw the message you sent me, so I came. But your later messages weren’t replied to, so I had to look near your place.”
She folded a wet wipe and pressed it to her face, lowering her gaze:
“Sorry, that message… was sent to the wrong person. I recalled it quickly. I didn’t know if you saw it, and then my phone was on silent and I fell asleep.”
Fang Yi nodded, looking out the window:
“I just happened to see it while waiting for your message. I was too worried.”
She carefully wiped her face, paused, then said again:
“Sorry. Don’t take what I said to heart. I wasn’t thinking clearly and said nonsense.”
Meaning the earlier “safety” discussion.
Fang Yi nodded again:
“I know, you weren’t in a good mood.”
She didn’t respond. Fang Yi turned back to face her.
“Did you… fight?”
He looked at her, not specifying who “you” referred to, but they both knew.
“Yes.” She finished wiping her chin.
The car was quiet for a moment. Fang Yi asked again:
“Did you break up?”
She realized her patience with him was fragile. In a single sentence, her earlier guilt nearly faded. She pressed the wet wipe between her nose bridge and eye corner, answering calmly:
“I don’t want to talk about that now.”
Fang Yi switched questions:
“Then where are you staying tonight? Hotel here or back in Jiangshi?”
She glanced at her phone. Over ten messages and missed calls were folded below; she pretended not to see them.
It was almost eleven. She didn’t know where to go. She asked him:
“You have classes tomorrow, right? You need to get back?”
“I have an 8 a.m. class.” He touched his neck. “The road wasn’t congested today; it takes two hours back. Not late.”
Her guilt returned, a deep self-reproach—delaying a student’s schedule.
She worried if driving back so late counted as fatigue driving. She almost asked if it was unsafe but stopped herself; the word “safe” was sensitive now. She didn’t want to say it.
Fang Yi noticed her hesitating expression, guessed what she was about to ask, and answered:
“I usually sleep at midnight anyway. I won’t get sleepy.”
No matter what, time was fleeting. Fang Yi should return to Ningshi promptly. He came alone; she didn’t want him going back alone either.
She tossed the wet wipe into the car’s trash bin and said dully, “Then let’s go.”
Fang Yi immediately started the car, while He Qi took out her phone, planning to find herself a place to stay for the night.
She ignored all the red notification dots on her social apps and decisively tapped into her chat with Li Jiajia.
“Are you asleep? Is it convenient for me to stay over tonight?”
The other side seemed busy. It took quite a while before a reply came.
“Just finished prepping lessons. Come over—what’s inconvenient about that? You already know my door code anyway.”
“You’re back from Jiangshi? There aren’t any high-speed trains at this hour, right? Did you take a taxi?”
He Qi glanced up at the man in the driver’s seat through the rearview mirror. She didn’t quite know how to explain it, but she still told the truth.
“No. I’m in Fang Yi’s car.”
Right after that, the name at the top of the chat switched to “typing…” and then back again, repeating several times. Yet no new message appeared.
He Qi waited foolishly, not sending anything more, until Li Jiajia finally condensed a thousand words into a restrained question mark.
After thinking for a moment, He Qi replied with a period—equally loaded with unspoken meaning.
Li Jiajia had nothing left to say.
“Forget it. Message me when you arrive. If I’m not asleep, I’ll come down to get you. If I don’t reply, just sneak in quietly like an illegal break-in, got it?”
He Qi sent a nodding emoji, looking especially obedient.
With her free lodging settled, she turned off her phone and placed it face down, then turned to look out at the night scenery.
The car was unexpectedly quiet. Fang Yi didn’t try to start a conversation. He Qi had been exhausted all day and had slept less than two hours earlier—now the drowsiness returned in waves.
The moving car made her feel unusually safe. On one hand, it was constantly carrying her away from the place that had left her battered and bruised; on the other, it kept her far from the place where she would have to face everything. This state of being “on the road” was almost perfect, temporarily lifting her out of reality.
She grew sleepy in that sense of security, her head nodding little by little, yet she refused to fully fall asleep.
Whether the driver was fatigued was still unknown. As the passenger, she had the responsibility to stay awake as a second layer of safety… He Qi reminded herself hazily.
Fang Yi noticed her through the rearview mirror. Several times, she was on the verge of dozing off, only to force her eyes open at the last moment—then within two seconds, they would close again.
Keeping his eyes on the road, Fang Yi smiled helplessly. “Sister, just sleep. I’m really not sleepy at all.”
He Qi had been about to enter another round of struggle. Hearing his voice suddenly, she thought he had something important to say and jolted fully awake.
It took her a moment to process what he had said. She wiped the corner of her mouth and let out a confused “Oh,” then instinctively lifted her phone to check the time.
12:13 a.m.
New messages kept popping up on the lock screen. He Qi saw several familiar names—people she hadn’t chatted with in a long time.
She frowned, unlocked her phone, and then suddenly realized.
At the top of WeChat were several birthday wishes from friends. Some even came with red packet transfers.
It was past midnight—her twenty-sixth birthday had arrived.
She opened each message to thank them. For closer friends, she accepted the red packets, silently making a note to return the gesture. For those she hadn’t spoken to in a long time, she left the money unclaimed for now, only sending her thanks—after all, she might not even remember their birthdays.
She didn’t have many friends. Only five or six had sent her wishes right away, including a few shrewd former work partners.
He Qi hadn’t even finished scrolling when she saw that Chen Jin had also sent messages.
After she had cleared their chat history, he had sent five more. The last one visible in the preview was timestamped exactly at midnight. It contained just two words—
“He Qi.”
Her name.
He Qi stared at it quietly, realizing that she could actually understand what Chen Jin meant.
He had probably wanted to say, “He Qi, happy birthday.” But because of everything that had happened yesterday, he knew he no longer had the right to say those words—so all he could send was her name.
“He Qi.”
In her mind, she could almost hear the way he called her name. She could even vividly imagine his expression…
Yes. This was the man who had given her such an absurd and miserable birthday.
He Qi turned off her phone, closed her eyes, and let out a heavy breath.
After three seconds, she opened her eyes again—only to meet Fang Yi’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
Caught sneaking a glance, Fang Yi froze for a brief moment, then, without any burden, curved his eyes into a smile. “Sister, happy birthday.”
He Qi didn’t want to make a sound, nor could she manage any expression. She simply nodded at him, then turned to face the window and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep.
She had been unbearably sleepy earlier, yet now she remained awake the entire ride. After they got off the highway, He Qi entered Li Jiajia’s residential address into the navigation. The two of them still didn’t speak.
“Sister, we’re here.” Fang Yi parked at the entrance of the residential complex. After lowering the window and looking around for a moment, he seemed to realize that outside vehicles were allowed in. He sat back properly. “Which building does Jiajia-jie live in? I can drive in.”
“No need.” He Qi refused. She narrowed her eyes at a figure just walking out near the entrance and pointed for Fang Yi to see. “That looks like Li Jiajia.”
Without waiting for confirmation, she opened the car door and ran straight toward the figure.
The wind stung her face.
A second ago, Li Jiajia had been standing there leisurely with her hands tucked in, dressed in a mismatched outfit—long down coat over pajamas, thick socks paired with clogs. The next second, she saw a dark figure rushing at her out of nowhere and hurriedly caught her.
Their bones knocked painfully together. Li Jiajia yelped several times, scolding, “He Qi, are you trying to kill me?!”
By then, Fang Yi had also gotten out of the car and walked into their line of sight.
“Then, Sister, I’ll head back first.”
He Qi turned around and looked up at him slightly. Apart from thanks, she had nothing else to say. “Mm. Get back early and rest. Thank you so much for today. Drive safely.”
Fang Yi responded with an “okay,” nodded to Li Jiajia as well, then turned and left.
Li Jiajia wasn’t someone who could hide things. She was clearly curious, but she also knew this wasn’t the right moment. She opened her down coat, about to pull He Qi into an embrace. “Come on, come on, let’s get upstairs. I’m freezing to death.”
He Qi didn’t say anything, letting herself be pulled along.
Li Jiajia thought she was in a bad mood and didn’t want to talk, so she leaned her face closer—only to be met with a cold, damp sensation.
Her heart skipped. She quickly used the streetlight to look at He Qi’s face, only to realize that at some point, she had started crying silently again.
Li Jiajia panicked, fumbling around, only to find she didn’t have any tissues on her. She could only drag He Qi into the building and hurriedly press the elevator button.
The wind was shut out by the glass doors. The elevator lobby was brightly lit like daytime. He Qi gradually began to cry softly, forcing Li Jiajia to hug her tightly face-to-face, patting her back. “What happened?”
He Qi tried her best to suppress it, but the sobs only grew louder. Her tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking into Li Jiajia’s collar, until finally her broken sobs trembled against her ear—
“What do I do, Li Jiajia… why does Xiao Yanzi always treat me like this?”