At this hour, there was barely anyone moving around the residential complex. The elevator held only the two of them, and He Qi cried without restraint.
She cried all the way from the elevator to the bathroom of Li Jiajia’s guest bedroom. After she finished, she came out with swollen, puffy eyes. Without her contact lenses, her vision was blurry, but she could still make out someone lying on the bed.
Li Jiajia lay on her side in a rather seductive pose, lazily crooking her finger at her and lifting half the blanket in invitation. “Let’s sleep together tonight.”
He Qi had no objections. She walked over weakly, kicked off her slippers, and slowly lay down, tucking the blanket tightly around herself.
Seeing this, Li Jiajia turned off the main light and switched on the bedside lamp instead. Half-sitting, half-lying, she looked at He Qi, who had her eyes tightly shut, and asked, “Going straight to sleep, or want to talk?”
He Qi lay there like a corpse for a long time. Just before Li Jiajia decided to turn off the light completely, she finally spoke, “Chen Jin gave me a ring.”
“A ring?” Li Jiajia froze, her expression turning suspicious and tense as she looked down—only to see He Qi still had her eyes closed. “Doesn’t he know you don’t believe in marriage?”
“Mm.” He Qi replied softly.
No wonder it had turned out like this.
It took a long while before Li Jiajia fully processed the impact of the news. She muttered a curse, “Damn it, that bastard.”
But after cursing, she began to wonder if there had been some misunderstanding.
“But Chen Jin…” Li Jiajia bit her knuckle, unsure how to phrase it. She fumbled for words for a long time, still hesitant. She knew she absolutely shouldn’t be speaking up for that kind of man right now—but the problem was, that man was Chen Jin.
“Chen Jin really doesn’t seem like… I mean, for seven whole years he… he never once showed any intention of getting married, right?”
Otherwise, a fight of this magnitude would have happened long ago.
At this point, Li Jiajia’s mind was a bit of a mess as well. She hadn’t interacted much with Chen Jin, but she knew enough. He Qi rarely showed off their relationship, but from the bits and pieces she shared, it was clear what kind of person Chen Jin was.
Li Jiajia had never believed in the existence of a perfect relationship—until He Qi, who she thought would remain single forever, got into one.
This so-called perfection was very different from what she had imagined. Even though she occasionally mocked them as a “frigid couple,” she couldn’t deny that, in her eyes, He Qi and Chen Jin’s relationship was about ninety-nine percent perfect—no arguments, mutual tolerance, wholehearted devotion, quietly and seriously building a life together.
That was already an unbelievable level of harmony.
And yet now, that one percent imperfection had appeared.
Out of consideration for Chen Jin’s character and He Qi’s judgment, she carefully asked, “Did you talk to Chen Jin about it? A ring doesn’t necessarily mean marriage, right?”
He Qi turned over, lying on her side facing Li Jiajia. She slowly opened her eyes, empty and devoid of emotion.
“Even if it’s not about marriage, it’s still a test. Otherwise, would you give a radio to someone who’s deaf? My mom called him before—he deliberately kept it from me.”
The amount of information was too much. Li Jiajia couldn’t process it. She pulled her finger out of her mouth, leaving a clear bite mark on the joint.
She patted He Qi’s shoulder and leaned over to turn off the light. “Let’s just sleep. If we keep talking, I’m afraid I’ll drag you out drinking.”
He Qi agreed completely. If they kept talking, she’d definitely end up unable to sleep. She turned onto her back, settled properly, and let Li Jiajia hold her as she drifted off.
The next day, when He Qi woke up, Li Jiajia had already gone to work.
Her eyes were swollen to a ridiculous degree, her double eyelids puffed up as if a botched surgery had gone wrong. Sniffling lightly, she finished washing up and noticed a portion of stir-fried rice cakes left on the table.
So she sat down at the dining table, eating without much appetite while checking the messages on her phone.
In the entire world, only Chen Jin and Xu Yan were still tirelessly trying to find her.
A few years ago, He Qi had indeed loved playing the disappearing act. After a huge fight with her family, she would leave, watching Xu Yan’s unanswered messages and calls, imagining how she might repent in helplessness, whether she might suddenly come to some grand realization.
Reality, of course, denied that again and again. Xu Yan would only pray to the gods, hoping for He Qi’s enlightenment—but He Qi still “never grew tired of it.”
On one hand, this kind of petty retaliation gave her a justified excuse to ignore Xu Yan and catch her breath for a while. On the other, perhaps she was also using it to confirm that Xu Yan did love her—no matter how much she made her suffer, no matter how unbearable the pain, she still loved her.
But now, He Qi didn’t want to do that anymore. She felt it was meaningless for both Xu Yan and herself.
She opened her chat with Xu Yan. Without listening to a single voice message, she quickly typed:
“I’m back in Jiangshi. I still have work to do. Don’t call or message me—I won’t reply. And don’t contact Chen Jin either. I have nothing to do with him anymore.”
The other side quickly sent several short voice messages, but He Qi didn’t have the courage to play them. She didn’t know whether they contained bombs or sugar—but based on experience, the former was more likely.
Seemingly anxious from not getting a reply, Xu Yan called directly.
Without hesitation, He Qi hung up. Then she continued typing in the chat:
“I said don’t call. If you call again, I’ll block you. Don’t message either.”
The reply came:
“How did I end up with a daughter like you?!”
Getting exactly what she expected, He Qi let out a long breath and blocked Xu Yan on WeChat.
The world fell quiet.
This time, He Qi didn’t indulge in unnecessary fantasies. She lowered her head and continued eating the rice cakes in small bites, ignoring Chen Jin as well.
Her phone remained on silent. At one point, the screen lit up. She only glanced at it from the corner of her eye, didn’t see clearly, and kept eating.
After finishing, she sealed the plastic container, tied up the bag, threw it into the kitchen trash, and wiped down the table. Only after tidying everything up did she pick up her phone again.
Unexpectedly, this time it was a message from Editor Luo Luo.
“Sorry, Ms. He. May I ask if you haven’t submitted this piece to another publication yet?”
Below it was an attached file titled “Revisions for ‘Judy’s New Home’” along with a long message.
“Although the piece didn’t pass the second review, I personally really like your story, so I made some minor edits in certain areas. I also feel the ending is a bit abrupt—you may need to rethink and expand it. I can try to submit it for internal review again.”
He Qi’s heart, which had been dull all day, suddenly brightened.
She stared at the message, walking from the dining area to the living room, even rubbing her cheeks with her hands to make sure this wasn’t an illusion.
Her heart pounded rapidly. She dropped onto the sofa, causing the cushion beside her to bounce slightly.
He Qi opened the revised manuscript Luo Luo had edited. Curling her legs up on the sofa, she placed a cushion on her knees and read it carefully word by word, occasionally exiting to compare it with the original draft.
The edits Luo Luo made were not extensive—mostly adjustments to wording and phrasing—but from these small changes, her strong writing foundation and understanding of children’s literature were evident.
He Qi read through smoothly until the end, indeed feeling that the ending was rushed. She saved the file and replied to Luo Luo:
“Okay, thank you, Editor Luo Luo! I’ll revise it as soon as possible!”
The other side sent back an “OK” hand gesture emoji.
Her own computer wasn’t with her, and Li Jiajia had taken hers to work. He Qi wasn’t used to writing long passages on her phone—it felt cramped and uncomfortable.
Fortunately, Li Jiajia was a proper teacher now, so finding paper and pen at home wasn’t difficult.
She took two blank A4 sheets and a black pen from Li Jiajia’s desk, returned to the sofa, placed her phone displaying the story beside her, and began thinking while spinning the pen.
The ending of the story still began with Judy moving into the new home that didn’t suit her at all. But this time, she didn’t burst into tears—instead, she hid her emotions inside, as usual.
Days passed quietly. Judy gradually got used to waking up every morning to a bedroom she didn’t like. She didn’t say anything, but aside from sleeping, she rarely stayed in that pink room.
She would leave the house in a gloomy mood, wandering aimlessly. If she happened to pass by the garden, she would see her mother tending to a yard full of fragrant lilies. She couldn’t help but imagine—if she had pointed to tulips that day, would at least half the garden now be filled with flowers she liked?
She didn’t want to enter the garden, so she continued wandering. When she reached the front yard, her father would happen to be training that expensive hunting dog. The clever dog circled him, performing various commands, making him laugh heartily. Seeing this, Judy couldn’t help but imagine again—if she had insisted on keeping that little stray dog that day, would she have been able to get along with it just as harmoniously?
The more Judy thought about it, the sadder she became—so disappointed that she didn’t even want to stay at home, running out onto the street alone.
Amid the bustling crowd, Judy saw a carpenter, a gardener, and a pet merchant. They were all enthusiastically promoting their crafts and goods to passersby, earning bag after bag of gold coins, their faces wearing exaggerated smiles.
At that moment, endless questions surfaced in Judy’s mind—
Why was she the only one who didn’t feel happy?
After smoothly outlining the story up to this point, He Qi suddenly got stuck.
Judy’s biggest problem had already been revealed. He Qi also understood the message that needed to be conveyed, but she couldn’t think of a way to resolve Judy’s confusion.
To her, it seemed like a dead end. Judy was an overly kind girl who had fallen into this predicament—should she suddenly come to a realization on the street and stop compromising, learning to respect herself? That seemed difficult. Perhaps she needed some external push?
He Qi tapped her cheek with the end of her pen, thinking for a long time before continuing to write.
Or maybe she could add an elder character?
For example, Judy’s grandmother—letting the lost lamb seek guidance from a hermit carrying a lantern. Would that work better?
He Qi wasn’t sure. For now, she roughly sketched out the ending, then took a photo of her notes and sent it to Luo Luo, humbly asking for her opinion.
Luo Luo was clearly busy. Nearly half an hour later, she replied. The gist was that replacing the “guide” role with Judy’s parents would be more appropriate—this way, the parents wouldn’t be overly one-dimensional, and it would also highlight the importance of communication.
He Qi found it reasonable and agreed.
She became so absorbed in her thoughts that when she looked up again, it was already close to dinnertime.
Li Jiajia got off work at six. If there was no traffic, her commute would take about half an hour. He Qi reminded her in advance not to eat dinner first, but worried she might get hungry, so she ordered some bread to be delivered to her workplace to tide her over.
Then she searched for nearby restaurants for takeout. After all, it was her twenty-sixth birthday—eating something nice together at home still counted as celebrating.
When Li Jiajia came in, He Qi was just unpacking a Thai takeout bag. She took out the containers one by one and placed them on the table, turning her head to ask, “I forgot to order drinks. Do you still have alcohol at home?”
Li Jiajia stood at the entrance, holding a cake in each hand. She didn’t answer immediately, didn’t even change her shoes, instead looking at He Qi hesitantly.
“What’s wrong?” He Qi paused, looking over in confusion. “Why did you buy two cakes?”
Li Jiajia’s brows were tightly furrowed, clearly struggling to speak. After three seconds, she seemed to make up her mind.
“Chen Jin… Chen Jin is downstairs.”
In an instant, all the color seemed to drain from He Qi’s face.