It was almost amusing. A couple living together, both staying out overnight without telling each other, only to run into each other in the elevator the next day.
Anyone else would probably slap a “superficial relationship” label on them and eagerly wait for a heated argument or biting sarcasm.
But none of that happened.
He Qi only froze briefly. Noting that Chen Jin had probably just come up from the parking garage, she stepped into the elevator, stood still, and lowered her gaze to smooth her sleeve.
As the elevator doors closed, Chen Jin’s low, hoarse, and tired voice sounded beside her. “I was busy at the company until very late yesterday. I fell asleep before I could message you.”
He Qi nodded. She felt his weight lean slightly toward her—he was probably too tired to stand steadily. Using her as support, he asked, “Did you just get back from outside?”
“I went out drinking with Li Jiajia yesterday,” He Qi replied. “Got drunk, so I stayed at her place.”
The weight against her grew heavier. She adjusted her stance, needing to use some strength to fully support his leaning body.
One had been working day and night, the other drinking to oblivion—two flimsy excuses, full of loopholes, playing out dramatically in the same elevator.
Yet neither of them questioned the other.
He Qi tilted her head back slightly, wondering whether the silence meant trust—or simply a lack of interest in asking.
The elevator doors opened. Supporting Chen Jin lightly, she helped him into the apartment.
She couldn’t help but think—wasn’t he being a bit too weak? He had just worked overnight, not gone out drinking like her.
Still thinking that, she had just taken off her shoes at the entryway when Chen Jin suddenly leaned forward with his eyes closed.
He Qi let out a startled cry, her back pressing against the cabinet behind her. His solid body pressed tightly against hers, leaving no space between them, almost making it hard for her to breathe.
They were so close she could clearly smell him. He didn’t wear perfume—there was only the faint scent of laundry detergent from his collar.
He Qi had no choice but to raise her hand and pat his back. “What are you doing? I can’t breathe.”
“Too sleepy,” Chen Jin said softly, just loud enough to be a whisper. “Next time you go out drinking, tell me first?”
The vibration of his chest carried through to her. He Qi blinked slowly and replied, “Got it. Let me help you to bed first.”
Although they lived together, they slept in separate rooms. Both of them valued having their own space, so the apartment had two master bedrooms.
He Qi helped him into his room. Chen Jin collapsed onto the bed. He was probably truly exhausted—he didn’t even want to change clothes, only undoing a few buttons of his shirt.
He Qi sat on the edge of the bed, turning slightly to look at his frowning sleeping face. Suddenly, she spoke:
“I’ve been free lately, so I’m thinking of trying to write.”
Chen Jin gave a vague “mm.” Even in his extreme fatigue, he still responded, “My parents might know some editors. I can ask them to help connect you.”
He Qi couldn’t help but laugh softly. It seemed Li Jiajia and her “brother-in-law” thought alike—regardless of her actual ability, their first instinct was to pull connections.
A faint smile appeared on her lips. Seeing that Chen Jin’s eyes were already closed and his breathing had steadied, she didn’t explain further. Leaving behind a gentle, “No need to trouble your parents yet—I’ll figure things out myself first,” she quietly got up and left the room.
Walking past the living room into the study, He Qi sat down and opened her computer, creating a blank document.
Before she could type a single word, her phone buzzed with a message.
She checked—it was Fang Yi: “Good morning, jie-jie.”
He Qi touched her forehead lightly, replied simply with “Morning,” then set her phone to vibrate mode and placed it face-down on the desk.
There were less than fifteen hours left until the submission deadline.
It had been a long time since He Qi had been in school. Aside from work reports, annual summaries, and the occasional social media post, she had barely written anything in years.
To produce a piece of children’s literature within fifteen hours—it was almost a fool’s dream.
But since she had set her goal, she had to act, regardless of the outcome.
As she thought, she began listing ideas in the document.
First, since the theme was “cat,” the protagonist would naturally be a cat.
Second, children’s literature—simply put, meant stories for children, so it needed simple language and clear lessons.
Third, as a fairy tale, an adventure theme was always safe—after all, even Snow White had to face danger in the forest before meeting the seven dwarfs.
And so, a cat adventure story set in an animal world became her task for the next few hours.
With a general direction in place, she gradually worked through the details—developing the cat’s background, personality, the crisis it would face, how it would resolve it, and its interactions with companions…
He Qi became fully immersed, pouring all her focus into shaping the story, turning ideas into visible sentences, word by word.
About four hours later, she finished writing a short story of over two thousand words in one go.
Looking at the filled document, even she found it hard to believe. A deep sense of satisfaction rose within her, leaving her in a quiet state of excitement.
She patiently reread the entire piece twice, correcting a few awkward parts. Then she renamed the document according to the submission format, saved it, and sent it to her own WeChat.
After finishing everything, He Qi slumped into her swivel chair, pushing herself into a slow spin. Tilting her head back, she let out a long breath. Only then did she realize it was already past two in the afternoon.
She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all morning. Now that she relaxed, hunger hit her instantly—even her stomach ached faintly.
Staring at the document, once the joy of completion faded, what remained was uncertainty. She didn’t think so highly of herself as to believe she would succeed at once.
It was a very conventional story—but conventional also meant safe.
After struggling internally for a while, she decided to send the document directly to Li Xiulan on WeChat.
She pressed enter.
It was done.
He Qi closed her laptop, picked up her phone, and decided to put it aside for now and go find something to eat.
She walked out of the study and glanced toward Chen Jin’s bedroom—only to realize he was already awake.
Chen Jin had just taken a shower. Wrapped in a towel, he stepped out with his upper body bare, not even closing the door. His well-built back was fully exposed to He Qi’s view.
He Qi had just narrowed her eyes slightly when Chen Jin happened to turn around, holding a shirt he was about to put on. His gaze met hers directly—the woman standing in the living room with her arms crossed, watching him.
Chen Jin paused briefly, then naturally lowered his arm to his side, his body completely unobstructed. He asked, “Have you eaten lunch?”
He Qi shook her head. “I was working and forgot. You just woke up?”
Chen Jin gave a soft “mm,” slipping on his shirt and fastening the buttons one by one, slowly. “Let’s go eat together. I still have to go back to the company afterward.”
“I’ll wait outside,” He Qi said, then walked away from the living room, disappearing from the doorway’s line of sight.
In the residential parking garage, the Cayenne that had once made that beer-bellied male colleague jealous started up. He Qi fastened her seatbelt in the passenger seat and turned on her phone, which she hadn’t touched for several hours, and saw the unread messages from Fang Yi.
At noon, Fang Yi had asked her, “Sister, have you had lunch?”
She had actually seen it earlier, but to avoid interrupting her train of thought, He Qi deliberately didn’t reply. Now she happened to have time.
「Sorry, I was busy at noon. I’m heading out to eat now.」
She had just put her phone down when the other side replied almost instantly.
「Busy until now? That’s so hard on you!」
「Sister, are you going out to eat alone, or with Jiajia-jie?」
The car stereo wasn’t on, so the buzzing vibration of the phone was especially clear in the enclosed space. The car drove out of the neighborhood, and at the intersection, there were five seconds left on the red light. Chen Jin cast a sideways glance at He Qi, who was looking down replying to messages, and casually asked, “Who are you chatting with?”
“Li Jiajia’s cousin.”
「No, with my boyfriend.」
As soon as she finished speaking, the phone vibrated again.
「I see. Then hurry and go eat, sister. Don’t let yourself go hungry.」
He Qi glanced at it lightly. It was hard to tell the other party’s tone from just the text, so she didn’t reply. She turned off the phone and looked up as the green light came on.
The meal didn’t take long. By the time He Qi was dropped off at the neighborhood, it was just past three.
The car stopped outside the apartment building. Chen Jin reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt and informed her in advance, “I might not come back tonight. If I’m too busy, I’ll just sleep at the company.”
He Qi responded lightly, opened the car door, and walked into the building alone.
As the elevator went up, her phone suddenly rang. He Qi picked it up and saw the contact name, her heart giving a jolt.
She exited to check the calendar app, confirming that today was Friday—a workday, three in the afternoon. Normally, she should still be at work.
She hesitated for a while, but in the end still chose to answer, placing the phone to her ear. “Hello, Mom.”
Xu Yan’s voice didn’t sound young, and at this moment carried a hint of caution. “Mm, Qi Qi, you’re still at work, right?”
He Qi hadn’t told her parents that she had already resigned, because she could completely imagine the anger that would follow if she revealed the truth.
So she vaguely asked back, “What is it?”
Xu Yan let out an awkward laugh. “It’s nothing much. Isn’t National Day coming up in October? I just wanted to ask if you’ll be coming back?”
At the same time, the elevator doors opened. He Qi walked out slowly, switched the call to silent before unlocking the door, to avoid the fingerprint lock sound being heard on the other end.
Only after entering and changing her shoes at the entrance did Xu Yan finish her question. He Qi turned the sound back on. “I’ll go back.”
Xu Yan dragged out an “Oh,” then asked, “Then what about Chen Jin? Will he come with you?”
He Qi frowned and sat down on the sofa. “He’s been really busy with work lately. It’s uncertain whether he’ll even have time off. Besides, his parents are here locally—why would he go over to our place?”
“That’s not how you put it.” Xu Yan sounded dissatisfied. “You two have been together since university—seven years already. What’s wrong with him going home with you during the holiday? When you get married in the future, he’ll have to visit his in-laws anyway. Qi Qi, really, you have to listen to your mom. You should get married soon. Dragging it on like this—what does it look like…”
He Qi silently moved the phone a little farther away.
It had been like this for years. Xu Yan seemed almost obsessed—as long as she could talk to He Qi, no matter what topic they started with, it would always circle back to “marriage” in the end. Without exception.
But if you trace back to the beginning of this pressure, it started when He Qi was almost twenty-two. Faced with her parents asking about her marriage plans, she had been young, naive, and proud, repeatedly declaring that she was a non-marriage person—that she would never marry in this lifetime.
Hearing such rebellious words, Xu Yan had been furious, scolding her as abnormal, saying she’d been poisoned by bad ideas. He Qi argued back rationally, and it eventually turned into mutual insults, both sides hurt, nearly severing their mother-daughter relationship.
At that time, He Qi was approaching her thesis defense. Under the dual pressure of academics and family, her condition was terrible. Li Jiajia was abroad and couldn’t accompany her for long periods, so Chen Jin became her only emotional support.
She rarely complained to others, but that time she cried in Chen Jin’s arms until she nearly hyperventilated. She still remembered how he comforted her—wiping her tears, patting her back, and speaking softly by her ear:
“He Qi, don’t be so stubborn. A lot of the time, especially with emotional matters, being too clear-headed isn’t a good thing. When you feel pain but can’t change anything, it’s better to just muddle through.”
“Go along with your parents for now. Say some nice things. When they press you, find excuses to delay. After a few more years, maybe their views will change. And if you can’t handle it, you still have me. I’m on your side.”
Since gaining self-awareness in her student years, He Qi had always been someone serious and uncompromising, unwilling and even disdaining to muddle through.
She treated every assignment seriously, didn’t bother talking to people she disliked, and hypocrisy was a kind of torment to her.
But only this once, she listened to Chen Jin.
She began telling her parents that she wasn’t completely unwilling to marry—it just wasn’t the right time yet. They should wait until their relationship stabilized and their careers were settled.
After starting work, she said she’d wait until her job was stable. When it became stable, she said she was too busy…
In short, she met every move with another. She had been muddling through like this for years, dragging the stalemate all the way to now.
From the initial harsh words and mutual resentment, stabbing each other with words, to now avoiding and delaying—feeling irritated the moment she saw her parents’ calls.
Life had become easier, but not truly easy.
“Qi Qi, are you listening? Where are you going to find a man like Chen Jin? You should get married soon so you can feel secure…” Xu Yan was still going on endlessly.
He Qi used the deflection skills she had long mastered: “I know. I’ll ask him again. If he has time, he’ll come. I still have work here, I’ll hang up now, Mom.”
She didn’t hang up immediately. Only after hearing Xu Yan say somewhat disappointedly, “Alright then, pay more attention. I won’t disturb you,” did she press the end call button.
She tossed the phone onto the sofa and collapsed back, rubbing her brow hard with her fingers, letting out a frustrated sigh.
Half a day of good mood vanished instantly. She couldn’t muster interest in anything. In the end, she washed up early, lay in bed, and searched for a children’s literature magazine to read.
But the more she read, the more uneasy she felt. The more she read, the less confident she became about what she had written that morning. In the end, she gave up in defeat, ate a melatonin gummy, and turned off the lights to sleep early.
Because she had slept early the night before, she woke up naturally a little past six the next morning.
The moment she got up, there was an inexplicable unease in her chest. Even while washing up, her eyelids kept twitching. After changing clothes, she noticed Chen Jin still hadn’t come home last night. With that strong sense of unease, she went downstairs and exercised for a while in the neighborhood park.
At eight o’clock, she went back upstairs with breakfast. The weightless sensation in the elevator made the anxiety she had barely forgotten rise again.
She entered, placed the breakfast on the dining table, and just then her phone in her pocket chimed with a notification.