The moment Shi Bei walked through the door, her eyes met a pair of jet-black, round eyes belonging to the little dog.
She remembered that for dogs, friendly gestures indicating a welcome meant taking the initiative to step forward and wagging their tail in a relaxed manner, whereas an unfriendly posture involved tense growls and barks.
Yet this brownish-black pup was neither excited nor tense; it simply gazed at her with those big, round eyes. Its tail wagged ever so slightly—one could say it was wagging, or perhaps that it wasn’t.
It carried an unfathomable aura.
“What’s her name?” For some reason, Shi Bei lowered her voice to ask.
“Lele.”
Kong Lingrou made another hand gesture, and the seated pup immediately shook itself off and stood up. A grin visibly spread across its fluffy face as it ran over to wrap its front paws around its owner’s leg.
A tuft of fur drifted from its wildly wagging tail and stuck to Shi Bei’s trousers.
Finally, she looked like a regular, happy little dog.
“She hasn’t been outside yet today and is a bit restless. I’ll take her out to play for a while first.”
Kong Lingrou picked up the leash hanging nearby, bent down to put it on the dog, and said, “The living room and the balcony are Lele’s domain. Upstairs is my room, and you are free to use the rest of the space and items.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll bring dinner back with me. If you’re hungry, you can take something from the fridge and heat it up in the microwave first. None of the external service providers here can deliver directly to the door; items must wait for the staff downstairs to bring them up. So if you order takeaway during peak dining hours, you might have to wait.”
Shi Bei nodded: “Got it.”
“Call me if you run into any issues.”
Wearing its leash, the little dog stood up and opened the door with a paw, dragging Kong Lingrou out until they vanished beyond the doorway.
Instantly, Shi Bei was left as the sole occupant of the room.
Stepping inside, she found that the end of the entryway opened into a entire living room connected to the balcony. Aside from a sofa, there was no other furniture, and a soft, cream-colored rug carpeted the floor.
It truly was the dog’s domain; she spotted at least three dog beds made of entirely different materials.
The enclosed balcony was close to the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking Tokyo Bay with virtually no obstructions in her line of sight. The sea glistened and sparkled beneath the clear blue sky.
After a long while, Shi Bei finally realized why she had been so surprised earlier.
In the past, Kong Lingrou had kept a dog before.
Supposedly, it was a first-birthday gift given to her by her mother. That little dog had grown up alongside her; however, a dog’s lifespan is only a decade or so, so it passed away of old age during the summer break after she graduated from primary school.
Before starting middle school, Shi Bei only saw Kong Lingrou at school and on the occasional weekend, rarely having the opportunity to visit her home, so she didn’t have much of an impression of the dog itself.
Yet she had heard Kong Lingrou say that she disliked dogs and would never keep any pets again.
Perhaps because Kong Lingrou had always maintained a detached attitude toward things, rarely having moments of such intense emotion, the Shi Bei of back then had instantly committed it to memory: Kong Lingrou truly hated animals, especially dogs.
“…”
Thinking back on it now, how foolish her understanding had been back then—to perform no logical deduction whatsoever and simply memorize everything according to its literal meaning.
Wasn’t this a textbook case of low IQ?
Could it be that her poor grades during her early school years were not due to a failure to learn how to focus, but simply because her intelligence hadn’t begun to develop yet?
While mournfully reflecting on the dark history of her growth, she toured Kong Lingrou’s home.
Light-colored solid wood flooring held solid wood furniture of a slightly darker shade, while the cream-white walls were devoid of any decorations. The space was large and the style extremely minimalist—even a bit empty, resembling a house that hadn’t been lived in for very long.
At the home of Kong Lingrou she had visited in the past, both the bedroom and the study were piled high with all sorts of things; the rich colors combined with exquisite design had made it look like a mini art gallery.
It was nothing like this minimalist model-home style.
It was often said that the appearance of a home reflected its owner’s inner state to a certain extent.
Had something happened over the years that caused a major shift in Kong Lingrou’s inner world?
Or was it possible she had just moved into this house and hadn’t had the time to buy enough things yet?
Shi Bei turned into the kitchen, intending to deduce how long she had lived here based on the age of the refrigerators.
There were two refrigerators in the kitchen, one large and one small. Opening the smaller one, she found it packed entirely with frozen meat for various animals—a stock level comparable to a small barbecue shop.
Shi Bei was puzzled for a moment before noticing a meat grinder in the corner that was unequivocally commercial-grade. Opening the drawers speculatively, she found neat stacks of pre-ground, mixed, and frozen meat bricks.
She couldn’t help but chuckle in exasperation—and she had claimed to hate dogs?
She actually deemed even the most expensive commercial dog food not good enough and went through the trouble of feeding a raw meat diet at home. The entire small fridge was filled with food for the dog.
The label on the refrigerator door frame showed a manufacturing date: two and a half years ago.
Ordinary fridges were usually sold within half a month to six months of leaving the factory. Pricier refrigerators might move slower, but at the latest, they would be sold half a year after manufacture, putting the purchase date at… two years ago.
She had lived here for at least two years.
Based on the information disclosed by Kong Lingyu, both she and her sister had attended high school in Japan, but the timeline didn’t align at all. This indicated that this apartment hadn’t been prepared for Kong Lingrou’s study abroad from the very beginning.
Furthermore, she recalled that Kong Lingrou had originally wanted to go to a studio in Paris for high school to study art, putting a lot of effort into practicing French since childhood for that reason; the French class at school had been the only one she maintained perfect attendance in.
Even if she had given up on that, she should have followed her classmates in taking the standard steps to pursue higher education in the UK.
Why had she taken a detour to Japan instead?
Asking Kong Lingrou directly would likely yield no answer.
Pondering, Shi Bei walked out, raising her head to gaze at the second-floor space from the high-ceiling area for a moment.
With a sigh, she went to check other places on the first floor.
The room next to the entryway was a storage room, lined on all sides with shelving units storing various items. Closing the door, she continued further inside, where the second room was nearly three times the size of the previous one.
Wooden cabinets with glass doors across several rows were filled entirely with books.
Chinese books occupied a single side, while the remaining two bookcases held original foreign language editions.
Shi Bei walked inside and looked carefully for a moment, her eyes sliding over the book spines one by one without finding any large volumes that looked like art portfolios.
She pulled the door shut, a trace of disappointment washing over her brows and eyes that was difficult to conceal.
At the end of the hallway was the final room.
Upon opening the door, she froze.
In the vacant bedroom stood a bed and a desk, both already made and prepared. A gentle breeze filtered through the screen window, swaying the beige venetian blinds slightly.
It was clearly a room Kong Lingrou had prepared for her in advance.
Although inviting her to stay had seemed like a casual, polite gesture—and she had even changed her tune midway to say it was inconvenient—in truth, it had been readied long ago.
Spending money was a trivial matter to Kong Lingrou, even a habit that allowed her to maintain her domineering and willful nature; yet this time, she hadn’t simply thrown money around to have Shi Bei stay at a convenient hotel.
Allowing her to move into her own home went far beyond the scope of helping her younger sister clean up a mess.
The lights in the room were off, illuminated only by the twilight seeping through the window. Holding onto the doorframe, Shi Bei stood gazing inside for a long time.
The focal point of her gaze rested on the empty space, as if she were stubbornly trying to see through something transparent.
A thought suddenly popped into her mind.
So long as Kong Lingrou apologized, she wasn’t entirely incapable of forgiving her for the excessive things she had done in middle school.
Shi Bei stood for a good while before gently pulling the door shut.
Her face, veiled in shadow, wore a complex expression.
Kong Lingrou’s home was so vast that after leaning on her crutches to take a lap around, she actually felt exhausted. She sat down on the sofa, sensing that something felt off.
Upon the floor, which had originally been spotless and shimmering with a faint luster, pale gray marks abruptly stood out.
They were glaringly obvious against the light.
The tips of her crutches hadn’t been wiped clean!
Shi Bei’s heart tightened; she quickly stood up to look for a mop, but after searching all around, she didn’t see a single cleaning tool. She had no choice but to wash and dry the crutches first.
Pulling out her phone to ask where the cleaning supplies were kept, she spotted an unread text message.
It was from Kong Lingrou, containing the Wi-Fi name and password.
The corners of Shi Bei’s lips twitched slightly.
She rapidly typed out a reply: Kong Lingrou, the crutches dirtied the floor… Did you not buy any cleaning tools for your place? Or are they put away in some high cabinet?
Holding her phone, she waited for a moment.
No reply came.
Back when the two of them had shared a dorm room, Kong Lingrou’s germaphobia had temporarily excluded her from its boundaries.
A messy desk didn’t matter, falling pastry crumbs on the floor wouldn’t earn her a scolding, and even water cups could be easily lent to her.
However, her germaphobia flared up in strict accordance with levels of intimacy.
Toward the boys who pursued her… even if their own hair fell onto their own clothes, they would be met with her cold ridicule and sarcasm.
Shi Bei couldn’t quite gauge their current relationship—neither strangers nor quite friends—and what level of “cleanliness” it needed to match in Kong Lingrou’s mind.
The soundproofing of the apartment was too effective; once she sat quietly, it felt as though the only sounds by her ears were her own breathing and heartbeat.
Shi Bei glanced at her phone once more.
A mechanical sound suddenly erupted beside her—a “beep” that sounded extraordinarily jarring in the intensely quiet room.
Scared, her spine snapped straight.
Stiffening for a long while, Shi Bei gathered her spirits to listen closely for where the noise was coming from.
After a moment, she suddenly saw a white robot vacuum pop out from the corner. As it ran at a steady speed, it announced: “At your service—”
Shi Bei let out a long sigh of relief, immediately snatching up her phone to continue sending messages of complaint in the unreplied thread:
Kong Lingrou, your robot vacuum scared me.
This time, a reply came back very quickly.
It’s so small that even if it identifies you as trash, it won’t be able to sweep you up; it’ll just bypass you. There’s no need to be afraid.
Shi Bei:
…It was because you suddenly operated it remotely without saying anything that I got startled!
Kong Lingrou:
Your leg hasn’t healed yet, don’t go hopping and bounding around.
Shi Bei hurriedly closed her eyes and took a deep breath: “…