With bags large and small, they returned fully loaded. Throughout the journey, Xia Tingchan was busy chatting animatedly with someone on her phone—whoever it was on the other end.
As usual, Lu Henqin glanced at her countless times through the rearview mirror, but she never noticed once on the way back.
…If only she had monitoring screen-sharing software installed on her phone too. Just having a location tracker wasn’t enough…
Earlier, when the elevator descended to the underground parking lot, the confined space allowed him to catch a few glimpses. He saw her intermittently discussing him with someone:
【He used to be quite spirited and sunny… Now he’s cold, gloomy, and barely speaks. Paired with that Lush Beauty face of his, it feels eerily ghostly… So hard to get used to…】
Does she not like it anymore?
Expressionlessly, Lu Henqin adjusted the rearview mirror, briefly examining himself. A pale, almost sickly face, with a thin, narrow crease on the eyelid sharply tracing along the slightly upturned outer corner. When he stared at her without smiling, he truly resembled a venomous snake.
He readjusted the mirror and saw her smile at her phone, clearly enjoying the conversation.
Her ex-boyfriend, Zhong Yi—oh, now her brother—had always maintained that hypocritical, pristine facade. She probably preferred that style.
Lu Henqin lightly tapped the accelerator, and the car roared.
The noise finally pulled Xia Tingchan back from her phone. She looked up: "What’s wrong?"
Lu Henqin kept his eyes on the road ahead, resting his hand on the top of the steering wheel. The elegant, smooth curve of his prominent wrist bone stood out. After years apart, he had grown more composed, his features deeper and more handsome, like a glass of aged whiskey—amber liquid slowly climbing over an ice sphere, cold yet sensual.
He cracked the window slightly for air, letting the air conditioning’s chill mingle with the outside breeze inside the cabin.
After a few seconds of silence, he tapped his fingers casually and asked offhandedly, "You’ve blocked quite a few people?"
Xia Tingchan immediately understood his meaning, her face subtly revealing a complex mix of emotions.
Lu Henqin said coolly, "Right, you’re practically a non-existent person now. What’s the name on your new ID again…? Dannas? Anyway, blocking them severs all ties with the past."
Xia Tingchan waved her phone at him: "I just registered a new account. I’ll add you later. You haven’t canceled your domestic number, right?"
"Wasn’t waiting for you. Just forgot."
Xia Tingchan: ? Who asked?
The silent seconds felt like a fierce battle.
Lu Henqin steered the conversation back: "No need to add me. Under the same roof, it’s unnecessary."
"Added," Xia Tingchan said swiftly, her fingers flying. She leaned forward as if seeking praise, stretching her arm toward the front seat to show him the friend request page. "Remember to accept."
Lu Henqin instinctively tapped the brake, glancing at her phone just long enough to see several unfamiliar profile pictures added before his.
The latter part was blocked by the base of her thumb, hiding who else she’d added.
He wasn’t the first person she’d added.
But she could still fluently recite his old phone number.
Then again, she’d always had a good memory. Remembering a string of numbers was child’s play for her.
Chaotic thoughts swirled in his mind as Xia Tingchan pulled her hand back after just one glance.
Lu Henqin’s tone remained unchanged: "I don’t use that number much anymore."
"Alright, give me your new phone number, I'll add you again."
Lu Henqin didn't even lift his eyelids. "No need."
"Why no need?" Xia Tingchan threw his own words back at him, her tone as decisive as if she were slamming down the answer to a multiple-choice question. "You're the only person I can trust here. Didn't you say I have to tell you whenever I go out? I need to pin you at the top of my contacts."
Lu Henqin remained silent, maintaining the car's speed, his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His expression was unreadable, seemingly indifferent to her words.
Only after the car had smoothly sped another two kilometers did he slowly reply, "179…"
Back home, Xia Tingchan busied herself unpacking her shopping haul. She was quick and efficient, swiftly placing the daily necessities she had enthusiastically purchased in their designated spots.
Lu Henqin first switched his phone number, accepted both friend requests, took a pill, and then sat on the sofa watching her bustle about.
The items she bought were far more vibrant in color than his own belongings, clashing starkly with the minimalist, monochromatic decor of the house.
She claimed it was to distinguish their things and avoid mixing them up.
He had sneered at the time, "Like adding a tacky splash of color to a black-and-white painting."
With a critical eye, Lu Henqin scanned the women's shoes at the entrance, the cups on the dining table, the brand-new eye drops on the coffee table, and the box of three-in-one cotton swabs rolled to the side.
They were pink, pale yellow, and green-white, each color with a different type of swab tip.
The space in the house seemed to be gradually filling up. Lu Henqin pressed a hand to his chest, then released it. Strangely, he used to look at his empty home and feel an unfillable black hole in his heart, sticky and cold, clinging to his chest, occasionally causing hidden, throbbing pain.
Xia Tingchan had brought in a pile of miscellaneous items—things that didn't fit his home's style at all. Various colors piled together, like an accidentally overturned palette, flowing into that pitch-black void.
Lu Henqin sat quietly for a while. Only when Xia Tingchan tossed her newly bought everyday clothes into the washing machine in the laundry room did he stand up and retrieve a single toothbrush cup from the pile of shopping bags.
It was the only item that belonged to him from today's shopping.
A very ordinary toothbrush cup. At the store, Xia Tingchan had picked an amber-colored transparent glass cup, and beside it was a smoke-gray glass cup of the same style.
They were a pair, but not obviously so. If the label hadn't said "couple cups," he might not have noticed.
Xia Tingchan hadn't noticed either. She had taken her own cup and left, moving on to the next aisle according to her shopping list on her phone. He, pushing the cart listlessly behind her, had simply picked one up as he passed by.
Then he tucked it into a corner of the shopping cart, hiding it behind other items.
Just to prevent it from breaking or getting damaged.
His toiletries were regularly replaced, and toothbrush cups were changed less frequently. But since they were at the supermarket and happened to pass by, it reminded him he could take one home.
…
Due to Lu Henqin's repeated refusals, Bai Haoying's house call was postponed until evening.
By the time he arrived, Lu Henqin had already put away the more obvious feminine items. Xia Tingchan's presence was not suitable for anyone to know, not even his childhood friend.
When making the phone call, the supermarket background announcement was clearly audible, so Bai Haoying casually asked, "Did you go to the supermarket today? With whom?"
"Mm." Lu Henqin half-leaned against the headboard, scrolling through Xia Tingchan's newly registered messaging account, only answering the first question.
Bai Haoying didn’t press further, busy checking on this troublesome patient.
"Your recent condition has clearly improved a lot, which means your lifestyle habits have become healthier. Keep it up."
Lu Henqin thought for a moment and said something seemingly unrelated: "Probably the catfish effect. When a devilish catfish is placed among a half-dead school of sardines, they’ll have a brief resurgence."
"But no matter what, catfish are natural enemies of sardines. That doesn’t change."
Bai Haoying looked confused: "Huh? What’s that about?"
Lu Henqin ignored him, as if he had just mentioned it offhandedly.
Bai Haoying, still concerned, inquired, "Have you felt anything different in your body recently? Not necessarily abnormal, just something that differs from before, even something minor. I’ve told you that the human brain can be deceptive—it’s often hard to detect clear differences through brain CT or MRI scans… Of course, by the time something shows up, it’s already troublesome, so clinically, we usually rely on symptom assessment."
Lu Henqin shook his head lightly, without the slightest hesitation: "No, everything’s normal."
"Alright then," Bai Haoying nodded. "Let’s take your blood pressure. Lift your arm."
Lu Henqin let him do as he pleased, opening the tracking app and seeing the red dot quietly staying in the room upstairs. Satisfied, he closed it again.
Feeling mentally sluggish, he absentmindedly scrolled through short videos out of muscle memory, his fingers habitually swiping up and down, but none of the content registered in his mind.
He didn’t pay attention to what Bai Haoying was saying, simply repeating the cycle: open the tracker—see the red dot nearby—close it contentedly—lazily open it again, never tiring of it…
The red dot hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps it was because he had warned her earlier that there was an outsider in the house and she needed to stay quiet, so she obediently stayed curled up in bed without making a single sound.
There wasn’t even a television in that room.
Maybe he should move her to a different room.
Lu Henqin sent her a message: 【Bored? Keep quiet, and I’ll call you.】
No reply came from the other side.
Lu Henqin waited for a while, casually scrolling through their chat history—which consisted of only this one message—and said tersely to Bai Haoying, "Hurry up."
Bai Haoying abruptly tightened the blood pressure cuff around his arm, rolling his eyes almost to the back of his head. "Bro, I’ve only been here for ten minutes."
Just as the cuff was secured and before Bai Haoying could say "lie still," Lu Henqin suddenly and without warning sat bolt upright.
Bai Haoying exclaimed, "Hey, what are you doing?!"
Lu Henqin stared at the failed voice call he had attempted, the system showing the line was busy.
Who did she add? Who is she calling?
How long has it been since she registered this new account? Three hours?
And she already has someone she can call?
Does she even know what situation she’s in right now?
Bai Haoying was still chattering beside him: "What’s going on? What’s going on?? Keep your arm flat—who are you trying to show off your workout results to?"
Lu Henqin ignored him completely, pushing his right arm aside as if to say, "Do your thing and don’t bother me." With his left hand hovering over the voice call button, he silently counted for over ten seconds, figuring it was enough time for a call to end, and then dialed again.
Still busy.
So she had been lying motionless in bed, chatting on the phone with someone?
And earlier in the car, was she also chatting with that person?
Lu Henqin recalled her reflection in the mirror—eyes slightly bright, a faint smile at the corner of her lips, completely absorbed in her phone while ignoring everything else.
At that moment, he had memorized the profile picture and nickname from her friend list, but unfortunately, searching based on those alone yielded no results.
A damp, cotton-like discomfort seemed to churn gently in his stomach. Lu Henqin’s expression remained calm as he began making voice calls one after another.
The busy records filled an entire page. His fingers tapped the screen with increasing force, nails making sharp, rhythmic sounds against it. In a moment of distraction, he accidentally tapped her profile picture.
Then, opening her Moments, his pupils abruptly constricted.
Her Moments had opened.
But before this, her Moments had always been set to private, and she rarely posted anything.
Yet today, she had posted two updates in a row: one sharing a newly purchased scanner pen, and the other a video of her watering a bamboo bonsai. In the video, half of her slender arm was visible, the clear bone lines making her precise movements highly aesthetic. A thin black hair tie adorned her wrist, accentuating her skin, which was as delicate and translucent as white jade—exceptionally beautiful.
Green bamboo, white jade, and a black hair tie—the composition was elegant, full of artistic charm.
This video was taken while she was still in the country. Something from so long ago—why post it now?
Most importantly, beneath both Moments, a familiar profile picture had liked the posts. Lu Henqin closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose. When he opened them again, the likes had disappeared, as if by accidental misclick.
Could a misclick happen twice?
With an inscrutable gaze, Lu Henqin rewatched the video three times before suddenly asking, “I remember Ruan Chengli once said that if someone who never opens their Moments suddenly does, it means they have a target in mind and want to give that person a chance to get to know them?”
Having failed twice to measure his blood pressure, Bai Haoying was already simmering with frustration and snapped, “Yeah, so what?”
Lu Henqin took a screenshot of her now-open Moments.
She hadn’t opened her Moments even when they were dating.
Lu Henqin pulled his arm back from the doctor’s adjustments, roughly tore off the blood pressure cuff, and tossed it onto the bed, his expression icy. “Wait a moment. I need to handle something.”
He began typing in the chat box:
[Who are you opening your Moments for?]
Deleted.
[Did you meet someone?]
Deleted.
[Were the people you added today men or women?]
Deleted.
[Did Zhong Yi contact you?]
He didn’t even finish typing this sentence before holding down the delete key, erasing it completely.
Nothing felt right to send, but the scene of Xia Tingchan sitting in the backseat, chatting animatedly with someone, flooded his mind again. At the time, the tips of her ears had even been slightly flushed…
Now, that faint blush felt like a sharp needle, pricking him lightly.
Lu Henqin forced himself to stay calm. After waiting for a long time, he made another voice call. Good—it was finally no longer busy. The moment the other side answered, he got straight to the point:
“Who were you talking to just now?”
Xia Tingchan: “Huh?”
Lu Henqin asked again: “Who were you talking to?”
Xia Tingchan: “I was just confirming that my membership card points were recorded.”
Lu Henqin said calmly, “With whom?”
The other side seemed speechless for a moment, as if finding him unreasonable, and replied dryly with four words:
"Staff."
Lu Henqin hummed in acknowledgment. "What about in the car?"
The call ended. Xia Tingchan did not answer that question. It was always like this—when faced with questions she didn’t want to answer or found inconvenient, she would respond with silence.
Especially when it came to matters concerning her and her ex-boyfriend, something he had long held onto with lingering resentment.