There were four apartments per floor in the complex, and the Zhong family lived in unit 904. Just as Song Jinxing found the door to 904 and was about to press the password, the door clicked open from the inside.
A middle-aged man with a tired, aged appearance stepped out.
He looked older than the age Zhong Ruanxing had mentioned. Though his features still faintly showed traces of the handsome man he once was, time and life had left too many marks on him. These had dulled his presence to that of an ordinary person. Because he had spent years working in the kitchen, he carried a constant scent of cooking oil and smoke.
He was Zhong Ruanxing's father, Zhong Anping—a chef for over thirty years, currently working as the head chef at a Chinese banquet restaurant.
The two of them made eye contact and froze for a moment.
Zhong Ruanxing had mentioned that her father was quiet and not good at communicating—in modern terms, he was a bit socially anxious. He didn't talk much even with his own family.
Song Jinxing found that just fine—he wasn't eager for conversation either. He initially meant to greet him, but the word "Dad" twisted in his throat and refused to come out.
It had been twenty years since he'd said that word.
Instead, it was Zhong Anping who recovered first. "You're back?" He took the bag of high heels from her hand. "Have you had breakfast?"
Song Jinxing replied, "No."
Zhong Anping took off the shoes he'd just put on and turned back into the house. "I'll make you some noodles before I leave for work."
Song Jinxing followed him inside. The three-bedroom, two-living room apartment was just enough for a family of four. Zhong Ruanxing had already shown him photos last night, so he knew the layout well. He headed straight toward "his" bedroom, when suddenly, the door to the children's room swung open.
A messy-haired little girl jumped out and wrapped herself around his leg. "Sister!"
He was wearing a dress with bare legs, and the child was in pajamas with bare arms. As their skin touched, Song Jinxing—who had avoided physical contact for years—felt like he'd been electrocuted. Goosebumps broke out all over him.
Just as he stiffly pushed the child away, she clung back on like a monkey, wrapping her arms and legs around his leg and rubbing her head against him. "Sister, Youyou missed you so much! Missed you, missed you! Kiss kiss! Muamua~"
Though Zhong Ruanxing had warned him that the little sister was very clingy, he didn't expect it to be this intense. Song Jinxing was already getting a headache.
Once the girl had rubbed against him to her satisfaction and finally released his leg, Song Jinxing breathed a sigh of relief. But he didn't even finish that breath before Zhong You grabbed his hand and dragged him into her small room, whispering mysteriously, "Sister, I have a new friend. I'm only showing it to you."
The princess-pink room was delicately decorated—it was clear Zhong Ruanxing doted on her four-year-old sister. On the white-and-pink desk sat an overturned bowl. Zhong You pulled him over and carefully lifted a corner. "My new friend is inside…"
A cricket crawled out from under the bowl. Song Jinxing was standing close, his arm near the desk. The cricket, desperate to escape, scurried up his arm at lightning speed.
If it had been the real Zhong Ruanxing standing there, Zhong You would've been beaten within an inch of her life today.
Expressionless, Song Jinxing grabbed the cricket—now crawling up near his collarbone—shoved it back under the bowl, and placed a book over the top. "Keep an eye on your new friend."
Zhong You looked at him with admiration in her eyes. "Okay, okay!"
She and the kids downstairs had spent a long time yesterday catching that little bug! Yet her sister had grabbed it in one swift motion—truly, the most amazing sister in the world!
While Zhong You was busy playing with the cricket, Song Jinxing returned to the bedroom and changed into a loose, casual outfit. Zhong Ruanxing's room was also quite pink—it seemed both sisters shared a princess heart. The small walk-in closet was neatly organized, with clothes hanging in clear categories. There were also a few luxury handbags and pieces of jewelry, but for a female celebrity, it all looked rather modest.
Song Jinxing picked a black hair tie from a box on the vanity and walked into the bathroom.
Her long, thick curly hair was a hassle to deal with. He struggled with it for a long time but couldn't manage to tie it up, his brows tightly furrowed in frustration. Zhong You stood off to the side, holding her pink bunny and tilting her head as she watched him. Then she called out, "Sister."
The little girl ran over with quick, light steps. "You don't know how to tie your hair?" She tossed her bunny aside. "Youyou will help you!"
Without a word, Song Jinxing crouched down and handed her the hair tie.
Zhong You was far more skilled than him and quickly tied a neat ponytail. Afterward, she ran back to her room, grabbed a pink butterfly hair clip, and fastened it on top. Clapping her hands in satisfaction, she exclaimed, "All done!"
Song Jinxing resisted the urge to rip it off.
When he walked into the living room, he saw two steaming bowls of noodles with toppings on the dining table. At some point, Father Zhong had already left for work.
He picked up Zhong You—who was still clinging to him like a little tail—and placed her in the children's chair by the table. "Let's eat."
Zhong You behaved well during meals, though she wobbled a bit while using her chopsticks to bring noodles to her mouth. As she ate, she kept sneaking glances at him. Then suddenly, she dropped a bombshell:
"You're not my sister."
Song Jinxing almost choked on his noodles.
He calmly swallowed the food in his mouth and turned to her. "Then who am I?"
Zhong You pouted, frowning at him for a while. She gave a little huff, then went back to eating without saying another word.
Halfway through breakfast, the door to the second bedroom opened, and Zhong Ruanxing's mother, Lin Minshu, came out. She bore a 50% resemblance to Zhong Ruanxing. She wore a floral shirt with black pants and soft, blue-patterned cloth shoes. Her medium-length hair was braided into two plaits, and she looked much younger than Father Zhong.
"Xingxing," she called, "it's time to help Grandma harvest the rapeseed. Come out with Mom."
Zhong Ruanxing's grandmother had passed away many years ago.
Zhong's mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's three years ago. Since then, her condition had steadily worsened. Nowadays, her moments of clarity were becoming increasingly rare. When Zhong Ruanxing talked about this last night, she hadn't seemed particularly sorrowful.
She always seemed able to optimistically accept all the hardships that fate had handed her.
"You don't need to feel pressured. We've hired a nanny—she's here from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. At night, my dad takes over after he gets off work."
Song Jinxing got up and went to the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a bowl of noodles that Father Zhong had prepared for Zhong's mother. He brought it out and gently led Zhong's mother to the dining table. "Eat first. You can go after breakfast."
Zhong's mother looked at him with childlike eyes. After a moment, she suddenly asked, "Xingxing, does it hurt?"
She stood up and took a first aid kit from the cabinet. When she came back, she gently held her daughter's arm and blew softly on the scrape from last night's fall, as if soothing a child. "Let Mommy put some medicine on it."
Song Jinxing's body stiffened slightly, but he let her carefully dab his wound with a cotton swab soaked in iodine.
Even if she had lost her memory and her awareness had faded, a mother always remembered how to take care of her child.
After breakfast, Zhong's mother completely forgot about going to help Grandma harvest rapeseed.
Whatever memory had surfaced earlier had faded again. She now sat at the desk in her room, scribbling and drawing. After making sure the doors and windows were securely shut and there was no danger, Song Jinxing gently closed the door without disturbing her.
As he turned around, he saw Zhong You trailing behind him with a toy gun in her arms, staring at him with a serious expression.
The moment she caught his eye, she pointed the toy gun at him. "You're not my sister! You're a bad guy!"
Song Jinxing reached a hand toward her. Zhong You looked at him warily. "What are you doing, bad guy?!"
Song Jinxing asked, "Want some ice cream?"
Ten minutes later, the little girl was snuggled up in his arms, happily licking a strawberry ice cream cone and clinging affectionately to his neck. "Youyou loves sister the most!"
With a blank expression, Song Jinxing pushed her little head slightly away from his face.