The sound of a car horn still echoed faintly in the back of her mind. A man shouting at e-bikers had startled them, pulling them both out of that fragile, suspended moment in the park. Lin Qing Yun flushed, quickly lowering her gaze, while Gu Ze Yan cleared his throat, his voice calm but clipped.
"…It's time to go home."
The walk back to his car was silent. Neither of them spoke during the drive. The hum of the engine filled the space where words might have been, thick with awkwardness neither dared to break.
When they reached her building, Ze Yan finally spoke. His tone was lighter than the stillness between them.
"What are your plans for New Year's Eve?"
Qing Yun smiled faintly, fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag.
"Just a simple guo nian dinner with Si Yao. We've always kept it small."
He hesitated, his lips pressing together for a moment. Then, with a steadiness that betrayed how much thought sat behind the words, he said,
"Come to my place. Both of you. I'll cook."
Her brows lifted slightly.
He went on, softer now. "It's supposed to be a night for big families… not loneliness."
The image of him that night in the park—his calm sad smile as he spoke of having no family to return to—slipped into her chest. Her answer came gently, warmly.
"…Alright."
His eyes brightened, but he quickly masked it with a practical nod.
"I'll pick you up."
Qing Yun chuckled. "You'll already be busy cooking. Let me be a respectable guest for once. I'll come with Siyao."
"Fine," he relented, though his lips curved boyishly. "But I promise not to burn the food."
They exchanged a quiet goodnight. This time, the silence between them was not awkward—it was threaded with anticipation.
--
New Year's Eve.
The afternoon sky over Liangcheng was pale, painted with streaks of pink as lanterns began to bloom along the streets. Firecrackers popped distantly, their echoes carried through alleys.
Qing Yun and Si Yao stood at the entrance of a towering apartment complex, its mirrored glass catching the light. Si Yao gasped.
"Jiejie, it's like we walked into a drama set! This building is too tall!"
Qing Yun laughed softly, adjusting her sister's scarf.
A familiar figure appeared—tall, sharp in a simple sweater and coat. Ze Yan descended the steps to greet them.
"You found it."
Si Yao immediately rushed forward with questions. "How high is your apartment? Do you really have a private elevator? What happens if it breaks down? Can you see the river from your window?"
Ze Yan answered each one with patient amusement, his stride steady. "Very high. Yes. Maintenance. And yes, the view is better at night."
Qing Yun followed quietly, her lips curved in that small smile that made even her silence glow.
The private elevator whisked them upward. Si Yao clutched the rail like an adventurer. Qing Yun's reflection in the mirrored walls showed her eyes flicking once toward Ze Yan, catching the way his shoulders relaxed when they stood side by side.
The doors opened to reveal his home—spacious, modern, filled with light. Floor-to-ceiling windows unveiled the river below, lantern reflections rippling like scattered gold.
Si Yao dashed to the window. "It's like flying!"
Ze Yan set aside his coat, already rolling up his sleeves. The kitchen lights glowed warmly, the counter lined with bowls of marinated vegetables and sliced meat. He tied an apron around his waist and turned to them.
"Make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon."
Qing Yun stepped forward. "I can help."
He shook his head. "Not tonight. You're my guests. Customers don't step into the kitchen."
She relented with a smile, settling onto the sofa. From there, she watched him work—his tall frame moving easily, knife flashing over the cutting board, steam rising from simmering pots. The apron looked almost too natural on him.
Her lips curved unconsciously. If she didn't know better, she would think he belonged to this life—one where warmth and laughter filled the room, not loneliness.
When the table was finally set, the aroma of braised pork, stir-fried greens, and steamed fish filled the apartment. Si Yao's eyes widened at the spread.
"Wow! Jiejie, it's like a restaurant!"
They sat down together, the Spring Festival Gala flickering on the massive TV in the background. Chopsticks clicked, tea poured, and laughter rolled as freely as the songs on the screen.
Si Yao raised her cup of tea. "Happy New Year!"
"Happy New Year," Qing Yun echoed, her smile soft and bright.
Ze Yan clinked his cup lightly against theirs. His eyes lingered on Qing Yun longer than on the tea. "Happy New Year."
Later, dessert arrived. Tangyuan in warm, fragrant broth.
"These are… impressive," Qing Yun admitted after one bite.
Ze Yan coughed lightly, eyes shifting away. "I… bought them. Even I know when to surrender."
The sisters laughed until tears slipped at the corners of their eyes. Si Yao teased, "Jiejie, he's already halfway a green-flag husband. Just missing honesty points!"
Ze Yan smiled, not embarrassed, only warmed. For the first time in years, his apartment didn't feel empty. It felt like a home.
The night wound down with Gala skits and comfortable chatter. Qing Yun leaned back, her eyes bright with the reflection of lanterns across the river.
This… might be the happiest New Year's she'd had in years.
Ze Yan, watching her from across the sofa, thought: I don't want this to end.
--
A Few Days Later.
Morning sunlight slipped into the narrow alley of Qing Yun's apartment. The quiet hum of daily life was broken by a harsh, grating voice.
"Where's my money, huh?!"
Qing Yun startled, setting down her cleaning cloth, and hurried to the door. Outside, a rough-looking man stood, voice rising, his glare cutting into her small courtyard. Neighbors peeked from behind doors.
Qing Yun stepped out quickly, worried he'd wake Siyao inside.
"Sir, what money?"
"Your mother's debt," he spat. "She owes me. Pay up."
Her chest tightened. "…I've already paid everything she owed. Years ago."
He sneered. "Not that one. A new one. She borrowed again months ago. Fifty thousand yuan."
The number hit her like ice water. Fifty thousand. Her breath caught.
"Impossible. I haven't even seen her in five years."
"I don't care if you've seen her," the man snapped. "She owes me. And if I don't get it back, I'll make trouble until I do." His voice grew louder, echoing through the alley.
Qing Yun's heart clenched. No. He'll wake Si Yao. The whole building will know.
She steadied her voice, though her fingers trembled. "How much did you say?"
"Fifty thousand." His smirk widened. "Better start thinking how to pay it, girl."
Qing Yun drew in a deep breath, forcing herself not to flinch, even as dread weighed in her chest.
Why… why would she borrow so much again?
The world she had so carefully held together wavered, shadows of the past threatening to crash into her present.
And the chapter closed on her silent, helpless inhale.