That night, Su Qinghan had a dream.
In the dream, time was pulled back to a year ago—Yan Yu’s birthday.
That morning, Yan Yu said to her, “Qinghan, can you come back early today? Let’s celebrate my birthday together.”
Su Qinghan was staring at her computer, dealing with an urgent overseas project meeting. She didn’t look up, only mumbled an “Mm” in reply.
Yan Yu seemed to stand behind her for a few seconds, but in the end, she said nothing more and gently closed the study door behind her.
By the time Su Qinghan finally finished work and rubbed her aching neck to look out the window, the sky had long been pitch black. She glanced at her phone—11:47 PM. No missed calls, only a text message sent at 7:00 PM: “I bought the cake. It’s your favorite chocolate flavor. I’ll wait for you.”
She frowned, a flicker of inexplicable impatience passing through her heart, but she still grabbed her car keys and headed out.
When she got home, only a dim wall lamp was on in the living room. At the entrance, her slippers were neatly arranged.
A faint, sweet cream scent drifted in the air.
She changed her shoes, tossed her bag carelessly onto the coat rack, and lifted her eyes to see Yan Yu sitting at the dining table.
On the table sat an elaborate chocolate cake. The small candles had already burned out, leaving only a few solidified wax drips.
In front of Yan Yu was a plate of cake that had been sliced but left untouched. She sat up straight, her hands quietly folded on her lap, her gaze falling vacantly on the cake, lost in thought.
The warm yellow light painted her profile, outlining a transparent stillness.
Hearing the movement, Yan Yu looked up. When she saw it was Su Qinghan, her eyes suddenly brightened, then curved into a soft smile. “You’re back.”
Su Qinghan walked over and touched the edge of the cake with her fingertip. It was cold.
“Why did you wait so late? If you were hungry, you should have eaten first.” Her voice was tired from work, sounding dry.
“Because I wanted to eat it with you,” Yan Yu said softly. The smile on her face didn’t fade; it even deepened.
Su Qinghan looked at her smile, and a corner of her heart pricked slightly. It was hard to imagine that someone could wait for another person for five or six hours and still reveal such a smile—no anxiety, no resentment, only pure joy at seeing you return.
“If you’re hungry, you should eat. You’ve always been frail.” She looked away, picked up the cake knife, cut a piece with frosting, and placed it on the plate in front of Yan Yu. “Eat.”
Then she pulled a few bills from her wallet and pressed them next to the cake plate.
“I was too busy this time to get you a gift. Take this money and buy whatever you like.”
Yan Yu’s gaze lingered on those red bills for the briefest moment. Her long lashes trembled, then she looked up at Su Qinghan again, the smile still hanging at the corners of her mouth, and obediently replied, “Okay.” She picked up a small fork, scooped up a corner of the cake, and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly. That faint smile Su Qinghan couldn’t read never left her face.
That smile was too perfect, too docile, too flawless.
Su Qinghan watched it, and the slight sting in her heart suddenly turned into a cold, hard lump.
‘Is she putting on a show? This woman.’
She thought coldly in that moment. ‘Putting on such a show, she just wants to squeeze more money out of my pocket.’
Fine. She needed a psychological comfort while Jiang Muyun wasn’t around. Each gets what they need. Fair enough.
The thought made her even more irritable. As if to prove something or draw a clear line, she pulled out two more bills from her wallet and tossed them onto the stack.
“Eat slowly.”
“Won’t you eat with me, Qinghan?” Yan Yu paused her movements and looked at her.
“Mm,” Su Qinghan had already turned and walked toward the bedroom. Her voice came from a few steps away, sounding a little hollow. “I’m going to sleep first.”
She walked toward the bedroom, her footsteps echoing in the empty living room.
She could feel a gaze behind her—quiet, sticky, resting on her back.
Maybe what expression was on Yan Yu’s face at that moment?
Had the smile at the corners of her mouth finally collapsed?
In those eyes that always held gentle moonlight, had disappointment finally surfaced?
What was she thinking? Was it counting how much money she got tonight, or something else?
Su Qinghan didn’t know. She didn’t look back then, and never thought to.
But in the dream, everything changed.
In the dream, the “herself” walking toward the bedroom, just as she grabbed the doorknob, inexplicably, as if guided by some ghost, turned around.
Then she was caught off guard, crashing into Yan Yu’s eyes.
Yan Yu wasn’t counting money, nor was she still eating cake. She simply sat there quietly, watching her.
In the instant Su Qinghan turned back, Yan Yu seemed to freeze slightly. Then the smile that had been so perfectly plastered on her face slowly receded like a tide, revealing the truest expression underneath—no resentment, no accusation, only a thick, unshakeable disappointment.
That disappointment was so heavy it nearly drowned her slender figure.
She looked at “Su Qinghan,” her lips moving slightly, and her voice drifted over.
“I wanted to eat with you.”
In the dream, Su Qinghan, gripping the doorknob, heard her own silent heartbeat.
The living room light seemed to dim for a moment, then brightened again, exposing the careful hope in Yan Yu’s eyes, leaving nowhere to hide.
A few seconds of blankness stretched infinitely.
Then Su Qinghan heard the voice come from her own throat.
“…Okay.”
She let go of the doorknob, turned around, and walked back toward the dining table—toward Yan Yu sitting under the light.
If the self from the past had really made that choice, would everything now be different?