The morning light grew brighter, streaming in through the glass balcony doors, stretching the shadows of two people and casting them onto the white wall.
The washing machine hummed behind them, and from outside the balcony came the faint sound of traffic on distant streets, along with the chirping of birds from some unknown balcony.
A very ordinary morning. Yan Yu gently stroked Ruo Xiaozhen’s hair, her gaze fixed on the small patch of sky outside the window.
The sky was blue, the clouds light, the sunlight nice. This was probably the real feeling of being alive—pain was real, warmth was real; loss was real, gain was real; abandonment was real, being cherished was real.
“Xiao Zhen,” Yan Yu suddenly spoke up. “What do you want for lunch?”
Ruo Xiaozhen lifted her head from Yan Yu’s lap, her eyes and nose red, looking at her blankly. “…Huh?”
“I said, what do you want for lunch?” Yan Yu smiled, a faint smile with a tiny glimmer in her eyes. “I’ll cook today.”
“But Yan Yu, your body…”
“It’s fine, just something simple,” Yan Yu said. “Besides, I suddenly feel like cooking.”
She wanted to see what kind of flavor that ‘Exquisite Culinary Skill +10’ could actually produce.
She wanted to see if she could say with food the words she couldn’t speak.
Ruo Xiaozhen stared at her for a few seconds, then nodded vigorously, tears falling again. “I want to eat anything you make! Anything is fine!”
“Okay.” Yan Yu patted her head again.
“Then go wash your face and get the ingredients ready. We’ll… have a good meal at noon.”
Ruo Xiaozhen nodded firmly, stood up, and ran into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of a faucet turning on came from inside.
Yan Yu turned her wheelchair and returned to the living room. She picked up her phone, glanced again at the transfer record, then exited, opened her contacts, found the number labeled ‘Doctor Zhang,’ and scheduled a specific time for next week’s follow-up appointment.
—
On the other side, Deep Blue Bar. The lights at Deep Blue Bar were always adjusted to a perfectly ambiguous brightness, neither too bright and glaring nor too dim to see the face of the person across from you.
The air was thick with the mellow aroma of whiskey, the faint scent of cigars, and the presence of some expensive woody fragrance.
Dai Feng sat in her usual seat. The barstool at the very end of the bar, facing away from the entrance and looking at a wall of glass liquor cabinets.
This spot could see the entire bar and was relatively secluded.
On the bar in front of her were already three or four empty glasses.
Whiskey glasses, martini glasses, shot glasses, scattered messily, with varying traces of liquid residue on their walls.
The bartender, A Ken, skillfully shook the shaker, the ice clinking against the metal. He glanced up at Dai Feng, not stopping his movements, and only raised an eyebrow slightly.
This was the fifth drink Dai Feng had ordered tonight, and her drinking style was very off.
Dai Feng was famously known for ‘knowing how to drink’—she savored alcohol, enjoyed the layers of different liquors blooming on her tongue, and relished the light euphoria of being tipsy.
But today, she was just drinking. One gulp after another, raising her hand to signal for a refill as soon as her glass was empty, her gaze fixed on some point in the void, unfocused, as if looking at the amber, ruby red, and golden liquids in the liquor cabinet, or as if seeing nothing.
“Hey, Sister Feng is off today,” a young man with silver-gray hair at the other end of the bar said, nudging his female companion with his elbow, lowering his voice.
“I see it,” the female companion said, sipping her Pink Lady, her eyes sweeping over Dai Feng.
“No matter how much she drinks normally, her eyes are bright. Today… she’s lifeless.”
“Could she be heartbroken?”
“Her? Heartbroken?” The female companion sneered.
“When have you ever seen Sister Feng troubled by love? It’s always others who are crazy over her.”
“Then what else…”
Before the words were finished, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from the booth area. A few fashionably dressed young men and women walked over. The leading girl wore a sequined halter dress with delicate makeup, holding a slender cigarette in her hand.
“Yo, I was wondering where you were. Turns out you’re here drinking alone,” the girl said, sitting down on the barstool next to Dai Feng and naturally placing a hand on her shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Who made our Sister Feng unhappy?”
Dai Feng didn’t move, nor did she push her hand away. She just took another sip of her drink.
This time it was a ‘Godfather’ that A Ken had just mixed and pushed over, the intensity of whiskey blended with the sweetness of amaretto, bringing a burst of heat as it rolled down her throat.
“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice a little hoarse.
“Who are you kidding?” The girl withdrew her hand and gestured to A Ken to bring her the same drink.
“With that expression on your face, you might as well have ‘I have something on my mind’ written all over it. Also, why isn’t Su Qinghan here today? Aren’t you two inseparable?”
Upon hearing the name Su Qinghan, Dai Feng’s fingers around the glass tightened almost imperceptibly for a moment.
“She has something to do.”
A short reply, without any extra explanation.
The girl stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Could it be… you two had a fight? Because Jiang Muyun is back?”
Dai Feng finally turned her head and looked at her.
The swirling neon lights of the bar swept across her face. In her eyes, which usually held a hint of nonchalant amusement, there was now no warmth.
“Lin Na,” she called the girl’s name, her tone very flat. “Let me be quiet for a while, okay?”
Lin Na, stung by the coldness in her eyes, sat up straight in annoyance, picked up the glass A Ken had just set down, and took a big gulp.
“Fine, fine, fine. I won’t ask. Good intentions wasted.”
She turned around and started chatting and laughing with the others she came with, deliberately raising her voice, as if to prove she didn’t care.
But out of the corner of her eye, she still occasionally glanced toward Dai Feng, just like many other girls in the bar.
However, Dai Feng was not in the mood to think about these girls.
She was thinking about another person in her heart.
Su Qinghan. This name was like a tiny thorn, lodged in a spot neither deep nor shallow, usually unnoticeable, but when moved, it ached faintly.
After the birthday banquet ended last night, she saw Yan Yu into the car. Along the way, Yan Yu was very quiet, just leaning back in the seat, staring ahead. The evening lights flickered on her face; the emotions in those eyes, Dai Feng couldn’t read them.
Was it sadness, or more than that? Was it exhaustion, or something else? Dai Feng really wanted to know what she was thinking at that moment.
When they reached the car door, Dai Feng intended to help her in, but Yan Yu shook her head and said softly, “Thank you, Dai Feng. I can do it myself.”
Then, holding the door frame, she slowly got into the car.
That silhouette, under the dim light, looked so fragile it seemed it would break at a touch.
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