The car pulled into the alley and stopped at the entrance of the rented room.
It was an old residential building with mottled walls and rusted stair railings. But the pot of green ivy at the door was thriving—Ruo Xiaozhen had picked it up from the vegetable market a while ago, saying it would “add some life.”
Just as Yan Yu rolled down the car window, she heard a flurry of slipper sounds from the stairwell.
Then, Ruo Xiaozhen’s fair face popped out from the unit door. Her eyes lit up as she hurried over in quick steps.
“You’re back! You’re back!” she said, bending down to help the driver with the wheelchair. Her movements were brisk. “Thanks for the trouble, driver. I got this.”
Once the wheelchair was ready, she carefully helped Yan Yu out of the car, her chatter already bursting out.
“Xiao Yu! How was it? Did anyone give you a hard time at Jiang Muyun’s birthday banquet? Did Su Qinghan do anything to you?”
Yan Yu settled into the wheelchair, smoothing the blanket over her lap, her tone calm. “No, it was fine.”
“Really? No one troubled you? I told you not to go!” Ruo Xiaozhen pushed her into the building, her voice carrying a pained rebuke. “Going to a place like that is just asking for trouble, but you’re stubborn and wouldn’t listen. Ah, forget it, forget it—let’s not mind those scumbags. Come on, I made you something delicious!”
As she spoke, she pushed open the door to the first-floor rented room.
A warm aroma of home-cooked food rushed out, mixed with steaming white mist, instantly blocking the chill of the night outside.
Yan Yu looked up and froze.
The table was full of dishes.
Braised pork ribs, stir-fried vegetables, tomato scrambled eggs, a bowl of hot corn and pork rib soup, and a small plate of cold cucumber salad.
The entire table was packed, each dish neatly arranged—clearly a lot of effort had gone into it.
“Xiao Zhen, did you make all this?”
“Of course!” Ruo Xiaozhen put her hands on her hips, looking proud. “I waited specially for you to come back and eat. How about it? Surprise? Unexpected?”
Yan Yu looked at the table, and her nose tingled slightly. She had eaten something at the banquet, but how could she really indulge in that kind of setting? She had only picked a few bites to keep up appearances. Now, smelling this homey scent, her stomach belatedly rumbled.
She curved her eyes and smiled. “Okay, thank you, Xiao Zhen.”
“What’s there to thank!” Ruo Xiaozhen pushed her to the table, quickly ladled her a bowl of soup, and chattered while bustling around. “Living together means we’re family. Eat more, build up your strength. I know mine can’t compare to those fancy dishes you had at Tiannanxing—”
She deliberately dragged out her tone and patted her chest.
“But this is Xiao Zhen’s special—you can’t buy it outside!”
Yan Yu looked at her smug, self-praising expression and couldn’t help but laugh. Ruo Xiaozhen chuckled along, grabbed a piece of sparerib and stuffed it into her mouth, her cheeks puffed up like a satisfied hamster.
The two sat at the table, taking bites and chatting happily.
The rented room was small. Some places on the walls had lost their paint, and the light bulb was an old-fashioned warm yellow one—far from the crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall.
But sitting here, watching Ruo Xiaozhen across from her with oily lips, chattering away, Yan Yu felt an extraordinary peace and warmth in her heart.
The food was hot, and the heart was warm.
As they ate, the chill from the banquet gradually dissipated, and her body warmed up inch by inch starting from her stomach.
When they were half full, Ruo Xiaozhen suddenly put down her chopsticks, as if remembering something. “Oh, Yan Yu, by the way, someone claiming to be your sister added me today.”
Yan Yu was about to pick up a piece of daikon radish. Her chopsticks froze mid-air, stunned. “What?”
“It’s Bai Yan’er, the one in your class.” Ruo Xiaozhen bit a big piece of chicken leg, speaking indistinctly. “She seemed to find my avatar from the grade group chat and added me as a friend.”
Yan Yu vaguely felt a strange discomfort. She slowly put down her chopsticks and asked, “What did you talk about?”
“Nothing much, just some casual pleasantries.” Ruo Xiaozhen chewed the chicken leg, oblivious. “She somehow found out that I live with you, so she specifically asked about how you’re doing, then said something like ‘That’s great’—and added, ‘Thank you for taking care of my sister.'”
She smacked her lips, seemingly unconcerned, and added casually, “Yan Yu, I’m really envious of you having such an obedient and sensible little sister.”
Yan Yu lowered her eyes, looking at the half piece of daikon in her bowl, saying nothing.
Obedient and sensible?
She rolled those four words over in her mind repeatedly, feeling something was off.
The scene from that afternoon in the classroom immediately flooded back.
Bai Yan’er had bent down without warning, in front of her, and planted a light kiss on her cheek.
That image intruded suddenly, like a small pebble thrown into an originally calm pond.
Yan Yu’s heart suddenly felt inexplicably irritated.
She was very sure she shouldn’t be feeling this way.
She picked up the glass on the table and gulped down several mouthfuls of cold water.
The icy water slid down her throat, finally suppressing that inexplicable mood.
She put down the glass, her fingertips still wet, slightly gripping the cup.
Bai Yan’er looking for Ruo Xiaozhen was definitely not as simple as “wanting to take care of her sister.”
Given what she knew of Bai Yan’er—though most of that “understanding” was likely what Bai Yan’er wanted her to see—this little sister never did anything that meant what it appeared on the surface.
That day, Bai Yan’er had proposed living together with her.
After being rejected, when Yan Yu said “I already have a roommate,” Yan Yu clearly remembered the hint of loss that flickered across that delicate little face.
Was that loss genuine?
Or was it another carefully crafted expression?
She couldn’t determine what Bai Yan’er was trying to do.
Sometimes, she even felt this little sister was like a chess piece completely beyond script control, popping up now and then, messing up all her predictions, and giving her an indescribable unease.
But one thing she was sure of.
Bai Yan’er was nowhere near as simple as she appeared.
Her seemingly naive, slightly teasing actions in front of Yan Yu, as well as the aloofness she deliberately put on in front of outsiders as the heiress of the Bai family—whichever face it was, it was just a mask Bai Yan’er had carefully designed.
And beneath the mask, what her true intentions were and what she wanted—Yan Yu still didn’t know.
The more she thought about it, the more her chest felt stuffy, as if blocked by a wad of damp cotton.
After dinner, Ruo Xiaozhen briskly cleared the dishes and took them to the kitchen to wash.
The sound of running water and Ruo Xiaozhen humming a tune drifted faintly from outside, adding a touch of domestic warmth to the small rented room.
Yan Yu wheeled herself back to the bedroom alone. The moment she closed the door, she felt exhaustion seeping from every bone in her body.
It wasn’t physical fatigue—it was a weariness that oozed from the crevices of her bones.
She took a simple shower, changed into her pajamas, and burrowed into the blanket.
The pillow had the faint scent of laundry detergent. The quilt had been sun-dried by Ruo Xiaozhen during the day, fluffy and soft, carrying the smell of sunlight.
She lay there for a while, staring at the old ceiling light above, her mind still cluttered with various thoughts.
Before she knew it, her eyelids grew heavy.
She closed her eyes, and her breathing gradually evened out.
Outside the window, the night quietly crept in. From the alley, the occasional distant bark of a dog drifted by, then was scattered by the wind.