Yunli City truly lived up to its reputation as a tourist paradise.
The sky was an impossibly vivid blue, so close it seemed within arm’s reach.
They had booked the homestay online—a quaint five-story villa tucked deep within a narrow alley.
The alley twisted and turned endlessly, dipping up and down over little hills one after another. They wouldn’t have found it without the host coming out to guide them.
The room had a perfect location. From the balcony, Cheng Zhanya could gaze down at the rolling patchwork of little villas, their rooftops giving way at the horizon to the endless expanse of the deep blue sea, blending seamlessly into the sky.
A gentle breeze carried the faint, salty tang of the ocean, stirring the fringe of hair across Cheng Zhanya’s forehead.
It eased her restlessness, if only a little.
Last night, when Lin Hanbing’s message had come through, she had been suffering a creative drought for ages. Her mind had looped endlessly over those two trivial sentences.
Lin Hanbing had that power over her still.
Even something as simple as a single line.
Cheng Zhanya had churned out the standee illustration at four in the morning. Sleep deprivation had left faint shadows under her eyes.
Fan Yaobai poked half her face out from inside the room. “Let’s go grab some food.”
Cheng Zhanya turned with a soft smile. “Sure.”
“Coming right up.”
Fan Yaobai had years of experience in the tourism business. Planning itineraries and guides came as naturally to her as breathing, flawlessly executed every time.
But the point of this trip was to unwind, not to rush from one sight to the next like tourists on a schedule.
They let the plans bend to fit the moment.
By noon.
It wasn’t as sweltering as she’d feared, but the glare was blinding.
Cheng Zhanya wore a floral sundress. She had woven her long hair into a fishtail braid with a pale yellow silk scarf, the baby-fine hairs at her hairline frizzing in the humidity. She pulled the braid forward over her shoulder, topped it with a fisherman’s hat, and blocked out the sun without sacrificing her view.
Fan Yaobai slid her sunglasses down from her hair and slipped them on, fanning her face against the heat as she murmured about the afternoon’s plans.
After lunch, they wandered to the nearest beach.
The two of them laughed freely, snapping photo after photo without tiring of it.
Night crept in quietly.
Exhausted from all the walking, they headed back to the homestay.
Since Cheng Zhanya was married, Fan Yaobai had booked a standard twin room on purpose.
After showers, they settled into their separate beds.
Fan Yaobai sighed. “It’s been forever since I got out like this.”
Cheng Zhanya laughed. “Tell me about it—who hasn’t been cooped up too long?”
The next evening, they caught the famous light show, a spectacle woven around shifting themes, the music changing to match.
They ambled through it for more than three hours and still hadn’t seen it all. Cheng Zhanya wore flats, but she wasn’t used to this much walking. A blister had formed on her heel, rubbed raw and bleeding, the pain sharp and unrelenting.
Fan Yaobai stared at the streak of red, her face twisting in shared agony, as if it were her own foot.
“Let’s head back,” she said.
Cheng Zhanya didn’t argue. She really couldn’t go on.
On the way, Fan Yaobai picked up some anti-inflammatory ointment and bandages.
Even after disinfecting and patching it up, the red edges of the wound peeked out around the bandage.
Cheng Zhanya’s fair skin made the brown adhesive stand out starkly.
She hesitated, then snapped a photo and posted it to her Moments feed.
She knew full well Lin Hanbing never checked Moments, but she posted anyway.
Ten minutes later, concerned messages poured in, her phone buzzing nonstop. Suddenly, Cheng Zhanya regretted it. It felt a little too much like fishing for pity.
She deleted the post quietly and replied first to Lin Hanbing’s mother, offering a quick explanation.
Moments later, her phone rang—Lin Hanbing calling.
Cheng Zhanya froze, figuring her mother must have spilled about the injury.
The ringtone droned on.
She let it ring. Fan Yaobai gave her a puzzled look. “Why not pick up?”
She just… didn’t want to.
For the first time, Cheng Zhanya felt the urge to ignore a call from Lin Hanbing.
She wanted it to be genuine—Lin Hanbing reaching out because she missed her—not prompted by some third party jogging her memory.
Otherwise, it cheapened everything.
For both of them.
The call cut off on its own. Fan Yaobai eyed her. “Everything okay?”
Cheng Zhanya shook her head.
The phone rang again. She ignored it once more, curious how persistent Lin Hanbing would be.
It disconnected for the third time.
Rang for the fourth…
Lin Hanbing was dead set on getting through.
Fan Yaobai couldn’t take it anymore. She snatched the phone and answered.
She hit speaker and dropped it onto the blanket draped over Cheng Zhanya’s legs.
“What happened to your foot?”
Lin Hanbing’s cool voice filled the room, faint keystrokes clacking in the background.
Cheng Zhanya shot Fan Yaobai a look, as if to say, See? She’s just squeezing in a quick check-in.
Fan Yaobai arched a brow, motioning for her to hear her out.
“It’s fine,” Cheng Zhanya said softly.
A pause on the line. “Where are you?”
“Out of town.”
“With who?”
“Baibai.”
Fan Yaobai: “…”
The exchange was cringe-inducing.
“Get home early. It’s not safe at night.”
Lin Hanbing clearly hadn’t noticed Cheng Zhanya had been gone three days already. She was still holed up in Yue City—or the office, anyway. Home was the last place she’d been.
“Mm.”
Cheng Zhanya murmured her assent.
Fan Yaobai waited until the call ended before exploding. “Is this how you two always talk?”
Cheng Zhanya nodded. “More or less.”
Fan Yaobai went quiet, finally getting why Cheng Zhanya had confessed that day she couldn’t keep going with the marriage. She wouldn’t have been able to either.
Lin Hanbing’s call had soured her mood completely. Cheng Zhanya had no appetite for chatter. She burrowed under the covers. “I’m beat. Night.”
They stayed in Yunli City nine days.
Then the company called Fan Yaobai back.
She switched to work mode the moment they landed. Cheng Zhanya went home alone.
The house felt hollow, lifeless.
It didn’t surprise her.
But the thin film of dust on the glass coffee table hit her like a gut punch. She crumbled.
Ten days away, and Lin Hanbing hadn’t set foot in the place once.
Cheng Zhanya sank onto the sofa and let out a bitter laugh. How utterly pathetic.
What was she even holding out for?
She was like some pathetic cat, waiting and waiting for its owner to come home—until it wasted away.
Their marriage had faded to gray long ago, passion snuffed out. It existed in name only.
Work was all Lin Hanbing saw.
…Work was the only thing that ever held her interest.
Cheng Zhanya sat there for ages, until numbness settled in.
A dark thought took root, snowballing until it consumed her.
With eerie calm, she tidied the entire house.
Then she dialed Lin Hanbing.
“Where are you?” she asked the instant the line connected.
“At the office,” Lin Hanbing replied.
“Have you been home at all?” Cheng Zhanya’s voice was flat as ice, her emotions teetering on the brink.
“Sorry. I’ve been… swamped.”
Lin Hanbing set aside her work. She’d crashed at the office these past days. She’d swung by home earlier in the week for fresh clothes.
Daytime visit—no sign of her wife. Assumed she was out. Meant to check, but work swallowed her up. Forgot.
Busy.
Cheng Zhanya gave a hollow laugh. “Don’t let me keep you, then.”
Lin Hanbing caught the edge in her tone at last. “Zhanya? What’s going on?”
Cheng Zhanya laughed again.
Nothing.
She’d just seen things clearly, all of a sudden.
Lin Hanbing waited, got no reply. She said uncertainly, “Yaya…”
“Lin Hanbing,” Cheng Zhanya said. “Let’s get a divorce.”
