Cheng Zhanya smiled but didn’t respond.
She quietly finished her soup, and just then, her phone buzzed.
It was a message from Lin Hanbing on social media, asking if Yu Shujing had arrived at the apartment.
She typed back, telling Lin Hanbing she was eating and had just finished the soup.
It was a little past noon—prime lunch break time—and Lin Hanbing replied almost immediately.
—No coming home for lunch. Mom will keep you company.
—I’ll wrap up as soon as I can and get home early. What do you want for dinner? I’ll make it.
Cheng Zhanya was still eating and didn’t have the bandwidth to think about dinner.
She shot back a quick reply.
—Anything’s fine. You pick.
She locked her screen and slowly finished her meal. Yu Shujing sat across from her, quiet as could be, occasionally picking out bites of food for her.
After lunch, Cheng Zhanya headed straight to bed.
Her brain had been in overdrive all morning, and with the pregnancy, she tired out fast.
Yu Shujing stayed in the living room.
Bored out of her mind, she flicked on the TV and turned the volume all the way down.
Her spirits were high. On social media, she was chatting up a storm with her girlfriends, practically shouting from the rooftops about becoming a grandmother.
Ever since her friends had found out she was going to be a grandma, they’d been hounded by Yu Shujing nonstop these past few days.
The congrats had worn thin by now.
But she announced it every single day—immature, adorable, and utterly forgivable.
No one could blame her, really.
Holding a grandchild was worth celebrating.
Among her friends, some had married late. One’s son was still in elementary school, barely up to her knee.
The same age, yet worlds apart in life stages.
She was the envy of the bunch.
Yu Shujing had never realized she loved bragging so much—especially about grandkids.
Satisfied after her bragging session, Yu Shujing set her phone down.
She checked the time: not even four o’clock.
The master bedroom door was shut tight, no sounds from within. Cheng Zhanya would probably sleep a while longer.
Yu Shujing switched off the TV and grabbed the throw pillow from the other end of the sofa.
She’d gotten up early that morning and was starting to feel drowsy herself. She planned to catnap right there in the living room, so she’d hear when Cheng Zhanya woke up.
When Cheng Zhanya stirred awake, she stared at the ceiling, pale in the dim light.
She gazed at it blankly, a little dazed—probably from just waking up.
Part of her wanted to drift off again.
The curtains were drawn, the bedside lamp off. The room was dark, lit only by faint light seeping through the fabric.
Click.
A faint sound.
The bedroom door eased open from the outside. Cheng Zhanya’s gaze slowly shifted toward it, catching the silhouette backlit in the doorway.
The room was too dim to make out the face.
But Lin Hanbing’s figure was etched deep in her heart.
She stayed silent, watching the other woman tiptoe toward her.
“Awake?”
The room light was off, making it shadowy. All Lin Hanbing could see was the lump under the covers.
Her eyes sharp, she drew closer and spotted Cheng Zhanya awake, her eyes dark and deep in the low light, shimmering faintly with moisture.
She reached for the bedside lamp but didn’t turn it on.
Her hand paused, then withdrew.
Undoing one button on her shirt, Lin Hanbing gently lifted the edge of the blanket and pulled Cheng Zhanya into her arms.
Her hand brushed over the high swell of Cheng Zhanya’s belly, and she drew in a deep breath.
“You’re home early today?” Cheng Zhanya asked.
“Yeah. Here to keep you company.”
Cheng Zhanya let out a soft chuckle.
In that warm moment, she remembered Yu Shujing might still be in the living room. “Did Mom head home?”
“Nope. She’s sleeping in the living room.”
“Sleeping in the living room?!” Cheng Zhanya sat up in surprise, worried. “Go tell her to use the guest room.”
“It’s fine.”
Lin Hanbing spoke unhurriedly. “She’s lived pampered too long. A change of pace won’t hurt.”
Cheng Zhanya: “…”
She laughed in disbelief. “You really are her daughter.”
Supporting her belly, Cheng Zhanya shifted her waist. “Help me up. I’ve slept long enough.”
Lin Hanbing smiled, neither confirming nor denying it.
She helped Cheng Zhanya out of bed—no lingering—and accompanied her wife to the living room.
Yu Shujing had just dozed off when Lin Hanbing returned, jolting her awake.
Her sleepy, grumpy expression flipped to a beaming smile the instant she saw Cheng Zhanya— all in under thirty seconds.
“Oh, Xiaoya’s up too,” Yu Shujing said with a squinty-eyed grin. “What a coincidence. Mom just woke up myself.”
“Hungry? I’ll whip up some afternoon tea.”
“Mom, I’m not hungry,” Cheng Zhanya called after the eager Yu Shujing, who was already bounding toward the kitchen.
She shook her head in fond exasperation. “Mom, no need to fuss. We’ll eat out tonight.”
“Outside food’s never as clean or tasty as mine!” Yu Shujing puffed out her cheeks a bit, sounding almost petulant.
Cheng Zhanya and Lin Hanbing exchanged a glance.
In the end…
They couldn’t stop Yu Shujing from cooking.
After dinner, Yu Shujing was finally collected—reluctantly—by Lin Jingwen, who had come to pick her up.
The apartment fell quiet at once.
Cheng Zhanya watched some TV while Lin Hanbing showered. When she emerged, towel-drying her hair, she sat beside Cheng Zhanya without bothering to blow it dry.
Night deepened.
“Are you on leave now?” Cheng Zhanya asked out of the blue.
“Yes.”
Lin Hanbing admitted it openly.
Her hair still damp, she took Cheng Zhanya’s hand and placed it on her thigh. “Maternity leave.”
“Yaya, anywhere you want to go?”
“Let’s get away. Clear our heads.”
Her companionship was a bit late coming…
But not too late.
The question was where.
Since getting pregnant, Cheng Zhanya hadn’t wanted to budge an inch.
Time felt scarce. She’d unpack, reorganize, and poof—the day was gone, with nothing accomplished. Not falling behind on her work was accomplishment enough.
Cheng Zhanya shifted her legs lazily. “I don’t want to move.”
“No problem. We’ll stay home.”
“For the next six months, I’ll be right by your side. Whenever you feel like going out, we will.”
Silence settled.
Just the TV murmuring softly.
Cheng Zhanya yawned.
She nodded. “Okay. I’m going to shower.”
“Want help?” Lin Hanbing eyed her belly, concern flickering in her expression.
“No need.” Cheng Zhanya declined, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not that bad yet.”
The fallout from their last “accidental discharge” was still fresh in her mind.
Lin Hanbing was temptation incarnate to her at the best of times. Pregnancy had only amplified her greed, filling her head with wandering thoughts.
The bigger her belly grew, the clumsier she felt.
Her hands and feet were swelling.
She felt like a fully risen steamed bun—big, round, visibly plumper.
She could already imagine the next few months.
Oh no—she’d forgotten her pajamas again!
Halfway through undressing, Cheng Zhanya realized and debated getting up.
After a moment’s hesitation…
She cracked the door open a sliver.
Lin Hanbing was still in the living room, hair loose, seemingly scrolling on her phone.
“Hanbing.”
“Bring me my pajamas?”
Lin Hanbing agreed and moved at once.
As the figure approached, Cheng Zhanya slammed the door shut.
Quick. Panicked.
Five years of marriage, countless intimacies—they knew each other’s bodies inside out. Yet some things still left Cheng Zhanya bashful.
Seeing her wide-eyed, rabbit-like fluster, Lin Hanbing chuckled low.
She knocked. “Clothes are on the rack.”
And added, “Watch the water temperature. Don’t catch a chill.”
A muffled “mm” came from inside.
Cheng Zhanya hadn’t left the house all day, but she liked a sense of ritual for work. When she headed to the study, she’d changed into an apricot-colored maxi dress—a maternity outfit Lin Hanbing had bought her.
Convenient, and it hid her belly well.
Though a gentle curve was still visible when she walked.
After all, six months along now.
No gaining weight, and she’d still show.
When she emerged from the shower, Lin Hanbing had blow-dried her hair and was sitting quietly on the living room sofa, reading a book.
Hearing the bathroom door, she set the book aside.
Cheng Zhanya’s hair was still dripping.
Lin Hanbing frowned slightly. “Come here. I’ll dry it for you.”
Cheng Zhanya murmured an “oh” and padded over obediently. As soon as she was close, Lin Hanbing pulled her into her lap.
The hairdryer hummed to life. Neither spoke.
Her hair was short; it took only minutes to dry.
A lock of bangs fell across her forehead.
A bit long now.
It brushed her eyes—not too long, not short, just awkward, blocking her view.
“It’s gotten long,” Cheng Zhanya murmured.
Time for a trim, she thought.
At the same time, Lin Hanbing ran her fingers through the strands. “Want to grow it out?”
She had faint but vivid memories of Cheng Zhanya with long, flowing hair.
Even if the short style was striking in its own way.
Compared to that ethereal long-haired vibe, Lin Hanbing preferred the long-haired version.
She missed it a little.
Cheng Zhanya shook her head. “I don’t know.”
After a brief pause, she asked her, “Do you like long hair or short hair?”
It was a loaded question.
Having asked it, Cheng Zhanya felt wonderful.
Delighted, she eagerly awaited Lin Hanbing’s response.
Over all these years, she didn’t think she’d ever discussed such things with Lin Hanbing.
She had forgotten how long it had been since they’d chatted so peacefully and naturally.
To think that everything she wanted would come after their divorce—it was almost comical.
“I like both.”
Cheng Zhanya pursed her lips and glanced at her. “That’s not an option.”
Lin Hanbing smiled.
She touched the tip of her nose, then squatted down by Cheng Zhanya’s legs and looked up at her. “I like the otherworldly grace of long-haired women, untouched by the mortal world. But the intellectual allure of short hair draws me in just as much. So this choice doesn’t have to be one or the other.”
Her voice was lower than usual, her eyes brimming with affection and a gentle smile. She radiated deep emotion from her very being.
Cheng Zhanya stared at her, her cheeks gradually growing warm.
She turned her face away, unable to bear it.
The answer satisfied her, more or less.
Stubborn as ever, she muttered, “Rogue.”
Smiling, Lin Hanbing leaned in and kissed her forehead.
Rogue it was, then.
