Buoyed by her good fortune, Yun Chun woke early, brimming with energy.
The birds outside the window chirped merrily, their song a cheerful jumble with no real melody—as if they were afraid someone might steal it and sing it back better. Yun Chun couldn’t mimic them anyway, so she hummed her own tune as she got out of bed.
She twisted open the door to the guest room. In the living room, Xu Lanmeng—who Yun Yueqin had assigned to do morning stretches—glanced her way with a cool, neutral tone. “Awake?”
Yun Chun nodded. She wasn’t surprised by Xu Lanmeng’s attitude at all. Ever since Yun Yueqin had suggested she stay over the night before and even offered to share her bed, Xu Lanmeng had spoken to her in exactly this clipped manner.
It was easy enough to understand. If a customer asked you to handle something and you got it done—sure, you’d hidden it from her for two months and hadn’t charged her a dime because of that secrecy. But now the customer was not only eating your food but sleeping under your roof too, acting like she planned to freeload indefinitely without even mentioning payment. If she were some easygoing saint, maybe it wouldn’t matter. But the customer’s impression of you was that you were a greedy opportunist who nickel-and-dimed people… What was a little coldness? It was a miracle Xu Lanmeng even bothered speaking to her.
Yun Chun turned toward the kitchen, lifting a hand to rub her nose—a little unconscious habit whenever she felt awkward or out of place.
She hadn’t said she wouldn’t pay. She’d just been too excited yesterday and completely forgotten about it.
Yun Chun assumed it was about the money. If Xu Lanmeng knew the truth, she would just chuckle. With her seven-figure savings, did she really need Yun Chun’s measly few thousand? No, it was the two months without a single night of Yun Yueqin sleeping beside her… So why should this little rascal get to share her bed on the first day?
Xu Lanmeng’s gaze shifted away from Yun Chun’s back, her brows furrowing slightly. Was it just because this kid was Yun Yueqin’s daughter?
In the kitchen.
Steam curled lazily from the steamer, rising in gentle wisps. The heat had fogged the glass, diffusing the morning sunlight into a soft, orange-yellow glow—warm, steaming, alive. In that moment, hope took on a tangible warmth.
Yun Yueqin stood by the soy milk machine, its noisy whirring filling the air. But she still heard Yun Chun’s footsteps approaching.
She turned, and Yun Chun was right there behind her.
“Sleep well?” Yun Yueqin’s eyes crinkled into laughing crescent moons, like the fading slice still hanging in the sky.
“Very well.” Yun Chun grinned back. “I don’t even know how I fell asleep.”
“You conked out right at the start of the second verse,” Yun Yueqin said.
It had been a lullaby—the one Yun Chun had begged her to sing, the same tune from her childhood that always sent her off to dreamland. Yun Yueqin hadn’t wanted to at first. Yun Chun was all grown up now, taller than the doors in Xu Lanmeng’s house. What adult still needed a lullaby?
But when she glanced down and saw that fluffy head nestled on the pillow, Yun Yueqin softened with a fond smile. No matter how tall she got, she was still her little girl in those arms.
So she sang. Yun Chun drifted off before she knew it.
Yun Yueqin didn’t know much about Yun Chun’s usual sleep, but falling asleep that fast made her worry. “Were you exhausted?”
“I didn’t do anything yesterday—how could I be tired? Besides, I napped in the afternoon.” Yun Chun looped her arm through Yun Yueqin’s, telling the honest truth. “I fell asleep so fast because you were right there.”
Yun Yueqin smiled.
The soy milk machine chose that moment to shut off.
“Help Mama grab those cups from over there,” Yun Yueqin said.
Yun Chun murmured her assent.
As she poured the soy milk, Yun Yueqin asked, “You said you don’t start work until afternoon—do you skip breakfast altogether?”
“Sometimes I wake up early enough to eat, but usually I sleep till noon and just combine breakfast and lunch.” As she spoke, a random thought bubbled up in Yun Chun’s mind, and she voiced it. “Mom, what do you think counts as breakfast—the first meal of the morning or the first one after you wake up?”
She’d asked that same silly question to a breakfast stall owner once, and he’d shrugged and said it was up to her.
Yun Chun had dropped it back then, figuring it was too pointless to dwell on.
But here it was again, popping into her head unbidden—and out of her mouth.
Her mom wouldn’t mind something so trivial.
Far from it—Yun Yueqin would answer even a question Yun Chun herself found boring.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s the morning’s first meal or the one after you wake up,” Yun Yueqin replied. “As long as you’re eating something.”
She was only concerned about Yun Chun’s health.
With that, Yun Yueqin handed her the cup of soy milk. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Yun Chun took it with a hum, then naturally picked up on the previous thread. “I do eat.”
A smile lit her face. “Lately, every time I wake up, I’ve been having—”
The words cut off abruptly.
She was clearly holding soy milk, but what wafted to her nose was the rich aroma of coffee.
She stared down at the pure white liquid—so unlike coffee’s deep brown—and realized with a pang that she’d forgotten someone. Those eyes that always seemed ready to rain.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously, knuckles whitening.
Yun Chun’s heart grew heavy. The white soy milk before her suddenly felt emptier than empty.
She hadn’t gone home last night. Lu Qingxue must have waited… and then stopped waiting, right?
“Having what?” Yun Yueqin prompted.
Yun Chun snapped back, the stiff smile softening on her lips. “Having breakfast.”
Yun Yueqin relaxed. “Good.”
She steered the conversation along. “What do you usually have?”
“Coffee, and…”
“Coffee?” Yun Yueqin echoed. “Not too bitter for you?”
Hadn’t she always hated bitter things? When she was little and sick, getting her to swallow bitter medicine took a solid ten minutes of coaxing.
“It’s bitter, yeah. But I’ve gotten used to the taste.”
“Drink less of it. You’re better off with soy milk,” Yun Yueqin said. “Even plain rice porridge or congee would be healthier than coffee.”
This time, Yun Chun caught the scent of soy milk in her nostrils. She lowered her gaze and murmured a soft agreement.
Yun Yueqin glanced at her. From childhood up until the year she’d left, whenever Yun Chun responded like this, it meant she’d taken the words to heart—but changes or tough choices took time to process.
Still, Yun Chun always ended up following her advice, which eased Yun Yueqin’s worries.
It wasn’t that Yun Yueqin forbade coffee outright. With a light smile, she added, “I’m not saying never—just cut back.”
Yun Chun looked up at her and smiled silently.
Lu Qingxue didn’t make coffee every day—most mornings it was porridge, with coffee only now and then.
She’d only been wondering just now: How to balance “soy milk” mornings with “coffee” ones from here on.
~~~
After a hasty breakfast, Xu Lanmeng announced that Yun Yueqin needed to return to the bracelet for recovery. Yun Chun had no objections. After saying “see you tomorrow” to Yun Yueqin, Xu Lanmeng sealed her inside.
As Xu Lanmeng applied the talisman paper, Yun Chun asked cautiously, “Can my mom hear us?”
Xu Lanmeng shut the cabinet door. “No.”
The talisman sealed Yun Yueqin’s aura—and kept her from sensing anything outside.
Yun Chun relaxed and blurted out what she’d been holding in all morning. “I’ll transfer you the money.”
She couldn’t say it in front of Yun Yueqin. To help Xu Lanmeng keep her secret, Yun Chun had to pretend no deal had ever happened between them.
Xu Lanmeng headed to the living room. “No need.”
Yun Chun trailed after her. “Hey? When I was supposed to buy you those steamed buns, you weren’t so generous.”
“Did you?”
“Didn’t I leave you five bucks?”
Xu Lanmeng let out a huff of laughter.
Sometimes overlooked details suddenly clicked into place, revealing all the little threads. Yun Chun narrowed her eyes and sidled closer to Xu Lanmeng, whispering accusingly, “You knew my mom—did you know who I was from the start?”
Xu Lanmeng could have denied it, but she didn’t. She wasn’t always so aboveboard—except when it came to liking Yun Yueqin. Everything else? She didn’t care enough to lie.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Yun Chun made an indignant noise. “Feels like you targeted me on purpose.”
Yun Chun, head down as she transferred the money, missed the brief flicker on Xu Lanmeng’s face.
She pocketed her phone. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.”
Xu Lanmeng didn’t hesitate. “Don’t come back.”
Yun Chun blinked. “Huh?”
Xu Lanmeng was blunt. “You’re annoying.”
Yun Chun: ?
How was she annoying?
Yesterday, she’d only really talked to Xu Lanmeng at meals and bedtime. The rest of the time, she’d stuck to Yun Yueqin. If anyone should be annoyed, it was her mom.
“No way. My mom’s here.”
Xu Lanmeng’s lips quirked. “That’s why you’re annoying.”
Yun Chun slung an arm around Xu Lanmeng’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Come on, Auntie Xu, don’t be so stingy. If Mom could go anywhere else, I wouldn’t bug you. And I’m not freeloading—I’ll pay you.”
Xu Lanmeng slanted her a look, tone flat. “Never said anything about your money.”
The groundwork was laid. She continued, “Just no more like yesterday. No letting your mom sleep with you.”
Yun Chun frowned. “Why not?”
Xu Lanmeng wasn’t used to lying, always blunt about everything—but when it came to Yun Yueqin, she hid like a master of camouflage.
“Nighttime’s when yin energy is heaviest—prime recovery time for her. How’s she supposed to rest if you’re clinging the whole time?”
Worried for Yun Yueqin, Yun Chun bought it completely. She nodded. “…Got it.”
With that on her mind, Yun Chun didn’t chat more. She said goodbye and headed out.
She jogged down the stairs.
Once outside, she broke into a full sprint.
She and Xu Lanmeng both lived in the Old City District—about fifteen minutes on foot, cut in half if she ran.
Wind whistled past her ears.
Autumn’s crisp chill swept across her face.
Her lashes trembled in the breeze, cold air rushing into her slightly open mouth.
It burrowed straight into her heart.
Scattering Yun Chun’s tangled thoughts, blowing them apart.
No one waits forever for anyone. Yun Chun figured Lu Qingxue wouldn’t wait if she didn’t come back in time, but even during dinner, her mind had been restless, preoccupied with rushing home.
Home to find Lu Qingxue.
She ran so frantically that by the time Yun Chun reached the front door, she was gasping for breath. She braced her hands on her knees for a couple of seconds before fishing the key from her pocket.
Before the key could even touch the lock, there was a click, and the door—
Opened.
Yun Chun stared at the widening gap, her hand frozen midair with the key clutched tight. She held her breath, the silence so profound that all she could hear was the thunder of her own heartbeat.
She lifted her head.
The door swung open wider until it was wide enough for a person to step through. Lu Qingxue poked her head out from behind it and smiled at the figure on the doorstep. “You’re back.”
The heartbeat roaring in Yun Chun’s ears sounded like thunder.
Lu Qingxue had been waiting for her.
Just like always.
Only this time, the glow behind Lu Qingxue wasn’t the lamp chasing away the dark—it was the light of morning sunshine.
Yun Chun pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to gasp for air so she wouldn’t look so disheveled. She straightened up slowly, moving her hands from her knees. “Yeah, I’m back.”
Lu Qingxue held the door open. “You’re five hours late today.”
“I had something to do,” Yun Chun replied vaguely.
She stepped inside and walked up to Lu Qingxue. “Have you… been waiting for me the whole time?”
Lu Qingxue nodded. “Yeah.”
Guilt welled up inside her like mushrooms after rain, growing wildly out of control.
“Sorry, I—”
Yun Chun faltered. She couldn’t tell Lu Qingxue the truth.
