Chapter 20

Ding Shuqing’s visit to see Ding Ya was mainly just to cook his little sister a meal. After eating, washing the dishes, and going out with Ding Ya for a walk, he planned to head back to his hotel.

In families with two kids, generally the elder child chooses to venture out into the world.

The Ding family was the opposite. Ding Shuqing had inherited their father’s passion for the profession and also continued running the family law firm.

Ding Ya, spoiled since childhood, instead disliked staying in the old environment.

Her industry was very new, but she had no real career plan. When Ding Shuqing walked the dog with her in the park, he even asked about her work plans.

Ding Ya held the little dog, who refused to run after a few minutes. “No plans. I’ll keep doing it as long as I can.”

Ding Shuqing: “I’m not pressuring you to get married or anything, but Mom and Dad are still really worried about you being alone.”

It was bitterly cold outside. Another year was reaching its end. Ding Ya lifted her head to look at the sky. The moon was curved. She asked Ding Shuqing, “Do you have to get married?”

Ding Shuqing asked, “Are you already seeing someone and afraid we won’t approve?”

Ding Ya: “Sort of.”

She spoke ambiguously. The puppy in her arms wore a red-and-black raglan-sleeve sweater, leaning against Ding Ya’s chest, looking especially content.

Ding Ya touched the pup’s furry paws, which looked like they were wearing socks. “Bro, what if I like women?”

Ding Shuqing had come on business just to handle some matters. The work would wrap up tomorrow morning, then he’d head home. He was staying nearby.

Ding Ya accompanied him toward the metro station, but as they talked and walked, they walked right past.

This park was huge. In the evening, people were still doing square dancing. Lively sounds came from the empty space in the distance. This question jolted Ding Shuqing awake. He let out an exaggerated “Ah!”

His well-fed, well-rested little sister, who never lifted a finger with housework, wore her hat. That round face showed a disgusted expression. “Your face looks so ugly.”

Ding Shuqing felt like the words he wanted to say were burning his mouth. In that instant, he had so many impulsive things he wanted to blurt out. But seeing Ding Ya’s expression, he held back in the end.

Because Ding Ya was serious.

Ding Ya had always been the “good enough” personality since childhood, as if no one ever saw her give full effort.

Sometimes in family meetings, their parents also found it strange. Why were brother and sister so different? Ding Ya’s personality didn’t even match their parents’.

She was clearly their biological child.

Ding Shuqing still remembered Ding Ya’s elementary school’s fun sports day. His sister was the epitome of just going through the motions.

Though that was also Ding Ya’s usual playbook.

She never seemed to have much collective honor and was used to leveraging that face that easily won goodwill as a bargaining chip to get out of effort.

Sly yet gullible. Contradictory and headache-inducing.

Thankfully, puberty didn’t bring any dramatic episodes of running away from home or fighting with family over early romance.

At most, she never put effort into exams, just aiming for a passing grade. She read shonen manga but never let it ignite her own spirit. Hanging motivational quotes on the wall wouldn’t spark any fighting spirit anyway.

Always just a collective participant. She’d rather be an unremarkable campus passerby.

When was the last time Ding Ya was serious?

Ding Shuqing sighed, staring at the shadows on the ground for a couple of seconds.

Even for the college entrance exams, this kid put in the least effort in class.

If she had to retake the year, she’d still be the least serious.

University was the same. Probably only in her post-graduation plans did she refuse to follow her father’s arrangement to do logistics at the law firm, instead insisting on staying in Bramble City to work.

Though it was the provincial capital, understandable enough. But that kind of seriousness was different from this kind.

“Who?”

Ding Shuqing reined in his twisted expression. He’d probably never had this much of a headache even with his own child.

Ding Ya glanced at him and smiled. “You know.”

These four words completely blew her brother’s mind in the cold winter air.

Ding Shuqing let out another “Ah!”, startling the pup in Ding Ya’s arms into a shiver.

“I know? None of your blind dates were women?”

“Could it be a university classmate? I remember there was one surnamed Shen. I always heard her voice when you called.”

“Can’t be a senior high classmate. You’ve never liked making friends since you were little, always…”

…

It was getting late. They walked along a park path with almost no one around.

In the distance were still-lit office buildings. Further still was Bramble City’s landmark building on this ring road, looking like an ear of corn with two rabbit ears sprouting from the top.

The whole building’s colors constantly changed, just like Ding Shuqing’s mood right now.

Ding Ya said, “Bro, back then, didn’t you secretly follow me to see her?”

Her tone was flat, missing her usual deliberate dramatics. As she said this, she lifted her gaze slightly, looking ahead.

Streetlights shone on the trees. The leafy shadows fell on Ding Ya’s face, stealing what little glow her small face had. In the dappled shadows, she carried an insistence very un-Ding-Ya-like.

Ding Shuqing was stunned.

He blurted out: “That was a woman?”

Ding Ya laughed. “What? You followed me to meet my online friend but didn’t finish watching?”

Back then, Ding Ya had taken advantage of their parents’ business trip, which happened to overlap with the holidays, and used the excuse of going with a friend for tutoring to meet Shu Chi.

Ding Shuqing was also on break at home. He wasn’t fooled by his sister’s excuse—or perhaps he’d already been keeping an eye on Ding Ya’s situation. He followed, bought a ticket, and went all the way to Banyan City.

The bus from Bramble City to Banyan City took four hours. Ding Shuqing hadn’t followed very closely; he only saw Ding Ya go to the noodle shop, and in the end, silently take the bus back.

The holidays ended. Ding Ya also realized her online romance seemed to have just… ended like that.

Was the guy too ugly? Too old?

Ding Shuqing hadn’t asked. An “out of sight, out of mind” kind of parting was what he’d hoped for anyway.

Now the siblings stood together. Ding Shuqing’s face was full of disbelief. He pushed up his slipping glasses. “So you were calling a woman your husband?”

Ding Ya let out a “Yep.” “You really did know. Did you secretly peek at my account?”

Big Brother shook his head. “No, you used my computer to log in and forgot to log out.”

Ding Ya said regretfully, “Then you saw everything?”

Ding Shuqing was still shocked. “So it really was a woman?”

His volume shot up several times. “Didn’t it break off years ago? How did it start up again?”

Ding Ya: “Because I ran into her again. You’re so loud.”

She asked again, “Bro, why aren’t you angry?”

Whatever anger he might have had was worn down by her attitude.

Ding Shuqing closed his eyes and said, helplessly, “You’ve made up your mind. Since you were little, I’ve never seen you like girls, either?”

Ding Ya didn’t quite understand it herself. Right now, she was very honest. “I don’t know. But anyway, the way I feel about her is different.”

Men were just meh. Even if she dated, broke up, and roommates said she’d find someone better, Ding Ya never expected anything.

It was like she was born lacking this sense of expectation, every living second just idling time away.

But no one said a person has to be positive and proactive from birth. The law doesn’t ban coasting along.

However, without goals worth striving for, without interests, even achieving something brought no sense of accomplishment.

At least back then, for the first time, Ding Ya felt endless, boundless curiosity and anticipation toward one person.

Before actually seeing her, Ding Ya’s heart had remained like a scattered cloud.

After reuniting with Shu Chi, that curiosity hadn’t just returned; it threatened to swallow her whole.

Ding Ya treasured this impulse and curiosity.

After all, she’d rarely had such a fresh experience growing up.

Ding Shuqing asked, “Where’s she from? How old? Rich? How many in her family? What does she do now? Does she own a house…”

Unexpectedly, his little sister glared fiercely at him, then lifted her chin toward the subway station ahead. “Hurry up and go. The subway’s about to stop.”

Ding Shuqing: “You haven’t answered my questions yet.”

The weather was freezing. Ding Ya was too lazy to explain anymore, finding it annoying. Her tone was sharp. “What’s wrong with you? I said I like women. Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the fact that your little sister is a lesbian?”

Big Brother retorted, “So what if you’re a lesbian? Lesbians don’t face material pressure or need economic stability like straight people? So that woman’s annual salary is…”

Ding Ya took a deep breath. “Just go, please.”

Ding Shuqing, looking indignant, stepped onto the escalator. Ding Ya only let out a heavy breath after watching his figure disappear.

She’d thought she’d get scolded badly, but hadn’t expected him to accept it so quickly.

The night wind was so cold. Holding her dog, Ding Ya murmured, “If only you could talk.”

The little dog’s ears were soft. As Ding Ya lowered her head, it quickly licked her face.

Ding Ya let out an “Aiya” and hefted it higher, as if hugging the electronic puppy that had been taken back long ago.

So this is what it feels like to recover something lost.

Shu Chi talked with Yu Xinyi for a long time. Mostly Yu Xinyi talked.

The premium hospital even had a screening room and a billiards room. Shu Chi also played a few rounds with her.

She had plenty of people to ask about romantic troubles. Yu Xinyi was one who played a bad hand well. But feelings weren’t something maintained by skill alone.

Liking was the best preservative.

Shu Chi listened as if she hadn’t. And on the way back, Xiaohu insisted on sleeping over with Little Xie, saying it was the weekend anyway.

Only then did Shu Chi understand why the kid had insisted on bringing her schoolbag.

She’d come fully prepared for an overnight stay.

Shu Chi could only drive herself home.

It was almost eleven. Outside was empty. Shu Chi drove home.

Her neighborhood was a straight-line distance far from Ding Ya’s neighborhood. But from the hospital, it was quite close, passing right by that landmark building.

The car stereo played a song by a female singer Shu Chi really liked.

She couldn’t sing; at team-building events, she’d only hum a few lines when no one was around. At a red light, she casually glanced out the window and unexpectedly saw a petite figure crossing the crosswalk alone.

Seeming to be sniffling and sobbing.

A bit like Ding Ya.

Shu Chi thought she’d imagined it.

Her side was a red light. The other side was green.

The red light lasted so long. With no one around, Shu Chi carefully tried to identify the figure, until the person passed right in front of her car.

Carrying a little dog.

When the green light came on, Shu Chi drove forward to the next spot where she could turn around, then simply followed.

Ding Ya didn’t know why she couldn’t stop crying today.

Maybe she’d finally thought it through. Maybe she was glad she was finally not so bored anymore.

Her family’s spiritual nurturing wasn’t lacking. No feudal “marry or die” ideology. Her parents’ premise for arranging blind dates was also: if you find someone you like, that’s great; Mom and Dad won’t force you.

Her parents loved her. Yet she couldn’t grow into a perfect daughter.

No one pushed her toward perfection. No pressure, no motivation. She’d simply grown up this ordinary.

Becoming an ordinary city ant with no hobbies. Never thinking about the future. The word “lifetime” only appeared in adolescent fantasies, resting on the surrogate of an online electronic husband.

With joking, teasing undertones. Never truly taken seriously.

“Ding Ya.”

This voice was so familiar.

Was she hallucinating?

“Ding Ya…”

No way.

“Ding Ya—!”

Ding Ya whipped her head around, stunned, watching the figure running over from the distance.

That car—back when she played Parking Wars, the second one she’d most wanted—was parked by the roadside. Shu Chi ran over, the wind whipping the edges of her open toggle coat.

The little bun at the back of the woman’s hair came loose, strands scattering in the wind. In the chaos, it somehow conjured the kind of reckless abandon Ding Ya had imagined.

As if the object of her two-dimensional love had leapt out of the screen.

Shu Chi stopped in front of Ding Ya, looking down at her, and said, “It really is you?”

The little dog in Ding Ya’s arms had moist eyes, completely different from its owner’s red-rimmed, tearful eyes, yet carrying the same pitiful charm.

“Why are you cry…”

Before Shu Chi could finish, Ding Ya threw herself into her arms.

Little dog and all.

A bit like the one and only photo they’d taken together in the game back then.