Chapter 42

The end of the year was always more busy than quiet. Ding Ya worked overtime for three consecutive days and video-called her mother after returning home.

Her family was all busy preparing cured meats and sausage for the New Year. Ding Ya lay sprawled on the sofa, holding her little dog and scrolling on her phone, not wanting to move a muscle.

Her older brother was also eating at their parents’ place today. Passing by the phone, he inevitably had to comment, “Lying down again?”

Ding Ya had just gotten back recently. This week had been packed with pets at the clinic, so she brought her own little dog along too.

The little pup was growing fast and had quite the appetite. Now, sprawled on Ding Ya’s chest, she was getting a bit heavy.

Ding Ya stroked the dog’s head. “I already walked her, okay?”

Her voice was weak and feeble. The next second, her sister-in-law pushed her brother aside. “Let me see this little dog? What’s her name again?”

Ding Ya held up the dog’s head. “Yunbao.”

Her sister-in-law let out a laugh. “Hurry up and eat, you must be exhausted from the overtime.”

The other side bustled with activity. This was the time of year when everyone started preparing for the New Year. Ding Ya had forgotten what it felt like to actually participate.

Once his wife and his mother had gone into the kitchen, Ding Shuqing picked up the phone and asked sneakily, “So, how’s it going?”

Ding Ya: “How’s what going?”

She set the dog down. The pup was a girl; in a few more months, she’d have to get her spayed.

Her household slippers were already chewed full of holes, but Ding Ya hadn’t bothered to buy new ones.

She plopped down onto the rug, squeezing out some hand sanitizer to clean her hands while admiring Ding Shuqing’s twisted expression.

Ding Shuqing still seemed rather uncomfortable thinking about Shu Chi. After a long pause, he finally squeezed out a single sentence: “Your thing, obviously…”

He was still totally stammering over his words, just like back then.

Ding Ya had bought herself a grilled cold noodle wrap and some braised noodles. As she undid the plastic bag, she replied, “It’s whatever.”

Her listless demeanor made it hard not to suspect she had failed.

Ding Shuqing started his lecture: “I told you, you need to be sincere with people. Since you like that Shu…”

“Like what? Younger Sister has someone she likes?”

Her sister-in-law came over with a plate, just happening to catch the tail end of the sentence. She asked.

The moment she said that, Yang Jie came running over too. “What? Yaya has someone she’s set her heart on?”

Ding Shuqing: …

My head is killing me.

Ding Ya kept eating her street-stall food—she wasn’t even sure if it counted as a late-night snack or dinner—and nodded. “Yeah.”

Ding Shuqing’s eyes flew wide open. His heart practically leaped into his throat, terrified that Ding Ya was about to come out on the spot.

Their family was relatively open-minded, but Ding Shuqing still didn’t dare to guess his parents’ exact stance.

After all, their dad was pretty unyielding. Their mom was gentle and kind. When their friends’ children came out, she always offered her blessings.

Ding Shuqing still couldn’t guarantee that those blessings wouldn’t change color and go bad if it actually fell upon his own little sister’s head.

Yang Jie immediately launched into questions: “What? What is it? What’s their name? Where do they work? How old are they? Where are they from? Are they—”

Ding Shuqing felt his headache explode: “Mom, stop interrogating her. It’s a miracle enough she actually likes someone.”

The next second, Ding Shuqing was dragged away by his wife. His wife asked, “You know about this?”

Ding Shuqing shook his head.

He gave her a pointed look, signaling he would explain later.

This married couple had met through a game and dated online before meeting in person; their personalities had always been rather excitable. The only thing about Ding Shuqing’s personality that even remotely matched his profession was probably his starched shirt and his physical looks.

Ding Ya completely ignored the shock plastered on her mother’s face shoved right up against the camera. “I’m not telling you yet. They haven’t agreed to anything yet anyway.”

Yang Jie grew even more curious. How could she not know Ding Ya’s high standards? In the past, she’d turned down a blind date who was 1.8 meters tall, a university returnee with an annual salary in the millions, all because she thought his looks weren’t good enough.

“So this person’s really good-looking? Oh, but looks alone aren’t enough.”

Although Yang Jie could understand the pursuit of physical appeal—after all, she’d married for looks too—relying entirely on appearance was a bit impulsive. She started worrying again.

Ding Ya’s cheeks puffed out, stuffed with grilled cold noodle as she swallowed. “Whether they actually take a liking to me isn’t guaranteed either.”

Her tone sounded rather indifferent, but it still made Yang Jie feel as if her daughter was a little bit in too deep.

A completely unprecedented state!!

Ding Shuqing, on the other end, closed his eyes for a moment, silently applauding Ding Ya’s incredible ability to spin bullshit.

He thought to himself: indeed, there’s no need to worry about Little Sister being tricked and kidnapped away. The one who should be worried is the person she’s tricking.

If she took this too far and it actually blew up in her face… what then?

This idiot didn’t have any real dating experience; all she knew was playing around.

If she totally whiffed it, she’d come back crying and wailing. Just like when she was a kid, riding a tricycle in the village and launching herself into the fields, the kind of crying that was just waaaaahhhh.

Yang Jie was still quite pleased: “No need to rush, take it slow. Our little Ya is so pretty, of course they won’t dislike you.”

Ding Ya was all too aware of the “pretty” her parents praised, but she didn’t refute it. She just gave a hum of agreement. “I think so too.”

What she was actually thinking about was still how to handle this hurdle. She considered Shu Chi to be a prize already in her grasp, but she had no way of confirming her parents’ stance on this yet.

Her gut told her it would be fine. Because her parents loved her. But would Shu Chi be very nervous?

She had never craved bringing Shu Chi home so badly. From Jing Yuqi’s social media feed, Ding Ya could see that Shu Chi muddled through New Year’s without much thought. Although people treated her decently now that she had money, the pictures still revealed a deep-seated dullness.

Like a person sealed within a photograph. If no one ripped off that protective plastic covering her, it would be extremely difficult to lead her into the distance.

Ding Ya felt as if she had already ripped half of it off. What remained was the future—and that wasn’t something she could handle alone.

She wanted to live her life together with Shu Chi.

After hanging up the phone, Ding Ya picked up her cell and checked Shu Chi’s social media feed.

This person really didn’t post updates. The last one was still from when the company launched a new product.

Ding Ya then took out her old phone and logged into her QQ account.

All the services had long since expired and gone dark, but she’d only just thought to go check out Shu Chi’s QQ Space.

Back then, this person’s Space had been very primitive too—nothing like Ding Ya, who’d do the whole social network thing with people just for vanity’s sake.

And most of the comments on her Space had been left by Ding Ya anyway.

Some pasted literary quotes, showcasing the emotional journey of a seventeen-year-old girl. Absolutely cringe.

Ding Ya didn’t want to leave any traces, but she also went through the trouble of purchasing a Yellow Diamond service just to erase her browsing history.

Shu Chi’s photo albums hadn’t been updated either. Still just those gaming-related things.

Her logs were also completely empty.

Until Ding Ya clicked into her Space’s message board.

Over ten thousand messages.

Back when she and I had parted ways… what had the count been then?

Definitely not a thousand. Because Shu Chi wasn’t like other people; she didn’t need to leave messages purely for the sake of leaving messages. Those pasted literary phrases had all just been polite formalities.

Even though this was an old phone, the screen was still much bigger than those flip phone screens from back then.

The very top message had been posted last night —

[Second Sister cried. I’m happy for her. Sister Qi said me giving the family money again was unnecessary. I don’t think it matters.]

[After all, they’re family. I want her to live well—but not in a way where I’m supporting her like a dependent.]

The message below it was from that same day.

[Bought my niece a cake. They were really happy eating it. It made me think of the first time I ever ate cake—it was the neighbor’s big sister’s birthday. Just a tiny piece.]

[Had to split it between four people. I only got one bite of cream. It was very sweet. The one I found on the ground later… that was a little sour.]

The day before that—no, “the day before” wasn’t quite right, it had been posted past three in the morning.

[Missed her a little. Wonder if she ever misses me.]

[She’s a little bad. But also so cute.]

…

Next was the morning of the thirty-first —

[Team building today. With another company. Wanted to dress a little nicer.]

[The team building planner gave us lots of activity options. In the end, Sister Qi told me to choose one. I chose Truth or Dare.]

[She said I was totally old-fashioned. But I really had never played before. When I was little and could still talk, the other kids played hopscotch. By the time I went mute, I never got a turn in games like this. Everyone liked girls who sang well. Not only could I not sing, I didn’t even have a voice.]

…

[Dreamt I spilled the noodles again while delivering takeout and got scolded by the Landlady again. A whole day’s work for nothing. Went to bed so hungry. Thank goodness I had my computer. I’m so grateful to Bean Sprout. She helped me find my voice. It’s such a pity. We weren’t fated. I wish her happiness.]

[If possible, I’d like to say sorry to her in person.]

Ding Ya was about to keep scrolling, but her phone suddenly rang. It startled her like a jolt, like someone yanking her back from an illusory memory.

The caller ID showed Jing Yuqi. “Ding Ya, good evening. Off work yet?”

Ding Ya gave an mm of agreement.

Jing Yuqi seemed to be somewhere incredibly noisy. Her voice was muddled and chaotic for a few seconds before suddenly growing quiet.

She cleared her throat: “There’s something I want to ask of you. May I?”

Ding Ya: “Is it about Shu Chi?”

Jing Yuqi gave an mm. Ding Ya: “Alright.”

Jing Yuqi said she was away on a trip. She asked Ding Ya for a weekend favor—to go pick up a cake at an address she’d later send via WeChat.

Ding Ya: “I know.”

Jing Yuqi fell silent for a long while. Ding Ya could even hear the wind on her end of the line. “Ding Ya, do you like Shu Chi?”

Her voice wasn’t airy and frivolous the way it usually was. It was heavy with earnest inquiry.

Ding Ya gave an mm of confirmation.

She leaned her back against the sofa, thinking about Shu Chi’s birthday this coming weekend. She was just about to ask Jing Yuqi how they’d usually celebrated in the past,

when Jing Yuqi said: “She’s never celebrated her birthday. This time, I hope you’ll help her celebrate it.”

Ding Ya was taken aback. “Why?”

Jing Yuqi drew in a deep breath: “If it were any other girl pursuing her, I wouldn’t have wanted to help.”

Her voice possessed a unique charm, as mellow and rich as fine wine. The woman herself was the same—completely mature in flavor. Totally unlike Shu Chi, who was mature on the surface but green and unripe at her core.

Because her profession was tied to being an online influencer, quite a few online posts had tried to dig up dirt on her. Rumors flew about her being pregnant before marriage, fabricating stories that her mature allure was all faked and earned through shady means.

Even in her livestreams, Jing Yuqi had candidly admitted her mistake from youthful ignorance—the consequences of sneaking forbidden fruit. She only found it laughable that people labeled her a gold digger.

Ding Ya had watched that particular VOD. She mentioned starting from scratch, chatting about stretching a single yuan as far as it could go, talking about the days setting up street stalls. She talked about Shu Chi—her “strategic partner,” as she put it—and said with a laugh: I am the one who fished myself out of the water.

At the time, Ding Ya had hit “like” multiple times. She genuinely admired that woman’s intense vitality. It was something she herself would never possess in this lifetime.

But life wasn’t meant to be lived only one way. An ordinary life was fine. Slacking off was fine. Muddling through was fine too. The choices you made yourself, there was nothing really to regret.

Before you died, even regret could be changed in time.

But what about my feelings for Shu Chi?

The “right timing” Ding Ya had been thinking of before had already passed. And now, she found it terribly difficult to confess.

On the other end of the line, Jing Yuqi said: “You should be able to sense it, right? She likes you.”

Of course Ding Ya could sense it. It was the result of her temptations and traps, time and time again. All meticulously part of her calculations.

But for some reason, now that Jing Yuqi had actually said it aloud, she felt a wave of shame.

Even… disgrace.

Because her kind of “like”… it wasn’t the purely innocent, pure-love type.

Jing Yuqi: “A while back, an old employee at our company liked Shu Chi. Honestly, I didn’t want to let her go. But things between the two of them got way too ugly. Shu Chi originally said she would leave. But I couldn’t bear to let her go.”

This sort of company business wasn’t exactly appropriate for Ding Ya, just a business partner, to hear. But Jing Yuqi had long since considered Ding Ya one of her own.

She just had that aura about her—the kind that unconsciously pulled people close—the perfect temperament for sealing a business deal.

“Shu Chi, that woman… she’s extremely stubborn, yet also extremely soft-hearted. Terrified of causing anyone trouble. That’s why she’s always so excessively polite.”

Jing Yuqi paused. “On her own, she looks perfectly fine. Just… looks fine.”

“I’m only her friend. I can’t accompany her that deeply. So I was hoping someone else could.”

Ding Ya tightened her grip on her phone. An immensely heavy feeling of being entrusted settled on her.

And also another kind of feeling…

“She just doesn’t like talking; that doesn’t mean she can’t express herself,” Jing Yuqi let out a sigh. “She’s never celebrated her birthday since she was little… because her birthday is the anniversary of her little sister’s death.”

Ding Ya: “Little sister?”

Jing Yuqi hummed in confirmation: “She had a little sister. But she drowned.”

She didn’t go into deep detail. The only reason she even knew this was because Shu Chi had once let it slip; after that incident, it was never mentioned again.

But Ding Ya suddenly thought about those three years she’d known Shu Chi—the birthdays she’d celebrated for her.

January 8th.

Shu Chi had always accepted her well-wishes with grace, and even returned the favor with birthday cards of her own.

That couldn’t possibly have been a fake birthday. After they’d met again in real life, Ding Ya had also confirmed its authenticity.

Yet she’d never imagined this person would never actually celebrate her birthday.

Then those birthday wishes I gave her back then… hearing them, was she actually happy at all?

Ding Ya felt a flicker of uncertainty. “But if she doesn’t celebrate her birthday, then me doing this…”

Jing Yuqi, however, laughed. “You’re different, though. Having the person she likes celebrate her birthday—that’s always going to be different, right?”

Her tone was tinged with a bit of melancholy. “Even though we’re best friends… how to put it. Shu Chi and I are family, but we’d never become lovers. The feeling is just completely different.”

Jing Yuqi’s vlog style was very unique to her personality. Emotional manipulation was never her selling point, but every now and then, a random, inspired sentence could deeply resonate with her audience.

This sigh of hers, right now, was like a knife, stabbing straight into Ding Ya’s heart.

She felt the one being drenched in fresh blood… might not only be herself. Far more so, it might be Shu Chi, who was still completely in the dark about everything.

Before, Ding Ya had deeply underestimated Shu Chi’s pain.

Ding Ya had assumed that reuniting and getting to know her again under a completely new identity, she could fully understand the other person.

Shu Chi was a door terribly difficult to knock open. Ding Ya’s siege tactics had worked fairly well, but getting fully through and truly knowing her still remained hard.

Harder even than back in the old days, when the old her could make Shu Chi completely relax.

Ding Ya hesitated, then said: “Sister Qi, can I ask you something?”

Jing Yuqi gave a hum.

Ding Ya: “Why do you think Shu Chi would like someone… like me?”

Jing Yuqi let out an Eh?, then burst out laughing. It sounded a bit like fond exasperation, or perhaps like teasing a little kid.

“You might not believe me, but I just felt that Shu Chi’s type is… exactly someone like you. Small and petite, yet so cute, with a sweet voice. She’s completely helpless with girls like you.”

After speaking, Jing Yuqi sighed again. “However, there is one thing I should tell you. Shu Chi had a… online-dating sort of thing in the past. She told me she had once loved her.”

“I just feel like these are matters that should be known. So… I hope you won’t take it to heart.”

“Our Shu Chi… she’s a very clear-cut, resolute person. Once she’s let go, she’s really let go…”

Ding Ya absolutely would not take it to heart.

She thought: This person… she simply likes me. Completely and utterly. Just me.