“Where are you going?” The colleague shot her a sharp glare, her face twisted in malice. “Are you starting to slack off just because you’re quitting?”
This was a small dessert shop, and with Zhou Jianghao as the part-timer, there were only three employees in total. She had worked here for many years, helping out even back in high school. The Boss Lady had always looked after her kindly, and when she learned that Zhou Jianghao was struggling to find a job, she extended an olive branch, offering her the best possible deal.
But the shop’s veteran employee didn’t care much for her.
Just like now. Facing the woman’s aggressive stare, Zhou Jianghao looked utterly baffled. “It’s already after closing time.”
The colleague faltered for a moment, then pursed her lips. “You used to be the last one out the door, but look at you now—the first to bolt. The Boss Lady steps away, and you drop the act, huh?”
Ding-a-ling—
The wind chimes at the door tinkled suddenly.
Zhou Jianghao turned to look. It had been a while since they’d last met, but Tan Qingya was still breathtakingly beautiful. She stood there with exquisite poise and understated luxury in the modest little dessert shop, somehow making the entire place feel brighter.
Zhou Jianghao started toward her, but her shoulder was suddenly jostled. The colleague who had been sour-faced moments before now blossomed into a saccharine smile, her voice turning syrupy sweet.
“Welcome—”
“Miss, what would you like today? Our shop has…”
Tan Qingya’s expression had already darkened when she saw the woman shove Zhou Jianghao aside, yet the colleague pressed forward, oblivious.
“Are you all right?”
Tan Qingya didn’t spare the woman a single glance. Her dark eyes remained fixed intently on Zhou Jianghao.
“I’m fine.” Zhou Jianghao shook her head, then glanced at her stunned colleague. “I’ll head out first.”
Once they were in the car, the clamor of the outside world faded away, sealed off behind the windows.
Tan Qingya spoke first. “Your colleague doesn’t seem very friendly toward you.”
“That’s just how they are.” Zhou Jianghao wasn’t the type to tattle or complain. She skipped over the messy details and said plainly, “I’ll be leaving in a couple of days anyway.”
Poor girl.
Tan Qingya sighed to herself. Growing up dependent on others, never truly favored, and now even her part-time job brought her grief and targeting.
She glanced out the window. At the dessert shop’s entrance, the two employees were still craning their necks, peering out with faces full of shock and scrutiny.
Mentally noting the shop’s name, Tan Qingya drove toward Zhou Jianghao’s home. As the saying goes, the first time is awkward, but the second is familiar. These days, she could not only navigate to that rundown neighborhood but even snag a parking spot with ease.
She retrieved two food containers from the back seat.
“I had some food prepared. How about a simple lunch at home?”
“Sure.”
Zhou Jianghao felt awkward all over, and her discomfort peaked when she saw Tan Qingya sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom with only a touch of unfamiliarity.
Yet Tan Qingya’s expression was perfectly natural. She rolled up her sleeves, waved off Zhou Jianghao’s offer to help, and elegantly unpacked the containers onto Zhou Jianghao’s cheap folding table—the kind that cost nine ninety-nine.
Homestyle dishes, simple but mouthwateringly appetizing.
Tan Qingya handed Zhou Jianghao a bowl of rice. “Give it a try. See if it suits your taste.”
She slid the plate of spicy potato shreds toward Zhou Jianghao as well.
For all her cool and detached air, Zhou Jianghao had a taste for bold flavors. Recalling that time Zhou Jianghao had scarfed down dumplings drowned in vinegar, Tan Qingya’s own cheeks tingled with imagined sourness.
“Thank you.” Zhou Jianghao was utterly flattered.
“No need to stand on ceremony.” Tan Qingya felt she ought to explain. “Ours isn’t a sham marriage. In this relationship, I’m the older one, so looking after you is only natural. You’re my wife—it’s right and proper for you to accept everything I do for you.”
Not a sham marriage.
Zhou Jianghao’s grip tightened on her chopsticks. The tangled knot of confusion that had plagued her for days unraveled in an instant. With her resolve finally set, she looked up and nodded earnestly. “All right. I’ll do my best to make our marriage work.”
She desperately wanted to do something for Tan Qingya in return.
The urge had lingered in her heart ever since Tan Qingya agreed to marry her.
Starved for affection as she was, even the slightest kindness from someone else made her want to lay everything she had at their feet.
Tan Qingya, however, didn’t dwell too deeply on the words. They finished their lunch in perfect harmony, after which drowsiness washed over her.
Jet lag hadn’t fully worn off—it was the middle of the night back where she’d come from.
She started to rise, but then Zhou Jianghao asked suddenly, “Are… are you really tired?”
Tan Qingya answered honestly. “Yes, pretty exhausted. I got back late last night and still haven’t adjusted to the time difference.”
Remembering that Tan Qingya had driven herself here today, Zhou Jianghao ducked her head, not daring to meet her eyes. “Driving while fatigued isn’t safe.”
Her ponytail swayed as she kept her head bowed, stray wisps of hair framing her pale, delicate features.
Zhou Jianghao was the cool beauty type, yet she blushed so easily. Staring at those reddening ear tips for a few seconds, Tan Qingya suddenly understood what she was getting at.
An opportunity to draw closer to her wife? She couldn’t let that slip away. Her eyes curved in a warm smile. “You’re right. Driving tired is dangerous.”
She glanced back at Zhou Jianghao’s neatly made bed. “If you don’t mind, could I rest here for a little while?”
“Of course.” Zhou Jianghao nodded vigorously, her eyes lighting up with quiet joy at the chance to do something for Tan Qingya. “You can rest as long as you like.”
Then, as if remembering something, her voice softened. “…If you don’t mind.”
Everything in Tan Qingya’s apartment was subtly luxurious, every little trinket likely worth more than Zhou Jianghao could fathom.
But her own room was filled with nothing but cheap, rough knockoffs.
With her head still lowered, her gaze drifted involuntarily to Tan Qingya’s bare feet. She hadn’t expected Tan Qingya to come over, so she hadn’t prepared any slippers.
Seeing those pale, tender feet—veins faintly visible—pressing against the floor filled her with even greater guilt.
“Of course I don’t mind.”
Tan Qingya’s gaze softened. Seeing Zhou Jianghao droop her head like a sad little puppy, she smiled. “Your place feels so warm and cozy. I really like it.”
It had the true feel of a home.
From the balcony, Tan Qingya watched Zhou Jianghao’s figure recede into the distance on a shared electric scooter. She turned back to survey the apartment.
Traces of Zhou Jianghao’s daily life were everywhere.
She paused at the corner wall, where countless sticky notes were pinned up, jotting down work schedules:
6:50–19:50 Coffee shop, 10 yuan/hour
21:30–23:50 Barbecue joint, 13 yuan/hour
…
The handwriting evolved from childish scrawl to crisp maturity, the dates spanning from years ago right up to the present.
For someone so young, Zhou Jianghao’s work history was impressively extensive—far more than most.
Thinking of the spoiled juniors back home who did nothing but party and waste away, Tan Qingya’s brows furrowed slightly.
She recalled what Zhou Jianghao had told her before.
Enrolled at the nation’s top university, yet scraping by on gigs like these, with even graduation hanging by a thread. Those people’s influence stretched far indeed.
After a moment’s thought, she sent a message to Chen Chen.
By the time she finished handling everything, a good deal of time had passed. Her eyes burned with fatigue, heavy-lidded. Tan Qingya set her phone aside and carefully settled onto Zhou Jianghao’s bed.
The bed was tiny, just a thin mattress laid straight on the floor—uncomfortably firm. But the scent on the sheets was lovely, a faint fragrance much like the one that clung to Zhou Jianghao herself.
