Cheng Zhanya revised the first draft, adding a few panels to flesh it out.
With the overall plot now clear in her mind, she drew quickly and finished an entire chapter that afternoon.
She sent it off to the colleague handling the inking, then stretched lazily. She was in an unusually good mood—perhaps satisfied with her productivity that day, but even more so with the story itself.
Xiao Xiao glanced over and stretched too, relaxing her posture. “Sister Zhanya, you’ve finished already?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I really wish I were on your team.”
That way, she could get first dibs on reading it. Xiao Xiao scrunched up her face, looking bitterly aggrieved.
Before Cheng Zhanya had landed the Beautiful Times script, Xiao Xiao had already committed to another project, missing her chance to collaborate with her favorite artist.
Xiao Xiao felt heartbroken.
What a shame!
Cheng Zhanya smiled. “There will be plenty more opportunities down the line.”
“That’s true, but…”
Beautiful Times was a massive production—a script exceeding a million words. At the current pace, with Cheng Zhanya determined to stay faithful to the plot, it would take three or five years at least.
By then, the child Cheng Zhanya carried would be toddling around.
The thought only made her sadder.
Xiao Xiao stared speechlessly at the ceiling.
“It hurts so much!”
“Don’t dwell on it.”
“Maybe once you wrap up your current project, they’ll transfer you to the Beautiful Times team.”
“Wow! Sister Zhanya, you really know how to cheer a girl up.”
Xiao Xiao’s eyes sparkled as she perked up. “You’re right—our project is short and will finish soon.”
Cheng Zhanya smiled but said nothing.
The drawing software was still open. Cheng Zhanya idly doodled over it, switching between her custom brushes.
She scribbled until the base image was completely covered, the original colors lost beneath layers of chaos.
At first glance, it resembled a vibrant oil painting. Up close, it looked like some abstract monster.
Cheng Zhanya came to her senses and laughed at herself.
Out of habit, she hit save before closing the program. She picked up her thermos.
Unscrewing the lid, she found it empty.
A glance at the clock: a little past four, more than an hour until quitting time.
Resigned, she rose and headed to the break room.
Fresh from finishing her update, Cheng Zhanya felt buoyant and began humming softly under her breath.
It came naturally.
“All Thoughts Are Star Rivers”—the song she knew best.
Habits could be deadly.
It was one Lin Hanbing often played. Cheng Zhanya hadn’t memorized it deliberately, yet the melody was etched deep in her mind, slipping out unbidden.
She had to admit it: she was starting to miss Lin Hanbing.
Cheng Zhanya looked down at her changing belly and let out a soft sigh.
But things had gone too far now. There was no turning back for them.
This child was fated never to know the love and doting of its other mother.
Her buoyant mood evaporated in an instant.
She filled the thermos with water and was lost in thought, preparing to leave, when she caught the murmur of colleagues whispering.
She didn’t make out the exact words.
Just fragments: something about someone “parachuted in.”
Back at her desk and barely seated, Xiao Xiao slid her chair over with a mysterious expression.
“Sister Zhanya, have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Rumor is, a new president has parachuted into our company.”
Xiao Xiao’s big eyes darted around as she finished, her gossiping look almost comical.
“Starting tomorrow.”
“A president?”
“Yeah—the director’s direct boss.”
“The announcement went up. Didn’t you see it?”
Cheng Zhanya recalled the snippets she’d overheard, now matching Xiao Xiao’s intel. The office rumors were one step from confirmed.
Unlike the young woman’s eager gossip, Cheng Zhanya couldn’t have cared less.
A parachuted-in executive wouldn’t disrupt her workflow.
“Sister Zhanya, do you think the new president will be some handsome domineering CEO?”
“Like in the dramas—that would be perfect.”
Xiao Xiao brimmed with excitement.
Cheng Zhanya couldn’t resist teasing her. “Could just as easily be a middle-aged divorcée.”
“Sister, you can’t do this to me!” Xiao Xiao burst into laughter, feigning outrage. “You’re ruining my fantasies.”
Cheng Zhanya grinned, watching her.
The door to the innermost office on the left suddenly slid open. Lu Ting emerged, her face impassive.
Their conversation cut off abruptly.
The office fell quiet, filled only with the soft tapping of keyboards and the scratch of pens on tablets.
Xiao Xiao shot a guilty glance at Lu Ting and slid guiltily back to her station.
Lu Ting carried a sleek professional handbag. She gave them a faint look before her high heels clicked steadily away, soon vanishing from the office.
“Where’s the director headed?”
“Probably a meeting about the new arrival.”
The moment Lu Ting was gone, Xiao Xiao slid back over, her gossip undeterred.
Cheng Zhanya smiled noncommittally.
“Sister Zhanya, you hungry?” Xiao Xiao pivoted.
“…”
“A little.”
“What sounds good? Let’s order some afternoon tea.”
Cheng Zhanya thought it over seriously, but nothing specific came to mind.
Her nausea had eased after the first trimester; her appetite had improved, letting her eat with gusto. Fan Yaobai had relaxed as a result.
She shook her head. “Nothing in particular.”
“What are you craving?”
“Fried chicken?”
“Can pregnant women have seafood?”
“Nah, forget it—too fishy; it might not sit well… Durian crepe?”
Xiao Xiao scrolled the delivery app’s home screen, which displayed her usual go-tos.
She wracked her brain. “Dessert?”
Cheng Zhanya laughed. “We’ll be off work by the time you decide.”
“I’ve got decision paralysis—everything looks tempting.” Xiao Xiao rubbed her nose and kept scrolling. “Sugar water and some duck necks?”
“Sure.”
Cheng Zhanya hadn’t been that hungry at first, but Xiao Xiao’s suggestions stirred her appetite.
“Make the duck necks spicy.”
“You got it!”
With an answer in hand, Xiao Xiao’s troubled expression brightened instantly.
Her fingers danced across the screen. She set her phone down and exhaled in relief.
“Ordered—thirty minutes or less.”
“Sounds good. I’ll send you the money.”
“No need. My treat.”
“I insist—you’re not made of money.” Cheng Zhanya had no intention of freeloading.
She was still a young woman fresh out of school, prone to spending without restraint.
Cheng Zhanya’s serialization of Wife’s Daily Life provided steady income, and Lin Hanbing regularly deposited funds into her account. Money troubles were distant for now.
“It’s not like I’m treating every day.” Xiao Xiao pouted. “Let me spoil the little baby, then.”
Little baby?
It took Cheng Zhanya a moment to catch on.
When she did, she chuckled.
“All right. Then the baby thanks Sister Xiao.”
Seeing Cheng Zhanya relent, Xiao Xiao swiftly rejected the transfer. The nickname for herself lifted her spirits even more.
“Sister Zhanya, does the baby have a nickname yet?”
A nickname?
Cheng Zhanya blinked. The baby was over three months along, yet she’d never given names—even a pet name—a thought.
She was an unfit mother.
The child had already suffered so much because of her.
Prodded by Xiao Xiao, Cheng Zhanya reflected briefly. “Not yet.”
“Let me know when you decide.”
“Okay.”
The delivery arrived promptly; Xiao Xiao dashed out to grab it.
She returned and unpacked eagerly, humming a trending pop song. She was clearly in high spirits.
She introduced each item as she opened the packages—clearly a regular.
The spicy flavors exploded in her mouth, unleashing Cheng Zhanya’s full appetite.
She hadn’t touched these so-called junk foods much since learning of her pregnancy and the unstable fetal heartbeat—items Fan Yaobai deemed off-limits.
The past month’s bland restraint crumbled in that moment.
She ate with deep satisfaction.
Yet she held back, not wanting to overindulge and risk the baby acting up later. She’d be the one suffering then.
A little past five, a message came from Fan Yaobai.
No cooking tonight.
Fan Yaobai would pick her up for coconut chicken.
Over the past month, Fan Yaobai had poured her heart into caring for Cheng Zhanya, attentive to every detail for fear she’d lack nutrition.
Only the good checkup results had eased her mind.
With snacks in her belly, Cheng Zhanya wasn’t hungry.
Good thing she’d shown restraint, or Fan Yaobai would launch into another lecture later.
She understood the concern, but the cravings were irresistible.
Pregnancy had her startling herself with these shifts sometimes.
Fan Yaobai arrived early today. Cheng Zhanya spotted her friend in the lobby as she descended, head bent over her phone.
Office workers streamed out.
The workday ended, but life went on—rushing for dinner.
Cheng Zhanya wove through carefully, her shoulder bumped a few times.
She reached her friend and called softly, “So early today?”
“Mm. Slipped out right after the meeting.”
Fan Yaobai had made a habit of it this past month—to get home in time to cook, though she’d often work in the study afterward.
More than once, the sight made Cheng Zhanya think of Lin Hanbing.
Wasn’t this how Fan Yaobai had been that month? Always bustling.
Passing the study door, she’d glimpse Fan Yaobai diligently working overtime.
For a fleeting moment, she almost tried to understand Lin Hanbing’s side.
But what was the point? They were divorced now.
Did she regret it?
She’d asked herself that.
No.
Divorce had let her discover a new version of herself.
She wasn’t doomed to be the resentful housewife, waiting endlessly for her wife to come home.
She was content with her life now.
A career. Friends.
And a child.
The child had come unexpectedly, but she knew she loved it already.
“You’ve worked hard.”
Cheng Zhanya smiled. “Where are we eating?”
“Come with me.”
After dinner, Fan Yaobai walked with her to aid digestion.
The late afternoon tea had blunted her hunger somewhat, but she’d still eaten plenty.
The coconut juice broth was refreshingly sweet, the meat chewy and tender. She’d overeaten without realizing.
Past eight, the subway rush had died down.
No crowds at all.
Fan Yaobai looked drained. Once home, she collapsed on the sofa and stayed put, even as Fan Jiujiu treaded milk on her belly.
Since the pregnancy, Fan Yaobai had shuttled between work and home, picking Cheng Zhanya up evenings—more devoted than the biological mother. No wonder she was exhausted.
Cheng Zhanya suggested she rest properly.
Past the first trimester, the nausea was mostly gone, only triggered by overpowering smells now and then.
Fan Yaobai wouldn’t hear of it.
Cheng Zhanya was helpless against her.
The next morning, she rose early and prepared a simple breakfast.
Two boiled eggs and grilled sandwiches.
Fan Yaobai had the day off today. She’d been working herself to the bone lately, and she still wasn’t out of bed yet. Cheng Zhanya left a little note under the breakfast tray before heading out to work.
She hadn’t even reached the company when a reproachful message arrived from Fan Yaobai.
Cheng Zhanya found it amusing. She pulled out her camera, snapped a photo of the towering company building, and sent it over.
—Safely arrived.
Once back in her office, Cheng Zhanya booted up her computer.
A stir of commotion echoed from the doorway.
Cheng Zhanya looked up, her expression freezing solid in an instant.
Lu Ting led the way, but Cheng Zhanya’s gaze was inexorably drawn to the woman walking behind her.
Lin Hanbing.
Her ex-wife.
