Chapter 34

Nan Qi cast a half-smile at Bo Ranying, catching the obvious delight lighting up her face. Her own heart dimmed faintly, but she held back from shattering her roommate’s hopeful illusion. After a moment’s pause, she said, “You’re right—our place really does offer great value for the price.”

She endorsed the first part of Bo Ranying’s assessment but deliberately glossed over the second half, offering no opinion on it.

Bo Ranying picked up on it right away: Nan Qi had said “our place,” not “home.”

In the past, Nan Qi had always referred to their rental apartment as “home.”

That ingrained habit, after all this time, had shifted so effortlessly.

A sour pang twisted in Bo Ranying’s chest.

She drew in a breath, rallied her spirits, and shifted to lighter topics to draw Nan Qi into the conversation.

On the walk back, they chatted easily back and forth, the mood relaxed and pleasant.

The warning bells echoing in her mind gradually faded.

Bo Ranying gazed at Nan Qi’s clear, aloof silhouette under the glow of the streetlamp, her thoughts churning. She had to soothe Nan Qi’s anger and make her drop the idea of moving out.

They had just entered the neighborhood when they bumped into Grandma Qi strolling with her grandkids.

Grandma Qi lit up with a smile at the sight of them. “Home so late, you two? Overtime must be exhausting.”

“Earlier, I went up to your place with those brown sugar sticky rice cakes,” she added. “Knocked forever and no answer, so I figured you weren’t back yet.” Grandma Qi hadn’t forgotten her offhand promise from that morning.

“Thanks so much for the trip, Grandma Qi.”

Bo Ranying greeted her with warm enthusiasm, swinging the supermarket bag in her hand. “Yeah, we just wrapped up and haven’t eaten. Picked up ingredients to cook at home—way healthier.”

As she spoke, she fished around in her coat pocket and pulled out two packs of savory crackers, handing one to each of the two little ones in Grandma Qi’s care. “Here, a little treat from Auntie.”

Dancing was an intense, stamina-draining workout, so Bo Ranying always kept snacks on hand for quick energy boosts. They came in handy at other times too, even if she didn’t eat them herself.

The kids beamed with delight, clutching the crackers. With Grandma Qi’s approving nod, they chirped their thanks and tore into the packages, munching away noisily, their chubby cheeks radiating pure bliss.

“Perfect—we ran into you here. Come back with Grandma to grab the brown sugar sticky rice cakes?” Grandma Qi suggested.

“Sounds great!” Bo Ranying jumped in first.

At the same time, she gave Nan Qi a gentle nudge. Nan Qi stumbled forward a couple of steps, which looked to Grandma Qi like nothing more than playful banter between close friends.

And just like that, Grandma Qi led her two genuine little ones, trailed by two bigger kids, back to her place.

She’d kept the brown sugar sticky rice cakes warm in an insulated box. When she packed them up for the pair, they were still piping hot and steaming.

“Eat them while they’re hot when you get home,” Grandma Qi cautioned. “They don’t taste right once they cool.”

Bo Ranying passed the supermarket bag to Nan Qi.

“Mm-hmm.” She took the package carefully, feeling the cakes’ soft, glutinous warmth through the container. The sweet aroma wafted through the room, and one deep inhale set her mouth watering.

With their prize in hand, they thanked Grandma Qi and headed home.

The moment they stepped through the door, Bo Ranying whisked the groceries and sticky rice cakes into the kitchen.

She grabbed a plate, neatly arranged the cakes from their container, and carried it to the dining table. “Come eat, Little Qi,” she called.

“It’s late—you must be starving. Rice will take a bit, so let’s have a little dessert first.” Treating her like a child, Bo Ranying eased Nan Qi into a chair, set out utensils for her, and watched with a soft smile as she dug in.

Nan Qi speared a piece with her chopsticks, blew gently on the steaming surface, and then savored it slowly. The sweetness and chewiness melted across her tongue, delighting every taste bud with blissful warmth.

She sensed their roles had flipped completely. Bo Ranying was hanging on her every mood and gesture, and it took no effort to notice.

Nan Qi found it all unnecessary.

After a few bites, she set down her chopsticks, cutting off Bo Ranying’s watchful gaze. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Bo Ranying blinked as if waking from a dream. She snatched up a piece and beamed at Nan Qi. “You looked like you were enjoying it so much, I forgot all about mine.”

Nan Qi offered only silence in return.

Bo Ranying fell quiet too, chewing steadily. The flavor should have been pure sweetness, but it turned bitter on her tongue—no trace of delight.

She wondered if she was coming down with something.

Only when Bo Ranying set her chopsticks aside did Nan Qi speak up again. “Done? Let’s get dinner going. I’ll assist.”

Bo Ranying nodded and rose.

They both slipped on aprons—matching “bestie” sets printed with cartoon girls brandishing spatulas, just in different colors.

They unpacked the groceries, sorting everything neatly.

Bo Ranying started with the fish: cleaned it thoroughly and marinated it to cut the fishiness.

Beside her, Nan Qi rinsed the vegetables and diced the needed ingredients into small pieces, portioning them into seasoning bowls. They worked side by side in seamless tandem, their figures close together, no different from old times.

Bo Ranying stole a glance at their hazy reflections in the kitchen glass door—herself and Nan Qi, nestled together in the soft light. It stood in stark contrast to the subtle distance that had hung between them today, stirring a deep longing.

Without realizing it, she froze mid-task, staring at the doorframe, desperate to preserve the moment.

Nan Qi’s puzzled voice snapped her out of it. “Froze up on us, Ranran?” She reached over to test the sink water. “Temperature feels normal.”

Bo Ranying shook herself. “I’m fine—just zoned out for a second. Must be the tiredness catching up.”

She turned her attention back to the food.

The rice was already rinsed and steaming in the cooker, the fish nicely marinated. Bo Ranying fired up the stove, poured oil into the wok, and once it shimmered, slid in the prepped fish. Sparks flew with a sizzle, the skin crisping to golden perfection as a faint meaty aroma filled the air.

When the first side was nearly done, she flipped the fish with practiced timing, letting the hot oil coat the other side until both reached about seventy percent doneness. She lifted it out to a spare bowl.

She tipped in the seasoning bowl next, letting the hot oil release their fragrance, then returned the fish to the wok along with cold water, tofu, salt, and the rest. Lid on, she set it to a low simmer.

With the fish soup bubbling away unattended, Bo Ranying whipped up stir-fried spinach and a cold asparagus lettuce salad.

Vibrant green and glistening, plated on white dishes—crisp, refreshing, delicious, and light enough for a late dinner without weighing anyone down.

By the time the two veggie dishes were done, the fish soup was roiling with bubbles, steam rattling the lid. Bo Ranying lifted it off and stirred in a splash of milk. The thin broth thickened instantly to a creamy white, blending the fish and tofu’s natural savoriness with milky richness for an even more enticing scent.

She let it go another five minutes, then scattered chopped green onions over the pale soup for a pretty finish.

Two sides and a soup, all ready to serve.

They carried everything to the table together. Bo Ranying ladled a bowl of fish soup for Nan Qi first, meticulously picking out the boneless bits. “Careful—it’s hot. Let it cool a bit.”

Nan Qi nodded her understanding and speared a piece of the silky, tender fish. It was melt-in-your-mouth soft, bursting with freshness—no chewing required. The warmth settled comfortably in her stomach.

Her appetite fully roused, she spooned up some broth next. Pure umami heaven.

Bo Ranying was an excellent cook who knew her tastes inside out, though they rarely cooked in—relying mostly on restaurants or delivery.

Tonight’s earnest home-cooked meal had her taste buds fully hooked.

“Tasty, huh?” Bo Ranying didn’t really need to ask; she could tell Nan Qi loved it.

Nan Qi cradled her soup bowl and slurped away heartily—no words required.

Emboldened, Bo Ranying pressed on. “All those places we saw today were awful. Since you’ve made up your mind, why not text the agent now? Tell them you’re not interested—don’t leave them hanging till tomorrow.”

Nan Qi went still. “…” She slowly set down her bowl, her cool, snowy eyes fixed on Bo Ranying in inscrutable silence.

“Once you move, you won’t get meals like this anymore. Constant takeout’s rough on the stomach.”

Bo Ranying rattled off the perks of staying put, but Nan Qi’s continued silence left her increasingly flustered, her heart in her throat.

Desperate, she played her trump card. “Even if you’re set on moving, take me with you. We can keep living together.”

This remark made Nan Qi raise an eyebrow. “Ranran’s got a point.”

She leisurely pulled out her phone. Stars sparkled in Bo Ranying’s eyes as she watched Nan Qi intently open the WeChat app, locate the chat with the real estate agent, and type: 【I’ve thought it over. I didn’t like any of the places I saw today, so I’ve decided not to rent.】

Bo Ranying happily shoveled a big mouthful of food.

She leaned her head closer, like a happy little fool with invisible antennae waving happily on her head. “You’re not moving anymore?”

“Yeah, I’m not renting from that guy.”

“Yay!” Bo Ranying couldn’t contain her delight. She clenched her little fist and let out a cheer.

After dinner, they cleared the table.

Bo Ranying finished her shower first. Dressed in a pure white nightgown, she sidled up to Nan Qi, who was reviewing some documents. She poked the frame of the metal glasses perched on Nan Qi’s nose, blinked her clear black-and-white eyes, and hesitantly extended the invitation. “Little Qi, wanna sleep together tonight?”

“There’s no moon tonight. It’s pitch black up there. I’m scared,” she said deadpan, lying through her teeth.

The frame was nudged, and the glasses slipped down to the tip of Nan Qi’s nose.

The world before her eyes blurred from sharp clarity. Two seconds later, it sharpened again.

Nan Qi wasn’t nearsighted. She simply wore low-prescription glasses now and then when poring over files, to help her focus.

With the glasses knocked askew, she briefly snapped out of her concentration. Glancing at Bo Ranying from her current position, Nan Qi took in the sight.

The girl before her was fair-skinned and soft, leaning against the edge of the bed. She stirred a powerful urge to protect.

Nan Qi could clearly recall how boneless and fragile the girl had felt in her arms.

But she knew better. This was just Bo Ranying’s ploy to soften her heart. She couldn’t keep falling for it.

Steadying herself, Nan Qi refused firmly. “If you’re scared, sleep with the light on. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Bo Ranying wasn’t ready to give up. “Then I’ll wait for you.”

Nan Qi’s response was an even firmer refusal.

Out of options, Bo Ranying left Nan Qi’s room, looking back every step of the way.