Now, she wouldn’t be on the edges anymore.
And she and her husband weren’t the type to hound Nan Qi into marriage just to check off their own life milestones.
She simply felt that Nan Qi never mentioned it on the surface, but deep down, she was profoundly lonely. She just hoped someone could keep her company—that was all.
Yet year after year passed, and Nan Qi never talked about romance. She didn’t even have a crush on anyone. During those high school years when puppy love ran rampant and left parents on high alert, Nan Qi breezed through without a ripple. For all those years by her side, she’d had only one truly close friend: Bo Ranying.
Just when Zhou Ru had given up hope, a turning point arrived out of nowhere. The wish she’d thought impossible suddenly came true, leaving Zhou Ru so thrilled she couldn’t sleep for days.
These past few days, she’d been itching to spread the news across the whole village—to every relative far and wide.
Fortunately, that taut string of reason in her mind held firm.
It reminded her of her daughter’s fiercely independent streak and her aversion to crowds and fuss. Zhou Ru held back, sharing the news only within the family. Once everyone knew, they went into full preparation mode, rehearsing in advance exactly how to treat Nan Qi’s future partner.
They stepped out of the station exit.
Tang Lian waved vigorously toward the opposite side. “Aunt Zhou! Nan Xi!” She spotted Zhou Ru and Nan Xi a step ahead of Nan Qi.
Nan Qi followed her gaze and met Zhou Ru’s eyes—joyful yet puzzled, hanging in the air as if silently asking, “Where is he?”
Zhou Ru craned her neck repeatedly, peering behind them. She confirmed there was no young man trailing along beside them.
Standing before her were just two strikingly beautiful girls, each with her own distinct charm.
The partner she’d promised to bring home was nowhere in sight. Zhou Ru wondered suspiciously if the girl was pulling her leg, but at the same time, she was even more convinced that Nan Qi wasn’t the type to joke around lightly.
Nan Qi gave a subtle nod, her expression perfectly neutral as she withdrew her gaze without a trace of guilt.
Picking up on the signal, Zhou Ru wasn’t ready to give up. She scanned the exit passageway a few more times, but still found nothing.
Tang Lian noticed and couldn’t help asking, “Is Auntie waiting for someone else?”
“No, no, no! I was just thinking about what to cook later.”
With her doubts eased, Tang Lian let go of the tension she’d carried the whole way. Her voice came out light and sweet. “Whatever Auntie makes will be delicious. Just pick something at random from your recipes. The meals that sis—Nan Qi makes every day… I love them too.”
She caught her slip and quickly corrected herself.
Calling her “sis” despite no blood relation might make sharp-eyed people suspicious, which could spell trouble for Nan Qi.
Tang Lian had picked up on it before, back when Zhou Ru visited the Nan home. Nan Qi clearly kept her orientation hidden from her family.
So Tang Lian wouldn’t out her before she’d come clean to them herself.
Tang Lian was pretty, with a honeyed tongue. When her bright, earnest eyes locked on and complimented you, there wasn’t a hint of flattery—just pure, heartfelt sincerity. Zhou Ru’s brows curved in delight, joy spilling from her eyes. At the same time, she muttered inwardly: Nan Qi actually cooks for you regularly? She barely eats regularly or healthily herself.
Little Qi was truly good to her friends. It was probably because, when she was little, Zhou Ru and her husband hadn’t paid enough attention to their child’s delicate emotions. That had made it hard for Nan Qi to trust or care about others. She preferred solitude. But with the rare two people she chose to befriend, she gave her true heart—and luckily, they reciprocated without betraying her.
The way Nan Qi doted on Tang Lian reminded Zhou Ru of her good friend from high school, Bo Ranying. Back then, Nan Qi still had that innocent, childlike quality. She’d clumsily pretend she wanted Suan Ye just so Zhou Ru would make a big jarful for her to take to school. Nan Qi could never finish that much alone. Later, during a parent-teacher conference, Zhou Ru had glimpsed a glass jar stuffed full of Suan Ye in Bo Ranying’s desk drawer. Suddenly, all the odd little details made sense.
Nan Qi had gone to her specifically to make her friend’s favorite snack—for her friend’s sake.
Lost in the memory, Zhou Ru felt a pang of longing for that adorable girl who used to cling to her arm and wheedle sweetly.
It was a shame she was so busy this year she couldn’t even come home for New Year’s. Zhou Ru could only catch glimpses of her online.
Thanks to Nan Qi’s patient guidance and some special home cooking lessons, Tang Lian’s thoughtfully personalized gifts quickly won over the entire Nan Family. Everyone clutched their presents, unable to put them down—especially Nan Xi. He cradled the latest game console, struggling to play it cool, but his grin broke through uncontrollably, lighting up his entire fair, handsome face. He looked every bit the spoiled young heir of a wealthy estate.
And he called out to Tang Lian sweeter than anyone.
“Little Tang Sister’s so good to me.”
“Will Little Tang Sister come to our house for New Year’s next year too? I hope Little Tang Sister can be friends with my sister forever.” And let those gifts that hit him right in the heart keep coming, year after year!
Tang Lian smiled at the first part, demurely replying, “If Nan Qi wants it, then I do too.” But the second line nearly cracked her composure—her eye twitched, and she half-wished she could snatch the gift back from her stinky little brother.
What kind of blessing was that?
Praying your sister stays just friends with her girlfriend? Straight to hell.
Nan Qi watched the exchange, slipping into both their mindsets, and found it hilariously endearing. A clear, sparkling amusement lit her crisp eyes.
She let herself enjoy it for a moment before stepping up beside Tang Lian. She reached out and gently ruffled the soft crown of her head. “Don’t mind him.”
The tender comfort melted away Tang Lian’s flicker of annoyance.
Then Nan Qi sidled over to Nan Xi, as if about to repeat the gesture. Her palm hovered toward the top of his head in a show of “affection.”
But the instant her fingers touched his hair, her thumb and index finger pinched a tuft and yanked upward.
The sharp tug at his roots had Nan Xi yelping in protest. He clapped a hand over his head protectively and whined, “Sis, why’d you pull my hair?”
Nan Qi shot him a cool glance and let go. “Figure it out yourself.”
Nan Xi blinked in confusion. “??? No hints, Sis?” Rack his brains as he might, he couldn’t figure out what he’d done to earn the hair-yank.
He chalked it up to Nan Qi being in a bad mood and taking it out on the most convenient target: him.
After that little brotherly reprimand, Nan Qi took Tang Lian’s hand and led her to the living room. She pulled out a chair for her, then set down snacks and drinks—all packages already torn open for easy grabbing.
“I want those Cucumber-Flavored Chips,” Tang Lian said, basking in Nan Qi’s meticulous care. She’d regressed into a helpless one-year-old, calling out to the bag of chips just beyond her seated arm’s reach.
Nan Qi hooked the bag closer and was about to hand it over when she noticed Tang Lian’s fresh caramel manicure. On impulse, she picked out an unbroken chip and held it to Tang Lian’s lips instead. Tang Lian parted her mouth and nibbled it straight from Nan Qi’s fingers. Her soft, moist lips just grazed the pad of Nan Qi’s thumb, sending a slick, sweet jolt that set every nerve alight.
She’d done that on purpose.
Nan Qi’s fingers quivered as she stared at Tang Lian, smug as a satisfied kitten. The woman lifted her chin like a fiery rose in full bloom, radiating an allure no one could resist. “Delicious.”
Her deliberate, teasing flirtations made Nan Qi crave a kiss.
Here in her hometown, where one slip could draw every eye in the room, it added a thrilling edge—pummeling her restraint, urging her to throw caution to the wind.
Nan Qi clamped down hard on her surging impulses. “Then have some more.” In a fluster, she dumped the entire bag into Tang Lian’s lap, then rose and wedged herself beside the mahjong table, pretending to watch as her parents and relatives played.
The relatives noticed the young one approaching and immediately dredged up their standard pleasantries.
“Nan Qi’s here! Bring your friend over to play with us. It’s no fun sitting alone over there. You should keep her company—teach her how to play our Dai City Mahjong.”
Tang Lian caught her name in the mix and got up to join them. “Talking about me?”
“Yeah, they want me to teach you Dai City Mahjong.” Nan Qi reached out to straighten Tang Lian’s slightly rumpled collar. Tang Lian shifted obligingly to make it easier.
“Then teach me! I want to play with the uncles and aunties too.”
Nan Qi couldn’t wriggle out of it. She met Tang Lian’s eyes deeply, issuing a subtle warning. “You sure? They’re all pros. They turn into sharks the second they sit down at the table.”
Tang Lian nodded firmly. “I want to learn.”
So Nan Qi taught her—everything from the rules and gameplay to tips and tells, leaving nothing out.
Once done, she suggested Tang Lian hop online and practice against bots.
After three rounds, Tang Lian emerged with three straight wins. Feeling like a master already, she declared, “Dai City Mahjong isn’t that hard!” She volunteered to join the Nan Family relatives.
Her enthusiasm had someone yielding their seat right away.
Tang Lian’s arrival injected a burst of bright, youthful energy into the dim, curtain-drawn room, as if she’d turned up the lights.
A few rounds in, though, her winning streak crumbled. She became the loser, thoroughly trounced with no fight left in her. A gray pallor settled over her face, her voice glum. “I lost…”
