Chapter 47: Answer

The Answer.

Chen Yi had originally planned to grab some medicine from her home medicine kit, but after rummaging through it, she realized she didn’t have a clear grasp of Xu Yan’s condition. After pondering for a moment, she decided to bring the little box and head over in person.

She rushed to the apartment building where Xu Yan lived. By sheer luck, the security door downstairs had just been buzzed open by a kindly old grandma out walking her dog. Chen Yi slipped in behind her and called out a quick thanks. In the elevator, she clutched her box tightly as the floor numbers ticked upward one by one.

The grandma was warm and friendly, and her little dog was full of energy, sniffing eagerly at Chen Yi’s legs with its tail whipping around like a propeller, never stopping for a second.

“I haven’t seen you around before, young lady,” the grandma said.

Chen Yi cleared her throat lightly. “I’m here to visit a friend.”

Friend. The word felt uncertain coming from her lips—two people, undefined.

What were she and Xu Yan now? Were they still friends? Or should there be a “former” or even a “female” qualifier in front of it? Or did the word “friend” no longer apply at all?

She gave the little medicine box in her hand a gentle shake.

“She’s sick, so I came to check on her.”

The grandma nodded briskly. “You have to be careful these days. It’s getting colder, and there’s flu going around. I’ve seen so many people come down with it. Oh, this is my floor—I’ll be off. Take your time going up.”

“Alright, take care, Grandma.”

The elevator doors slid shut, leaving Chen Yi alone in the cramped space.

The uncertainty and anxiety that had been drowned out by their brief chat now surged back in her chest.

Would Xu Yan, sick as she was, even be happy to see her?

What if they ended up arguing again—wouldn’t that just make Xu Yan’s condition worse?

Then she chided herself for being foolish.

If Xu Yan was sick, wouldn’t she go to the hospital? Hadn’t her niece said she’d just come back from one? The doctors would have prescribed medicine. What was she, an ordinary person who knew nothing about medicine, doing barging in with her own supplies? Truly, a disordered heart led to hasty actions.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened. Chen Yi located Xu Yan’s door number, then quietly stashed the medicine box in the corner of the stairwell landing. Only after that did she stand before the door, hesitating.

Coming with the box felt odd. Showing up empty-handed felt just as strange.

Should she go back downstairs and buy some fruit?

She stood there, torn.

Before she could even press the doorbell, the door beeped and swung open.

A little girl stood there, adorable with her big round eyes that sparkled with sharp intelligence as she stared.

“Vegetable Sister?” she whispered.

Chen Yi nodded. “That’s me.”

Xu Yixiao clapped a hand over her mouth and hopped up and down in place, squealing with excitement. “Oh my god—”

She’d finally met the real Vegetable Sister!

Help!

How was Vegetable Sister even prettier in person! Aaaah! Her vibe was just like she’d imagined, but her face was way more stunning up close. And she was so tall—

Xu Yixiao craned her neck up at Chen Yi, her enthusiasm radiating so intensely that Chen Yi started to feel embarrassed. She scratched the back of her head. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Here are your slippers.”

Chen Yi noticed Xu Yixiao was wearing sneakers.

“You’re heading out?”

Xu Yixiao grinned. “Gonna see a movie with friends! I was thinking of ditching them, but since you said you were coming, I’ll head out without guilt. Little Aunt’s all yours. Don’t worry—I’ll probably be back around midnight.”

With that torrent of words, Xu Yixiao flashed a cheeky smile, snatched her bag from the hook in the entryway, and bolted.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Chen Yi rooted to the spot.

She really wanted to ask this niece—didn’t she worry Chen Yi might be some kind of psycho killer? How could she be so trusting, leaving a stranger alone in the house?

Chen Yi shook her head helplessly and slipped on the slippers.

With Xu Yixiao gone, the apartment felt vast and empty, with no one to greet her. Chen Yi ventured further inside on her own. Xu Yan’s place was decked out in stark black and white tones, the complete opposite of the warm decor in Chen Yi’s home. The space was impeccably clean—every surface bare of clutter, looking for all the world like a model showroom.

The layout differed from Chen Yi’s apartment too, even though they were in the same complex. Subtle variations in the floor plan meant Xu Yan’s was a three-bedroom, one-living-room unit—a touch smaller than hers.

Chen Yi wandered deeper, unsure which room was Xu Yan’s.

Alone like this, she felt awkward and out of place, at a complete loss. Strangely, a faint sense of guilty unease crept over her, like a thief slinking through the shadows.

“You’re here.” The familiar voice came from behind her. Chen Yi turned to find Xu Yan not in the bedroom, but leaning in the kitchen doorway. She was dressed in pajamas, her usual polished look stripped away—no makeup, her natural features softly illuminated, a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her nose. Her face was unnaturally pale, devoid of any healthy color. She rested her head against the doorframe, mustering a wan, sickly smile for Chen Yi. “Xu Yixiao said you were coming. I thought she was joking.”

“Have a seat first. I’ll put on some water.”

Even after those few words, Xu Yan broke into a fit of coughing.

How could Chen Yi just stand there and watch?

She stepped forward. “You sit. I’ll handle it.”

“Where’s the kettle?”

Xu Yan hesitated. “I can’t let you do that right when you arrive—”

“Xu Yixiao? That’s your niece’s name, right? She told you I was coming, didn’t she? And did she mention it’s to take care of you?” Chen Yi gripped Xu Yan’s shoulders to keep her from moving, then reached up to feel her forehead and the side of her neck.

Xu Yan froze in surprise.

“Go lie down and rest.”

Chen Yi gently pushed her out of the kitchen. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Xu Yan shook her head. “I don’t want to lie down.”

Chen Yi raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you want to do?”

Xu Yan fell silent, her steps halting as she turned around. She wanted to pull Chen Yi into an embrace, but worried it might overstep, so she settled for tugging lightly at the hem of Chen Yi’s clothes. She spoke without meeting Chen Yi’s eyes.

The woman who was usually so proud and aloof had suddenly turned clingy, and Chen Yi wasn’t sure how to handle it. In that instant, she envisioned a long-haired white cat—transformed from its usual haughty chin-tilted gaze—pressing close and pawing for pets.

Chen Yi sighed.

“You sit right here. I’ll go boil the water.”

She pulled out one of the chairs from the dining room just outside the kitchen, guided Xu Yan into it, and stepped inside to study the kettle.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Chen Yi called out.

“A little,” Xu Yan replied.

Chen Yi was starting to get the hang of Xu Yan’s understated way of speaking. “So, not really?”

Xu Yan admitted, “No appetite.”

“Want me to cook some porridge?”

“Yes.”

Xu Yan watched Chen Yi bustling about in the kitchen.

In her home.

Chen Yi’s back wasn’t broad; from behind, she still looked every bit the slender girl. Her waist was so slim—Xu Yan wanted to wrap her arms around it. She toyed with her fingertips, head bowed. “I didn’t realize you could cook.”

“I studied abroad for a while. The options were limited—if I didn’t learn, I’d have starved.”

Xu Yan hummed in acknowledgment.

She watched Chen Yi with undivided attention.

The kitchen’s warm lighting bathed Chen Yi in a soft glow, tracing a halo around her silhouette. Outside the window stretched an inky black sky, the lights in the building across the way flickering on and off. The city’s lights always carried that air of solitude, but right now, Chen Yi was here.

The porridge went into the pot, and the water boiled. Chen Yi filled a cup for Xu Yan, who sipped at it cautiously, afraid of the heat—just like a cat.

“Any vegetables in the fridge?” Chen Yi asked.

Xu Yan shrugged. “I don’t know—”

Chen Yi shook her head in exasperation and opened the refrigerator door to check. There was spinach and broccoli, plus a pack of frozen shredded meat from the supermarket in the freezer.

“I’ll fry up a couple of dishes when the porridge is almost ready.”

“Okay.”

By the time Chen Yi finished all this bustling about, in the ensuing quiet, she couldn’t help but think how ridiculous it was. Running over in the middle of the night just to cook dinner for this woman?

She leaned against the wall, watching Xu Yan finish her water. Silence brewed and thickened in the air between them.

Xu Yan lifted the empty cup.

“I’m done.”

Chen Yi arched a brow. “What, do I need to praise you now?”

Xu Yan’s fingertips traced overlapping patterns on the cup’s surface.

“If you’re willing,” she said softly.

The cup looked familiar to Chen Yi.

She stared at Xu Yan, sidestepping the bait. “So, what made you sick?”

Xu Yan shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Chen Yi blinked. “…”

This woman was nearly thirty—how could she not know why she was sick?

“From getting caught in the rain that day?” Chen Yi ventured.

Xu Yan lowered her gaze. “Maybe.”

“But it’s fine,” she added. “I deserved it.”

“Who talks about themselves like that?” Chen Yi leaned back against the wall, reaching up to rub her own neck before glancing down. “No matter what, health comes first.”

“What did the doctor say?”

Xu Yan replied, “Poor immunity, plus catching the flu.”

“Oh.” Chen Yi pressed her lips together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I mean—” She groped for an excuse, then realized none would do and opted for the truth. “Did you rush back because you were avoiding me?”

Xu Yan bit her lip, saying nothing.

Chen Yi waved it off. “Never mind.”

She was starting to feel irritated herself.

“We won’t talk about it now. We’ll sort it out once you’re better.”

“Still running a fever?”

Xu Yan shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She added, “The doctor said to check every hour, keep an eye on it to avoid any relapses.”

Chen Yi nodded in understanding. “You haven’t checked recently, have you? Where’s the thermometer?”

“In the study drawer,” Xu Yan said. “The one just before the bathroom.”

Chen Yi headed there and pushed open the door.

She froze the moment she stepped inside.

That’s when it hit her—why the cup in Xu Yan’s hand had looked so familiar.

It was the little cup she’d made in her university ceramics design class. She’d produced five in that batch, but the one Xu Yan held had come out with the wrong color glaze. Dissatisfied, she’d casually left it in the school’s public storage area.

She hadn’t thought about it since.

Now it was in Xu Yan’s hands.

The carpet on the floor of Xu Yan’s study was also one of her creations from university. Chen Yi had posted it on Instagram, and an online stranger had bought it. She remembered that carpet vividly, as it marked the first time someone had so enthusiastically praised her talent. Although her interest in art and design was only a fraction—perhaps a tenth—of her passion for gaming, those words never failed to warm her heart. Back then, she had always felt inferior to her talented classmates around her, slogging through a major she didn’t love. That encouragement from a complete stranger had carried her through those university years.

The painting on the wall was one she had shared on Instagram too.

A wild guess took shape in Chen Yi’s mind, but she didn’t dare believe it yet. She stepped onto the soft carpet and walked toward the desk, pulling open the drawer. There lay the thermometer, still in its packaging, quiet and undisturbed. An album sat on top of it. As Chen Yi lifted the album to retrieve the thermometer, a few photos slipped out and scattered.

In the next instant, the album dropped back into the drawer.

On the floor, one by one, the Polaroids captured a familiar figure.

It was her—herself.

Chen Yi’s breath hitched in her chest. She bent down to gather the photos. The red dates stamped on the Polaroids stood out sharply. At a glance, she saw that the most recent one had been taken three years ago.

Chen Yi felt her hands trembling slightly.

She opened the album, and sure enough, just as she had suspected, it was filled to the brim—page after page of photos, all of her.

Plop.

The soft thud of slippers hitting the floor.

The door slid open.

Chen Yi looked up. Xu Yan leaned against the doorframe, her head tilted to one side, causing her glasses to slip down slightly and reveal those long, cool eyes. Her neck was slender, her skin flushed red from the fever. Strands of hair fell alongside her gaze, lending her an air of fragile vulnerability, as if she might collapse at any moment.

“Chen Yi,” she said. “This is the answer you wanted.”

“Are you afraid?”