The morning light grew brighter, streaming in through the balcony’s glass window, stretching the shadows of the two people long across the white wall.
Behind them, the washing machine hummed.
From outside the balcony came the faint sound of distant traffic on the street, along with the chirping of birds from some unknown balcony.
A very ordinary morning.
Yan Yu gently stroked Ruo Xiaozhen’s hair, her gaze falling on the small patch of sky outside the window.
The sky was very blue, the clouds very light, the sunlight very warm.
This was probably the real feeling of being alive—the pain was real, and so was the warmth; the loss was real, and so was the gain; being abandoned was real, and being cherished was real.
“Xiao Zhen,” Yan Yu suddenly spoke.
“What do you want for lunch?”
Ruo Xiaozhen lifted her head from her lap, eyes and nose red, looking at her blankly.
“…Huh?”
“I said, what do you want for lunch?”
Yan Yu smiled.
The smile was faint, but there was a small glimmer in her eyes.
“I’ll cook today.”
“But Yan Yu, your body…”
“It’s fine, I’ll just make something simple.”
Yan Yu said.
“Besides, I suddenly feel like cooking.”
She wanted to try what kind of taste that Superb Culinary Skill +10 could create.
She wanted to see if she could use food to say the things she couldn’t put into words.
Ruo Xiaozhen stared at her dazedly for a few seconds, then nodded vigorously, tears falling again.
“I want to eat anything you cook! Anything!”
“Okay.”
Yan Yu patted her head again.
“Then go wash your face and prepare the ingredients. We’ll… have a good meal at noon.”
Ruo Xiaozhen nodded hard, stood up, and ran into the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of the faucet turning on came from inside.
Yan Yu turned her wheelchair and went back to the living room.
She picked up her phone, glanced at the transfer record once more, then exited and opened her contacts.
She found the number labeled “Dr. Zhang” and booked a specific time for next week’s follow-up check-up.
On the other side, the Deep Blue Bar.
The lighting at Deep Blue Bar was always adjusted to a perfectly ambiguous brightness—not so bright as to be harsh or glaring, nor so dim that you couldn’t see the face across from you.
The air was thick with the richness of whisky, the faint scent of cigars, and the fragrance of some expensive woody perfume.
Dai Feng sat in her usual spot.
The stool at the very end of the bar, back to the entrance, facing an entire wall of glass liquor cabinets.
This spot commanded a view of the entire bar while being relatively secluded.
In front of her on the bar counter were already three or four empty glasses.
Whiskey glasses, martini glasses, shot glasses—scattered untidily, with liquid residue of varying depths clinging to the sides.
The bartender, A Ken, skillfully shook a cocktail shaker, the ice clinking sharply against the metal.
He glanced at Dai Feng, his hands not stopping, only raising an eyebrow slightly.
This was the fifth drink Dai Feng had ordered tonight, and her way of drinking was off.
Dai Feng was famously known for “knowing how to drink.”
She savored her drinks, enjoying the layers different liquors bloomed on her tongue, enjoying the light euphoria of being tipsy.
But today, she was just drinking.
Gulp after gulp.
When the glass was empty, she raised her hand to signal for a refill.
Her gaze fell on some empty point in the void, her focus scattered—as if she were looking at the amber, ruby red, and golden liquids in the glass cabinets, or as if she weren’t looking at anything at all.
“Hey, Sister Feng’s not right today.”
At the other end of the bar, a young man with silver-gray hair elbowed his female companion and lowered his voice.
“I can see that,” the female companion sipped her Pink Lady, her eyes scanning Dai Feng.
“Usually, no matter how hard she drinks, her eyes are bright. Today… she’s lifeless.”
“Could it be she got dumped?”
“Her? Dumped?”
The female companion snorted.
“When have you ever seen Sister Feng troubled by love? It’s always other people dying for her.”
“Then what else…”
Before he could finish, a crisp sound of high heels striking the floor came from the booth area.
Several fashionable young men and women walked over, led by a girl in a sequined strap dress with delicate makeup and a thin cigarette between her fingers.
“Yo, I was wondering where you were. Didn’t expect to find you drinking alone here.”
The girl sat down on the stool next to Dai Feng and naturally reached out to pat her shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Who made our Sister Feng unhappy?”
Dai Feng didn’t move, nor did she push her hand away.
She just took another sip of her drink.
This time it was a Godfather A Ken had just mixed and pushed over—the bite of whiskey blended with the sweetness of amaretto, burning a trail down her throat.
“Nothing,” she said, her voice a little hoarse.
“Who are you kidding?”
The girl withdrew her hand and gestured to A Ken, signaling for a drink just like hers.
“The look on your face is practically screaming ‘I have something on my mind.’ Also, why isn’t Su Qinghan here today? Aren’t you two inseparable?”
At the words “Su Qinghan,” Dai Feng’s fingers tightened around the glass almost imperceptibly.
“She’s busy.”
A short answer, without even extra explanation.
The girl stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Don’t tell me… you two had a fight? Because Jiang Muyun is back?”
Dai Feng finally turned her head and looked at her.
The shifting neon lights of the bar swept across her face.
In those eyes, which usually carried a trace of carefree amusement, there was no warmth now.
“Lin Na,” she said the girl’s name, her tone very flat.
“Let me be alone for a while, okay?”
Lin Na was pricked by the coldness in her eyes.
She sat back up sullenly, picked up the glass A Ken had just set down, and took a big gulp.
“Fine, fine, I won’t ask. Good intentions thrown to the dogs.”
She turned around and started laughing and chatting with the others who had come with her, deliberately raising her voice as if to prove she didn’t care.
But out of the corner of her eye, she still occasionally glanced toward Dai Feng.
Just like many other girls in this bar.
However, Dai Feng wasn’t in the mood to think about those girls.
She was thinking about someone else.
Su Qinghan.
That name was like a tiny thorn, stuck somewhere not too deep and not too shallow.
Normally it couldn’t be felt, but the slightest move brought a dull ache.
After last night’s birthday banquet ended, she had seen Yan Yu to the car.
Along the way, Yan Yu had been very quiet, just leaning back in her seat and staring ahead.
The evening light flickered across her face, and the emotions in those eyes—Dai Feng couldn’t read them.
Was it sadness?
It didn’t seem like only that.
Was it exhaustion?
It seemed mixed with something else.
Dai Feng really wanted to know what she had been thinking at that moment.
When they reached the car door, Dai Feng had intended to help her in, but Yan Yu shook her head and said very lightly,
“Thank you, Dai Feng. I can manage by myself.”
Then she grabbed the door frame and slowly climbed into the car.
Under the dim light, that back looked so thin it seemed like it would break at the slightest touch.
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