Having promised Old Li he'd come for dinner, Yang Chen wasn't about to forget—keeping one's word was a man's virtue… Or so he told himself, elevating a simple promise to a matter of human decency.
Penniless and eager to escape Lin Ruoxi's cold, reckless beauty, Yang Chen chose to walk home. Luckily, the distance was short, and his stamina far exceeded ordinary men—he made it back in no time.
By evening, he'd taken a cold shower and rummaged through his wooden chest. At the bottom, he found a pale blue shirt with white pinstripes and a pair of classic white linen shorts. Fumbling with the tiny, mismatched buttons, he checked his reflection in the cracked wall mirror—passably handsome, at least.
A faint jasmine scent lingered in the room, left by Lin Ruoxi. Yang Chen breathed it in, amused at the thought of marrying a woman he'd known less than a day tomorrow.
Yet whenever he recalled her resolute, fiery gaze—the one that had thawed his frozen heart—he felt a strange kinship toward this impossibly beautiful woman.
Was it guilt? Or was she truly that extraordinary? He didn't know. So he'd marry her. Time would tell what he truly felt for her.
Old Li's house wasn't far, but without transport, Yang Chen had to rely on his "two legs"—it took him half an hour. It was an old residential area in the West District, home to families who couldn't afford new homes, preserving the ancient charm of Huinan for generations.
Past a few smoke-wreathed cottages, he knocked on a jujube-red wooden door.
Before he could knock again, the door flew open. A fresh, delicate face appeared. "Brother Yang, you're here!"
"Jingjing, long time no see."
Yang Chen smiled warmly. The girl had changed a lot in half a year, surprising him.
Li Jingjing's face was still pure and elegant, with curved lashes, a tiny nose, and a sweet mouth—classic Huinan feminine charm. She wore a white short-sleeve T-shirt and light blue jeans that hugged her curves, revealing slender, fair legs.
Catching Yang Chen's playful gaze sweeping over her, Li Jingjing blushed but felt a flutter of joy. "Brother Yang, come in! Stop staring."
Yang Chen laughed. "Jingjing's shy now? Let me look—won't lose a piece. Afraid your boyfriend will get jealous?"
"What boyfriend! I don't have one!" she pouted, annoyed.
"Alright, alright… just teasing…" Yang Chen sighed inwardly. He knew her feelings, but his soul, stained with darkness, had no right to taint such pure innocence. He'd always kept her at arm's length, treating her like a little sister.
Inside, Old Li greeted him cheerfully. "Little Yang! Girls grow up fast—Jingjing was helping her mom cook, but when she heard your knock, she bolted like a rabbit!"
"Dad, stop it!" Li Jingjing flushed, tugging at her father to silence him.
Yang Chen sat with Old Li. The furniture was decades old, its red lacquer faded, but it exuded a rustic warmth.
Moths flitted under the dim yellow light; a breeze drifted through the hallway, peaceful and calm.
Sipping tea Jingjing had brewed, Yang Chen felt a contentment he'd never known. He stared at the rising moon and stars outside, lost in thought.
"Young man, don't look like you've seen through the world. Your future's bright," Old Li joked, sipping his tea.
Yang Chen snapped back, smiling. "Women like deep men—I'm practicing."
Old Li chuckled. "Little Yang, I've known you half a year. You're not faking it. You wouldn't sell kebabs on the street for no reason—you've got a past."
Yang Chen said nothing. Old Li, weathered by life, could sense his hidden depths, but even he couldn't fathom the truth.
Some people were destined to be alone—no one could walk their path.
Dinner was lavish. The Lis had slaughtered their own old hen for soup, plus fish and crabs—far more extravagant than their New Year's feast.
"Eat up, Little Yang. It's simple, but it's our heart," Aunt Li said, her wrinkled face warm, treating him like her own son.
Yang Chen didn't hold back, eating heartily—he knew this would make the couple happiest.
Li Jingjing kept piling food onto his plate, sneaking glances when her parents weren't looking. Her heart fluttered when he said the food was delicious; she'd cooked most of it.
He'd planned to skip drinking, but after failing to quit smoking and ending up engaged, he stopped caring. He clinked cups with Old Li, downing fiery local rice wine—it burned his throat, but it felt good.
"Little Yang, if you hadn't lent us money these past six months, we wouldn't have made it. Now Jingjing has a job—come over often, and I'll cook for you!" Aunt Li smiled.
Yang Chen's face was flushed, but his mind was clear. "Oh? Jingjing got a job? What is it?"
"I was hired by Blue City Academy as an English teacher. I'm substituting for a homeroom teacher on maternity leave," she said, smiling gently.
"A teacher… English teacher, homeroom? Impressive, Jingjing," Yang Chen nodded approvingly. "Good pay, too—don't forget your Brother Yang when you're rich!"
The Lis beamed with pride. Their late-born daughter had a bright future—what more could they ask for?
Li Jingjing pouted shyly. "Then come visit me at school, Brother Yang. How else will I remember you?"
"Sure. It's a key school, right? I've never been there…" Yang Chen agreed.
After dinner, Old Li dragged him into a game of chess. Truth be told, Old Li was a terrible player—only someone like Yang Chen, who knew nothing about chess, would play with him. Li Jingjing helped her mother clean up.
Mid-game, Yang Chen's stomach churned with soup, wine, and tea. He told Old Li to wait and headed for the bathroom.
The bathroom was a small, separate room at the back. Down a narrow corridor, a tipsy Yang Chen pushed open the wooden door…
"Ah!"
A sharp, startled cry rang out. Yang Chen looked up—and froze.
Standing before him was a freshly bathed Li Jingjing!?