Sleep during the day. Drill theory questions. Watch the markets.

Head to the bar in the evening.

Xu Ye had settled into a rhythm. On top of that, he’d started taking his fitness seriously — every shift, he left the house half an hour early and ran the whole way there. After closing, he ran home.

In his previous life, he’d wrecked his body chasing money. Long hours, bad sleep, worse habits. Most eighteen-year-olds didn’t really understand the concept of your health is your most valuable asset — but Xu Ye wasn’t most eighteen-year-olds.

It was the weekend.

Both his parents were home, and at lunch Zhang Hong finally got around to asking about the job.

“What exactly is it you’re doing over there? You’re coming home late every night.”

Xu Ye scooped rice into his mouth. “I told you — service industry.”

“Be specific.”

“Male model at a nightclub.”

Zhang Hong set down her chopsticks.

What followed was a full-volume lecture on how much money had been spent on his education, how she hadn’t raised him to end up in that kind of place, and a formal revocation of the title of son.

Xu Ye, completely deadpan: “Eight thousand a month.”

Zhang Hong’s tone shifted instantly. “Well, now — a job’s a job. There’s no shame in honest work, no matter what it is. You earn it with your own hands, that’s what matters.” She paused. “Actually — could your dad go?”

Xu Ye’s dad nearly spit out his rice.

He wiped his mouth. “Can the two of you have one normal conversation?”

Xu Ye pulled out a napkin. “It’s a quiet bar. A music bar — totally different from a nightclub. Respectable clientele. The owner’s been great to me.”

“How long are you planning to stick with it?”

“It’s not hard work. I’ll keep going for now — beats sitting around at home.”

After lunch, he went back to his room and started going through his wardrobe. A moment later, his head appeared around the door frame.

“Mom — next time you buy me clothes, can you get something a bit more oversized?”

“You’re the one who told me to buy slim-fit.”

“Just go for the loose, relaxed kind from now on.”

“The what?”

“Baggy. Just… bigger.”

Zhang Hong laughed. “You’re an adult now. Buy your own clothes.”

Xu Ye tried on two pairs of pants. Both were tapered — on his legs they looked like a pair of chopsticks jammed into drainpipes. He peeled them off and went back to a pair of jeans so worn they’d faded almost white.

Then he ran through two practice sets for the theory exam.

First attempt: 87.

Second: 91.

A few more days of this and passing Module One would be no problem. The license itself wasn’t urgent — there were still over two months of summer break left, and the practical modules were mostly about putting in the hours. He’d worry about those later.

This afternoon, he had something more important to take care of.

Opening a bank account. And setting up his stock trading account.

Just after two, Xu Ye headed out and grabbed a shared bike toward the bank.

Red Leaf Estate.

“Auntie Wang — I want to go out.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

Chen Qingqing was already at the shoe cabinet — easily the largest piece of furniture in the entrance, a floor-to-ceiling grid of boxes — pulling out a pair of plain white Converse, about the most ordinary shoes she owned. She sat on the bench and started lacing them up.

“My dad’s first. Then maybe pick up a few things.”

Qingqing rarely went out to shop. There was never anything missing from the house. The moment Wang Ruxue heard her say she wanted to buy something, she knew.

Today was Qingqing’s birthday.

She remembered what Jiang Meilin had told her and set down what she was doing, picked up her keys, and got ready.

“It’s the weekend — will your dad actually be at the bank?”

“He will.” Chen Qingqing’s voice was even. “He’s always spent more time at that bank than he ever has at home.”

Ruxue caught the edge underneath those words and said nothing.

About twenty minutes later, the car pulled up outside China Merchants Bank. [TL: 招行 is the common abbreviation for 招商银行 (Zhāo Shāng Yínháng), one of China’s major joint-stock commercial banks.]

Qingqing told Ruxue she’d go up alone and went in by herself.

She pushed through the heavy glass doors, scanned the lobby in one glance, and walked straight past the teller counters and up the stairs to the branch president’s office.

Inside, Chen Hansong was standing at the window with his back to the door, on the phone with the head of finance at some large corporation. When the door opened without a knock, his brow tightened.

“Yes, yes — no problem. Let’s leave it there for now.”

He hung up. The easy smile he’d had on a moment ago was gone.

“Who told you it was alright to come in without—”

He stopped.

The person in the doorway wasn’t a subordinate.

“Qingqing?”

The seriousness melted into a warm smile and he stepped forward. He raised his hand to ruffle her hair — and she took a step back, smoothly avoiding it.

He lowered his hand.

Like Jiang Meilin, Chen Hansong carried a quiet guilt where his daughter was concerned. The divorce hadn’t wronged either of them — but it had wronged her.

“Your mom mentioned you’re still planning on the music conservatory?”

“Yes.”

“I know you’ve always loved music. But it’s a hard path — jobs aren’t easy to find. Have you thought about studying abroad? America, Singapore, Japan — I can make arrangements, wherever you want.”

Chen Qingqing’s voice came out flat. “Are you trying to get me out of the country so I don’t get in the way of you finding someone new?”

“Qingqing. I’ve told you many times — the divorce had nothing to do with anyone else. It was about work.”

Silence.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight?” He thought for a moment, then sighed. “I’ve already got a client dinner. It’s an important one.”

“You can just say you’re busy.” She’d clearly seen this coming. Her voice carried nothing — no anger, no hurt. She might have been speaking to a stranger.

Chen Hansong sensed something was wrong. He reached out and caught her arm before she could leave.

Qingqing yanked it away.

“Don’t touch me.” Her voice cracked, just slightly. “I’m less important to you than a client. You forgot what today is, didn’t you?!”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and ran, eyes burning.

What day is today?

Today is…

Oh no.

Qingqing’s birthday.

Chen Hansong went after her immediately.

Downstairs, Xu Ye had just finished setting up his stock account and was heading for the exit — when someone came flying down the staircase and ran straight into him.

He looked up.

“You again!”

Three times in one week. Three coincidences.

Chen Qingqing heard footsteps behind her — she knew her father had followed her down. The moment she registered Xu Ye’s face, she reached out, grabbed his hand, and said in a low, sharp voice:

“Don’t say anything.”

Xu Ye froze.

What—

What’s happening right now—

Her hand. Why is her hand this soft?

Chen Hansong rounded the corner at the base of the stairs and stopped.

He saw Xu Ye. He saw his daughter. He saw their hands.

His expression darkened immediately. He walked down the remaining steps and looked Xu Ye dead in the eye.

“Who is he?”

Qingqing answered without hesitation.

“My boyfriend.”

(End of Chapter)