The living room was something else.

Imported leather sofas. A pure wool rug. The ceiling soared overhead, and hanging from its center was a crystal chandelier that probably cost six figures. [TL: Six-figure RMB chandeliers start at roughly $14,000 USD — a decorative piece that signals serious wealth without being ostentatious.]

Wang Yuxin, whose own family did well enough, still moved through the space like someone seeing electricity for the first time — head swiveling, taking it all in.

Xu Ye sat down on the sofa and tried to look like he wasn’t doing the same thing internally.

Qingqing walked to the fridge. “What ice cream do you want?”

“Little pudding pops.” [TL: 小布丁 (xiǎo bùdīng) — a classic cheap Chinese frozen treat, essentially a small vanilla ice lolly in a plastic wrapper. The kind you’d get for a few yuan from a convenience store freezer.]

“Old-style ice bars.” [TL: 老冰棍 (lǎo bīnggùn) — a traditional plain frozen milk bar, simple and nostalgic, beloved precisely because it’s unpretentious.]

Both at the same time.

Qingqing opened the freezer compartment and looked back at them.

“Neither of those. I only have Magnum and Häagen-Dazs.” [TL: Both are premium international ice cream brands sold at several times the price of Chinese local options like 小布丁 or 老冰棍. The contrast between what the cousins asked for and what’s available captures the gap between their worlds in one freezer shelf.]

“Either one’s fine then.”

She brought out two Magnums and handed them over.

Yuxin looked around with open curiosity. “Qingqing jiejie, is the whole building yours?”

“Yes.”

“That’s enormous. Your room must be amazing.”

“It’s okay.”

In reality, the entire second floor was Qingqing’s. Her own walk-in wardrobe. A bathroom large enough that the freestanding bathtub alone took up more floor space than most people’s entire bathrooms.

Yuxin was visibly envious.

The two of them kept chatting, easy and back-and-forth, until Yuxin finally remembered to glance over at Xu Ye.

“Xu Ye gege, how come you haven’t said anything?”

“You two keep talking. What do you need me for?”

She gave him a look that communicated her opinion of that answer, then turned back to Qingqing with a bright smile. “Jiejie, can I see your room?”

“Sure.”

Qingqing led her upstairs without hesitation. Xu Ye stayed on the sofa.

Yuxin being a girl made that easy — she could go anywhere. Xu Ye was aware that different rules applied to him. It was his first time in her home, and there were certain lines he’d been careful not to cross.

What he didn’t know was that a security camera mounted in the corner of the living room ceiling was aimed directly at him — and that Jiang Meilin was watching the feed on her phone.

She saw him sitting quietly on the sofa and felt a quiet relief.

She’d expected him to be his usual self — quick with conversation, confident, filling the space. Instead he’d barely spoken since walking through the door.

She wondered if he’d looked around at the house and felt the weight of the gap between their lives.

Qingqing wouldn’t notice something like that. She had no frame of reference for it.

Jiang Meilin hesitated over whether to say something to her daughter. Then decided against it.

He’d already come through the door. Whatever happened next would happen.

Upstairs, the moment Qingqing led Yuxin into her room, she regretted it.

The Doraemon Xu Ye had won for her was sitting on the bed.

But Yuxin’s attention went straight to the walk-in wardrobe — she stepped inside and stood there with her eyes wide, surrounded by racks of clothes and shelves of shoes she couldn’t even begin to estimate the value of.

Qingqing quietly registered that Yuxin hadn’t noticed the Doraemon, and let out a small internal breath.

“Qingqing jiejie, you’re so lucky. Your own wardrobe.”

Qingqing looked at the expression on her face and found herself genuinely puzzled.

A room dedicated to storing clothes. Was that really what happiness looked like?

“My Xu Ye gege’s whole bedroom is probably smaller than this wardrobe.” Yuxin turned around cheerfully. “But he’s actually pretty good, my brother — just a bit slow, a bit clumsy, and his skin’s a little too thick. Right?”

“And a bit dumb.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They came back downstairs after about fifteen minutes, settled on the sofa together, and watched a movie — one of Stephen Chow’s older comedies. [TL: Stephen Chow (周星驰) is one of Hong Kong cinema’s most beloved comedic directors and actors, known for absurdist humor and deeply quotable dialogue. His films from the 1990s and early 2000s are classics that most Chinese viewers have seen multiple times.] On the hundred-inch screen, the experience was completely different from watching on a phone.

Around five, Xu Ye stood up.

“It’s getting late. Yuxin and I should head back.”

“I’ll have Auntie Wang take you.”

“Thanks.”

Yuxin got to her feet with a smile. “Qingqing jiejie — can I come again sometime?”

“Of course.” Qingqing nodded, smiling back.

The sun was still up at five.

In the van, Yuxin was already running her commentary on everything she’d seen, enthusiasm undiminished.

Xu Ye smiled and gave her a light pat on the head. “Don’t be like that. Get into a good university, work hard, make money — you can buy a house like that yourself one day.”

Yuxin looked at him. “Xu Ye gege — you barely talked to Qingqing jiejie all afternoon. Is it because you think there’s too big a gap between you two?”

Wang Ruxue’s hands stayed steady on the wheel. She listened.

“No. I just realized my original goals were set too low. Time to aim higher.”

“What goals?”

Xu Ye flicked her lightly on the forehead. “Mind your own business, little one.”

“Bleh~” She stuck out her tongue and turned to watch the scenery out the window.

That evening, the moment Xu Ye arrived at the bar, Zhang Xiaonuan handed him a cash envelope.

He felt the thickness before he even opened it and frowned. “I didn’t work a full month last time. And I took a day off. Did you overpay me?”

Xiaonuan smiled. “Boss already sorted it out. Part of that is for the singing, plus a two-hundred bonus. Three thousand three hundred total. Count it.”

“No need. I trust you.” He pocketed the envelope and looked around. “Where’s the boss?”

“She had something come up.”

“Something?”

“She probably won’t be in tonight.” Xiaonuan wiped down the register screen with a damp cloth and added, quietly, “It’s a personal thing.”

Xu Ye leaned on the counter. “Xiaonuan — you’ve known the boss the longest. Has she ever been married?”

Xiaonuan glanced up, checked that the bar was empty, then lowered her voice.

“Swear you won’t say anything.”

Xu Ye raised his hand. “I swear. You know I can keep a secret.”

“She had a fiancé. They’d been together seven years. Already engaged. But just before the wedding—” Xiaonuan paused. “He was in a car accident. He didn’t make it.”

Xu Ye was quiet for a moment.

No wonder. All those nights when the bar closed and Pei Youwei would drift to the doorway on her own, looking up at the moon and the stars. There was a story behind it he hadn’t known.

“Today is the anniversary of his death. That’s why she’s not coming in tonight.”

“Ah,” Xu Ye said. “I see.”

(End of Chapter)