Her room was large.
There was even a dedicated walk-in wardrobe, packed from floor to ceiling — mostly clothes Jiang Meilin had bought her, along with a collection of handbags, most of them worth five figures or more. [TL: Five-figure RMB handbags would be roughly $1,400 USD and up — designer-level purchases.]
Most of them had never been used. They sat in their slots like display pieces, untouched since the day they arrived.
Chen Qingqing’s family had money. Her father, Chen Hansong, was the branch president of a local shareholding bank — base salary well into seven figures annually. Her mother, Jiang Meilin, made even more.
Both of them were workaholics. That, in the end, had been what broke the marriage.
Qingqing had always been quiet — she’d been that way since she was small. After her parents’ divorce three years ago, she became quieter still. She spent most of her time at home alone, didn’t like going out, and had no friends. Not one.
But she had long since made her peace with that.
She lay on her wide, soft bed and let the music carry her to sleep, the room lights burning all night. She never turned them off. The light made her feel safe.
When she woke up, the villa was empty again.
On the dining table downstairs sat a plate with a cooked steak and a glass of milk. A sticky note was pressed to the side:
“Sorry, Qingqing — Mom had to leave for a work trip. I’ve already messaged Ruxue, she’ll be by soon. Whatever you need, just ask her.”
Wang Ruxue was the live-in assistant Jiang Meilin had arranged for Qingqing — one of the only people, besides the two of them, who had access to the house. Whenever Meilin had to travel, Ruxue got a heads-up.
Qingqing read the note, rolled it into a ball, dropped it in the trash, and sat down to eat her breakfast in small, quiet bites.
Wang Ruxue arrived just after nine in the morning. She found Qingqing on the couch with her guitar, practicing, and didn’t disturb her — just moved through to the kitchen and tidied up.
“Qingqing, what do you want for lunch?”
“Whatever’s fine.”
Ruxue was used to it. Every time she asked, the answer was always “anything” or “doesn’t matter.”
Time moved strangely when you spent it mostly alone.
The afternoon dissolved. The sky went gold.
Somehow another day had slipped past.
Chen Qingqing stood on the second floor for a long time, watching the clouds catch fire over the western horizon. Only after the last of the sunset faded did she come downstairs.
At the dinner table, Wang Ruxue reached into her bag and set a bank card in front of Qingqing. “Your mom asked me to give you this. There’s money on it — buy yourself whatever you want for your birthday.”
Qingqing didn’t look at it. She ate in silence. Then, after a long pause:
“Auntie Wang — is beer any good?” [TL: It’s common in Chinese for younger people to call trusted family friends or household staff “Auntie” (王姨/阿姨) as a term of respect and closeness, rather than using their name alone.]
“Beer?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you asking about beer?”
“I want to know what it tastes like.”
“But—”
Qingqing said, calmly, “If you want to call my mom, you can do that right now.”
Wang Ruxue decided against calling. Qingqing was practically an adult. Some things she could decide for herself.
“I know a bar. It’s quiet, not many people. And I know the owner.”
“Then let’s go.”
Encounter Music Bar.
“Boss, Guo Hai’s late again.”
“He messaged me — says he’s got something on tonight and can’t make it.”
Zhang Xiaonuan made a face. “Constantly late, takes days off all the time — what’s his deal?”
Pei Youwei reached over and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got our little singing star.”
The moment she said it, both Xiaonuan and Zhou Ying turned to look at Xu Ye.
Xu Ye crossed his arms and put on a mock-terrified expression. “Hey — stop looking at me like that. I’m just a kid.”
Laughter rippled through the bar.
Xu Ye might only be eighteen on the outside, but ten years of extra life had smoothed away the edges that usually made that age awkward. He’d slotted in with Xiaonuan, Zhou Ying, and even the older Pei Youwei without any friction — two shifts in and it already felt like he’d been here for months.
“Xiao Xu, tonight’s on you.”
Xu Ye shrugged. “Fine by me — only thing is, without a guitar it feels a bit bare.”
“I’ll pull up a backing track on my phone and run it through the speakers. Just sing along.”
“Works for me.”
He agreed and started mentally running through what to sing tonight.
Then—
“Youwei! It’s been forever!”
Wang Ruxue walked in through the front door and called out straight to Pei Youwei.
Pei Youwei lit up. “Ruxue — it really is you! It’s been so long!”
“Work’s been insane.”
“Come in, come in, sit down—”
Xu Ye heard the exchange and glanced back over his shoulder. He was about to look away when someone else stepped through the door behind Ruxue.
He did a double-take.
Then he rubbed his eyes.
“It’s you!“
Chen Qingqing was equally surprised — though she showed it less. She hadn’t expected to see him here either.
Something stirred, very faintly, behind the stillness she kept around herself like a second skin.
Pei Youwei caught the outburst and turned to look at Qingqing, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Xiao Xu — you two know each other?”
“Uh—” Xu Ye scratched the back of his head. “Sort of? We met for the first time last night.”
“What a coincidence. The universe is clearly trying to tell you something.”
Pei Youwei waved Qingqing to a table. Wang Ruxue hadn’t gotten a clear look at Xu Ye the night before — she’d only been watching from the car — but hearing him speak, she put it together. This was the boy from the lakeside.
Of all places.
She found the coincidence almost unsettling.
“Youwei — could I get a beer?”
“Cold or room temperature?”
“Room temp is fine.”
Pei Youwei caught Xu Ye’s eye and tilted her head. He picked up the signal immediately, grabbed a bottle of beer and two glasses from behind the counter, and brought them over.
He set them down and asked, casually, “No guitar tonight?”
Chen Qingqing looked up and gave a small nod.
“Just wondering.”
Xu Ye smiled, then turned back toward the performance area. “Boss — I’m heading up. There’s still a red packet in it for me tonight, right?”
“You’ll get what you’re owed. Don’t worry.”
(End of Chapter)