Tang Yan had been meaning to talk to Aunt Ji all day, but the chance never came. Her teammates needed her constantly, and she barely had time to glance at her phone. By the time the day wrapped up, it was already nightfall, and she was exhausted.
She didn���t have much of an appetite, so she bought a cup of coffee and cradled it in her hands—it was Aunt Ji’s favorite, a black Americano. She used to think it tasted terrible, but now, strangely enough, she was starting to like it.
After eating with the team and returning to the guesthouse, it was around eight in the evening. He Xu, the owner, was sitting in the living room, elbows on his knees, looking pretty down. Everyone greeted him politely, but he barely acknowledged them with a dull, lifeless nod.
Han Shuang leaned toward Lu Wan and whispered, “You think he got into another fight with his wife?”
“No idea,” Lu Wan murmured back. “In any case, that’s their business, not ours.”
“Exactly. Let’s go upstairs,” Xia Zihan added. “We still need to write our group reports tonight. They have to be submitted to the school—no skipping.”
Tang Yan glanced sideways at the living room and told them she’d head up later—she had something to take care of. She sensed something was off. A sinking feeling had already started creeping in. It was likely that Aunt Ji’s sudden departure had stirred something in the already fragile relationship between He Xu and Zhou Qiluo.
“Alright, but don’t take too long!” Xia Zihan called out as she linked arms with the others and headed upstairs.
Tang Yan waited in the hallway until she heard doors opening and closing upstairs. Once she was sure they were gone, she turned and walked over to He Xu.
Seeing she hadn’t gone upstairs, He Xu looked up and asked, “Why didn’t you go with the others?”
Tang Yan didn’t beat around the bush. Her eyes were steady. “I want to know what happened.”
He Xu was clearly off today. Tang Yan needed to know if her instincts were right.
At her question, He Xu suddenly lost it. He dragged his hands over his head, messing up his hair, and his voice cracked with barely hidden emotion. “I failed. I couldn’t keep her.”
“You mean… she’s gone?” Tang Yan asked.
It turned out that after the girls had left that morning, Zhou Qiluo found out Ji Yuqing had flown back to Huadu. She started packing her things to chase after her. In a panic, He Xu warned, “If you walk out that door, we’re getting a divorce.”
But Zhou Qiluo wasn’t fazed. Instead, she fired back, “The divorce agreement’s already drafted. Grab your ID—we’ll go to the Civil Affairs Bureau. Let’s end this today.”
Her decisiveness floored He Xu. He’d only said it to scare her, not because he actually wanted a divorce. But now he’d backed himself into a corner.
“Qiluo, we’ve been married ten years. Don’t act like a child. What are we going to tell your parents? My parents?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve lived like a puppet for ten years. I’m done.”
“After all these years, don’t you feel anything for me at all?” He Xu asked, heartbroken.
“He Xu, you really think you’re someone special, don’t you? That a little bit of affection and attention from you could change someone’s sexual orientation? You overestimate yourself. What we had was just playing pretend. There was never any real feeling. Can you just give it up already?” she said, her words ice cold.
“No. I never wanted to change who you are. I always knew you might never truly see me. But even so, I loved you. Even if it meant keeping you by my side through force, I still wanted to.”
“But I don’t want that. This isn’t good for either of us. Can we stop hurting each other? Can we let go?” Zhou Qiluo yelled.
Tears welled in He Xu’s eyes. Still, he tried one last time. “Tell me—if that woman hadn’t shown up, would you still have made this decision?”
Zhou Qiluo fell silent. She didn’t say a word for a long time.
“Say something. Can’t we just pretend she was never here? That you never saw her? Just keep going forward—can’t we do that?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You’ll only get hurt if you keep going like this.”
“Even if I hadn’t met her here… I think I couldn’t have lasted much longer. I’ve had enough of pretending, of smiling through everything, of being someone I’m not. I’m done, He Xu. I’m truly done.”
He Xu forced out a smile. “Alright. I’ll let you go.” That last sentence seemed to drain him of all his strength.
And just like that, they finalized their divorce that day. He watched numbly as Zhou Qiluo packed all her things from their home and walked away.
Her last words to him were, “The house, the car, the guesthouse—I don’t want any of it. Do what you want with it.”
That heartless woman didn’t even look back once. Not once. Even pets raised for ten years develop feelings. Was he really not worth a single glance?
He didn’t even remember how he made it back to the guesthouse. He only remembered that from the moment he walked in, he sat in that same spot—just like Tang Yan saw him later. He hadn’t moved.
Tang Yan listened, feeling a deep ache in her chest. Other than offering a few words of comfort, there wasn’t much she could do.
But the news hit her hard. Now that Zhou Qiluo was divorced and headed back to Huadu, she would definitely go looking for Aunt Ji. How was she supposed to hold on to Aunt Ji now?
He Xu took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Then he looked at Tang Yan and asked, “You like her too, don’t you? Your Aunt Ji.”
Tang Yan froze. She didn’t expect it to be so obvious. She didn’t deny it. She simply nodded.
He Xu looked at her and said, “Compared to you, Qiluo might not stand a chance. This time, she’s going to get hurt. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe only by getting hurt can she finally let go, finally move on.”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost all confidence,” Tang Yan murmured, pressing her lips together. “But I’m not giving up.” With that, she said goodnight to He Xu and headed upstairs.
“Tang Yan, what were you doing downstairs for so long?” Xia Zihan asked, puzzled.
Tang Yan forced a smile. “Nothing much. Just chatted with the owner for a bit.”
“Did he really have a fight with his wife?” Han Shuang couldn’t help asking.
“I don’t know. It’s their private business,” Tang Yan said. She had no plans to share the truth. Doing so would involve outing Zhou Qiluo’s sexuality, Aunt Ji’s, and her own. That wasn’t something she was ready to do.
After showering and getting into bed, Tang Yan finally picked up her phone and opened her chat with Aunt Ji. She thought of so many things to say—tried to explain what happened last night—but ended up deleting it all. Then she thought maybe she should just confess her feelings altogether.
Write, delete, write again. In the end, all she sent was a simple message asking how she was doing.
Aunt Ji replied almost immediately: “Busy. I’ll talk later.”
Reading that, Tang Yan felt a knot in her chest, like something was stuck there. But not even a minute later, Aunt Ji sent another message. This time, it was a photo—a snapshot of her desk, the laptop open, screen blurred, papers piled high. She didn’t say a word, but it was like she was trying to explain—showing that she was really busy, not ignoring her on purpose.
Tang Yan felt her heart ease a little. She smiled and typed back: “Take care. Don’t overwork yourself.”
Aunt Ji responded quickly: “I will.”
Since Ji Yuqing left the company, her team had been in chaos without its backbone. To make sure everything stayed on track, she decided to take all the pending documents home and review them herself. It looked like she’d be working late into the night.
By 1 a.m., her eyes were sore from staring at the screen too long. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the tension. Suddenly, she heard the doorbell ring.
She frowned. Who could possibly be visiting this late?