Ji Yuqing stepped out of the bathroom while drying her hair, the necklace she’d just taken off dangling loosely from her hand. She bent down, opened a drawer, and tucked it inside—instantly lost among the rest of her jewelry. A second later, she closed the drawer.
Outside, the rain pattered steadily. Living on the ground floor, she could clearly hear the raindrops hitting the pavement. The green plants near the window swayed and rustled in the wind, dancing with the storm.
She sat by the bed for a while, then got up to fetch herself a cup of warm water. Returning to the room, she took a few sips, set the cup down, and climbed onto the bed. Sitting back against the headboard with her knees drawn up, her thoughts were a tangled mess.
Meanwhile, in another room plunged in darkness, Tang Yan lay curled under the covers, facing the window. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t fall asleep.
Just then, her phone lit up on the nightstand. The sudden brightness made her instinctively avert her eyes. After a moment, she reached over and picked it up. The screen showed a message from Aunt Ji. She quickly opened it.
Aunt Ji: You must’ve spent a lot on everything you prepared today.
Tang Yan swallowed hard, pushing down a flicker of happiness, and replied:
Tang Yan: Not really! It didn’t cost much. As long as Aunt Ji liked it, that’s all that matters.
Ji Yuqing read the message, and her heart tightened. Of course she understood. Tang Yan must’ve spent everything she had. That necklace—it was from a brand she’d gifted to clients before, so she knew exactly how much it cost. Two of those, plus the cake and the roses? There was no way Tang Yan’s scholarship covered it. She must’ve borrowed money from Pei Wen.
Ji Yuqing took a deep breath and sent another message:
Aunt Ji: You shouldn’t have bought me such an expensive necklace. That’s not something you should be burdened with at this stage of your life.
Tang Yan stared at the screen, holding the phone tightly in the dark. The soft glow lit up her face. So… Aunt Ji didn’t like the necklace? Or maybe she thought she was too wasteful? Her heart twisted with an unnamed feeling, a sense of failure before the battle even began.
She bit her lower lip and replied:
Tang Yan: I just wanted you to have a happy birthday, Aunt Ji. Pei Wen told me it’s been years since you celebrated. Please don’t be upset with me. [puppy eyes.jpg]
A minute later, Ji Yuqing responded again:
Aunt Ji: Yanyan, I don’t want you spending money on me like this. Your scholarship wasn’t easy to get, and you should invest it in yourself.
Tang Yan: Got it.
Tang Yan’s lips tightened. Her mouth pressed into a thin line as her chest ached. So Aunt Ji really didn’t like it.
About ten minutes passed. She figured Aunt Ji wouldn’t reply anymore. But suddenly her phone buzzed with a bank notification. She’d just received a deposit of twenty thousand.
Another message came through:
Aunt Ji: Use that to pay back what you borrowed from Pei Wen. Whatever’s left can be your living expenses.
Tang Yan didn’t hesitate. The moment the money arrived, she sent over five thousand back to Pei Wen to cover the necklace. But the moment her phone buzzed again in the middle of the night, her heart jumped in fright.
“Hello? Tang Yan, what’s going on? Why did you transfer money to me?” Pei Wen’s voice on the other end sounded both confused and a little accusatory.
Tang Yan spoke quietly, her voice low and flat. “It’s for the money I borrowed. I’m paying you back, Pei Wen.”
“Pay me back? With what money?” Pei Wen asked.
“It’s from Aunt Ji… she told me to give it back to you.”
“…Oh.” Pei Wen sounded genuinely surprised. “That’s unexpected. I always thought she cared about you. Could there be some other reason?”
Tang Yan shook her head, covering her mouth with one hand to hold back the sob rising in her throat. Her heart ached fiercely. She forced her tears down and hurriedly said, “I don’t know. Pei Wen, I’m really tired. I’m going to sleep now.”
Before Pei Wen could respond, Tang Yan hung up. She sat in the darkness, hand over her mouth, silent sobs shaking her body. Tears slid down her cheeks and splashed onto her wrist, one by one, forming tiny puddles.
Saturday morning, Tang Yan finally overslept—probably because she’d been up too late. When she finished washing up and came out, the house was already empty. Breakfast had been laid out on the table, with a note left beside it.
It was unmistakably Aunt Ji’s handwriting—strong and graceful calligraphy that had its own flair.
“I went to the office. Breakfast is on the table. If it’s cold, heat it in the microwave.”
Tang Yan silently held onto the note, pulled out a chair, and sat down like someone who’d lost her soul. The breakfast had already gone cold, but she didn’t want to get up to heat it. She fed herself bite after bite, chewing mechanically.
If it were a normal weekend morning, Aunt Ji would’ve woken her up. In the past, she never went to work on weekends—she’d always stay home with her, or take her out.
Thinking of that, Tang Yan’s chest only ached more. The contrast was too sharp. She couldn’t recover from the blow. And before she knew it, tears were slipping down again, mixing into the pancake—salty, and a little bitter.
Now, Aunt Ji would rather go to work than stay home with her.
Loving someone makes you sensitive. Even the smallest changes in their behavior feel like an earthquake—sometimes a joy, sometimes unbearable.
Maybe Aunt Ji really did have work to do. Tang Yan tried to convince herself, quickly picking up the bowl of porridge and gulping it down.
Just as she finished eating, the doorbell rang.
She jumped up and rushed to the door. A cool breeze blew the drizzle onto her arms. Standing outside, holding several bags, was Pei Wen.
“Pei Wen!” Tang Yan blinked in surprise.
“Morning. Are you home alone?” Pei Wen peered inside curiously.
Tang Yan nodded.
“Knew it!” Pei Wen grinned like she’d predicted it all. “Let me guess—Aunt Ji left first thing in the morning and told you she had work to do, right?”
Tang Yan nodded again. “She didn’t say it out loud, but she left a note. Said she went to the office.”
“Makes sense,” Pei Wen said, lips pursed. “Anyway, let’s go inside. It’s too cold out with all this rain.”
Back inside, Tang Yan started tidying the table. “Have you eaten? I brought some food.” Pei Wen placed her bags down, then glanced at the table and gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re just now having breakfast?”
Tang Yan nodded again while cleaning up. “Yeah, I overslept.”
“Well, no worries. I’ll just leave it here. You can heat it up later.” Pei Wen made her way to the sofa, then looked up. “Got anything to drink?”
Tang Yan paused. “Yeah, what would you like? There’s coffee, juice, milk, water…”
“Coffee, please. I barely slept last night. My brain’s still foggy. You know how to use the machine?”
“Yeah, Aunt Ji taught me,” Tang Yan said, heading off to brew the coffee. Once it was ready, she brought it over and joined Pei Wen on the couch.
Pei Wen took a sip and complimented the taste.
Then Tang Yan couldn’t help but ask, “Pei Wen, how did you know Aunt Ji would go to the office today?”
“Based on my knowledge of her.” Pei Wen smirked. “I actually took a few psychology electives in college, you know. I’m really good at reading people.”
Tang Yan lowered her head, voice small. “I have a feeling she’s figured something out. I shouldn’t have bought those roses yesterday. I think… I think she suspects something.”
As she spoke, she clenched her fists and thumped her leg, full of regret and frustration.
��Hey, hey—don’t do that.” Pei Wen reached out to stop her. “It might not be the roses. Did you leave any other clues? Like a post, a blog entry, anything?”
Tang Yan shook her head. “Nothing.”
“That’s odd then. There’s no reason for her to act this way out of the blue.” Pei Wen frowned, puzzled.
The two of them sat on the couch, both lost in thought, faces serious and heavy.
Suddenly, Tang Yan slapped her leg. “I remember now—my journal!”
“Your journal? Wait, don’t tell me you still keep a diary?”
“I’ve been writing in it every day since I came to Huadu. But last week, with school being hectic, I left it at home. Aunt Ji could’ve seen it. I wrote about my feelings for her in there—more than once.”
It hit her like a lightning bolt. Everything made sense now.
Thinking back, Tang Yan finally realized why Aunt Ji’s attitude shifted so noticeably last night. Most of her diary entries were love letters in disguise. Now her face burned with embarrassment, and her heart tightened with unease.
“No wonder,” Pei Wen said, nodding slowly. “If that’s true, then yeah, that must be it. Given her personality, she wouldn’t know how to handle something like that. I mean, if I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t know how to deal with it either.”
When Tang Yan didn’t respond, Pei Wen went on, “And don’t forget, your mom and she are friends. That probably makes it even harder for her. I’m starting to feel a little sorry for her now.”
Tang Yan looked down, lips pressed tight. “I was careless.”
She shouldn’t have left the journal at home. Shouldn’t have written so openly. But she just wanted a space to pour her heart out. And most of all, she shouldn’t have let Aunt Ji find out like this—so early, when she was still just a nobody.
She didn’t have the courage to confess. She didn’t have the means to make any promises.
But what’s done is done.
What she feared most now… was being sent away. That Aunt Ji would cut her off completely. The more she thought about it, the more scared she became—until it felt like she couldn’t even breathe.