Having worked overtime until 2 a.m. the previous night, Jing Qichi woke up close to noon the next day. Lying in bed, he texted Song Cong to ask if he was returning to Tianhe—a habit naturally formed after they started working in Beijing. Whenever one planned to go back, they’d check with the other, and if their schedules aligned, they’d buy train tickets together. Song Cong first replied that he was about to leave for a rural medical outreach program organized by his institute over the next two days, followed immediately by a second message: "Let me check with Du Man. I think she mentioned going back this week."
Jing Qichi sent back an "Okay." While washing up, another message from Song Cong arrived: "Du Man went to some expert lecture. Forget about her."
Jing Qichi chuckled and quickly typed back, "I wasn’t planning to bother with her. You’re the one trying to rope me in."
The chat showed "typing" for a long time, but no new message appeared.
Rare indeed—this guy was actually hesitating.
Qiu Yang’s bedroom door was shut tight—no surprise, given he’d been drinking until the early hours. Jing Qichi bought his train ticket and left a note on the dining table: "Gone home. Call if anything comes up." Qiu Yang, deeply moved after hearing how Jiang Sen kept his phone on vibrate 24/7 ever since the lab’s preparatory phase, had resolutely adopted the same practice. In his eyes, Jiang Sen was a figure akin to Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos—a living legend within reach. What he didn’t know was that Jiang Sen was naturally a light sleeper with boundless energy. After drinking the same amount, the man was already replying to emails by 8 a.m.—cellular differences were a mystery in themselves.
On the way to the station, Jing Qichi received another reply from Song Cong: "We’re classmates, and it’s on the way. Looking out for each other is just natural."
Jing Qichi hurriedly played along: "Absolutely, totally natural."
Truthfully, he’d felt this way for a long time—compared to Qi Qi, Du Man seemed far better suited for Song Cong. Beyond superficial traits like looks and personality, their deeper ideals and aspirations aligned perfectly. Perhaps their initial motivations for entering this field had differed—Huan'er once said Du Man did it to prove herself, to earn the right to live proudly in the Family Compound. But after five relentless years of striving, even after leaving that place behind, she continued pursuing excellence in her field. By now, Du Man and Song Cong had converged on the same path—simply to be good doctors, ones who could heal and help as many people as possible.
Jing Qichi had grown up alongside Song Cong. He understood his friend and had a good sense of the kind of woman could walk the entire journey with him.
He’d never mentioned it before because Qi Qi had been by Song Cong’s side when he first realized it. As for why he didn’t spell it out now—watching a smart person play dumb (or genuinely be dumb) was endlessly entertaining.
Song Cong sent another message: "How’s it been with Huan'er lately?"
Smart people weren’t very convincing when pretending to be clueless.
Jing Qichi replied, "You knew Huan'er was pursuing a Ph.D.?"
Since when did Song Cong pry into their affairs? Moreover, with his straightforward nature, he’d have called things out immediately if he noticed something. This roundabout approach had to mean there was something he couldn’t address directly.
"Du Man told me. Among the three of us, you were always trailing anyway—don’t take it to heart."
"How am I trailing? Do either of you even have pay stubs?"
"Boring. One viral moment online and you forget your roots. I’ve got plenty of dirt on you."
"Who doesn’t have some ammo? We’ll go down together if we have to."Belonging to the generation of only children, childhood friends are akin to brothers. No, in some ways, even closer than that. Without the obligations of shared filial duties or the entanglements of inheritance disputes, they can be poor, bicker, or even accuse each other of being heartless—yet all the words meant to comfort and reassure are still received as intended. Jing Qichi thought perhaps he was even luckier; the fights he had with Song Cong happened in their naive years, like the time they gave each other the cold shoulder for days over an autographed football. From then on, they became the heavy, cast-iron shields in each other's hands—silent, just like the unspoken understanding between them.
When Jing Qichi returned home, Jing's Mother had already prepared lunch, even though it was well past mealtime. Despite his protests that she shouldn’t have waited, the two chatted as they ate together. After the meal, they did a thorough cleaning—sweeping every corner, tossing the bedsheets and covers into the washing machine and replacing them with fresh ones, wiping down the windows in every room. Then Jing's Mother suggested a trip to the supermarket.
Just as they entered the store, Song Ba sent a voice message: "Are you free tonight? Let’s have dinner together—a few friends are getting together."
The message played aloud from Jing's Mother’s phone before Jing Qichi could stop her. She replied into the speaker, "Qi Chi is back. You all go ahead without me."
"Why not?" Jing Qichi, who had been pushing the cart forward, stopped. "Mom, go ahead. Don’t worry about me."
Song Ba sent another message: "Who knows, maybe Qi Chi has plans too. Come on, I’ll pick you up at six."
"Quick, say yes," Jing Qichi urged. "Uncle Song is waiting."
He truly didn’t want his visit home to become a constraint on his mother’s life. Whether it was gatherings, beauty treatments, or travel, he wanted her life to be full and happy—after all, most of the time, he couldn’t be by her side.
"Fine," Jing's Mother relented, leading the way to the produce section. "Let’s stock up on groceries for you."
"I have plans."
"What plans? Huan'er and Song Cong aren’t even here." Without looking at him, she sent another message to Song Ba: "Alright, see you soon."
As they walked side by side, Jing Qichi asked, "Mom, do you know about Huan'er and me?"
He had never formally discussed their relationship with his family, and his mother had never asked either.
"I know." Jing's Mother inspected the honeydew melons in the fruit bin, selecting two good ones and placing them in the cart. She showed no surprise or particular reaction, as if she had no intention of probing further.
Jing Qichi found it amusing. "How did you know?"
"Aunt Lina asked me, and we put two and two together." Jing's Mother shot him a glance. "Don’t mess this up. I see Huan'er as my own daughter. If she gets hurt, don’t blame me for disowning you."
"Now you’re being dramatic." Jing Qichi chuckled.
Whether he told her or not made little difference. Though he didn’t know under what circumstances or how the two mothers had discussed it, their silence was a way of respecting their children’s autonomy.
"I’m serious." After picking out fruit, Jing's Mother moved on to vegetables. "Huan'er still has years of doctoral studies ahead. Time flies, and this will be a challenge for both of you. You need to understand and support each other, especially you—you have to be her pillar. Understand?"Like desperately chasing after the last bus of the night only to miss it by a step, a suffocating emotion stabbed straight into his heart. Jing Qichi couldn’t tell if it was anger, resentment, or disappointment—perhaps he was just frustrated at himself for being that tiny bit too slow. In any case, he felt utterly blocked.
Song Cong knew, Du Man knew, even his own mother had known long before. He was the last one left in the dark.
Jing’s Mother seemed to read his thoughts and asked, “Huan’er didn’t tell you at first?”
Jing Qichi shook his head. “She only told me yesterday.”
“That girl must have wanted to be absolutely sure before telling you.” Jing’s Mother looked at her son. “Only when you’re uncertain about something do you need to discuss it. Have you ever seen hospitals holding consultations for every single surgery? Since Huan’er wants to do this and it concerns her studies, you should just support her decision.”
“It’s not that I don’t support her, I just…” Jing Qichi waved his hand. “Never mind.”
Seeing her son unwilling to elaborate, Jing’s Mother didn’t press further. She packed green beans and tomatoes into separate bags and handed them to him. “Go weigh these.”
Jing Qichi obediently complied.
From a few steps away, Jing’s Mother watched his retreating figure and suddenly realized that mischievous, rebellious little boy had grown up. A real man would naturally have his own worries, but she also believed he had the ability to resolve them himself.
On their way back to the Family Compound, mother and son happened to run into Song Ba coming out of the building. Jing Qichi greeted him and nudged his mother forward. “You two go enjoy your meal. No need to come back early.”
Jing’s Mother hesitated slightly. “Why don’t you come with us?”
“He’s not a kid anymore to be dragged along everywhere,” Song Ba chuckled. “Worry less.”
“Uncle Song gets me.” Jing Qichi asked, “Where’s Aunt Hao? Do you need me to come over tonight?”
“She’s at Song Cong’s aunt’s place. Don’t worry about it.” Song Ba praised warmly, “See, our Qi Chi has learned to care for others. A grown man now.”
“Uncle Song, this is what you call a real man.”
The two parents laughed together.
Jing Qichi lifted the shopping bags with both hands and tilted his chin toward them. “Mom, hurry up.”
Only after watching them leave the Family Compound did he leisurely head home.
After a few steps, he remembered his phone was still in his mother’s bag and quickly turned to chase after them. By the time he reached the main road, Song Ba’s car had already driven off, so he stopped and turned back.
Just then, a voice called from behind, “Qi Chi!”
Turning around, Jing Qichi was slightly surprised to see Huan’er’s mother. “Aren’t you joining them for dinner?”
In his memory, these school colleagues always stuck together for gatherings.
“No, I didn’t go.” Chen Ma glanced toward the main road. “Your mom left already?”
“Uncle Song and her just drove off.”
Noticing the two large shopping bags in his hands, Chen Ma issued a direct order. “Take those home first, then come straight over.”
“Auntie, really, it’s not necessary.”
“Cooking for one or two makes no difference. One more mouth won’t matter.” Chen Ma smiled. “Besides, we can talk about Huan’er.”
Only then did Jing Qichi agree with a “Okay.”
When Chen Ma opened the door, the aroma of stir-fried dishes already filled the apartment. Urging him to “wash your hands and peel some garlic for me,” she hurried back to the kitchen to flip the shredded potatoes sizzling in the pan. The tangy, spicy scent assaulted his senses, making the feeling of being home even stronger.
Jing Qichi stepped into the kitchen to assist her. During a lull in the work, he asked, “Why didn’t you go with them today?”
The range hood was loud, so when he didn’t hear a response, he repeated, “Why didn’t you join Mom and the others for dinner?”"That..." Chen Ma hesitated for a moment before turning her back to tell him, "They're all friends from your Uncle Song's side. Besides, I'd like to rest over the weekend too."
Jing Qichi only caught the part about needing rest and didn't think much of it, simply replying, "That makes sense."
Soon, a meat dish, a vegetable dish, and a plate of cold cucumber salad were served. Chen Ma added rice and handed him the chopsticks. "Come to think of it, it's been a while since you last came over for a meal."
After starting work, his holidays were packed full. On the rare occasions he returned to Tianhe, he mostly spent time with his mother. More often than not, a day would pass just like today—a trip to the supermarket, some cleaning, watching TV, and that was it. People often say the older you get, the less free you become, but in reality, it's just that the responsibilities and obligations keep piling up, taking up more and more of your time.
"It really has been a while," Jing Qichi admitted, picking up a bite of food and smiling as he ate. "Still tastes just like your cooking."
"Are you saying my cooking hasn't improved?" Chen Ma teased.
He quickly took another bite. "I'll prove it with actions—guaranteed no leftovers."
"Alright, take your time." Chen Ma got up and fetched two cans of beer from the fridge, placing them on the table. Jing Qichi grinned at the sight, opening one and clinking it with hers. "Thanks for the hospitality, Aunt Lina."
Chen Ma chuckled, setting her can down. "Huan'er just called me. She said she messaged you but hasn't gotten a reply. She also mentioned she only told you yesterday about her decision to pursue a Ph.D. and guessed you might be a little upset."
"No," Jing Qichi hurriedly explained. "This afternoon, I went to the supermarket with my mom and left my phone in her bag. Haven't gotten it back yet. I'm not upset—could you let Huan'er know?"
"You can tell her yourself later," Chen Ma said, suppressing a laugh. "What kind of young couple relies on their parents as middlemen?"
"Alright, I'll tell her once my mom gets back."
"Huan'er really didn't handle this well—she should've told you right away." Chen Ma asked, "You know about her childhood situation, don't you?"
"Yeah," Jing Qichi nodded. "I know."
"Her current advisor, I think his surname is Ding—Huan'er wants to join his research group working on new tumor treatments."
Jing Qichi looked up sharply. He had no idea about any of this.
Or perhaps, he had overlooked the reason she was so determined to pursue this degree.
Chen Ma watched him calmly. "Uncle Chen and I only found out later about the research she wanted to do. Huan'er suffered a lot as a child. Now that she has the ability and opportunity to tackle a challenge she personally faced, she's been very firm about this. Even if none of us supported her, she'd still go through with it. Of course, she might've unintentionally overlooked your feelings in the process. Qi Chi, can you understand what I'm saying?"
"Auntie, I..." Jing Qichi murmured. "I should've understood long ago."
"Oh, forget about 'should've,'" Chen Ma raised her beer. "Come on, let's have a drink."
After a few sips, the malt flavor stood out distinctly.
"Your mom mentioned you're very busy with work in Beijing too. With Huan'er starting her Ph.D., you two will inevitably spend less time together." Chen Ma pointed at herself. "But you've got a role model right in front of you. When I married Huan'er's dad, his army unit was relocating. Uncle Chen had to leave before his wedding leave was even over, and we still turned out just fine."
Long-lasting relationships always require tolerance and support. Chen Ma's words dispelled many of his unnecessary worries and fears.
Jing Qichi smiled. "Uncle Chen has always been my role model."
"Hey, I'm the one sitting here, and you're praising him?"Jing Qichi grinned as he wolfed down his food, finishing a bowl in no time. While scooping more rice, he teased Chen Ma, "If you don't eat soon, I'll polish it all off."
"Brat, just like when you were in school," Chen Ma laughed.
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