After a solid week of exhausting work that left her back and shoulders aching at home, the neighbors nearby who heard and saw the commotion on the second floor all knew someone had returned to the Chen household. Some of the newer residents who had moved in over the past few years didn’t recognize Miao Jing. At twenty-four or twenty-five years old, she had a delicate and refined appearance, an aloof and reserved demeanor—completely different from Chen Yi in every way. The long-time neighbors who knew the past gossiped endlessly about the Chen family’s history.
Chen Yi had hitched a ride on a truck to Yunnan. It started when a friend from the Yunnan border casually mentioned a business opportunity. Seizing the chance, Chen Yi sourced a batch of small goods like lighters and flashlights, hired a freight driver, and transported them to the Golden Triangle region. On the return trip, he brought back a load of bananas and mangoes to Tengcheng. After deducting all the costs and expenses, he made a few thousand yuan from the grueling trip.
During the two-month summer break, the pool hall business was slow, so this side income was a welcome supplement.
The trip had been rushed, with meals and sleep all happening in the truck. The sweltering weather left him reeking of sweat and grime. The day he returned to Tengcheng, after wrapping up all his tasks, he planned to head home first to shower and sleep, then meet up with friends for drinks in the evening.
He traveled light, carrying only a nylon duffel bag that he had taken with him and now brought back. Inside were a set of quick-dry clothes, two packs of cigarettes, toothpaste, a toothbrush, a towel, and a phone charger. The humid heat of Tengcheng made him peel off his sour-smelling T-shirt and drape it over his shoulder. He walked with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
His appearance was far from polished, yet it still drew admiring whistles—it was that rugged, handsome, and cocky vibe of a young man. His skin was sun-kissed, and a black cord around his neck held a jade pendant. With broad shoulders, a straight back, and well-defined muscles, he had a few faint, old scars scattered across his body. His chest muscles weren’t overly bulky but were sleek and toned, sloping down into a flat stomach and a tight, narrow waist. Black pants hugged his long, straight legs, the muscles of his thighs taut and prominent.
Looking up at his face, he was a young man of twenty-five or twenty-six with a clean buzz cut and sharp, blade-like features. His nose was high-bridged, and his lips, slightly full and sensual, contrasted with a somewhat fierce expression. A scar cut into his left eyebrow, adding to his dangerously handsome look—especially his eyes, wild and untamed, bright with arrogance, lazily indifferent yet always alert, ready to strike back at any moment.
Exhaling smoke, he trudged up the stairs. The scent of chicken soup wafted through the stairwell, though he didn’t know which apartment it came from. Fishing out his keys, he opened the door and was instantly met with a bright, tidy space—so clean it hardly felt like his own home, though the furniture was familiar. On an unfamiliar wooden shoe rack by the door sat women’s sandals and high heels, while the lower shelf held his sneakers and flip-flops, all washed clean and neatly arranged.
The aroma of chicken soup… it was coming from the kitchen, where he caught a glimpse of a skirt hem and a figure with her back turned.
The floor was so clean it gleamed. He tossed his duffel bag on the ground, pinched the cigarette between his fingers, and curled his lips into a teasing smile. "Didn’t you say you’d come over tonight to sleep? Trying to surprise me? Since when did you become so domestic?"
The woman in the kitchen was slowly stirring the chicken soup in a clay pot. Hearing the noise, she turned around and locked eyes with the man.
She had softened, matured, and lost some of her former fierceness.
He froze, his pupils contracting sharply. The cigarette fell from his hand, and he cursed under his breath, his thick brows furrowing. His intense gaze fixed on her, sharp and penetrating, as if peeling an orange or some other fruit, the juice bursting forth tart and lingering.
It was Miao Jing who spoke first: "You’re back?"
"Want some chicken soup? I’ll ladle a bowl for you."Chen Yi forced out a few words: "What the hell... you, what are you doing here?"
"Why can't I be here?" Miao Jing lowered her eyes, leisurely scooping a bowl of chicken soup, her voice light and airy. "Can't I come back?"
"What the hell are you back for?" He pulled on his crumpled T-shirt, crouched to pick up a cigarette butt from the floor, and stuck it back in his mouth. Taking a deep drag, his frown deepened as he scanned the house through the hazy smoke. The space was bright and warmly decorated—both bedroom doors stood wide open, revealing their neatly arranged interiors. The balcony was draped with laundry, the old sofa in the living room covered with a light-colored slipcover, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the coffee table.
He'd only been away for a short while, yet the place had completely transformed.
"Goddammit... you..."
Miao Jing was long accustomed to this: "Can you even speak without that 'goddammit'?"
Chen Yi's expression shifted repeatedly before instantly turning cold. "How did you get in?"
"Had someone pick the lock." Miao Jing set the soup bowl on the table and turned to serve herself a portion. "The spare key was in the drawer. I found it."
"I got a job at the development zone—there's a new automotive plant branch there. I switched companies and start next week. The company housing isn't great, so I'm staying here."
"You, a top graduate from a prestigious university, coming to this shithole town for work? Did you get hit by a car or short-circuit your brain?" He seemed irritated, kicking a low stool aside and pacing a couple steps before planting his hands on his hips. "Are you sick or something?"
"These days college graduates are everywhere. Jobs are hard to find—big cities are flooded with highly educated people working for peanuts, overtime till midnight, barely covering rent. Plenty of people are returning to their hometowns to live and work now."
"Is this your hometown? What's it to you? Your hometown is in Z Province, over five hundred kilometers away."
"Brother... didn't I live here for ten years too? I finally found a job—can't I even come back to stay temporarily?"
"Am I your brother?" His face darkened as he hunched forward in the chair. From her angle, she saw his broad, straight back and thick, spiky black hair. Chen Yi scowled. "Am I your brother?"
"Fine, you're not." Miao Jing sat at the table, sipping her soup unhurriedly. "I'll pay you rent first."
"Where have you been? You haven't been back for days—you reek."
His expression remained stern and hostile as he completely ignored her, straightening up to head for the bathroom where he took a cold shower.
After six full years apart, having someone suddenly sharing the space again was genuinely irritating.
Fresh from the shower, he went to find clean clothes and couldn't resist kicking the wardrobe. "Did you mess with my clothes?"
"I washed some dirty laundry and put it away." Miao Jing stood at his bedroom doorway, watching water droplets fall from his hair. "T-shirts on the left, pants on the right. I didn't touch your socks or underwear."
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