He swallowed his pride and ruffled through the stack of clothes, hearing her say indifferently, "There are also a woman's nightgown and underwear. I put them in the drawer."
Chen Yi's temples throbbed.
"Your girlfriend's?"
"Mm." His voice was muffled.
"Red hair?"
"Are you insane?" He gritted his teeth, slammed the cabinet door shut, and glared at her furiously. "Miao Jing, are you insane?!"
Miao Jing pressed her lips together, her slippers making a soft pattering sound on the floor as she walked away. The door to the adjacent bedroom closed.
She sat down at the desk, opened her laptop, checked her emails for a while, browsed the web, and finally left the room. The house was empty now, with only a bowl of cold chicken soup left on the table.
Chapter 2: If You Dare Say It, I'll Beat You to Death
Before the age of eight, Miao Jing lived in Z Province. Her hometown was a small town nestled in the mountainous region straddling the north-south divide, where rolling hills stretched endlessly, and the four seasons were distinct—cold winters and hot summers.
Her parents had divorced long ago. The only surviving family portrait was taken when she was two years old—a stiff-faced trio posing in front of a studio backdrop. She was a tiny bundle, dressed in a garish peach-pink tulle dress with a red dot painted on her forehead, staring blankly at the camera. On either side stood her blurry-faced parents, though even through the haze, one could glimpse their youthful handsomeness and beauty.
After that family portrait was taken, the family fell apart. Miao Jing lived with her mother, Wei Mingzhen, but was soon taken to her grandmother's house in the countryside, where she grew up in a small village.
Her mother had married due to an unexpected pregnancy. At the time, Wei Mingzhen was only in her early twenties, working as a shop assistant in a clothing store in town. Pretty and fond of fun, she never lacked suitors, married or not, and had little attention to spare for her daughter. In the following years, as the migrant work trend surged, Wei Mingzhen followed her boyfriend to work in coastal cities. Each time she returned, she was dressed fashionably and glamorously, and she would give her mother a sum for living expenses. It wasn't much, but it was enough to support Miao Jing.
There should have been another source of support—child support from her biological father. For the first two years, there was some, but later, her father moved to Xinjiang, remarried, and started a new family there. The distance grew too great, and he gradually severed all ties with his hometown, cutting off communication and financial support. There were some relatives on her paternal grandmother's side, but they had their own struggles and eventually lost contact entirely.
Miao Jing grew up largely on her own. Wei Mingzhen remained away, working in other cities, until her grandmother passed away from illness. Just as Miao Jing was about to start preschool and elementary school, she was packed off to her aunt's house in town. Her aunt's family included an older female cousin and a younger male cousin. The three were close in age and attended the same school, becoming playmates of sorts.
The time she spent with her grandmother was warm and tender, but too brief. Being so young, she couldn't retain many memories. By the time she moved in with her aunt, Miao Jing was old enough to remember things clearly. Whether it was due to oversensitivity or other reasons, her time there wasn't particularly happy.
Her aunt wasn't harsh or abusive, but the family's circumstances were ordinary, and the daily grind of life created a certain distance and neglect.
Both her older female cousin and younger male cousin wore house keys around their necks. Miao Jing did not. If no one was home, no matter the time, she could only sit by the door and wait.
The memory that stood out most was when her aunt's family of four made an impromptu trip back to the countryside for a funeral and forgot that Miao Jing didn't have a key. She returned from school, hungry, and sat by the door until nine at night. A neighbor aunt noticed her, took her in for the night, and let her sleep over. When her aunt's family returned and learned she had stayed with the neighbor, they showed not a hint of comfort or apology.At family meals and conversations, she never had a chance to speak up, nor did she get to taste the delicious dishes. Sharing a room with her cousin, Miao Jing was more like a personal maid—always settling for less, fetching things, washing dishes, and sweeping floors. When her cousin and brother fought over TV programs, she could only watch from the sidelines, completely excluded from any decision-making.
After her grandmother passed away, Wei Mingzhen returned even less frequently, though she sent ample support money. Miao Jing wore her cousin’s old clothes and shoes—in a family with two sisters, it was natural for the younger to wear hand-me-downs. Fortunately, that winter, Wei Mingzhen returned to her hometown, dressed head to toe in stylish attire. Seeing Miao Jing’s worn-out cotton shoes, so tattered they had holes and pinched her feet, yet still on her feet, with chilblains covering her cheeks, ears, and small hands and feet—everyone said Miao Jing liked touching cold water and refused to wear proper clothes. But mother and daughter were alike in this: they were both particularly sensitive to the cold. Winters in their hometown often brought snow, with no heating or air conditioning, relying solely on coal stoves to endure the bitter cold.
Though their relationship wasn’t close, seeing that small, cold, and sullen face, as a mother, it was impossible not to feel a pang of heartache.
Wei Mingzhen had spent the past few years being picky and hadn’t remarried. In truth, her work life mostly relied on men’s support, allowing her to live comfortably, though she hadn’t saved much. Her looks weren’t as fresh as in her twenties, but she knew how to dress up—wearing lipstick and fashionable dresses, she carried a womanly charm. As she grew older, she began to think about finding a good man to entrust her future to. Then, looking at Miao Jing, she reconsidered—she had to bring her daughter along, or else she feared Miao Jing would resent her.
Finding a suitable man wasn’t easy; it required discussing conditions and having the right perspective. After staying in her hometown for a few months, Wei Mingzhen suddenly went to a place called Tengcheng. She had met a man from another city through online chats—a city further south than Z Province, with a better economy. They hit it off well, almost like soulmates. The man had good conditions: he lived in an apartment, worked a stable job with an iron rice bowl, was educated, and had decent looks. Miao Jing had seen his photo—a refined and handsome middle-aged man.
Wei Mingzhen stayed in Tengcheng for a month and returned glowing, overjoyed to pack Miao Jing’s luggage. All the old cotton coats her cousin had worn were left behind—Tengcheng had a pleasant climate, with long summers and mild winters, so there was no need for heavy coats. She tossed these clothes in front of her aunt, whose face flushed red with embarrassment, then went to the mall to buy Miao Jing an expensive, beautiful dress as a farewell gift.
Mother and daughter packed their few belongings and boarded a train to an unfamiliar city and an unknown family. It was Miao Jing’s first time on a train, her first time leaving the province. The green train sped through dark tunnels in the mountains, holding its breath as it waited patiently before bursting into the light, racing toward vast, unknown territories. Miao Jing became enchanted by the journey—the diverse crowds and accents from all over, the aroma of instant noodles and peanuts and melon seeds sold on small carts, the slowly halting platforms of distant stations and the fleeting scenery as the train accelerated.
Tengcheng.
In this city, the trees were peculiarly gnarled and robust, lush and oily green; any plant on the ground seemed to thrive effortlessly. Flowers bloomed long and vibrantly, and the humid, stifling air carried a strange scent, which, when swept by the wind, faintly brought a whiff of sweet floral fragrance.
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