Chapter 25: Trivialities and Ordinary Life

Antong quietly took Cheng Feng’s words to heart, feeling a flush of shame for having suspected Dr. Rong with such pettiness before. Meanwhile, Cheng Feng plucked a wild grass and teased Anan in the courtyard, so engrossed in play that he lost track of time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang and a man’s low, somewhat husky voice sounded on the other end, “The fruit hasn’t been delivered yet?” Cheng Feng shrank his neck and saw that fifteen minutes had passed. Daring not to delay further, he hurriedly left the little courtyard.

In the car, Rong Shen was resting with his eyes closed. When he heard the door open, he lazily lifted his eyelids. Before the man could speak, Cheng Feng volunteered, “Sorry, Ninth Master, I got caught up chatting with Miss An and lost track of time.”

“What did you talk about?”

Cheng Feng glanced back, “Not much, really. She just asked if you were going to Zhanzhou, and how long you’d be away, things like that.”

The man’s thin lips curved into an ambiguous smile as he leaned against the headrest and said deeply, “Let’s go.”

...

That night, Antong turned on the stereo and played a gentle, lingering piano piece. After finishing his milk, Anan leaped onto her lap again, wagging his tail, waiting for her to stroke his fur.

Antong tapped his damp little nose and murmured, “What will you do if I have to travel far in the future?”

Leaving this clingy little thing alone in the flat would be too lonely; she couldn’t bear it. On a whim, Antong picked up her phone and searched for high-speed train tickets from Xiangjiang to Zhanzhou.

It was just over three hundred kilometers—an hour by bullet train. If she drove, it would take a little over four hours.

Rubbing Anan’s head, Antong said, “Then… I’ll take you with me by car.”

...

The next day, Saturday.

Antong woke early, made dog food for Anan, and left the house before seven. The streets were quiet with few pedestrians or cars. Antong put on a bucket hat and a mask, and after several subway transfers, arrived at the city center’s CBD district.

At Twin Towers Building A, she swiped her access card and headed straight to the thirty-eighth floor. By the time she came out, it was nearly nine in the morning.

In the lobby, several employees were arriving for overtime. As a few colleagues met, they walked and complained:

“I really hope President Shi can bring Code Deity into our streaming team. If that happens, our app’s performance and daily active users will be soaring, maybe we won’t even have to work overtime anymore.”

“As if it’s that easy. I heard President Shi offered a record-high signing bonus, but still couldn’t close the deal.”

“Such a tough nut to crack. If we keep working overtime like this, I’m going to drop dead.”

They chatted as they entered the elevator, none of them noticing the Code Deity passing by.

Outside the lobby, Antong sent a message to Su Ji on WeChat. Once she got an exact reply, she took a taxi to the airport.

...

Suicheng, Peach Blossom Haven.

In the late autumn of the southern riverlands, the sky was high and the clouds thin. Rows of ancient houses and the deep black flagstones in front bore the marks of time, simple and serene.

Peach Blossom Haven was Suicheng’s signature tourist attraction. Amid the winding, intersecting southern lanes, Antong was sitting in a café, listening to Su Ji vent.

“You really are bold enough to sail a ship right into port—show up just like that! Are you trying to scare me on purpose?”

Antong held her coffee cup with one hand, answering calmly, “I was already planning to come when I asked you last time.”

Last time?

Su Ji suddenly recalled: on the third anniversary of the accident, Antong had indeed asked where she was shooting on location.

“Well, look at you, acting first and reporting later.” Su Ji tried to keep a stern face, but soon burst out laughing. “Just teasing. Honestly, I wish you’d come out every day, save you from brooding at home with nothing to do.”

Antong gave a lackluster smile. “I’m leaving tonight. If you’re busy, go ahead.”

“I’ve wrapped up work, I’m not busy.” Su Ji tugged at her work badge, coaxing, “You hardly ever visit—why not stay a few more days? The scenery here is lovely, let your big sister show you around.”

Antong declined politely, “Anan is still waiting at home.”

Su Ji let out a complicated humph. “So I’m worth less than a dog, is that it? Which of us is more important to you?”

Antong wanted to say that both were important, but knowing Su Ji as she did, that kind of answer would only earn her a scolding. She thought better of it and stayed silent.

Though Su Ji was outgoing and brash, when it came to Antong, she was always sharp to notice subtle details. After a moment’s close observation, she leaned forward, her tone probing, “Sweetheart, tell me the truth—did you come all the way here today because you needed something?”

Antong’s gaze flickered imperceptibly. “No, just needed to clear my head.”

“Really?” Su Ji was dubious but couldn’t figure out why. After a moment’s stare-down, she didn’t press further and sighed with relief, “Seems like the therapy’s working—you’re going out by yourself now. That’s good.”

That afternoon, the two wandered around Peach Blossom Haven, bought some local specialties, and, unable to persuade Antong to stay longer, Su Ji finally drove her to the airport at dusk.

“Next time, arrange for your dog before you travel, you hear me?” Su Ji called.

Antong agreed and waved as she entered the departure hall. Watching her leave, Su Ji sensed something unusual.

It wasn’t until she returned to her hotel and took off her jacket that a ten-thousand-yuan cashier’s check unexpectedly fell from her pocket. Su Ji stared for a moment, then picked up the check and saw that the withdrawal deadline was the very next day. On the back was a yellow sticky note in Antong’s handwriting: Repaying you—don’t forget to cash it.

Paying Company: GongziChuang Technology.

Su Ji sat by the edge of the bed, holding the check and letting out a helpless laugh. So that was it—her little sister hadn’t come for nothing, but to repay her debt.

Three months ago, Su Ji had lent her the money for emergencies, never expecting it back, knowing Antong had more pressing needs for it. Now, the check was delivered right before the deadline. If Su Ji didn’t cash it tomorrow, it would be void and the money lost.

What a clever girl, catching her in a time trap and forcing her to accept the repayment.

As for “GongziChuang Technology,” that must be the parent company of the app Antong used for her streaming income.

With the flight already departed, Su Ji could only send a message: “Got the check. When I get back, I’ll settle this with you. [angry emoji]”

...

The weekend flew by, and it was Monday again.

Antong was jolted awake by her alarm. She prepared to get up for therapy as usual, only to remember that Dr. Rong was away on a business trip.

She sighed silently, staring at the ceiling, suddenly at a loss.

Just then, there was a rustle by the bed. Antong turned to see her puppy, Anan, lying by her pillow, watching her. Her little anchor.

She scooped Anan into her arms, and the puppy affectionately licked her cheek.

Soon after, she got up to prepare dog food for Anan, grabbed a quick breakfast herself, and spent the rest of the day in her study, whiling away the hours.

Perhaps it was all in her head, but Antong felt time crawling unbearably slow, and even reading could not ease her inner restlessness.

What lingered in her mind most was that Dr. Rong hadn’t said when he’d return, nor had they scheduled the next session.

With no outlet for these emotions, the days passed under a heavy cloud for several more days.

By Wednesday, Antong accepted Director Lin’s invitation to have a casual meal at his home and to tutor Lin Bo in his foreign language studies.

In the director’s office, Director Lin poured a cup of water and smiled warmly, “Your Aunt Qiao will come pick you up tomorrow afternoon. She’s been looking forward to having you at our home for ages.”

“No need to trouble Aunt Qiao. I remember your address—I can just take a taxi there.”

Director Lin waved off her concern, still smiling. “It’s no trouble at all. I wanted to give you a ride myself, but if the people at the magazine saw, gossip would be inevitable. Since your Aunt Qiao is eager to see you and it’s on her way, let her come.”

Unable to refuse his kind insistence, Antong nodded her agreement.

...

The next afternoon, Aunt Qiao arrived as promised to pick up Antong from the magazine office.

They met downstairs, and Aunt Qiao hurried around the car to take her hand. “Tongtong, it’s been so long! Let me have a good look at you.”

Antong lowered her eyes, glancing at the hand being held, and greeted her with a slightly awkward smile, “Aunt Qiao.”

The woman’s face was gentle, her eyes filled with affection and sorrow. “You’ve lost so much weight, clearly not eating well. Come on, get in the car—tonight Aunt Qiao will cook you something delicious.”

Though it had been a long time, Aunt Qiao was as warm as ever. Only Antong remained a little reserved, passively accepting the kindness.

About half an hour later, the car stopped beneath an upscale apartment block.

Antong followed Aunt Qiao into the house and was greeted by a young man standing in the entryway.

He had grown in the years since she last saw him. Lin Bo, who used to follow her around calling her “sister,” was now a sixteen-year-old youth in a school shirt and dark trousers.

He looked at Antong shyly and said, “Hi, Sister Tongtong.”

“Lin Bo, it’s been a long time.”

As she spoke those familiar words, Antong felt a strange sense of dislocation.

The three-bedroom apartment still looked as it always had. Uncle Lin was successful, Aunt Qiao remained as gentle as before. Everything was just as she remembered—only she herself no longer fit the picture.

“Don’t just stand there, Xiao Bo,” Aunt Qiao chided, giving his shoulder a pat. “Your Sister Tongtong doesn’t come often. Don’t waste time with small talk—ask her for study tips. When she was your age, she was already about to take the college entrance exam.”

Lin Bo scratched his head and muttered, “Okay, Mom, I know.”

He had been strictly warned not to mention anything about the An family.

He wasn’t stupid—he’d never bring up what shouldn’t be spoken.

With a cheerful laugh and another tap on his shoulder, Aunt Qiao hurried them into the house.

The scene before her was the most ordinary of family life—maternal nagging, adolescent impatience—yet for Antong, it was warmth she could no longer truly experience.

Soon, Lin Bo took Antong to the guest bedroom, showed her his new mystery box collection, and then they sat at the desk, where he opened his books and began to ask questions. Antong answered patiently.

A little after five, Director Lin came home. He changed into slippers, peeked into the guest room, and then slipped off to the kitchen.

“Tongtong’s gotten so thin,” Aunt Qiao murmured as she chopped vegetables. “Only two or three years have passed, but she looks so fragile.”

Director Lin washed his hands and began preparing vegetables. “After all that’s happened in her family, it’s a miracle she’s made it this far. If it were Lin Bo in her shoes, he wouldn’t have fared as well.”

“Old Lin, do you think… her father is gone, or…”—dead.

The last word was left unsaid.

Director Lin paused, then shook his head with a sigh. “Who knows? Best not to ask Xiao An about it.”

Aunt Qiao shot him a reproachful look. “I know. I’m not thoughtless.”