Chapter 20

The theme for this season’s winter food videos was “Reunion,” featuring dishes suitable for families to enjoy together.

Having Chi Zhihan handle such a theme carried a hint of irony. Every time Lin Jingwu handed her a script, his expression was tinged with awkwardness.

“Reunion hot pot?” Chi Zhihan paused when she received the new script.

“The theme and recipes were decided by drawing lots. You were still at the Qi family’s place at the time, and you know how terrible my luck is with draws,” Lin Jingwu said, rubbing his hands nervously. Since returning from the Qi family, Chi Zhihan had maintained this distant expression. Her usual habit of teasing him was gone, and her silence left him feeling uneasy.

Chi Zhihan didn’t respond.

She was thinking about that person again.

When she left, the weather hadn’t completely turned cold yet. She had promised him back then that she would make him a hot pot when winter arrived.

“Homemade pork and egg dumplings, hand-beaten beef balls, fresh shrimp peeled and deveined to make shrimp paste, all cooked in a beef bone broth simmered overnight, topped with sweet, fresh vegetables—a warming pot perfect for winter.” That was probably how she had described it at the time. For the foodie across the hall with a delicate constitution, she often memorized long food descriptions from the company. After reciting them, she could see the camera nodding quickly in response.

The same hot pot, but today it carried the name “Reunion.”

And that person—was he still alone in the cold southern winter, motionless under his blanket?

…

She had actually been forced to leave by Qi Cheng.

That night, after unexpectedly receiving his phone number.

Looking back many times afterward, she still couldn’t figure out when exactly Qi Cheng had realized that her stray cat story was actually about him.

Perhaps it was before she delivered dinner, or perhaps it was the surprised expression on her face after receiving his phone number.

By the time she had composed herself and raised her head to save his number in her phone, there was already a text message from Qi Cheng.

It said: 「I am not a stray cat」

Six characters, no punctuation.

It was probably the only time in their two months together that Qi Cheng had shown anger. Along with his anger came suddenly abnormal blood pressure and heart rate.

Dr. Zhao, Qi Peng, and the visibly pregnant Qi Ning rushed over immediately. Meanwhile, she waited helplessly until the next day, when she was told to pack her things and leave.

The Qi family never appeared. It was Dr. Zhao, ever the professional, who bid her farewell.

He remained polite to her, first emphasizing that she had done nothing wrong. Before telling her about the situation, he had known there would be such risks. Qi Cheng was too sensitive; many things couldn’t be hidden from him.

Then, he told her that the treatment plan would still wait for her approval. Until they found a better candidate, he hoped she would carefully reconsider. He believed that if she was willing, she would surely find a way to make Qi Cheng accept her again.

Dr. Zhao had always had inexplicable confidence in her.

Lowering her head with a slight smile, she realized it had been almost four months since she left the Qi residence, and no one had contacted her since. Except for the phone number Qi Cheng gave her that night, everything from her time at the Qi residence felt like a fantastical adventure—a parallel world that would never intersect with hers again.

While making the reunion hot pot, Chi Zhihan was distracted the entire time, even directly switching the planned seafood menu to the version she had promised to make for Qi Cheng.

Throughout the process, she wore a contemplative smile, her movements flowing naturally. The yellow egg skin, the pink-tinted shrimp paste after blanching, and other colorful vegetables created a color combination even better than the original menu.

The director was very pleased. His videos never showed faces, so Chi Zhihan’s distracted expression wasn’t captured. Her hands became the focus during the cooking process.

“Xiao Chi put her heart into this dish,” the director said during playback, tapping the monitor. “Look at how different the emotional expression in her hand gestures is.”

Lin Jingwu, who had been worried that this expensive industry director would get angry, wiped cold sweat from his forehead while forcing a smile, noticing that his little chef was still lost in thought.

…

Unable to bear it anymore, he pulled her to a corner where no one was around.

“What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been like this since returning from the Qi family, constantly spacing out,” he said, his tone finally turning stern. “The money from the Qi family is only enough to reduce your debt by one year. Don’t forget what’s behind you. This attitude while cooking will eventually cause trouble. If you get burned, do you think the company will continue paying you your full salary?”

Hot pots, hot oil, cutting knives—each required careful attention. Lately, watching her cut vegetables made his heart race with anxiety.

Yet when Chi Zhihan showed such a good attitude in accepting criticism, standing there with her head lowered guiltily after his outburst, his anger quickly dissipated.

“I don’t have a daughter, so I really don’t know how to say some things,” Lin Jingwu said awkwardly, choosing his words carefully. “You fell for Qi Peng, didn’t you? You silly girl, how are you any less than others? If you like him, just say it. When he mentions you on the show, his expression seems quite gentle. It doesn’t look like he’s indifferent toward you.”

“…” Chi Zhihan blinked, then asked a completely unrelated question, “Old Lin, if someone begged you to save their life, would you do it?”

“Huh?” Lin Jingwu gave an impressive performance of being dumbstruck.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be you, but if you agreed to save them and failed in the end, what would you do?” Chi Zhihan continued with this puzzling topic, her questions scattered and disjointed.

“…” Lin Jingwu clicked his tongue again. “When you asked me to sign you back then, your line was ‘save my life,’ wasn’t it? And didn’t I save you?”

“…Huh?” This time it was Chi Zhihan’s turn to be stunned.

“You were desperate back then. You didn’t pass the first interview, so you came to me crying, making a scene, even kneeling and begging me to save you,” Lin Jingwu tapped Chi Zhihan’s head. “Ungrateful thing, don’t you remember now?”

…

That wasn’t the same kind of saving she was talking about.

“People who ask for help are usually in desperate need. If you can help, just help them out. No one’s really staking their life on you. At most, you’re giving someone a chance, and whether they can make use of it is their business,” Lin Jingwu glanced at Chi Zhihan. “Why are you asking about this?”

“What if after giving them the chance, they try their best but still fail?” Chi Zhihan persisted.

“Not giving them a chance at all is even more inhumane,” Lin Jingwu finally lost his temper. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

Just because she cooked for rich people for two months, how did her way of speaking become so philosophical?

…

Crude words but truth…

Though not exactly an epiphany, she realized she really was the inhumane one who hadn’t even given a chance.

Four months had passed. The Qi family hadn’t contacted her, and she hadn’t reached out to them either.

Not even to ask how Qi Cheng was doing. What if they had already found someone who could treat him? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Before taking out her phone, she suddenly remembered what Lin Jingwu had just said about Qi Peng.

“Old Lin, that joke about Qi Peng really was good…” This time she genuinely laughed, her expression gentle. Thinking of Qi Peng and Dr. Zhao crouching in a tent, sniffling while eating yuanxiao^[1]Yuanxiao are small, sweet, round dumplings made of glutinous rice flour, typically filled with sweet fillings like sesame, peanuts, or red beans., Chi Zhihan couldn’t help but laugh again as she patted Lin Jingwu’s shoulder.

…

She contacted Dr. Zhao; the phone only rang once before being answered.

“…” Chi Zhihan was startled by Dr. Zhao’s urgent “hello,” hesitating before identifying herself, “This is Chi Zhihan.”

“I know, I know,” Dr. Zhao responded rapidly.

“I just wanted to ask, how is Qi Cheng?” Dr. Zhao’s urgency gave her a sense of foreboding, making her voice unconsciously cautious.

“He hasn’t left his bed since you left,” Dr. Zhao sighed. “Miss Chi, have you made your decision?”

…

“…He hasn’t left his bed for four months?” Chi Zhihan instinctively repeated.

“That treatment plan might not work without you now,” Dr. Zhao’s voice sounded exhausted. “Qi Cheng won’t let us contact you. During his recent sensitive period, honestly, we don’t dare to contact you behind his back. If he found out, it would only make things worse.”

“Qi Cheng has developed feelings for you, similar to a companion in the closet, do you understand? It’s somewhat of an all-or-nothing situation, but it seems irreplaceable,” Dr. Zhao said with a bitter laugh. “Long-term patients are really what doctors fear most—they do exactly what we’re afraid they might do. This really isn’t fair to you, Miss Chi, so we don’t have the right to call you again.”

“Your call really made my heart race. I won’t say anything else, I just want to ask, have you made your decision?” Dr. Zhao asked very urgently, having long abandoned his previous neutrality.

Things developing this way, he bore the greatest responsibility. No one had expected that in the end, Qi Cheng’s treatment would become impossible without Chi Zhihan.

Once a psychological patient develops possessiveness, the object of their desire is actually in danger.

Although Qi Cheng showed no violent tendencies in all tests, they now knew that if Chi Zhihan withdrew, he would resort to self-destructive behavior.

They couldn’t expect a twenty-four-year-old girl to bear such pressure in treatment; no amount of money could justify that.

He didn’t have the face to beg Chi Zhihan; for four months, the Qi family had been in torment, and he had become increasingly self-reproachful.

He shouldn’t have used such a risky, aggressive method.

“Before you agree, I have one more thing to say,” Dr. Zhao spoke again. “He has developed possessiveness towards you. Once treatment begins, you cannot withdraw.”

…

Chi Zhihan squinted, watching people bustle around the filming site.

Lin Jingwu, whom she had just laughed at, was now distributing drinks to everyone, waving his fist at her when he saw her.

Her world, after leaving for two months, remained orderly, and this world was what she had once begged and knelt for in the first place.

That person had been lying in bed for four months, angrily telling her he wasn’t a stray cat.

He had developed possessiveness towards her—a psychological patient developing possessiveness towards a normal person.

She, this normal person, should feel danger, yet she heard herself calmly asking, “Dr. Zhao, what’s the success rate of this treatment plan?”

“Without your participation, the success rate is ten percent. With your participation, it’s forty percent,” Dr. Zhao replied. On his end, there was a faint sound of nurses calling him.

A four-fold increase.

“I’ll try,” she blurted out before Dr. Zhao could speak.

Qi Cheng deserved this chance, to return to her kind of world—orderly, not perfect, but still giving hope.

Before the reunion hot pot was divided up, Chi Zhihan took a photo with her phone and sent it to that number she had wanted to message countless times, using a pretend-casual tone: 「The hot pot I promised to make for you before, want to eat it?」

There was no reply.

The afternoon was still food video filming. After several busy hours, she checked her phone again and found a message.

From Qi Cheng.

One word: 「Want.」

Somehow, this made Chi Zhihan’s eyes well up with tears.

…

Returning to the villa was simpler than imagined.

Qi Peng came to pick her up, holding her hand and repeatedly saying thank you. When Lin Jingwu saw this scene passing by, he nearly jumped in place.

This kind of treatment plan, nicely put, was letting her participate.

Put harshly, it was confinement.

No one required it of her; she volunteered for confinement, especially when she opened that door and saw the still-dark house.

“How can you eat hot pot like this?” The heating was still very high, and the room was stuffy from long-term lack of ventilation. Qi Peng said Qi Cheng wouldn’t allow anyone to open windows or turn on lights.

“He’s nearly rotting away,” Qi Peng said, his brow twitching with anger.

Before treatment, Qi Cheng was still willing to put up a front, at least appearing very cooperative. After treatment, his little tempers had all emerged, and his self-destructive behavior made him seem like a child throwing tantrums.

“Let’s continue with porridge tonight,” Chi Zhihan concluded alone in the darkness, then fumbled around stumbling to find the light switch.

“Who designed this renovation? Why isn’t there a switch at the entrance?” After the nth time bumping into unknown objects in the open space, Chi Zhihan finally couldn’t help muttering.

“…I turned off the motion-sensor lights,” a rough, hoarse voice that sounded like it hadn’t spoken in a lifetime suddenly rang out in the darkness.

Chi Zhihan froze.

“The night light switch is on the wall to the right of my bed,” he said after a while. “There are steps beside it.”

…

“You’re not mute?” Chi Zhihan was shocked.

“…” Qi Cheng seemed unwilling to answer this question, falling silent.

“…If you’re not mute, why did you never speak?” Chi Zhihan wanted to die, thinking of how considerately she had let him knock on the wall, but he could speak?

“…You let me knock on the wall, so that was enough,” came a pitiful voice, hoarse from long disuse, the last two words almost inaudible.

This finally reminded Chi Zhihan that he was a patient.

Feeling her way to the bedside in the dark, she started feeling along the wall, and predictably tripped on the steps, falling to her knees beside the bed, incidentally hitting the bed frame.

“…” The sound of falling was very loud; Chi Zhihan rubbed her knee, unable to recover for a long while.

“…I said there were steps,” Qi Cheng moved slightly on the bed. Being very close, Chi Zhihan could hear his heavy breathing.

He moved again, finally propping himself up to sit. In the darkness, he glanced at her.

Just this movement took him nearly ten minutes, breathing like a broken accordion.

“Am I too close?” Realizing she was right against the bed, Chi Zhihan finally discovered that Qi Cheng’s labored breathing might not be entirely due to physical exertion.

“…” Qi Cheng didn’t answer, feeling around like an elderly person, and turned on the bedside switch.

Like long-time friends with perfect understanding, as soon as the light came on, Chi Zhihan quickly lowered her head, while Qi Cheng, with a speed completely different from before, dove back under the covers.

The person under the covers wasn’t just breathing heavily; he was practically shaking.

“…I’ve moved far away,” Chi Zhihan stood in the center of the living room, raising her hands in surrender.

It took Qi Cheng a long time to steady his breathing before asking with self-mockery. “How much more did Dr. Zhao tell you about me?”

“Probably everything,” Chi Zhihan was very honest.

Qi Cheng fell silent.

Chi Zhihan stood blankly for a while, then asked, “Would you like some water?”

With a throat that hoarse, he probably needed it, right?

The headboard was knocked twice.

…

Chi Zhihan remained silent. She had deliberately memorized all the locations in Qi Cheng’s room during that period, so she was familiar with it. She poured a glass of warm water and placed it on his bedside table, only speaking after moving far away, “Is it more comfortable when not speaking?”

No response.

Chi Zhihan shrugged, following the light to start lowering the heating, opening the curtains slightly and the window without even asking.

“…What are you doing?” Feeling the sound of tree leaves rustling in the wind outside, Qi Cheng couldn’t help speaking.

“Airing out the room, just for a few minutes, I’m nearly suffocating,” Chi Zhihan’s voice was muffled by the window.

Qi Cheng turned over in bed, no longer speaking.

The two stayed quietly in this space, neither making any more sound.

She had come back.

Chi Zhihan watched the swaying tree shadows outside, feeling peaceful.

She had used the word “back,” and after using it, found she didn’t reject it.

She should be sick too, not rejecting such dependent emotions from Qi Cheng at all. They were companions, unrelated to male-female relationships, only because most of the time, they could very accurately understand each other’s emotions.

Their inexplicable chemistry should be because the gaps in their hearts were too similar.

“Tonight we’ll have porridge; you’re not in good condition, so no pickled radish,” Chi Zhihan said after closing the window again, with the heating returned to a bearable temperature. She asked naturally, just like during every day as a private chef before.

The headboard was knocked again, also like before.

Chi Zhihan lowered her head with a slight smile.

Let’s pretend nothing happened. He needs rest; retreating to a safe distance would let him rest better.

But his voice was actually quite nice.

Especially when he was being pitiful, the trailing sound was surprisingly cute and milky.

…

This time, Qi Cheng didn’t recover as quickly as before, staying in bed for another half month.

He rarely spoke again.

Dr. Zhao looked at his psychological report with tears of excitement in his eyes.

Qi Ning was approaching her due date, and with Dr. Zhao’s guarantee, she went to America with Qi Peng and her husband to await delivery.

For the next three months, the small villa truly had only her and Qi Cheng.

“Last time when he had an episode, his emotions were very unstable, and he removed the previous monitoring device,” Qi Ning was very worried before leaving, reminding her for the ten thousandth time, “You must check on him regularly. I’m afraid something might happen to him.”

Chi Zhihan smiled and agreed.

Qi Ning actually wasn’t a bad person; she practically treated this brother like her own son.

The crisis came four days after Qi Cheng could walk again. Chi Zhihan had finally made hot pot, which was too inconvenient to pass through the small window, so she knocked on the door, and seeing no response from Qi Cheng, directly entered the passcode.

“The hot pot is too big, so I’m bringing it in directly, okay?” She waited a moment at the door before entering.

Unexpectedly, the bed was empty.

Chi Zhihan carried the large hot pot, making it difficult to see the path clearly. Concerned about startling Qi Cheng if they accidentally met face to face, she cautiously took a few steps forward and called out, “Are you in the bathroom? I’ll just set down the hot pot and leave.”

No response.

After placing the hot pot on the counter without seeing any sign of Qi Cheng, Chi Zhihan finally began to panic. She took a few steps toward the bed when her foot seemed to brush against something soft, and then her ankle was grabbed by an ice-cold hand.

Being suddenly attacked in the dim, dark place, Chi Zhihan was nearly scared to tears. She sat down hard and discovered that on the steps beside the bed lay a person.

Dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and cotton lounge pants, barefoot.

His face was pale with an unhealthy flush, lips slightly parted, brows tightly knitted.

“Qi Cheng?” This was the first time Chi Zhihan called his name aloud.

She was too shocked, not because Qi Cheng now looked like he was on his last breath, but because of his appearance.

A man who looked this handsome was depressed?! Had Social anxiety?!

Damn, how are the rest of us supposed to live?!