Chapter 3

After adding him on WeChat, a message from her friend Zhu Qingfei popped up: [How was the blind date?]

Zhu Qingfei, a high school classmate, had heard about it the night before. Song Wei replied: [It’s over. I just got home.]

Zhu Qingfei: [No dinner plans afterward?]

Song Wei: [No.]

Song Wei: [But he added me on WeChat.]

Zhu Qingfei: [Wow, there’s potential!]

Song Wei’s finger hovered over the screen, but she didn’t reply. Exiting the chat, she stared at the newly added profile picture, lost in thought.

Chen Jubai had left a decent impression on her, but appearance and finances weren’t her main concerns. What bothered her was his demanding job.

In her four years of working, Song Wei hadn’t dated anyone. Her life revolved around waking up for work and going to bed. Where was the time or energy for love?

Looking back now, it seemed like her youth had slipped away, leaving nothing behind.

She glanced around her impeccably clean but soulless home, her eyes landing on the closed door of the secondary bedroom. That was Song Gaoyi’s room. Since she turned 18, her parents, Song Gaoyi and Yang Yingqiu, had slept in separate rooms. Their communication was minimal, like two people just sharing a household.

Balancing work and love often seemed impossible. Even the deepest feelings could be eroded by the grind of life. Her parents were a prime example.

When she was little, Song Gaoyi wasn’t a professor yet, and Yang Yingqiu wasn’t a principal. Life as a family of three was simple but happy. As their careers flourished, time together dwindled. Eventually, it was just her at home, while arguments between her parents became routine.

As the years passed and they grew older, the distance between them only widened. Now, it felt irreparable.

There was no infidelity, as far as she knew, nor any lingering past loves. Sometimes she wondered, if there was no love left, why not separate?

Previously, it might have been to raise her, but now she was 26 and capable of handling it. She couldn’t understand why they continued to hold each other back.

Around 8 p.m., Yang Yingqiu returned from work.

Song Wei asked if she’d eaten. Yang Yingqiu said no, then asked, “What about your father?”

“He’s working late. He’ll be back later.”

Yang Yingqiu nodded without further comment.

Neither felt like cooking. Song Wei suggested, “I haven’t eaten either. Shall we order takeout?”

“Sure.”

During dinner, the topic of her blind date naturally came up. Song Wei said she didn’t like him.

“Why not?” Yang Yingqiu asked.

Song Wei didn’t respond.

Setting her chopsticks down, Yang Yingqiu spoke earnestly, “Weiwei, you’re not young anymore. I don’t need to teach you about love. From my decades of experience, I’ve learned that ‘suitability’ matters more than love in a marriage.”

Song Wei suddenly lost her appetite.

After a long pause, she said quietly, “Like you and Dad?”

She looked up at her mother. “Is your marriage with Dad based on suitability now? But you were deeply in love when you got married, weren’t you? Those photos in the album look so sweet. Even Auntie said you two went from campus sweethearts to walking down the aisle. Love between you was real, wasn’t it?”

It was the first time they’d discussed this, and Yang Yingqiu was momentarily speechless.

“So, love doesn’t matter because, in the end, it all amounts to nothing,” Song Wei said in a low voice, stirring her rice. “My most important task is to find someone suitable, get married, have kids, and then work a predictable job until the end of my life, living safely and uneventfully.”

This time, it was Yang Yingqiu who fell silent. After a long while, she sighed softly, “Weiwei, you’re still young.”

Three decades of marriage—full of love, quarrels, and compromises—had smoothed over the waves of life. Their pursuits in their careers eventually consumed everything else.

Neither parent was at fault. The only mistake was watching the growing rift between them without ever attempting to bridge it. They just stood on opposite shores, gazing at one another.

Now, there was hardly anything left, except for their daughter, the sole reason they stayed together.

Song Wei stared at her mother, as if seeking something. “Mom, do you and Dad still have feelings for each other?”

Unfortunately, she didn’t get an answer.

Silence.

After what felt like an eternity, a soft “meow” came from Song Wei’s room, breaking the stalemate between mother and daughter.

Yang Yingqiu looked incredulous. “You got a cat?”

Song Wei lowered her gaze, her voice subdued. “Yes.”

Yang Yingqiu’s tone rose sharply. “Song Wei, you can barely take care of yourself, and now you’re raising a cat?”

Quietly, Song Wei retorted, “Who says I can’t take care of myself?” She had managed fine on her own since college. Even before then, during the countless nights her parents worked late, she’d taken care of herself.

This time, she didn’t back down. “I’m keeping the cat. If you don’t want me to, I’ll move out.”

Her rebellion had come late, but her stubbornness hadn’t diminished.

This cat was staying.

Back in her room, Song Wei saw a message from Chen Jubai on her phone: [I have your scarf. When would it be convenient for me to return it?]

She paused, then chuckled softly. So that’s why he added her on WeChat—it was about the scarf.

Earlier, she’d taken off her scarf and left it in the back seat of his car. She’d forgotten to grab it when she got out.

Perfect. She could return his umbrella too.

[I’m free anytime. Let’s meet at the café at 6 p.m. tomorrow.]

[Alright.]

…

Chen Jubai set his phone down and turned to look at the dark green, thick scarf.

After a few seconds, he reached for it, feeling its soft and delicate texture, like holding a bundle of light cotton.

The faint, tea-like scent in the air reminded him of crushed leaves in a rain-soaked garden. Fresh and natural, it gradually enveloped him.

He sat quietly in his car for a while before placing the scarf on the passenger seat and heading upstairs.

The first thing he did after earning his first significant income was to buy a new apartment for his aunt Chen Yun’s family. They moved from a small three-bedroom in the old district to a spacious four-bedroom in Wutong Garden in the new district. The area had excellent amenities and came with a hefty price tag.

Over the years, he’d bought his own place, but he still returned to Wutong Garden whenever he could. Chen Yun always kept a room ready for him.

As soon as he stepped inside, Chen Yun approached, raising her eyebrows and asking, “How was it?”

“What do you mean, ‘how was it?’”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Did you like the girl?” She grinned knowingly. At first, he had refused to go, but afterward, he had asked for the girl’s WeChat—wasn’t that a sign he liked her?

Chen Jubai didn’t answer. Instead, he went to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. Chen Yun followed him, continuing, “The girl is really good. Comes from a great family—her mom’s a school principal, and her dad’s some kind of researcher. She’s beautiful too…”

Pausing, she veered off-topic. “She looks even better in person, doesn’t she?”

Chen Jubai took a sip of water, recalling the demure girl sitting at the table, waiting for him. Her rosy cheeks, delicate dimples, and sweet demeanor came to mind.

“She’s very pretty,” he admitted, not withholding his praise.

“See? I knew I had good taste!” Chen Yun said smugly before adding, “Let me tell you, if this had been a few years ago, she wouldn’t even have agreed to meet you. It’s only because you’ve made something of yourself now. Otherwise, I’d have to beg for introductions.”

Chen Jubai chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Of course it is. You’re an orphan, and you used to be broke. What kind of girl would’ve looked at you back then?”

Chen Yun wasn’t wrong. No one understood her nephew’s hardships better than she did. Her brother, Jubai’s father, was a gambling, lazy man with no ambition. Without a mother to care for him, Jubai often went hungry, his frail frame a testament to years of neglect.

Things only improved when he began living at his high school dormitory, where he could eat regularly. Over time, his health improved.

Fortunately, Jubai was determined. He consistently ranked at the top of his class, and though he could’ve gone to Tsinghua or Peking University, he chose a local school that offered a generous scholarship. After graduation, he saved up, started a small studio with a few people, and grew it into a successful company.

But success hadn’t come easily. Chen Yun often saw him working himself to the bone—skipping meals, sacrificing sleep, pouring everything into his career.

She had introduced him to several women before, but he always turned her down. Now that he had finally agreed to meet someone, she had to make sure he didn’t let this opportunity slip away.

Her daughter, Jiang Xiaoyu, emerged from her room and interrupted, “Mom, you’re so shallow. With my brother’s looks and physique, there were plenty of rich women who wanted to keep him.”

Chen Yun turned to her with mock fury, waving a fist. “Don’t spout nonsense! Go back to your room and sleep!”

Turning back to Jubai, her tone softened again. “Jubai, you’re not getting any younger. Your mother passed away early, and your father might as well not exist. If you don’t take care of this yourself, you’ll be single forever. This girl is truly a good match. If you like her, take the initiative. Don’t act like a block of wood and miss your chance.”

Jubai was quiet for a moment before replying, “Got it.”

Back in his room, he sat down and opened his phone. There were many messages, and Song Wei’s chat had already been pushed to the second page.

Her profile picture was a blurred side profile, lit with a soft, atmospheric glow.

He clicked into her profile and browsed her moments. Ten minutes ago, she had posted: “This winter, I’ve welcomed Little Snowflake.” The picture showed a cozy cat curled up and sleeping.

Their mutual friend, Jiang Xiaoyu, had liked the post and commented: “This winter, Little Snowflake has found her owner!”

Scrolling down, he saw an earlier post of an airport picture captioned, “Goodbye, Beijing.”

Beyond that, her older posts were private—only visible within a three-month window.

A knock on the door broke his focus. “Brother, can I come in?”

“Come in,” he said, putting his phone away.

Jiang Xiaoyu poked her head in, giggling before stepping inside.

When Jubai had first moved into the Jiang household during high school, Xiaoyu hadn’t liked him one bit. He was strict when tutoring her and rarely showed warmth—practically a block of wood in her eyes.

At seven or eight years old, she had done everything she could to drive him out. She’d soaked his bedding, hidden his homework, and even badmouthed him to her parents.

Yet no matter what she did, Jubai never got angry or tattled. When his bedding was wet, he simply dried it and endured a cold night. When she sabotaged his homework, he quietly accepted the scolding from teachers.

Now a college freshman, Xiaoyu felt a pang of guilt whenever she recalled those days.

She had since learned what her adopted brother had endured, and her childish antics seemed cruel in hindsight.

Eighteen-year-old Jiang Xiaoyu had made up her mind to protect him from now on.

“Brother, Mom won’t tell me anything about the girl you met. Spill it!”

Jubai tapped her head lightly with a pen. “Show some respect. Don’t call her ‘that girl.’”

“Fine, fine. Tell me about that sister, then. Was she pretty?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it? Pretty?”

“She’s very pretty.”

Jiang Xiaoyu squinted suspiciously. “What does she do?”

“She’s between jobs for now.”

“Between jobs?!” Her voice rose, fists clenching. Suspicion began to brew.

“What about her family? Are they rich?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Not sure?!” Xiaoyu’s wariness went into overdrive. She plopped onto his bed. “Bro, you need to be careful. I’ve seen too many news stories about women targeting men for their money—especially the pretty ones! They’re like scheming green tea types, out to trap you!”

“Targeting me?” Jubai asked, perplexed.

“Of course! You’re a multimillionaire now!”

She left the rest unsaid. With her brother’s inexperience in relationships, she was certain he’d fall for a con artist with just a flutter of her lashes.

Jubai chuckled softly, his eyes filled with mild amusement. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I’m just saying,” Xiaoyu warned, serious now. “If she wants to be my sister-in-law, she’ll have to pass my test first. And don’t you dare do anything reckless like getting married on a whim just because you hit it off at some blind date. That’s immature and irresponsible!”

“Remember this: my sister-in-law must pass my approval!” Jiang Xiaoyu repeated, emphasizing her point.

Chen Jubai hadn’t expected a young girl like her to think so much. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair, a soft smile curving his lips. “Let me tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve already met her.”

Jiang Xiaoyu’s eyes widened in disbelief as she pointed to herself. “I’ve met her?”

Chen Jubai nodded. “Yes, that day when I picked you up. She’s the sister you said rescued the stray kitten.”

Seeing her stunned silence, he chuckled softly. “Does she pass your test?”

Jiang Xiaoyu snapped out of it, nodding vigorously. “She passes! She passes! Brother, your luck is incredible!”

A beautiful, kind-hearted, and gentle sister—absolute perfection!

Chen Jubai asked, “Did she adopt that kitten?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Xiaoyu leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Brother, that sister has such a soft heart. I just said a few words, and she agreed to adopt it. Someone like that is easily taken advantage of.”

“That’s not called being soft-hearted.”

“Yes, yes, yes. It’s because she’s naturally kind, alright?” Jiang Xiaoyu squinted at him. “You’re already defending her, and you’re not even together yet.”

Chen Jubai chuckled. Finally, he reminded her, “We’re not in a relationship yet. Don’t go bothering her.”

“Got it. I definitely won’t mess things up for you.”

Satisfied, Jiang Xiaoyu left. Just as she reached the door, her brother called after her. “What should someone know about taking care of a cat?”

She immediately understood and shot him a stern look. “Da Pang and Xiao Pang would be so mad if they heard you say that!”

Da Pang and Xiao Pang were two cats they’d adopted last year, but Jubai rarely interacted with them. At most, he had fed them once or twice. Jiang Xiaoyu felt indignant on their behalf. Men really were hopeless!

Unbothered, Jubai said calmly, “Send me the information later.”

“Hmph, always siding with outsiders!”

Grumbling, the lively girl finally left, her chatter fading down the hallway. Alone again, Chen Jubai stayed still for a while. Jiang Xiaoyu’s constant stream of messages made his phone screen light up intermittently.

Occasionally, he could hear the mother-daughter duo talking in the other room, Jiang Xiaoyu’s animated voice particularly loud.

From downstairs in the neighborhood, faint meows drifted up, clear and distinct in the stillness of the night.

Chen Jubai glanced out the window, his thoughts turning hazy as he tried to recall whether he had rolled up the car windows.

There were often stray cats and dogs in the area, especially in the cold winter months when they sought warmth inside parked vehicles. If the windows weren’t closed, there was a chance a stray might sneak in.

Her scarf was still in the front passenger seat.

Chen Jubai stood and went downstairs.

The car windows were tightly shut, and a soft layer of snow blanketed the vehicle. Tiny paw prints dotted the hood, left behind by a wandering cat.

Without much thought, he opened the passenger door, retrieved the scarf, and went back upstairs.