The 29th day of the twelfth lunar month dawned bright and windless. These past few years, the lunar calendar skipped the 30th day—tonight, the 29th, would be New Year's Eve.
Li Xiaochan rose early, packing and repacking her things, as if afraid to miss a single item. While Fang Tianzhuo slept soundly, she knocked on his door.
"Tianzhuo, wake up! It's past 9 AM. Eat something—I'll pack for you, or we'll get home at night." She called, urgent.
He yawned, pulling on his trousers to open the door. Xiaochan, too busy to blush at his bare chest, dug into his closet, folding clothes into a suitcase—like a long-married couple.
He slid back into bed, exhausted. Rui Jie's and Chen Yuqi's words had kept him up all night. I've slept with my boss's two women, he thought—thrilling, yet terrifying. His mind raced until dawn, when he'd finally drifted off into chaotic dreams: Xu Yanran, Chen Yuqi, Rui Jie, Xiaochan, even the six women at the villa. By the time Xiaochan knocked, he was sweating, drained.
"Still sleeping? We'll be late. Come eat." Her voice was gentle, no trace of blame.
"Xiaochan, thirty more minutes. I need to focus—driving tired is dangerous." He mumbled, weak.
She nodded, leaving with the suitcase and armfuls of clothes. Her thoughtfulness soothed him, calming his jitters.
He woke naturally at 9:30—those minutes of deep sleep felt as refreshing as a midday nap during his senior year of high school. He reached for clothes, but his closet was empty. Xiaochan's already packed them, he smiled.
Opening his door, he found her waiting, holding a neat stack of garments.
"Shower first—new clothes for the New Year, remember? It's our hometown custom. Water's hot. Wear these." She smiled, warm.
He took the clothes, touched—she'd laid out everything, from underwear to outerwear.
After his shower, dressed in fresh clothes, he felt invigorated. Xiaochan, also in new clothes, waited in the living room. Light jeans hugged her long legs; heels added height. A coffee-colored jacket hung open over a thin sweater, emphasizing her curves.
She blushed, looking him over. "You look sunny in that."
He glanced down: dark boots, dark jeans, a coffee jacket—matching hers. We look like a couple, he realized.
They'd bought the jackets on a shopping trip, each admiring the other in it. He'd never thought they'd wear them together.
He hesitated, wanting to change—Gao Tianwei would tease them mercilessly.
"Hurry! It's past 10. We'll only make dinner at this rate. Grab your keys!" She picked up two suitcases, heading out.
Guilt pricked him—letting her carry them alone. He rushed to take the cases, telling her to check the windows and doors.
Xiaochan chattered excitedly, like a child on a trip. "Three years since I've been home for the New Year! And in a car—thanks to you!"
He grinned, stealing glances in the rearview mirror. She'd applied light makeup: shaped eyebrows, defined eyes, cheeks flushed naturally. She's as beautiful as Yanran, he thought.
He chuckled.
"Watch the road! Staring and smiling—pervert. I don't want… " She stopped, avoiding bad luck on the eve of New Year.
He turned, meeting her gaze. She blushed. He'd dreaded returning, fearing questions about Yanran. But with Xiaochan beside him, it felt manageable. Losing Yanran hasn't left me alone, he mused.
"I just think you're beautiful. Not perverted. And I'm not old." He teased.
She kept a straight face, but her heart raced.
"Xiaochan, what's in those suitcases? You're bringing half your life." He joked, breaking the tension.
"Gifts, local snacks."
"Enough for a village? You'd think you're moving back."
She flushed, glaring playfully. "I haven't been home in three years! Presents for family, relatives, you, Tianwei, Yanran's parents… even neighbors. They raised me—I owe them." She winced—mentioning Yanran was a mistake.
He fell silent. "You're right. I forgot. Let's stop to buy something."
"Heh, I knew you would. I bought extras for you." She looked proud.
Surprise and affection washed over him. What a woman, he thought. Living together, he'd taken her for granted—she cleaned, cooked, even washed his underwear. Shame heated his cheeks.
"Blushing? The great Fang Tianzhuo, embarrassed?" She teased.
"Guilty. Name anything—within my budget—and it's yours." He meant it.
She smiled, radiant. "We grew up together—don't be silly. If you must, come drink with Dad. He's sorry I'm a daughter—no one to share his wine."
Xiaochan's father had always liked him, letting him play in his wine cellar as a boy.
"Too bad Tianwei can't make it. Between us, we might keep up. I'll be drunk after two bowls." He remembered her father's giant wine cups.
"I'll save you. Promise." She laughed.
The roads teemed with cars, packed to the brim. Fang and Xiaochan counted their blessings—air conditioning, music, space.
They reached their town at 3 PM, as Xiaochan predicted. He dropped her at her father's wine shop, carrying her suitcase to the house behind it. Word spread: Fang Tianzhuo's back in a car, with Xiaochan! Villagers swarmed, praising his success, her beauty, teasing them about their "newlywed" outfits. Someone asked after Yanran.
Their cheeks burned. From the chatter, Fang learned Yanran wasn't coming home—her family said she'd stay away. Disappointment weighed on him.
Xiaochan, ever thoughtful, grabbed a jar of wine, saying she'd "take it to Tianzhuo's dad," and urged him to drive.
The crowd thinned, and they escaped—grateful, if a little flustered.