[Motel Near East Gate — September 16, 9:15 AM]
Zhang Tingting woke up to the sound of someone coughing through the thin wall.
The motel room was exactly as depressing as it had been when she fell asleep. Dirty curtains hung crooked over the window, letting in slants of morning light that cut across the stained carpet.
The mattress felt like a bag of rocks. No amount of air freshener could cover the cigarette smoke that had seeped into every surface years before she'd arrived.
She stared at the ceiling, tracing a water stain shaped vaguely like a boot.
The cheap t-shirt and shorts she'd bought yesterday were wrinkled from sleep, and her hair was probably a disaster. Not exactly the dignified look of a culinary arts student.
Look at me. Hiding in a place like this.
A room like this cost forty yuan a night. Zhang Tingting knew because the sign was taped to the bathroom mirror, yellowed at the edges, the ink faded.
Forty yuan for a bed she couldn't sleep in and walls thin enough to hear the sounds of pleasure from the other side.
Her phone sat on the nightstand. She reached for it, unlocked the screen, and stared at the messaging app.
Lin Feng's contact was right there.
Her thumb hovered.
What would I even say?
"Hey, remember me? The girl who served you food? The one who has been taking your money while my best friend milked you like a cash cow?"
"Uhmm… Hey Lin Feng, are we going to have a practice session today?"
"Everyone around me is losing their minds and I'm hiding in a motel because I don't know where else to go. How's your morning?"
She set the phone down and rubbed her eyes.
"I'd just be bothering him."
--------------------------------
And so, Zhang Tingting called her parents instead. Her mother picked up on the second ring.
"Hey! Tingting! How's school? Are you eating well?"
The familiar voice washed over her, and something in her chest loosened for the first time since yesterday. She pulled her knees to her chest and leaned back against the lumpy headboard.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just busy."
The small talk came easy. Her father asked about her grades. Her mother asked if she was sleeping enough.
Both of them told her to eat more and sleep earlier, the way they always did. Zhang Tingting smiled at the sound of it — the kitchen clatter behind her mother's voice, the creak of the chair her father always leaned back in.
For a few minutes, the motel room didn't feel so suffocating.
Then her mother's voice shifted into something careful.
"Tingting... is there anyone special in your life right now?"
Zhang Tingting's hand stilled on the bedsheet. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Oh you know." A small laugh. "A boy. Someone you like?"
The question came out of nowhere, and Zhang Tingting opened her mouth to say no.
Her mind flickered before she could stop it.
Silver hair. That calm expression when everything around him was falling apart. Standing in the middle of Su Qingxue's desperate performance and simply refusing to play along.
I wonder how he is right now…
Zhang Tingting curled up, her lips blossomed into a smile as her cheeks glowed red.
"No."
"I'm focused on my studies right now."
Her mother hummed on the other end, and Zhang Tingting couldn't tell if she was satisfied or suspicious.
"Perfect!"
Her mother's voice suddenly brightened — too bright, too eager, the kind of brightness that made Zhang Tingting's grip tighten on the phone.
"That's perfect, Tingting. Because Yuting called us last night."
Zhang Tingting sat up straight. "She did?"
"Yes! She found someone wonderful. A young man. Very impressive, very handsome." Her mother's voice climbed higher with every word. "She thinks you two would be perfect together."
Zhang Tingting's stomach dropped.
Wait. What?
Her parents had never done this. Never. In eighteen years, her mother had never once tried to set her up. Her father had always told her to focus on her career first.
And now, suddenly, they wanted to play matchmaker?
Because Yuting told them to?
Her free hand curled into the motel bedsheet, knuckles whitening against the fabric.
"Who is he?"
Her voice came out flat.
"His name is—"
"Long Tian."
--------------------------------
Zhang Tingting's fingers went cold around the phone.
Long Tian.
The name that had turned Su Qingxue into someone she didn't recognize. The name that had transformed Zhang Yuting into a stranger. The name that infected everyone who heard it.
And now her own parents were pushing her toward him.
"Yuting says he's wonderful," her mother continued, bright and unaware. "She says he's kind and handsome and has such a bright future—"
The phone slipped from Zhang Tingting's fingers.
It hit the floor and the screen cracked on impact — a spiderweb fracture spreading across the glass.
She stared at it.
Her mother's voice came through, tinny and distant. "Tingting? Tingting, are you there? Did something happen?"
Zhang Tingting picked up the phone with trembling fingers.
"Mom, I have to go."
"But Tingting, at least meet him once—"
"I'll stay with a friend for a while." She kept her voice steady, even as her free hand gripped the bedsheet.
"Yuting says he's really something special—"
"Don't worry about me."
"He's very handsome, and Yuting showed us pictures—"
"I really have to go. Love you. Bye."
She ended the call before another word could come through.
The motel room fell silent. Just the cracked phone in her lap and the distant murmur of someone's television bleeding through the wall.
"What the hell is happening to everyone?"
It had reached her home. Her own family. Zhang Yuting was going through her parents to get to her now — calling them, showing pictures, selling a boy like a product.
--------------------------------
Zhang Tingting sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes unfocused for a long time.
Then she picked up the phone again. The cracked screen made everything look fractured, but the messaging app still worked.
She stared at Lin Feng's contact.
"Does he know about this? Can Lin Feng help me?"
She then shook her head, dispelling the doubt. "No. I mustn't doubt him. If anyone knows what is happening, it should be him. I believe in him."
"But what should I even say?"
"Help me, I think everyone is going insane?"
"My family is trying to set me up with the guy who's turning my friends into zombies?"
She then typed a few words. Deleted them. Typed again, deleted again. Then gave up on finding the perfect words and just sent it.
[Zhang Tingting: Lin Feng, can we talk? Something strange is happening. My family is trying to set me up with Long Tian. I don't know who else to ask. Are you free?]
The message showed as delivered.
Zhang Tingting set the phone on her knee and watched the screen — the tiny checkmark, the cracked glass splitting his name into pieces.
No reply yet.
She pulled her knees tighter to her chest and waited.
--------------------------------
[Lin Family Mansion, Kitchen — September 16, 9:35 AM]
The kitchen was quiet.
The breakfast aftermath had been cleared — the tureens taken down, the steamer racks rinsed, the counters wiped to their dull shine. A window above the sink let in the mid-morning light, the beam falling across the chopping board and the knife block beside it.
Lin Feng opened the refrigerator.
Sausage, rice, egg.
Xiao Yue had been specific about it.
"Don't make those ridiculous homemade dishes anymore. You'd better use that time to sleep. If you want to bring me food, just a piece of sausage, rice and an egg would do."
Not the four-hour spread from yesterday. Not the osmanthus cakes, not the xiaolongbao with the eighteen-pleat fold, not the candied lotus root glazed with osmanthus honey.
Just three things. Because she cared more about his sleep than his cooking.
He pulled the sausage from the cold drawer, found the eggs on the door shelf, and checked the rice cooker. The rice inside was still warm — the servants had made a fresh batch for the family breakfast he had just survived.
The bamboo container was in the cabinet above the sink. Three tiers. The same one from yesterday.
He opened the first tier and began portioning. The rice went in packed flat with the back of the spoon — not too tight, leaving enough give that the grains wouldn't go gummy by the time she ate them.
The sausage he sliced on the bias and fried in the residual heat of the stovetop, the pan barely needing oil. The egg he did over-easy, the egg yolk still liquid at the center.
Less than five minutes later, he finally clicked the lid shut.
Simple. Quick. Exactly what she had asked for.
Xiao Yue's probably been waiting at the café since early morning. She might not be so happy that I'm a few hours late.
The cloth from yesterday was still folded in the cabinet. He wrapped the container the same way — bottom corner first, then the two sides, then the top tucked under. The warmth of the food came through the linen, through his palm, steady and low.
Then, there was a sound behind him. Or rather the absence of sound. No footsteps, no murmurs, nothing. Not long after, Lin Feng felt like someone was looking at him.
Lin Feng turned.
Lin Weiwei stood in the kitchen doorway.
She had changed since breakfast. The cream sweater was gone, replaced by a lighter blouse with the sleeves rolled to her forearms. Her hair was pulled back into a fresh ponytail. She was wearing shoes. Not the rabbit-ear slippers.
She was dressed to go outside.
"Big Brother."
"Mm."
Her eyes went to the container on the counter. Then to his hands. Then to his face — to the split lip, the purple center of it, the crusted edges where her teeth had broken skin last night.
Her eyes stayed on the wound a beat too long. Guilt absent.
"So, you're going to your mistress, Big Brother."
"I promised her."
"I know you did." Lin Weiwei crossed the kitchen in five steps. Her hand found his arm. "That's why I'm coming with you."
She gripped his arm lightly.
Lin Feng looked at her — the shoes, the blouse, the hair done up and ready. The fresh smell of lavender around her, soft and low.
"Alright."
Her fingers tightened on his arm once. Then she reached past him and picked up the container from the counter.
"I'll carry it."
"But that's her food, Weiwei."
"I know what dog this food is for."
She then held it by the cloth, gripping it as if it was nothing more than an empty bucket.
After that, she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door.
Lin Feng let his fiancée drag him out of the kitchen.
--------------------------------
[Starlight Café — 9:51 AM]
The coffee had gone cold three hours ago.
Xiao Yue sat at the third table. The notebook was open on the wood, the pen resting in the gutter between pages. She had written two entries since six this morning.
The first was a timestamp.
7:15 — ?
The second was nothing. Just the question mark, sitting on the page where an observation should have been.
He hadn't come out yet.
The door of the Lin mansion had stayed shut past his time. His car had not appeared. The driveway had stayed empty. Seven-fifteen had become seven-thirty, then eight, then nine.
Sometime around twenty minutes past nine, a few cars left the mansion, but none of them were Lin Feng's. She hadn't seen Lin Weiwei's SUV leaving the mansion either.
There were no entries after the question mark.
The barista had replaced the cold coffee at eight without being asked. Xiao Yue had not drunk that one either. It sat at her left hand, dark at the rim where it had cooled against the ceramic.
That incest whore must have made her move last night.
Just as expected.
Xiao Yue spun the pen with her fingers. It was almost ten and Lin Feng still hadn't come out yet. He missed two morning subjects already.
Her phone sat on the table beside the notebook. She checked the messaging app. Lin Feng hadn't sent her a message there either.
Lin Weiwei must be keeping an eye on him. Maybe that's why he can't tell me anything.
Just as soon as she set her phone down on the table, from across the street — the black iron gate of the Lin mansion opened, sliding on its tracks.
Xiao Yue's hand went to the pen, her head turning towards the window.
There, two people stepped through.
The first was a man with silver hair — his hair as unkempt as ever, his clothes nothing branded at all.
Then, she looked at his right arm. A girl had her left hand wrapped around it, just above the elbow.
Black hair in a ponytail. Pale blouse. Walking close enough that her shoulder pressed against his arm with every step.
And in her hands, swinging haphazardly, was the cloth-wrapped container.
That incest whore.
Xiao Yue gripped the pen. Her knuckles went white.
They crossed the street. Yesterday, Xiao Yue had held his hand — fingers intertwined, grip tight, palm against palm. This girl had her hand on his arm just above the elbow. Her fingers were barely curled. Her grip on him light.
First, they were twenty meters away. Then ten. Then five.
The morning light caught his face through the café window.
Xiao Yue saw the lip.
It was purple at the center. Crusted brown at the edges. Swollen enough that his mouth sat crooked.
A mark made by teeth.
Her pen snapped.
The halves fell to the notebook. Ink pooled from the cracked cartridge, spreading in a slow dark circle across the page, bleeding over the question mark until it was gone.
Xiao Yue did not look down at it.
She bit him.
How dare she wound him!
Soon, the bell above the door chimed.
--------------------------------
Lin Feng pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The café was the same as yesterday — the pendants over the counter, the pastry case with its morning trays, the barista who looked up, looked at them, and looked away.
The early rush had thinned. A couple at the front table. A student with a laptop. And at the third table by the window —
Xiao Yue.
Hood up. Hair tucked behind her ears on both sides. The notebook was open on the table, and something dark had pooled across the page — ink, spreading from two halves of a broken pen.
Her eyes were already on them.
Not on him. On Lin Weiwei. On Lin Weiwei's hand on his arm. On the container in Lin Weiwei's other hand.
Then her eyes moved to his lip.
They stayed there.
Beside him, Lin Weiwei's grip tightened.
"Good morning," Lin Feng said.
Xiao Yue did not answer immediately. Her gaze traveled from the lip to Lin Weiwei's face, held for three seconds, then returned to his.
"You're late."
"I know."
"Two hours and thirty-eight minutes," Xiao Yue said. "In five years, that's the longest."
Lin Weiwei's chin lifted a fraction beside him.
"Sorry, Xiao Yue, I had some family matters to deal with," Lin Feng said.
Xiao Yue's eyes went to his lip again. Then away.
"I can see that."
The café had gone quiet. The barista's hand had stopped mid-wipe on the counter. The couple at the front table were no longer talking to each other.
Xiao Yue gestured toward the couch against the wall — a worn leather two-seater beside her table. The right cushion had a shallow dip in it, shaped by years of the same person sitting in the same spot every morning.
"Sit."
Both women moved.
Lin Weiwei got there first. Three strides, the container still swinging in her hand, and she sat down on the right side — the side with the dip.
She set the container on the table beside Xiao Yue's notebook, smoothed her blouse, crossed her legs, and looked up at Xiao Yue.
Xiao Yue stood very still.
"That's my seat. I sit there every morning. Same time, same place. For five years."
"It's a café." Lin Weiwei's voice was pleasant. "The seats are for paying customers."
Lin Weiwei reached for Lin Feng's hand and pulled him down beside her, the old leather sinking under him, and her knee was already touching his thigh before he could adjust his weight.
Xiao Yue watched them for a moment. Then she walked over and sat down on his left, her bag dropping to the floor by her feet. The couch groaned. Her hip pressed against his, not leaving any space between them.
The couch that was meant for two now handled three. The barista and the rest of the café staff looked at them, but seeing that it was that young master from the mansion in front of them, none of them dared to say anything.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng's shoulders were pressed between both women, and neither of them moved to give him room.
Under the table, hands found his. Both at once. Xiao Yue's fingers wrapped around his left hand — cool, slender, the same grip from yesterday. Lin Weiwei took his right — warm, her thumb drawing slow circles on his knuckles.
Xiao Yue reached for the container on the table. Lin Weiwei's hand got there first, holding it for one beat. Then she let it go.
The lid came off. Inside, the rice had shifted to one side, the sausage slices had tumbled out of their neat row, mixing with the rice.
The egg had slid off the rice entirely — the yolk had broken at some point during the walk, and the yellow had run across everything, pooling in the corner where the rice used to be.
Xiao Yue looked at the food for a long moment. Then she looked at Lin Weiwei. Then back at the food.
Then, she let go of Lin Feng's hand, picked up the disposable chopsticks from the napkin holder, and snapped them apart.
"You remembered." She said it to Lin Feng. Her voice was soft.
"Of course."
"Sausage, rice and an egg." She scooped some of the rice from the side of the container, mixed it with the broken yolk, and put it in her mouth. "Exactly what I told you."
Her free hand found his again under the table.
She did not say a word about the mess. She just started eating — scooping the rice that had mixed with the broken yolk, picking up the sausage slices where they had landed. She chewed slowly.
Her eyes closed for a moment, the same way they had closed over the xiaolongbao yesterday morning.
Then they opened, and she looked at Lin Weiwei.
"He made this for me."
Irritation flickered in Lin Weiwei's eyes — sharp and quick. Her free hand came up and pressed flat against Lin Feng's chest, fingers spread wide.
"And I carried it here."
"Well, thank you for mixing it along the way. You sure have the initiative Ms. Weiwei."
"Oh, you didn't have to thank me." Lin Weiwei's voice stayed level. "After all, I'm his fiancée."
The word sat in the café.
Xiao Yue's chopsticks stopped.
"Fiancée?"
"As of this morning. Officially recognized by the head of the family."
Xiao Yue did not move. Her hand on his under the table had gone rigid — the tendons standing in her wrist, her fingers pressing into the spaces between his.
"Oh my. Congratulations then Ms. Weiwei." Xiao Yue picked the chopsticks back up. She then took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Then she set the chopsticks across the rim.
"Lin Feng." Xiao Yue finally turned to him, her eyes aimed at his lips.
"Yeah."
"What happened to your lip? Did some nasty animal bite you there?"
"Oh, that was me." Lin Weiwei's hand slid up from Lin Feng's chest to the side of his jaw. "I couldn't help it. Big Brother was just too… intense last night."
She let the word sit. Her fingers traced down from his jaw back to his chest.
"You know how it is, Ms. Xiao Yue. Or maybe you don't."
Xiao Yue set the chopsticks down.
She then turned to Lin Feng. She reached up and put her hand on his face, tilting his chin toward the window where the light was better.
Her fingers found the edge of the split lip. She touched it carefully, the way someone touches a bruise to see how bad it is.
"This is swollen." Her voice had changed. The sarcasm was gone. "Did you put anything on it?"
Lin Feng looked at her. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. The skin is broken." She was already reaching into her bag. A small tube of ointment came out — the kind someone carries when they expect to need it. "Hold still."
Xiao Yue then uncapped it and dabbed a thin line across the split with her fingertip. Her hand was steady, but her fingers stayed on his lip longer than they needed to.
Lin Weiwei watched. Her thumb had stopped moving on Lin Feng's knuckles.
She did not say anything while Xiao Yue's fingers were on Lin Feng's face. She did not move to stop her. She just sat there, her hand still on his chest, watching another woman treat the wound that she had made.
When Xiao Yue pulled her hand back and capped the ointment, Lin Weiwei's eyes went to the lip. The thin line of ointment glistened where the crust had been. She had been looking at that lip all morning with satisfaction. Now it looked different.
She looked away.
Xiao Yue put the ointment back in her bag without a word. Then she picked up her chopsticks and went back to the food as if nothing had happened.
Bite after bite, steady, unhurried, the same careful portions as yesterday. The rice disappeared. The sausage.
As for the rest of the egg — she scooped what was left of the broken yolk from the corner of the container and mixed it into the last of the rice before eating both together.
--------------------------------
After a while, when the container was empty, Xiao Yue closed the lid and set it on the table. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, folded it once, and placed it beside the container.
Then Lin Feng's phone buzzed in his pocket. Both women turned to look at him.
Lin Feng freed his right hand — Lin Weiwei let go with visible reluctance — and pulled his phone from his pocket.
Xiao Yue gave a small, mocking smile, looking at Lin Weiwei as she still had his left hand in hers. Lin Weiwei looked back at her rival with irritation.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng switched on the screen. The notification sat in the center of the display — a single message, the preview text visible beneath the sender's name.
It was from Zhang Tingting.
[Zhang Tingting: Lin Feng, can we talk? Something strange is happening. My family is trying to set me up with Long Tian. I don't know who else to ask. Are you free?] Received: 9:59 AM
Lin Feng read the message twice.
This definitely wasn't in the original plot,he thought, reading the message a third time.
"Who is it?"
Both Lin Weiwei and Xiao Yue asked him at the same time — using the same words, the same delivery — so perfectly that Lin Feng wondered for a moment whether they had somehow rehearsed it.
He then looked at the screen one more time, his eyes landing on the sender's name.
"It's Zhang Tingting."
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[End of Chapter]