“Keep on hating me.”
During high school, Liang Jingchuan had entered Lan Yan’s room once.
That day had been a weekend. Lan Yan stayed in the studio all day, watched a movie with Lu Ying after dinner, and got home a little after nine. She pressed the bedroom light switch several times upon entering, but the light wouldn’t turn on. The living room light was still on, so it wasn’t a power outage.
She turned on the desk lamp and shone her phone light at the ceiling fixture overhead.
At that moment, she saw the door to the room diagonally opposite open.
The boy had probably already showered. He wore a black short-sleeved T-shirt and stood in the doorway, casting an indifferent gaze her way.
The Gaokao was less than a month away at that time, and she had no idea why he was home instead of at school for extra classes.
She didn’t spare him much of a glance and withdrew her gaze. She called Lan Junwen and asked when he would be back.
Lan Junwen said the factory equipment was under maintenance and he would return quite late that day. He told her to check the drawer in the sideboard by the dining table, where there was a notebook with the electrician’s number. If it was urgent, she should call him herself.
Lan Yan agreed verbally, but she had already decided to make do with the desk lamp for the night and deal with it during the day tomorrow.
After hanging up, she heard the front door open and close. It seemed Liang Jingchuan had gone out.
She grabbed some clothes and took a shower. When she finished, with her long hair still wet, she walked to the living room and bumped right into Liang Jingchuan, who had returned from outside.
He held a flat white cardboard box printed with a diagram of a ring-shaped bulb.
Her gaze lingered on the box before slowly lifting to look at Liang Jingchuan.
He said flatly, “Do you know how to change it?”
She shook her head and only asked, “Did my dad ask you to help?”
Liang Jingchuan glanced at her but didn’t answer. He went straight to the balcony to fetch the stepladder.
He dragged the ladder to her bedroom door, paused, looked down at her, his gaze seemingly asking if he could enter.
She nodded.
He positioned the ladder under the light fixture, then went back to rummage in the desk drawer. When he returned, he had a screwdriver and electrical tape in hand.
She watched him climb up and asked, “Should I turn off the breaker?”
He said, “No need.”
She insisted, “Better turn it off anyway. Don’t get electrocuted.”
The boy had already reached the top of the ladder. His low voice drifted down, carrying a hint of laughter. “Wouldn’t that be just what you want?”
She was speechless for a moment. “I don’t want my home turning into a murder house.”
She walked to the door, opened the electrical panel, and flipped down all the breakers except for the kitchen.
The lights vanished in an instant.
She turned on her phone’s flashlight and returned to the room, standing by the ladder and holding her phone up high.
“Thanks,” Liang Jingchuan said. “Turn your face away. Watch out for dust.”
“Oh.”
Liang Jingchuan turned the screwdriver, removed the screws, and pocketed them in the side of his shorts. When he got to the last one, he carefully supported the lampshade.
She reached out, and he handed her the removed shade. Then he took out the broken bulb.
At that point, she thought of a question. “How did you know what model the bulb was?”
“Isn’t the light in our room the same?” Liang Jingchuan’s tone suggested he was puzzled by such an obvious question.
He disassembled the fixture, rewired it, installed the new bulb, and taped it up… He didn’t put the shade back on yet. He had her turn the breaker back on to check if it lit up.
She did as told, went to the entryway, and flipped the breakers up. The moment she did, his voice came from the room. “It’s good.”
A flood of bright light poured out as she pushed the door open.
Liang Jingchuan looked around. The north-south facing layout was very bright and open. Though it was just a one-bedroom, one-living-room unit, it didn’t feel cramped.
Lan Yan opened the shoe cabinet with the slatted doors nearby and took out a pair of black men’s slippers, tossing them at his feet.
Liang Jingchuan looked down at the slippers, which showed signs of wear. He stared for a moment with no particular expression before kicking off his shoes and slipping them on.
Lan Yan gripped the handle and pushed her suitcase inside. She shrugged off her jacket on the way to the kitchen, draping it over a chair back as she passed the dining area.
His voice came from behind her, clear like a bright stream. “Make yourself at home.”
Most old apartments had tile floors, but this one was rare in having wooden flooring—a vintage liver-red shade, worn at the seams. A ink-wash rug lay under the coffee table, complementing the black sofa and muting the color.
The sofa was faux leather and looked quite new—probably something Lan Yan had replaced herself.
Beyond that, everything bore traces of Lan Yan’s meticulous care: the flower-and-bird painting on the wall behind the sofa, the serene blue porcelain vase on the sideboard opposite the dining table, the calligraphy scroll on the blank wall by the TV cabinet, the paper lampshade on the ceiling, the lantern-style floor lamp by the rattan armchair.
The living room, vacant for two days, hadn’t accumulated dust yet. A faint scent of agarwood incense lingered in the air.
Liang Jingchuan sat on the sofa, leaning forward slightly with his elbows on his knees, a touch ill at ease.
Footsteps approached from the kitchen.
Lan Yan walked over with a bottle of tea and handed him an identical one.
“…” Liang Jingchuan took it. “Thanks.”
“Lu Ying will order takeout. Want some?” Lan Yan asked him.
“Sure.”
Lan Yan picked up her phone from the dining table and opened WeChat with Lu Ying.
【blueblue: Ordered takeout yet? If not, add one more.】
【Luna: Is Chen Boyu there with you?】
【blueblue: Liang Jingchuan.】
【Luna: Who???】
【blueblue: He’s installing my AC.】
【Luna: !!!】
Moments later, Lu Ying sent a screenshot of the takeout cart and asked if it was enough.
Lan Yan replied “Enough” and transferred money for two shares.
Lu Ying sent it back.
【Luna: My treat. Fee for the gossip tea.】
【blueblue: …】
After sending the messages, Lan Yan sat down at the dining table and sipped her tea.
Across from her, Liang Jingchuan drank his tea as well.
A familiar silence settled in, now laced with an awkward undertone that carried new implications.
After a moment, Liang Jingchuan spoke first. “You’ve renovated it so nicely. Aren’t you afraid the landlord will take it back?”
“The landlord is a friend of my master’s. He gave me a discount—otherwise, I couldn’t afford to rent it out like this. He’s a good guy; he lets me modify it however I want, renewed the lease for three years directly, and allows me to break it early unilaterally.”
Liang Jingchuan thought that it must be because she kept it so well that the landlord trusted her with such terms.
Lan Yan didn’t earn much and had few material desires, but she was particular about her living space. These items she liked weren’t bought all at once; she’d acquired them gradually over the two years since starting at Mend Orchid Studio.
When unhappy, she’d browse online shops and buy a wax lamp, coaster, or new pitcher on a whim—a way to decompress.
Liang Jingchuan lowered his head again and glanced at the slippers on his feet.
Jealousy had never manifested in such tangible, detailed ways before.
No one spoke for a while, and the atmosphere grew stagnant again.
Lan Yan thought that “peaceful coexistence” was still too novel for them.
She stood, went to the sofa, picked up the remote from the coffee table, pressed the standby button, set it in front of Liang Jingchuan, and said, “Change it to whatever you want.” Then she sat down against the armrest.
She must have hit standby instead of exit last time, because when it turned on, the TV resumed the previous program.
“A documentary?” Liang Jingchuan watched for a few seconds.
“Yeah. Archaeology.”
“You don’t watch something mindless during downtime?”
“Watching my pitiful peers helps with mental balance.”
Liang Jingchuan chuckled.
He couldn’t help but glance sideways at her.
Her arm rested on the sofa armrest, occupying only a small space, far from him—whether deliberate or not, he couldn’t tell.
Chen Boyu rarely talked to him about Lan Yan, probably out of consideration for their strained sibling relationship.
Of course, he had no interest in hearing about Lan Yan from an outsider’s perspective.
There had been one exception: when they went drinking, Chen Boyu described Lan Yan as cold and quiet, like some inert metal that only reacted with a few specific substances under certain conditions.
Liang Jingchuan thought that if they had to compare, she was “platinum.”
Native platinum was rare, low-key, its dull yet beautiful silver-gray shine transforming into dazzling brilliance once refined.
The TV showed the archaeological team unearthing a scroll of silk painting from the pit, decayed like rotten greens. Liang Jingchuan spoke up. “Can something this damaged still be restored?”
“Yes. Teacher Zhang Xiaozhai restored something similar.” Lan Yan added, “Zhang Xiaozhai is a master in our field.”
“How do you restore it? It seems hard even to unroll.”
“Depends on the damage. This one’s got a lot of mud—probably steam it with heat while cleaning and lifting it layer by layer… Then the standard procedures follow.”
Liang Jingchuan nodded.
“Let’s change it. This looks boring.” Lan Yan leaned over to grab the remote and switch channels.
Liang Jingchuan smiled. “I’ve seen more boring than this.”
He referred to how he could recite passages from the Treatise on Mounting last time.
Lan Yan paused, then sat back down.
She took small sips of her iced tea, wondering why Lu Ying wasn’t there yet.
The documentary had four episodes. During the second one, a knock sounded at the door.
Lan Yan immediately set down her tea and ran to open it.
Unfortunately, it was the takeout.
She brought the bag in, set it on the table, and couldn’t resist messaging Lu Ying to ask where she was.
【Luna: Downstairs! Coming right up!】
Her “right up” took ten minutes.
When the knock came again, Lan Yan felt relieved, hoping the third person’s presence would dilute the hard-to-ignore aura of a certain someone.
Lu Ying pushed a small suitcase through the door and immediately peeked inside. Seeing Liang Jingchuan really sitting there alive and well, she still couldn’t quite believe her eyes.
Liang Jingchuan greeted her quite calmly.
Lan Yan headed inward and urged her, “Wash up and eat. The takeout’s been here forever.”
They’d ordered stir-fries—four dishes total. Steamed too long in the bag, water droplets had condensed on the lids, spilling onto the table when opened.
Lan Yan reached for the tissue box, but Liang Jingchuan had already pulled out two sheets and wiped the table clean.
Her hand hovered for a moment before withdrawing.
Lu Ying had eaten with this pair of stepsiblings before, but rarely. Usually, they were forced together and ate in grim silence, deep in grudge.
This time wasn’t grim, but the silence was oddly eerie.
Lu Ying glanced at Lan Yan, then at Liang Jingchuan, unable to gauge the situation.
After eating a bit, Lu Ying exchanged a few pointless remarks with Lan Yan.
A moment later, Liang Jingchuan spoke. “I heard you switched to Silver Platinum?”
Lu Ying replied, “Yeah, promoted a level. For your company parties, group bookings, mooncakes, zongzi, whatever—find me. I’ll give you the best discounts.”
“Good.” Liang Jingchuan said, “Is Feilang one of your hotel’s properties?”
Lu Ying nodded. “Need rooms? I can apply discounts across brands.”
“Our company team-building booked Feilang.”
“…Why didn’t I switch three months earlier? That commission would’ve been mine.” Lu Ying lamented.
Lan Yan laughed.
Lu Ying glanced at her. “Chen Boyu sure is generous. Feilang isn’t cheap. You going on the team-building too?”
“Yeah.”
“Celebrities and influencers propose at our Starry Sky Restaurant in Feilang all the time.” Lu Ying fixed Lan Yan with a stare. “…Chen Boyu doesn’t have plans like that, does he?”
Lan Yan paused. “Probably not. He doesn’t have the energy right now.”
“You’d better pack a pretty dress, just in case.”
Lan Yan fell silent.
She hoped Chen Boyu wouldn’t think of that anytime soon.
Lu Ying thought the topic would spark conversation, but the air grew heavier.
Looking around, Lan Yan was quiet, and Liang Jingchuan even more so—eyes downcast, his expression as cold as if frosted over.
They at least finished the meal.
In the afternoon, Lan Yan went to the studio to report the old painting purchase to Chu Lansun; Liang Jingchuan headed to the electronics market to buy an AC and have it installed on-site; Lu Ying had business and took her laptop to a nearby café.
Around three in the afternoon, Lan Yan returned home. Half an hour later, Liang Jingchuan arrived with the AC unit and the installation technician.
After helping the technician confirm the mounting position and piping route, there was nothing more for Lan Yan to assist with.
The master began the installation work. Lan Yan asked Liang Jingchuan for the receipt so she could take a photo of it, planning to send it to the landlord for reimbursement later.
From installation to boot-up testing, it would take more than an hour. Lan Yan told Liang Jingchuan that if he had things to do, he could go ahead and take care of them first.
“Once you’re free, Chen Boyu and I will treat you to a meal,” Lan Yan said.
She felt his gaze linger on her face for a moment.
He let out a light, brief chuckle. “So polite.”
Buzzing sounds of construction drifted in from the bedroom.
It wasn’t a good spot for talking. Lan Yan looked up at Liang Jingchuan. “Can you come to the balcony with me for a couple of words?”
The balcony was small, separated by sliding doors. Once closed, the indoor noises were shut out, though the street clamor filtered in. Filtered by distance and trees, it sounded like distant waves crashing.
Lan Yan propped her arms on the balcony railing and gazed ahead, not looking at Liang Jingchuan.
Her voice was calm. “Actually, you should know very well that all these years, my dislike for you was just misplaced anger. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Aunt, and I couldn’t hate my dad either… You just happened to end up in the crossfire.”
Liang Jingchuan lowered his head slightly, gazing at her. He let out a soft “Mm.”
“I was so immature back then. Some of those things were minor, but they might still have hurt you. Truth is, I know better than anyone that you’re a really good person. Thank you. And I want to sincerely apologize to you.” A breeze blew by. Lan Yan smoothed her hair, turned to face him, and extended her hand. “Let’s shake hands and make peace.”
Liang Jingchuan merely dropped his gaze to her hand, staring at it.
His own hand stayed tucked in his trouser pocket. He showed no sign of reaching out to shake hers.
“You think I want to make peace with you?” he asked.
“…Or what?”
“I don’t accept your apology.” Liang Jingchuan’s gaze lifted from her hand and locked onto her eyes.
Darkness lurked in their depths, his emotions unreadable.
He wore that familiar half-smile from the past. “Keep hating me.”