“But I believe that won’t be the case for long.”
Lan Yan turned her face away, hastily wiped the corner of her mouth without checking if it was clean, and buried her head as she hurried out of the kitchen.
The chocolate substitute left an oily, sticky sweetness in her mouth. There was still tea in the fridge from her last purchase, and she really wanted a sip right now, but she had no intention of going back for it. She just sat in the living room and scrolled through her phone with her head down.
The microwave hummed from the kitchen. After three beeps, Liang Jingchuan carried two plates of food and a bowl of rice to the dining room, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
He ate quietly, never wolfing down his food even when starving.
Separated by the distance between the dining room and living room, they each did their own thing without bothering each other, as if they had suddenly gone back to their high school days.
Lan Yan attended Sixth Middle School, a middle school that had “six” in its name but wasn’t remarkable in any other way. Liang Jingchuan’s Fourth Middle School was different—the most competitive and hardest-to-get-into public school in the city. Officially, they never encouraged all-night studying, but that didn’t stop the students from grinding themselves to exhaustion in private.
A few times, when Lan Yan went to the bathroom before bed at midnight, she ran into Liang Jingchuan, fresh from a shower, sitting in the dining room eating a midnight snack, seemingly preparing for another night of studying under the lamp.
At those times, he would play on his phone for a bit, set it on the table, take a couple bites of food, then swipe the screen.
When he noticed her coming out, he would lift his eyes, let his gaze linger on her face for just a moment, then return to his phone.
The dim yellow dining light, the faintly steaming microwaved food, the pale glow of the phone screen, the boy in the black T-shirt, his pale face and indifferent eyes…
Nothing special, yet it stubbornly occupied a frame in her memory.
“I inspected the scroll.”
The sudden voice startled Lan Yan. She didn’t look up. “Mm,” she acknowledged. “Sister Rong told me.”
“You went to Suzhou and bought the painting back?”
“Mm.”
“Oh.” Liang Jingchuan nodded in understanding. “So you think the money and goods are settled, and now you can keep your distance.”
With five or six meters between them, his words seemed to echo.
Lan Yan frowned, held back, but still couldn’t resist. “…Did you take the wrong medicine?”
Liang Jingchuan chuckled. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to shake hands and make peace? Your attacks are still so sharp.”
“Get this straight—you’re the one who wouldn’t accept my apology.”
“Rare indeed. Have I suddenly gained so much say?”
“…”
It felt like the advantage she had held for the past ten years had vanished, and the balance of power had reversed overnight.
She realized she couldn’t do anything about him, because their relationship couldn’t possibly get any worse.
She couldn’t exactly go complain to Liang Xiaoxia: Your son is a pervert, your son wants to be the other man.
Lan Yan’s expression soured. “No matter what you want to do, I can tell you in advance—don’t waste your time. There won’t be any result.”
Only then did Liang Jingchuan lift his head to look at her. He smiled and asked, “Please enlighten me. What do I want to do?”
“…” Lan Yan was once again left speechless by him.
If she stayed with him any longer, she might just die of anger.
She locked her phone with a snap, stood up, and returned to her room.
The door slammed shut heavily.
Liang Jingchuan heard it and couldn’t help but raise the corner of his mouth. He continued eating unhurriedly.
Chen Boyu said she was like a cold and inert metal, but the her who hated him—wasn’t she always reacting violently?
Originally, his jealousy and pain were no less than a mixture of concentrated nitric acid and hydrochloric acid in a one-to-three ratio.
He bet Chen Boyu had never seen this side of her.
Lan Yan didn’t stay in her room long before she heard Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia return.
Clearly, both were thrilled about Liang Jingchuan’s return.
The room wasn’t very soundproof, especially since the people in the living room weren’t deliberately lowering their voices.
Liang Xiaoxia: “You were already on the way to the airport when you video called?”
Liang Jingchuan: “Mm.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier? We could’ve saved some food for you.”
“It was meant to be a surprise.”
“What kind of routine is this for family?”
Liang Jingchuan chuckled.
Lan Junwen was concerned with more practical matters. “Jingchuan, did you eat on the plane?”
“I slept. They didn’t wake me for the meal.”
“You can’t fill up on leftovers. Let me cook you some noodles.”
“It’s fine, Uncle. I’ve already eaten my fill.”
Liang Xiaoxia: “Then sit for a bit. Once Yanyan wakes up, we’ll make some midnight snacks.”
Liang Jingchuan said “okay.”
Perhaps only Lan Yan could tell that his “okay” hid a hint of mischievous amusement.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Lan Yan pretended to have just woken up and walked out of the bedroom.
Lan Junwen bustled in the kitchen while Liang Xiaoxia and Liang Jingchuan sat in the living room chatting.
Liang Xiaoxia glanced over. “Is the alcohol worn off, Yanyan?”
Lan Yan nodded. Before she could speak, Liang Jingchuan looked at her too and smiled. “Did we talk too loudly and wake you up?”
“…”
He was really asking for it.
Lan Junwen’s voice came from the kitchen. “Yanyan, are you hungry?”
“Not yet.”
“Should I make midnight snacks later? Jingchuan just finished eating.”
“Either way is fine.”
Lan Junwen arranged sliced papaya and fragrant pears in a petal pattern on a white porcelain plate.
Liang Xiaoxia turned on the TV, where a Mid-Autumn Festival gala on one channel was still going.
With the cheerful laughter and applause in the background, Liang Xiaoxia said, “Let’s play mahjong.”
Lan Yan: “I don’t know how…”
Liang Xiaoxia: “It’s always just the three of us missing you. Today, we’re teaching you no matter what.”
The dining round table’s leaves were put down, turning it into a square table. Liang Xiaoxia found a velvet tablecloth, and Lan Junwen dug out a set of green-backed mahjong tiles.
The four sat on each side. Lan Junwen explained in detail: what a sequence, a set, a pair were; what pong, eat, kong meant…
Lan Yan followed without issue up to that point, until Lan Junwen started listing winning conditions: three-fan dragon and seven pairs, two-fan pong-pong hand…
Lan Yan was lost in the fog.
Liang Jingchuan glanced at her. “Don’t bother memorizing the complicated stuff for now. Just remember ‘23333’.”
Lan Yan: “‘3’ means a set or a sequence?”
“Right. Four sets or sequences plus a pair, or seven pairs, and you win.”
Liang Xiaoxia: “Explaining won’t help. Play one round and you’ll get it.”
The first round was beginner’s tutorial. Lan Yan played with her cards face up. Liang Xiaoxia, sitting to her right, guided her through drawing, eating, ponging, and konging, helping her form a “23333” hand.
Mahjong was just like spicy crawfish—once you started, there was no stopping after just a taste.
Lan Yan was eager to try for real.
That’s when her phone rang. It was Chen Boyu calling.
“Hold on, I’ll take this call.” Lan Yan answered and turned slightly.
Chen Boyu said he had eaten dinner, showered, and was about to rest. He was just checking in to say goodnight.
Lan Yan: “I’m home playing cards. It’ll be late. You go ahead and sleep.”
“Then put it on speaker. I’ll say hi.”
Lan Yan set the phone on the velvet-covered table and hit speaker. Chen Boyu’s voice came through. “Happy Mid-Autumn, Uncle, Aunt.”
Lan Junwen laughed. “Same to you. Still in North City, Boyu?”
“Yeah.”
“Work hard. When you come back to South City, come over for a meal.”
“Thanks, Uncle. I’ll definitely impose.”
Chen Boyu laughed. “By the way, has Liang Jingchuan gotten home? He messaged me on WeChat saying he left early.”
Liang Jingchuan responded lazily. “Here.”
“You got away fast.”
Liang Jingchuan ignored him. “Anything else? We’re waiting to start.”
“Nope. Yanyan doesn’t know how to play, so go easy on her.”
“If you say that, then I definitely won’t let her have half a tile.”
Lan Yan: “…”
Chen Boyu burst out laughing. “Lose as much as you want. I’ll cover the reimbursements.”
Finally, Chen Boyu said goodbye, and Lan Yan reached to hang up.
A hand got there first, fingers unhesitatingly pressing the red button on the screen.
Lan Yan looked up immediately.
Liang Jingchuan met her gaze with an innocent smile. “Oh. Forgot this is your phone.”
His slender fingers picked up the phone and “thoughtfully” placed it in front of her.
Lan Yan suppressed the urge to hit him.
The game officially began.
Perhaps thanks to beginner’s luck, Lan Yan played haltingly but had great tile draws. In four rounds straight, she won two solo.
Fifth round.
Hot tea sat by his hand. Liang Jingchuan took a sip, his gaze flicking toward Lan Yan.
She had a habit when deliberating: unconsciously rubbing her earlobe with her fingers. She did it several times in one round.
He absolutely couldn’t let her near a casino, or the opponents would clean her out just from that tell.
After a few more draws, eats, and pongs, Liang Jingchuan saw Lan Yan touch her earlobe again. He pondered.
Her fair, translucent skin flushed slightly from the pinching, as if it would break at a light touch.
What did it feel like? Warm and soft, maybe.
She straightened up a bit, counting the points on her tiles three by three with her head down, as if doing a final check.
What was she waiting for? So hard to guess.
Liang Jingchuan casually played a four-of-wans.
The moment it hit the table, Lan Yan’s pupils dilated slightly. She immediately called eat. “I win!”
She pushed the tiles down—a classic “23333” hand.
Liang Xiaoxia chuckled. “Yanyan’s going to win all our money.”
Lan Junwen stood. “Midnight snack, then continue?”
Liang Xiaoxia stretched lazily. “Sure, take a break.”
They used coins from the piggy bank as chips, one coin for ten yuan.
Lan Yan happily counted the coins in front of her when she heard Liang Jingchuan’s lowered voice beside her. “Looks like no reimbursements from Chen Boyu tonight.”
Lan Yan paused, realizing something.
She reached out and pushed over his tile stack.
He had been going for a pure wans suit, needing just one wan and nine wan to win.
The gap was obvious—that four-of-wans stood out.
Lan Yan: “…You think I’m an idiot?”
“Isn’t it exactly because I knew you’d figure it out eventually that I confessed first?” Liang Jingchuan smiled.
Lan Yan stared at him silently for a moment, then tossed down her coins, stood quickly, and headed to the balcony.
She rested her arms on the railing, chin propped on them.
The slightly cool autumn breeze from outside calmed her a bit.
The sound of the sliding door opening came from behind.
Lan Yan whipped around.
Liang Jingchuan stood in the door track. One step forward and he’d be right in front of her.
He didn’t advance, just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching her.
That quiet, undisturbed gaze made one mistake him for harmless.
Clothes hung on the overhead drying rack above, already dry and swaying lightly in the wind.
They faced off across the ambiguous night.
Lan Yan’s tone was calmer than ever. “Liang Jingchuan, do you know whose girlfriend I am?”
The air stilled for a moment.
Lan Yan realized she might have asked a terrible question that squandered her remaining advantage.
“I know,” Liang Jingchuan said with a light chuckle. “But I believe that won’t be the case for long.”