Chapter 14: A Good Friend?

When Wen Qi walked out of her room at noon, her temples were still throbbing faintly.

The aftereffects of those few drinks last night had hit harder than she expected.

A trace of dizziness lingered even now, and her throat felt dry and tight.

She drifted toward the kitchen on unsteady steps, planning to pour herself a glass of milk to soothe it.

Just as she pulled open the refrigerator door, a familiar voice came from behind her.

“Xiao Qi’s awake?”

Wen Qi smiled a little sheepishly and poured a glass of milk, placing it into the microwave.

“Mm. I went to bed a bit late last night.”

“Young people shouldn’t push themselves like that. You still need proper rest,” Aunt Sun said as she set down what she was holding.

“Want some noodles? I’ll cook you a bowl. You can’t skip meals.”

The microwave chimed with a ding.

She took out the warmed milk and said softly, “Thank you, Aunt Sun.”

“It’s nothing. You didn’t eat breakfast today. Qingxuan reminded me several times to make sure I cooked something for you.”

Aunt Sun set a pot in the sink to fill with water.

Wen Qi suddenly remembered what Wei Qingxuan had said before and asked, “Aunt Sun, has the pipe in Wei Qingxuan’s room been fixed?”

Aunt Sun looked puzzled.

“When was the pipe in his room broken?”

She set the pot down.

“He never told me. I’ll go ask him.”

Hearing that, Wen Qi seemed to realize something.

She let out a soft laugh and called after her, “Aunt Sun, don’t bother. Maybe I misheard him last time.”

“The pipe in his room should be fine,” Wen Qi finished the rest of her milk in one gulp and glanced meaningfully toward Wei Qingxuan’s bedroom door.

“It probably was never broken.”

****

At nine that evening, Wen Qi suddenly started another livestream.

It was so abrupt that, at first, only a handful of viewers joined.

The room felt quiet and empty.

She hummed a few lines of a song casually, but her gaze drifted back to the phone screen beside her.

Ten minutes earlier, Li Yu had sent her a message.

—Mom thought it over and decided to tell you. Your Uncle Zhang and I are discussing settling in the UK.

Perhaps noticing that Wen Qi hadn’t replied for a while, Li Yu sent another message.

—In the future, for New Year’s, you can come to Mom’s or go to your dad’s. I’ll reimburse your travel expenses.

Wen Qi took a deep breath, shifted her gaze away from the lines of text, and returned to the livestream interface.

The viewer count was gradually climbing.

[!! 77 is livestreaming today!]

[Thought we wouldn’t see you this week. So happy!]

[Sis, what are you reading tonight? I want to hear you read a love confession.]

****

Wen Qi curved her lips slightly at the microphone, her voice steady as ever.

“Tonight… shall we just chat?”

[!! Even casual chatting makes me happy! Sis sounds so mature and charming today.]

[Voice call! Voice call! I have so much I want to say to you.]

[Camping for a voice call spot.]

****

Watching the scrolling comments, Wen Qi lightly traced the edge of her screen with her fingertips.

This kind of fleeting, intangible liveliness filled a small part of the emptiness in her heart, keeping her from thinking about the two unanswered messages.

The first call request popped up.

The avatar was a maple leaf, ID: “Just Curious.”

The moment the call connected, a bright, smiling female voice came through.

“77, good evening! I finally caught your casual chat session.”

“Good evening,” Wen Qi teased with a smile.

“You grabbed me the second I went live. Your reflexes are impressive.”

“Of course,” the girl seemed to shift; faint page-flipping sounds could be heard in the background.

“There’s nothing special, really. I just wanted to talk to you. Your voice is really comforting.”

Wen Qi bit into a lemon candy, its sweet-sour flavor spreading across her tongue.

“That’s perfect. I wanted someone to talk to tonight too.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

There was a brief pause.

The girl’s voice turned a little lighter.

“I… just wanted to complain a bit. My mom is so biased. It’s obvious. She doesn’t even try to hide it.”

Wen Qi raised a brow, twirling a pen as she waited for her to continue.

The page-flipping stopped.

“A while ago, for my mom’s birthday, I used three months of part-time savings to buy her a thin gold necklace. She used to say she liked that kind.”

Her voice remained calm, as if speaking about someone else’s story.

“But when I went home last week, her neck was bare. I asked about it, and found out she sold it to buy my little brother a new phone.”

Wen Qi said lightly, “Sounds like the scales in your house tipped so far to your brother’s side they collapsed.”

The girl laughed softly, the sound of pages turning again.

“Exactly. Sometimes I even laugh at it myself. How can someone be that obviously biased?”

Wen Qi’s voice softened, her eyes lowering.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m used to it. It’s not a big deal. Not worth being sad about. It’s just a bit… well, never mind.”

Her voice dropped slightly, carrying forced nonchalance.

“How is it not worth it?” Wen Qi’s tone held a casual seriousness.

“Don’t force yourself to say you’re not sad just because it feels ordinary.”

Just like her.

Even though she was used to Li Yu’s indifference, it still hurt.

“Sometimes I think people are a lot like plants. Under the sun, they bloom. In the rain, they grow deeper roots.”

“Our sadness is like rain. It’s not a bad thing. It just gives all those unspoken grievances somewhere to slowly settle.”

Wen Qi was doing a voice livestream, not showing her face.

No one could see her expression, yet she sincerely offered her blessing to the girl behind the avatar.

“But I hope your future days are all sunny.”

When the call ended, the girl laughed softly, like a feather brushing across water.

The livestream was short, only about half an hour.

The moment the screen went dark, Wen Qi slowly picked up her phone.

It was still on the messages Li Yu had sent hours ago.

Her gaze lingered on the screen for a long time.

The sourness of the lemon candy had long faded, leaving only an indescribable bitterness.

She read the lines again and again, as if hoping to find some hidden meaning between the words.

But they were plain and blunt.

Reading them more wouldn’t change anything.

At last, her fingertip fell gently, typing three words.

“Got it.”

Her phone vibrated softly, like a leaf falling outside the window, soundless.

Wen Qi stood and walked into the courtyard.

The night breeze carried the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine.

She sat alone in the small pavilion.

Moonlight spread across the courtyard.

Soft footsteps approached beside her.

Wen Qi didn’t turn around until a shadow fell at her feet, resting shoulder to shoulder with her own.

Wei Qingxuan sat down beside her, the rattan chair creaking faintly.

“What are you doing?”

“Observing the stars,” Wen Qi replied without hesitation.

“A cosmic soul like me can’t sleep without checking on the universe.”

Wei Qingxuan tilted his head at her.

“What if it’s a rainy night? Wouldn’t you stay up all night then?”

“…”

She answered seriously, “Mm. I usually punch myself until I see stars and fall asleep.”

Wei Qingxuan laughed and played along.

“So what have you observed now? Is a comet about to hit Earth?”

Wen Qi paused, then slowly smiled.

“There are a lot of stars tonight.”

“Tomorrow should be a bright, sunny day.”

She was still smiling, her expression calm and relaxed.

She had even joked with him just now.

But Wei Qingxuan’s gaze traced her profile inch by inch, sensing that the smile was thin and faint.

“You don’t seem to be in a very good mood.”

Wen Qi took another candy from her bag and popped it into her mouth.

Recalling what she had said to the caller earlier, she nodded frankly.

“Mm.”

Then she added, “How annoying. Why did you guess right again?”

“Because of who?”

“…My mom,” Wen Qi paused.

“And my dad. It suddenly hit me how long they’ve been divorced.”

Wei Qingxuan fell silent for a moment.

His gaze rested on her face, carrying distant memories.

He still remembered when they were children, Wen Qi’s bright smile as she told him…

“My parents said they’d make me the happiest kid in the world.”

The child was still the same child.

But everything around her had changed.

“Wen Qi, I won’t change. I’ll always stay with you.”

Wen Qi froze, lowering her eyes.

She still believed no one would stay forever.

Everyone would leave.

It was only a matter of time.

“Wei Qingxuan, you can be this cheesy too?” she said, turning to him.

“Enough about that. Let’s talk about something else. For example, why are you in the courtyard at this hour?”

“Because of you.”

From his room, he could see every corner of the courtyard.

Naturally, he could see her loneliness.

Wen Qi turned back to him, staring steadily into his eyes.

Under the moonlight, they looked especially deep.

At the northernmost edge of Zhian, there was a lake famous in the height of summer.

No matter how hot Zhian became, standing by that lake always felt cool.

That was why it was called “Cold Lake.”

Wen Qi suddenly felt…

His eyes were like Cold Lake in midsummer.

They blocked out all heat.

On the surface, calm and distant.

But look closely, and you could sense the undercurrents beneath, heavy, surging with unspeakable emotion, making it hard to hold his gaze for long.

She bit her candy, her tone lazy.

“So what kind of concern is this?”

“Out of…”

Wei Qingxuan’s fingers paused on the armrest.

Moonlight cast faint shadows across his face.

He stayed silent for a long while, so long that Wen Qi thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then she heard him say softly, “A good friend?”

The moment the last syllable fell, Wen Qi laughed, low and rich from her throat.

The smile was much brighter than before.

“A friend, huh.”

Suddenly she leaned forward, closing the distance in an instant.

Sweetness laced her breath as it brushed against his ear.

“But I want to kiss you. What should I do?”

Wei Qingxuan didn’t move.

He maintained his posture, only the corner of his lips trembling ever so slightly, so quick it might have been imagined.

He still looked calm.

But Wen Qi clearly saw the fingers resting on his knee tighten quietly.

“Wei Qingxuan,” she smiled, her eyes bright as she pierced through the thin layer between them,

“You’re not as calm as you look.”

The air seemed to freeze.

Only the night breeze, scented with flowers, flowed silently between them.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

In the depths of that lake-like darkness, a ripple finally stirred.

“Don’t fool around.”

But beneath his restrained words was desire, layer upon layer striking against his disguise.

He wasn’t as calm as he appeared.

Nor as upright.

Everything he presented was built on one assumption…

That Wen Qi liked him that way.

She leaned even closer, her nose nearly touching his.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, like a secret, like a challenge.

“Want to try?”

His gaze fixed on her face, wavering again and again.

Just try?

A subtle unwillingness made him slowly shake his head.

“You can’t.”

Wen Qi looked at his unmoved expression.

Instead of being annoyed, she smiled even wider.

Her fingers hooked around the back of his neck, giving a light tug to draw him toward her.

Their breaths intertwined under the moonlight.

She tilted her head, her lips almost brushing his ear, her voice slow.

“In that case, when are you giving me back the shawl from your bathroom?”