Chapter 11: Seizing the Opportunity

Over the weekend, Ji Pei had nothing to do, so she spent half the day walking the dog outside.

Ji Pei’s dog was a yellow golden retriever, picked up by Ji Fan from a trash heap in the rain six months ago.

Back then, it had a broken leg, lying in a pile of filthy, smelly garbage, whimpering, on the verge of death.

Because of Ji Fan, it got a second chance at life.

Its fur was golden and shiny, looking both adorable and cute, but it was incredibly clever, full of mischievous tricks.

Once, it taught itself to open the snack cabinet, devouring an entire box of egg yolk pastries, so stuffed it couldn’t move, sprawled on the floor.

When Ji Pei came home to a mess of crumbs, she thought it had eaten itself to death.

After that, it got a new name: Egg Yolk Pastry.

Ji Pei recently joined the neighborhood’s dog owners’ group. Every time she took the dog out, Egg Yolk Pastry was the most eager and enthusiastic, wanting to pounce on every person it saw.

A video was shared in the WeChat group, and Ji Pei was the first person tagged.

She opened it to see a golden retriever with a pink-yellow duck bib, holding a leash in its mouth, walking itself without its owner.

After being tagged, the video sparked a flurry of messages from group members.

[Is this Ji Pei’s Egg Yolk Pastry? How’d it get out on its own?]

[I saw it buying groceries and picking up packages last time—more capable than my husband.]

[What school did this kid go to? Send my son there for some training; he’s been hard to manage lately.]

[This golden retriever’s become a spirit, walking itself. It’s got the same cunning as my border collie.]

The group member who said this tagged Ji Pei specifically: [Bring it out to make friends sometime.]

Ji Pei glanced at the group messages, tugged the leash, and pulled Egg Yolk Pastry, who was digging in the dirt, over, smacking its head twice.

“Getting bold, huh? Sneaking out the door while I’m not home.”

Egg Yolk Pastry looked away, guilt written all over its doggy face.

If the admin hadn’t tagged her, Ji Pei wouldn’t have known this sly dog had escaped.

Ji Pei took out her phone, pointed a finger at Egg Yolk Pastry’s head, and snapped a photo of its dodging face.

She edited a Moments post, uploading the photo along with one of the slippers Egg Yolk Pastry had chewed into a new species a few days ago.

[Washing dishes, boiling water, stewing dog meat.]

After posting on Moments, she got a flood of likes within minutes.

She showed the post to Egg Yolk Pastry, grabbing its head. “See this? Next time, I’ll shave all your fur off.”

Egg Yolk Pastry whimpered twice, lying on the ground with a drooping face.

The university WeChat class group had been lively these past few days, probably because of the reunion Xie Zhen was organizing for next month.

Ji Pei had zero interest in the group chat. She didn’t even know how many people were in her class, let alone their names.

Besides Xie Zhen, two or three others were constantly posting, showing off bags or jewelry.

Ji Pei, who had worked on product design for Bulgari for a while, could tell at a glance that their photos were of high-quality fakes, even photoshopped.

There were still plenty of people in the world who couldn’t spot fakes, like her former dormmate Ran Feifei.

Ran Feifei: [This bag is from Chanel, wow.]

Ran Feifei: [Bulgari necklace, I’m jobless, gift it to me.]

No one responded to her messages.

Ji Pei frowned. From the first day of freshman year, she’d felt something off about this person.

Ran Feifei was overly enthusiastic, to an overwhelming degree. Ji Pei couldn’t handle it and decided to keep her distance.

As they spent more time together, she realized Ran Feifei was shamelessly familiar, always trying to cozy up to her, especially after Xie Zhen became class monitor.

She’d anonymously reported Ji Pei’s scholarship as shady, but Ji Pei and Ye Wenzhu tricked her into revealing herself. Furious, she fell out with them and moved to another dorm.

Later, it seemed she got a warning from the school for stealing or something, nearly getting expelled.

After that, Ji Pei stopped paying attention to her, but now she was popping up in the group chat, fishing for attention.

Ji Pei, with her OCD, couldn’t stand the red notification dots on WeChat Moments.

She opened it to check. Besides likes and comments from other friends, most were for her recent post.

And…

Ji Pei squinted, noticing Jiang Xihan had liked her post.

That didn’t make sense.

***

Ji Pei and Dongri had a long phone call that morning.

She sat on a bench by the park lake, feeling the breeze. When the dog’s head nudged her, she remembered she’d forgotten to prepare lunch for Egg Yolk Pastry.

“I’ve gotta go home now to make lunch for my dog.”

“You have a dog?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? I’ve got a greedy, silly dog with more tricks than a college student.”

Dongri laughed. “I have a Doberman, staying with my mom right now.”

“A Doberman!”

Ji Pei always thought Dobermans were cool and handsome in videos, wanting one, but Egg Yolk Pastry was already a handful. She didn’t dare get another.

“You really like Dobermans?”

“Yeah, they’re super cool, like a boss.”

Ji Pei glanced at Egg Yolk Pastry, eagerly pulling the leash to rush home, and gritted her teeth at its pathetic eagerness.

Dongri’s gentle laugh came through the phone.

“Your golden retriever’s cute too.”

Ji Pei, dragged home by Egg Yolk Pastry, asked absently,

“How’d you know I have a golden retriever?”

“You told me before, forgot?”

“Oh, must’ve slipped my mind. This furry kid’s in a hurry to eat, so I’ll hang up now.”

“Mm.”

***

The two cats and one dog bolted to their bowls. Ji Pei flopped onto the sofa, exhaling.

“Finally fed you guys. Look at you, starving—like you haven’t eaten in two minutes.”

Xue Meiniang meowed briefly. The other two gluttons clattered at their bowls, practically swallowing them whole.

It was almost the end of the month, and Ji Pei’s tenants started transferring rent sporadically through WeChat.

Ji Pei was practically a third-generation rich kid. Her grandparents had bought land and built houses in the city center when they were young.

When the houses were demolished, they got a massive compensation payout and started investing as bosses. Now retired, they weren’t idle, moving to Belgium to make chocolate.

Ji Pei didn’t need to work. Her monthly rent income alone could buy a new house within the second ring.

But her condition for tenants was that they had to be female.

Once, a male tenant couldn’t pay rent and sent Ji Pei nude photos, offering his body as payment.

Ji Pei reported him to the police immediately, kicked him out, and swore never to take male tenants again.

After he left, the apartment was filthy and smelly. Ji Pei renovated it and replaced all the furniture.

Rents trickled in through her hundred-person tenant group, and she collected them one by one.

Checking current housing prices, Ji Pei felt the rent was a bit high, so she sent a group message, lowering it by a thousand.

A few sweet-talking, savvy female tenants offered to treat Ji Pei to dinner. She declined, saying next time.

She felt landlords and tenants should maintain some boundaries.

Jiang Xihan sent a message.

Ji Pei opened it—Jiang Xihan wanted to deliver her clothes.

Demon Jiang: [The clothes are washed. Where do you live? I’ll bring them over.]

Something about delivering clothes felt odd to Ji Pei, though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

Bored, she opened a search engine and typed Jiang Xihan’s name. The first result was four big words.

S City’s Richest.

Entered MIT at fifteen, and the last line mentioned being an associate professor of philosophy at A University—her least notable achievement.

Apparently, teaching at A University was just her side gig.

Ji Fan rubbed her eyes, thinking this was the kind of identity a novel’s protagonist would have.

She switched to Google and searched again—same profile.

How could someone’s life be so spectacular? Ji Pei was marveling when she nearly forgot to reply.

How should she respond?

Ji Pei propped her cheeks, troubled, but quickly rallied.

Why worry? Jiang Xihan dirtied her clothes; she should wash and deliver them. Why was Ji Pei the one feeling guilty?

Getting their roles straight, Ji Pei copied her address from a shopping app and sent it to Jiang Xihan via WeChat.

Demon Jiang: [I’ll be there at 5 p.m.]

Five p.m…

Ji Pei touched her chin, wondering if she should duck out and let Ji Fan handle it.

But if she did, Jiang Xihan would think she was a coward, too scared to face her.

At that thought, Ji Pei’s confidence surged. She ditched the rabbit pajamas, which had left a shadow on her, and changed into casual, presentable loungewear.

She was an adult—running around outside in those pajamas, seen by Jiang Xihan, who probably laughed behind her back, thinking she was childish.

After a quick lunch, Ji Pei sat on the sofa playing games, glancing at her watch every half hour.

In a blink, it was nearly 5 p.m. Her watch-checking frequency shrank from every half hour to every five minutes.

Ji Fan, holding a fruit salad, sat beside her, noticing Ji Pei’s distracted gaming and constant watch-glancing.

“Sis, what are you doing? Such weird behavior—you possessed or something?”

“Jiang Xihan’s coming at five to return my clothes. I’m timing to see if she’s punctual.”

Ji Fan’s pupils shrank.

“What? Jiang Xihan’s coming? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Ji Pei looked baffled.

“You didn’t ask.”

Ji Fan, in slippers, didn’t bother changing, running toward the door while shouting,

“Sis, whose side are you on?”

Facing the open door, she yelled at Ji Pei on the sofa,

“Before Jiang Xihan gets here, I’m heading out to lay low. If she asks about me, just say…”

“Say what?”

Ji Fan’s words were cut off.

A slender, pale hand held the door. Jiang Xihan’s half-face was obscured by Ji Fan’s messy hair.

She held a bag, smiling faintly at the abruptly silent Ji Fan.

And at Ji Pei, pinching the dog’s ears on the sofa.

Jiang Xihan’s lips curved with a subtle smile.

“Can I hear it?”