Nan Zhi quickly withdrew her gaze, put the umbrella away properly, the insulated cup stuck in the center console; when her hand left it, her palm was still full of the heat scalded out by the rock sugar snow pear water.
So warm.
The weather had been gloomy and cold lately. Drinking a bit of rock sugar snow pear soup early in the morning was just right, warming the stomach.
With one cup of soup going down the belly, maybe she wouldn’t need to worry about hypoglycemia flaring up all morning.
Nan Zhi left while turning off the fire, thinking as she walked.
Cats really are the most healing creatures in the world.
She had often heard people say before, someone like her was suitable for raising a cat. After raising a cat and having something to be attached to, she wouldn’t spend her days being idle and overthinking everything.
Sure enough, after raising a cat, her whole state improved a lot. She really did get a lot done yesterday, and very naturally picked up things she had dropped before.
That cat and the boy, of course, were drawn based on Song Qing. Thinking it over carefully, the experience between her and Song Qing, wasn’t it just that she casually waved her hand, and Song Qing immediately responded, and ba-ji [onomatopoeia for something suddenly flopping down] flopped down beside her, letting her pet and rub and carry him away?
Yesterday, when chatting with the cat-loving pet shop owner, she had gotten it wrong. On the first day she brought him home, she not only went to look at him four or five times, she even forcibly hugged him – and not just once.
Totally couldn’t hold back, ah. Who could hold back when they’ve brought home a kitten who hasn’t fully adapted yet? Of course you’d immediately start petting, rubbing, hugging – rubbing him bald.
Nan Zhi felt completely justified and didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. That’s right – it was the cat who was too cute.
She couldn’t help but recall last night’s drawing. Because she had been in a bit of a rush to sleep, she hadn’t finished it properly. It should’ve been drawn in two panels.
The idea was of a little girl wanting to carry away a boy who had cat ears and a cat tail, but found that she couldn’t lift him. So she changed to piggybacking, still couldn’t carry him, and in the end it turned into hoisting him over her shoulder.
A black-haired, white-skinned boy was slung over her shoulder, tail raised high in the air, lazily swaying.
Just thinking about it felt so cute.
Pity there wasn’t enough time, she still hadn’t even had time to look at the comments.
But it didn’t really matter. She was no longer that little girl who only thought about sharing beautiful things. Now she had come back to make money and support a family – as long as there were people commissioning work, that was enough.
I’ve already lost my soul. Now I only think about rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and tea. \[柴米油盐 – a Chinese idiom meaning the daily necessities of life, the mundane struggles of adulthood]
Nan Zhi was also a little worried about putting all her eggs in one basket and ending up with chickens flying away and eggs broken [idiom for losing everything]. While waiting at a red light, she still remembered to message the tenants who were renting for a few months.
【@IAlsoWantToSniffHakimi: Starting this month, the monthly rent is going up – 200 more per month.】
【@IAlsoWantToSniffHakimi: Got married and had kids now, dragging along a whole family, not the same as before. Can’t keep being cheap.】
These two messages were group-sent to a few tenants.
Nan Zhi’s family home had two apartments, both in the city center. The rent in surrounding areas for single rooms had gone up at least 1,700 to 1,800, only hers hadn’t changed.
Her units were well designed – basically every room had a bathroom and kitchen, pretty much equivalent to a studio apartment. There was even a little courtyard on the first floor. Charging 1,400 or 1,500 wouldn’t be a problem.
It was just that before, she hadn’t been short on money. Spending six or seven thousand a month was enough, so she never brought it up. But now she really was dragging along a whole family – couldn’t be like before anymore.
Six or seven thousand was more than enough to support just her. Adding two or three more mouths, it was starting to get tight.
After passing the red light, Nan Zhi didn’t have time to check WeChat, and stepped on the gas into the hospital.
Just in time, not late. After finishing the handover, she took a quick look at her messages during a break, and one of the tenants had replied.
【@GreenGrasslands: Don’t ah, sis – I just bought an air purifier recently, there’s not much left over.】
Nan Zhi replied to him with a stern face.
【@IAlsoWantToSniffHakimi: Got a wife, even brought two kids. I’m under a lot of pressure too, no way not to raise.】
【@GreenGrasslands: Alright then.】
Nan Zhi was just about to put away her phone when another message came from that side. She tapped in to take a look.
【@GreenGrasslands: Wait, sis, aren’t you a girl?】
Nan Zhi hadn’t replied yet, and another message followed from the other side.
【@GreenGrasslands: Did I remember wrong?】
Nan Zhi replied affirmatively.
【@IAlsoWantToSniffHakimi: You remembered wrong.】
She had never met the tenants in person. Basically, everything was handled through the agency. When a place was vacant, she’d have the agent show it to people. Once settled, she and the tenant would each pay half the agency fee. Even when reclaiming the place, she had the agent bring someone to clean and such.
All in all, those two apartments didn’t take up much of her energy. She really hadn’t worried much. Those people only knew about her through social media posts or the agent’s words.
She spouted nonsense, and the other party couldn’t tell real from fake.
Aside from that one tenant, the others didn’t react much. Anyway, Nan Zhi insisted she had to support a wife and kids. Plus, her rent was already underpriced, so basically all the tenants agreed to the 200 yuan rent increase.
Two hundred wasn’t much, but five rooms together meant over a thousand already. The one with a courtyard increased more, but that one paid every six months and had just paid, so luckily it wasn’t affected this round.
After settling the tenants, Nan Zhi ordered takeout for the family. She also did the same for herself.
She also had takeout every day. Every day the headache: what to eat.
The teachers around her were the same. What was different was: today Nan Zhi had pear soup.
She took the chance while others weren’t around to shake the pear soup in her pocket at the teacher. The teacher immediately caught on, took out a cup, and the two of them secretly drank the pear soup under the table.
There were also snow fungus and red dates in it. The soup was clear with a slight yellow tint, and one sip was sweet—not too bland, not too strong, just right everywhere. So delicious.
Nan Zhi somewhat regretted pouring too much for the teacher.
This was my little wifey’s love for me, full to the brim.
She saw the teacher only took a small sip and leaned in to say: “Teacher, pour me a bit more, it’s really good.”
The teacher held the pear soup with both hands, took a second to shoot her a glare, and naturally didn’t pour the soup back to her. Instead, curiously asked: “Who made this? It’s pretty tasty.”
Nan Zhi blinked, “If I said I made it, would you believe it?”
If she said she had a little wife at home, and the little wife was diligent and virtuous and made it for her, the teacher definitely wouldn’t believe it.
The teacher’s eyes almost rolled to the heavens, clearly had zero faith in someone who couldn’t even cook instant noodles properly.
“This kind of skill obviously isn’t a first-time cook.”
Nan Zhi knew that too. You could tell from drinking it.
His experience matched the rumors exactly, not even a bit off, probably even more cruel in real life than what had spread.
This kind of cooking skill isn’t something learned in a day or two. Definitely got honed through countless failures and scoldings.
“Speak, who made it?”
Nan Zhi didn’t tell her, afraid that her little wife’s workload would increase in the future. Not only would she have to make it for her, but also for her teacher. She just held the sweet pear soup, drinking while thinking:
In the future, how much I’m going to love going home, ah.
Turns out not loving to go home before was because the house lacked a little wife. Oh, and soon there will be two more “children.”
Wife, kids, and warm kang bed — not only boys like it, girls like it too.
—
In a certain apartment building in the city center, Song Qing had just picked up his takeout, hadn’t gotten a chance to eat yet, and the people who came to dismantle the lights had already arrived. They even brought a round, lightweight overhead lamp, probably already discussed with Nan Zhi. Song Qing let the people in; one held the folding ladder from below, one climbed up to replace the light.
There were two more—one held a cloth, spreading it below, one held a rope. Once the person above tied the light to the rope, the rope was passed through the center hook, and the person above began detaching. After removing it, the light was slowly lowered down by the one holding the rope, and finally completely wrapped in the cloth.
Maybe because they saw he had a leg disability and couldn’t clean up, they also helped him put the light in the storage room.
Once everything was stored properly and the new overhead light was installed, they told him they’d already added Nan Zhi on WeChat, and the money had been transferred, no need to worry about the cost. All he had to do was clean up some remaining trash on the floor and they’d leave.
Song Qing watched them leave, closed the door, and after returning to the living room and seeing dust on the floor, naturally brought out the mop.
As soon as he cleaned it, the people delivering the cats arrived.
Song Qing followed the same procedure and welcomed them in. It was a man and a woman, who very politely explained how to take care of the cats, what not to do and what should be done during their first arrival.
Just like Nan Zhi said, they opened the cat food and poured it into the bowl. The temperature-controlled water dispenser was also retrieved from the storage room and plugged in. They arranged the litter box, then left.
Just before leaving, Song Qing heard them muttering with confusion:
“That’s strange, didn’t they say there was one more cat? Why didn’t we see it?”
“Maybe it’s scared of people,” the companion responded. Then the two of them removed their disposable shoe covers and left.
Song Qing’s brows furrowed slightly.
There’s still another cat?
Nan Zhi hadn’t said anything about that.
He worried that maybe it was because of him that the cat was scared and hadn’t dared to come out, so he searched around.
Under the sofa, under the bed, under the table — he checked everywhere but only saw the two small ones.
If there really was another cat, there should be another litter box and food bowl. There wasn’t. Most likely it was upstairs, locked in by Nan Zhi, so they didn’t see it.
He couldn’t go upstairs anyway, so he let it go. He obediently followed the cat delivery people’s instructions, didn’t go to look at the two cats, just sat by the dining area, finished his own meal, and gazed outside waiting for the right time.
There was still one thing he hadn’t done — something Nan Zhi had instructed him.
—
Work for Nan Zhi was basically non-stop running and running — finish over here, go there; finish there, come here — almost not a moment of rest, simply no free time.
Finally it was lunchtime, the taut string inside her could finally relax. She let out a long breath and went downstairs to eat.
Thinking about the “wife” and “children” at home, she couldn’t help but scroll through Song Qing’s WeChat, planning to ask him what the “children” looked like.
Truly random kids — even the head of the household, the “dad,” hadn’t seen them yet.
But the “mom” should know already, right?
As soon as Nan Zhi opened WeChat, she saw that “Mom” had messaged her.
She tapped in — unexpectedly, it wasn’t about the kittens. It was a few short videos.
Shot from the living room at home, the camera was pointed directly at the scene outside the window.
It was raining outside—misty, hazy, drip-drop sounds— the whole sky and the opposite building were shrouded in it. Ultra-large glass and ultra-wide view, the sound of rain coming in from time to time, and the streaks of rain weaving down — it was surprisingly healing.
And inside her room, a light was turned on. A warm beam of light shone down; probably it was to let her see what the lighting she picked looked like. The video tilted upward for a moment, pointing toward the lamp to show it.
It was warm light. She had told the master that she wanted a super-bright, super-warm lamp, and that she could pay first.
She transferred 500 yuan over; the master straightforwardly went to the market to pick one for her. He had sent her a video of the effect, but since it was shot during the daytime, it didn’t show clearly. She just felt it was troublesome for the master and hastily confirmed it. She hadn’t expected that once it was installed in her home, it actually looked really nice.
So nice, ah.
The video swayed again, pointing at the corner of the sofa — there were two little cats, one black and one white, playing on the armrest area.
Ah! Those are my “children”!
They’re not afraid of strangers at all!
They’re already strutting their stuff on my sofa.
Maybe because he knew she missed the “kids” dearly, the following videos were all shots of the cats.
Filmed from the front, at an angle, tilted, close-up, long shot.
There was even one where the camera angle was level with the sofa — you could almost imagine Song Qing lying on the sofa while filming, watching the kittens while glancing at his phone.
A big kitty filming little kitties.
Oh my god.
Can’t take it anymore. Missing home even more now.
Just as Nan Zhi was still watching, another message came — another video, this time filmed facing the outside, closer to the window, likely taken from the balcony.
Nan Zhi looked at the view outside the window, and in a daze remembered — yesterday, she had told Song Qing to take a video of what the house looked like during the day.
Actually, back then she had meant for him to film the sunshine, but there was no sunlight — he filmed the rainy day instead.
I just said it casually, offhandedly.
But he really remembered and followed through.
And—
Nan Zhi stared at the short video.
He had actually captured the sunlight. She saw it.
—
“What do you want to eat?”
The cafeteria auntie called out, pulling Nan Zhi’s thoughts back.
Nan Zhi looked at the dishes behind the food counter, then at the chat page on her phone. Her expression gradually grew firm.
“I don’t want any, thank you.”
She placed the tray back, and without stopping, rushed toward the parking area.
She was going home.
She wanted to go see her “wife” and “children.”