For several nights in a row, Pei Jingchen suffered from severe insomnia. Even after staying awake for three or four hours, sleep remained elusive. Lying in one position too long made his whole body ache, yet he dared not turn over for fear of disturbing Su Qingci sharing the bed. He could only endure the discomfort, which only made falling asleep harder.
To avoid daytime fatigue, Pei Jingchen secretly retrieved the sleeping pills he’d discarded long ago. Yet he dared not take too many, fearing he might sleep too deeply and fail to wake if Su Qingci stirred.
Pei Jingchen took only half a pill. The dosage proved insufficient, and he lay motionless in bed for over half an hour before finally drifting off. He woke in the night, unsure of the hour. Blinking sleepily, he glanced over to the other side of the bed. It was empty.
Empty?!
Pei Jingchen snapped wide awake. Staring intently, he confirmed no one was there. He hurriedly flipped on the bedside lamp. Su Qingci was gone, the covers cold beneath him.
“Qingci?” Pei Jingchen called out, rushing barefoot out of the bedroom without even putting on his slippers. His whole body froze.
Pei Jingchen heard coughing coming from the kitchen.
“Qingci!”
Pei Jingchen rushed over frantically. He found Su Qingci leaning against the sink, his body shaking violently from a severe coughing fit. He flipped on the kitchen light and saw hisi forehead glistening with cold sweat, soaking his bangs. His already sickly face looked even more shockingly haggard.
Pei Jingchen looked nervously at the sink. It was spotless, filled only with clear water. He then examined Su Qingci’s face. Though pale, the area around his lips was clean, showing no signs of having coughed up blood.
Pei Jingchen’s breath came in heavy, labored gasps, as if something had struck his heart repeatedly. Every nerve from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes felt numb.
Su Qingci knew his complexion must look terrible, but Pei Jingchen’s face resembled that of a vengeful ghost: “Qingci, are you… are you okay?”
Su Qingci suddenly felt a pang of tenderness. He had never seen Pei Jingchen like this before—utterly flustered, panicked and at a loss, desperately trying to feign composure and strength despite his terror.
In his memory, Pei Jingchen was powerful and resolute—never bowing to adversity, never yielding to threats or bribes. Whether navigating the emotional battlefield with decisive clarity or commanding the business arena with thunderous authority, he remained unshakable. Once, when rival companies conspired to undermine him, plunging Lingyue into a financial crisis on the brink of bankruptcy, Pei Jingchen worked tirelessly for half a month, day and night, to recover the massive sum and prop up the teetering company. Back then, he endured relentless bank demands, betrayal from partners, the imminent collapse of his life’s work, and the livelihoods of thousands of employees hanging in the balance. Yet under such crushing pressure, he never crumbled as easily as he does now.
It was a helpless despair, a complete surrender, a plea for mercy.
A plea for mercy from the disease that could take Su Qingci’s life at any moment.
“I’m fine,” Su Qingci said, pointing to the glass of water on the counter. “Just choked on some water.”
The false alarm left Pei Jingchen drained, nodding dazedly. “How did you…”
Su Qingci replied, “Woke up thirsty, came out for a drink.”
Pei Jingchen said with a hint of frustration, “Next time I’ll fill the thermos and leave it on the nightstand.”
Pei Jingchen asked Su Qingci if he wanted more water. Su Qingci shook his head. Pei Jingchen helped him back to the bedroom. After Su Qingci got into bed, Pei Jingchen said, “Next time you feel unwell, you must call me. Lately… I’ve been sleeping quite deeply. I won’t be so deep in slumber from now on.”
Pei Jingchen clenched his fists silently. He couldn’t keep taking sleeping pills!
This time it had been a close call. If next time something truly, truly happened… Pei Jingchen dared not think about it. His throat felt as if it were being squeezed, parched and dry, making breathing difficult. Waves of lingering fear washed over him.
*
Dawn broke, but Su Qingci hadn’t woken. Pei Jingchen tiptoed out of the bedroom. After a quick wash, he began preparing breakfast as usual.
He’d asked Su Qingci last night what he wanted to eat. He hadn’t said anything at first, but just before sleep, he mentioned a street stall—and even named a specific shop.
Though Pei Jingchen had eaten street food since childhood—even now, despite his success, he still bought meat buns for two yuan fifty from snack stalls—he felt that street food was unhealthy for Su Qingci.
Experts said repeatedly heating cooking oil produced carcinogens. Experts also said… Never mind. Eating it occasionally wouldn’t hurt.
Pei Jingchen recalled the first time he took Su Qingci to a street stall—also for breakfast. It happened during summer break when they discussed morning workouts. Pei Jingchen mentioned his habit of jogging before dawn, followed by a steaming bowl of soy milk that left him refreshed all day. Su Qingci was intrigued and arranged to join him. Later, Pei Jingchen’s first running buddy since starting his morning routine—his dad—proved lazy, and Wu Lü was even lazier.
Pei Jingchen asked Su Qingci if he’d ever run before. Su Qingci said no, so Pei Jingchen advised him to pace himself and not push too hard. To his surprise, Su Qingci stuck with it, earning Pei Jingchen’s respect for the delicate young master. After their run, the young master remembered the soy milk he’d mentioned. Wiping sweat from his brow, Pei Jingchen preemptively warned, “It’s just a street stall—crude and greasy. Probably not suitable for you.”
Su Qingci didn’t hesitate for a moment and asked him to lead the way.
Pei Jingchen thought to himself: This fried dough stick must be the first junk food this young master from a wealthy family has tasted since weaning.
Pei Jingchen was about to say he could spit it out if he didn’t like it, but he saw Su Qingci chew it carefully, swallow it, and then say, “Nothing tastes strange to me. I’m Chinese too.”
Chinese person, Chinese stomach, Chinese people eat Chinese food!
Su Qingci smiled, saying he often ate soy milk and fried dough sticks too. Did he really think he ate sandwiches, steak, and baguettes every meal? It was just that the fried dough sticks made by the chef at home were different—they tasted better, less greasy, with a milky fragrance. But no matter how delicious it was, if the atmosphere at the table was unpleasant, even dragon meat would be hard to swallow.
Pei Jingchen didn’t ask what exactly was wrong. With Su Ge around, he could imagine the atmosphere at their family dinner table.
Sizzling hot oil, wispy cooking smoke, soy milk, fried dough sticks, tofu pudding, meat and vegetable buns, savory pancakes, various congees, tea eggs—bustling activity, the warmth of everyday life. Su Qingci said he loved it here, especially loved it.
Pei Jingchen said he’d bring him here every day if he liked it.
They ate together for seven days. On the eighth day, Pei Jingchen didn’t wait for Su Qingci. Instead, Su Ge showed up.
“You’re the son of that cake shop owner? Pei Jingchen, right? Xiao Ci often looks for you, and you’re always hanging out with him. I know all about it. “
“Did your father tell you to get close to Xiao Ci?!”
“Why? Is Xiao Ci your half-brother? What exactly is your relationship with Su Qingci?!”
Later, he punched Su Ge square in the nose. It was the first time he’d ever hit someone, and it was the most satisfying, cathartic, and most regrettable punch of his life.
He regretted not hitting him harder!
*
Pei Jingchen asked the owner for two cups of soy milk, four fried dough sticks, tea eggs, and meat buns. While scanning to pay, he heard someone call his name. Turning, he saw Wu Lü across the street.
Wu Lü worked the afternoon shift and had used the morning to visit Su Qingci.
When Pei Jingchen brought Wu Lü back, Su Qingci had already gotten up.
Pei Jingchen had bought extra breakfast, so Wu Lü tagged along for a meal. Su Qingci felt a pang of emotion—it had been ages since more than two people sat at his breakfast table. Just one extra person, yet it felt incredibly lively.
Later, Su Qingci realized it was all thanks to Wu Lu being a chatterbox.
“Last week I had this weird customer who complained, ‘How dare you not even provide toothpicks for guests? Bad review!’ I told her, ‘This is a coffee shop, not a street stall. What do you need toothpicks for? Do you get food stuck in your teeth when you drink water?’ Then she complained about my bad attitude.”
“The day before yesterday, a girl ordered a latte and insisted on no milk, no sugar. I suggested she order an Americano instead. She accused me of mocking her ignorance and filed a complaint.”
“Yesterday a guy complained the music made him sleepy and demanded rock songs. I explained this isn’t a karaoke bar—we don’t take song requests. He accused me of arguing with God and filed another complaint.”
Su Qingci: “…”
Pei Jingchen: “…”
Listening to this office drone’s woeful tale of drudgery, Su Qingci found himself polishing off half a tray of meat buns, two fried dough sticks, a bowl of soy milk, and a preserved egg.
Pei Jingchen glanced at the food, then turned to Wu Lü: “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”
“Great! Great! I’m on the afternoon shift tomorrow too!” Wu Lü exclaimed excitedly. What could be more satisfying than going straight to the prince of Wulin Coffee to complain?
While Wu Lü chatted animatedly with Su Qingci, Pei Jingchen stepped out to the balcony to take a work call. Returning, he glanced at his wristwatch—exactly half an hour after breakfast. He fetched the pre-warmed water and handed Su Qingci his medicine.
Wu Lü munched noisily on his black plum. Soon, the doorbell rang. Su Qingci watched as Pei Jingchen went to answer it—it was Assistant Xu.
The two stood in the foyer discussing work. Pei Jingchen took a thick stack of documents from Assistant Xu. Though in a hurry, Assistant Xu stepped out of the foyer to greet Su Qingci on the sofa and offer a few words of concern. After Assistant Xu left, Wu Lü also said it was time for him to go.
Pei Jingchen walked Wu Lü to the door. As they walked, Wu Lü rubbed his sour stomach, muttering that Li Zixuan was “annoying.” He glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows leading to the terrace—from this angle, he could see Su Qingci in the living room.
When quiet, he radiated a melancholy reserve, delicate as a snowflake.
Every time Wu Lü looked at Su Qingci, he couldn’t help but wax poetic.
“Xiao Chen,” Wu Lü said, “remember what the neighbors used to say about you growing up? They called you gentle and good-natured, honest and diligent, hardworking and industrious—a sure bet to be a fine man someday. My mom used to complain daily that I was born in the wrong gender—otherwise, marrying you would have made my life complete. She said you’re equally at home in formal settings and the kitchen, absolutely devoted, frugal, and family-oriented—the perfect husband embodying all twenty-four filial virtues.”
“I’ve heard it so many times my ears are bleeding. I’m telling you, it’s not like it can’t be done now—just hook up with a guy.” Wu Lü rubbed his cheeks as he spoke, the memory of his mother’s Nine Yin Bone Claw still fresh in his mind.
Pei Jingchen chuckled and urged Wu Lü to get lost.
Wu Lü scurried away a few steps before straightening up slightly. ” Xiao Chen, you’re stuck with this now.”
It was unclear whether it was a question or a statement. Before Pei Jingchen could respond, Wu Lu chuckled as expected: “Bro, I thought you didn’t like him too, until you went crazy and shelled out twenty-eight grand to buy that down jacket from me. That’s when I knew—you’re done for.”
“Doomed” hit the nail on the head. Pei Jingchen couldn’t refute it—nor did he want to.
Wu Lu grinned. “You sneaked back to buy the very first outfit you got for Su Su. Does he know? Does he know? Does he know? Want me to break it to him for you?”
Pei Jingchen was rendered speechless by the word “sneakily,” yet he couldn’t deny it. He laughed and cursed Wu Lü to get lost. This time Wu Lü slipped away, but before he did, Pei Jingchen called him back, reminding him to come tomorrow and not to forget.
Wu Lü ran and jumped, waving his pen tip, nearly crashing into a utility pole.
Pei Jingchen returned to his room, closing the door with an involuntary deep breath before slowly exhaling. Back in the living room, Su Qingci was flipping through an art magazine. Pei Jingchen told him, “I need to head to the office. I’ll be back before eleven.”
Su Qingci glanced at him before returning his gaze to the magazine. “No need to report to me.”
A famous painting in the magazine was obscured by a green QR code. Su Qingci heard its owner say, “Add me back as a friend. It’ll make staying in touch easier.”
Su Qingci replied, “Isn’t calling more convenient when you need something?”
Pei Jingchen said with deadpan seriousness, “Calls can’t do video chats, share locations, send pictures, or use stickers.”
Su Qingci thought to himself: I don’t want to video call you, share my location with you, send you pictures, or use emojis with you. Wait—emojis? How unusual. Every single image in their chat history had been sent by Su Qingci, and every single emoji had been sent by Su Qingci. The locations, however, were all sent by Pei Jingchen, because the one always responsible for finding places was Su Qingci.
Pei Jingchen was a stick-in-the-mud, devoid of charm. He addressed business matters and then withdrew when there was nothing to discuss, utterly incapable of flexibly using emojis to liven up the atmosphere.
Su Qingci assumed Pei Jingchen was playing favorites, simply unwilling to be playful with him. It was only when Chief of Staff Xu stepped in to clear the air, showing Su Qingci his own chat history, that he realized Mr. Pei treated everyone equally—text-based communication was his default. Su Qingci finally let it go.
Pei Jingchen’s aloofness didn’t matter; his warmth made up for it. so he sprinkled emojis into every chat. Despite being socially awkward himself, he somehow split personalities in his messages to him—as if the person on the other end, who dropped “Mwah/GIF” every third sentence and “Love you/GIF” every fifth, was a sunny, cheerful, warm, and adorably soft little angel.
Lost in a whirlpool of memories, Su Qingci felt no ripples in his heart. He didn’t argue with Pei Jingchen either—that would have felt like putting on airs. Adding back a deleted friend? No big deal.
Just as Su Qingci was about to scan the QR code, Pei Jingchen suddenly withdrew it.
Su Qingci: “?”
After a few seconds of Pei Jingchen’s manipulation, a friend request popped up in Su Qingci’s WeChat.
“Pei Jingchen” has sent you a friend request.
Staring at the request, Su Qingci felt a wave of dizziness. He remembered when they first added each other as friends. WeChat had just become popular back then. He’d created an account and asked Pei Jingchen if he had one. Pei Jingchen said he’d had it for ages, so Su Qingci hurriedly added him. Thus, Pei Jingchen became the first—and only—contact in his WeChat.
Later, after the incident where Pei Jingchen played piano at his graduation ceremony, Su Qingci, consumed by jealousy, broke up with him. In a fit of anger, he deleted and blocked Pei Jingchen. When they reconciled, he re-added Pei Jingchen on WeChat. Out of pride and some inexplicable sense of self-respect, he waited until Pei Jingchen went to the bathroom, unlocked his phone, and instantly accepted the friend request.
Each time, Su Qingci sent the friend request, and Pei Jingchen approved it. While adding a friend shouldn’t warrant such inner drama, “adding someone” carried a sense of proactive pursuit, whereas “being added” brought the blissful feeling of being needed and cherished.
Su Qingci was relieved he hadn’t embarrassed himself beyond repair by suggesting something as absurd as “Let’s both delete each other first, then you add me back.”
Su Qingci clicked to accept.
After months of absence, his contact reappeared in the list, still bearing that familiar sunflower avatar he’d drawn himself.
Pei Jingchen stepped out, and Su Qingci headed to the studio to paint. Suddenly, WeChat pinged. He glanced down—a message from Pei Jingchen.
[Finished up, heading home now/grinning.GIF]
[Traffic’s a bit heavy, so I’ll probably get back after 11:05/Dog sighing.GIF]
[Image]
[Just remembered you love this place’s mung bean cakes. I found them—fresh out of the oven, super fragrant/Rose.GIF]
[I’m home.]
[Handsome guy riding motorcycle.GIF]