Putting the old phone back in his pocket, Qi Ji finally caught the soft, tentative sound of Xia Jing asking about borrowing money again.
He composed himself and asked, “How much more do you need?”
“All the other costs are covered. I just need about three thousand more for the burial,” Xia Jing said quietly. “I could’ve saved this, but I can’t manage it on my own…”
Funerals are normally handled with help from relatives and friends, but Qi Ji’s older generation had already passed away, and his parents died three years ago. For his aunt’s family this time, it really was just Xia Jing alone.
In reality, things shouldn’t have been this bleak. In a small town, even without the Qi family, local connections usually meant someone would help. That the aunt’s family was left entirely unsupported spoke to their own ways of handling life.
So when Xia Jing said she had to hire help for the burial because no one else could assist, Qi Ji wasn’t surprised. After all, this was the same aunt who could tell a three-year-old Qi Ji, “Your grandmother’s things belong to our family; you can’t take them.”
When his grandmother passed and he was sent to live with his aunt, he learned the rules on the very first day, in that same harsh way.
At the time, Qi Ji’s father had actually given the family’s ancestral property to his sister and even regularly sent support money for Qi Ji’s upbringing. That’s how Qi Ji came to know his name: “Qi” meaning “to send,” “Ji” meaning money—“Qi Ji,” literally “send money.”
Once, when Qi Ji was curious and picked up an envelope, his uncle snatched it away, only returning it after confirming it contained no money transfer slips. When Qi Ji asked what was written on it, his uncle brushed him off. His aunt then explained, “This is a remittance. Your name, Qi Ji, means sending money. Next time, tell your father to send more, okay?”
Later, a cousin, Xia Dong, teased him at the table using the idiom “寄人籬下” (“living under someone’s roof”), laughing that it matched Qi Ji’s name. Xia Dong, spoiled and loud, even forced Qi Ji to sleep under a tree outside that night. Qi Ji shivered alone in the cold, frightened of imaginary monsters in the dark, while Xia Dong and the adults ignored him. Only timid Xia Jing peeked through the window, too afraid to intervene.
That memory, over ten years old, returned vividly now. Qi Ji remembered the mottled shadows cast by the tree’s leaves, the oppressive cold, the unfairness of it all. Many incidents like this, years of being treated as insignificant, had shaped his childhood.
Even milk that his father ordered for the three children—three portions—was almost entirely taken by Xia Dong. Qi Ji and Xia Jing rarely got any. The aunt and uncle did nothing. They always sided with Xia Dong.
When Qi Ji asked where Xia Jing had been during the recent tragedy, she explained that she had been with Liu Qiang, a man her mother had arranged for her to marry. She had been forced back from working in Shenzhen–Hong Kong, kept confined by Liu Qiang, who was also part of the same group responsible for the incident. Only now, with them caught, could she come out. But she had no way to borrow money from him.
Qi Ji pinched his brow. What a mess.
As he drew a deep breath, the icy air filling his lungs, he felt himself returning fully to his body. The surreal weight on his chest lightened; his feet felt solid on the ground again. These infuriating relatives and petty family dramas were the things Qi Ji knew best. This was his world.
The cold wind stung his throat. Coughing lightly, he said, “Send me your account number, I’ll transfer it.”
He stubbed out the cigarette on a nearby stone pillar. “I can’t leave work with Mingyu right now, so I won’t attend the funeral.”
Xia Jing was startled but quickly replied, “I understand, I understand. Thank you so much… I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my salary.”
She asked for nothing else—only the money.
After hanging up, Qi Ji sighed, wondering how such a household had produced someone like Xia Jing. These aggravations, oddly enough, pulled him out of the emotional slump he had been in. He finished the half pack of cigarettes, promptly transferred the money, and checked the local news.
Even now, the fact that the debt was finally resolved felt unreal.
He had preserved evidence bit by bit, yet this day had come so easily. They had tried reporting it before, but local influence and threats had made it impossible. Even after moving to S City, the same network of control had followed, and after his parents’ deaths, he had been forced to sign a repayment agreement.
The news trickled in—locally scattered reports at first—but finally, everything was resolved. The local criminal elements had been completely uprooted. The investigation had been nationwide, unprecedented in scale, and S City had not been spared.
Qi Ji was asked to cooperate with the police. After years away, he found the station much calmer than he had imagined, even receiving two mints from a uniformed officer. When he presented the evidence, the staff’s expressions turned serious, thanking him formally afterward.
“Thanks for your cooperation. We’ll do our best to recover the assets.”
Qi Ji nodded. He looked at the police station—bright, orderly, imposing. The contrast with the old rural station where his father had been beaten was stark. He lowered his gaze. After so many years… it was finally over.
With his half-day leave still unused, he informed Qi Mingyu, then made his way alone to a familiar intersection. S City’s cemetery was too expensive; with his resources, he couldn’t afford it. Following hometown traditions, he decided to return his parents to their ancestral graves.
Passing a flower shop along the way, he stopped to buy chrysanthemums. Entering the store, he felt a sudden, vague sense of familiarity. Even the short-haired, black-jacketed female owner seemed familiar.
“Do I know you?” he asked cautiously.
The owner looked at him and said softly, “I saw you three years ago during that accident at the intersection. Sorry to bring it up.”
Qi Ji relaxed slightly. “It’s okay. Today I have good news to share with them.”
She smiled, personally selecting a bundle of white daisies, wrapping them neatly. Despite being for mourning, the flowers were lively, their fragrance gentle.
Qi Ji hesitated as he prepared to pay. “Do I owe you money?”
The owner chuckled, shaking her head. “No.”
Seeing this, Qi Ji paid the full price, still slightly unsettled but reassured.
When he paid, the shop owner handed him a clear umbrella. “It looks like rain. Take this.”
It was a simple, disposable umbrella. Qi Ji declined politely. “Thank you, no need. I’ll be heading back soon.”
The owner didn’t press the matter. But as he left, she slipped a small gift into his hands.
“For you,” she said.
Inside were two fresh strawberries still joined at the green stems, topped with tiny white strawberry blossoms. The strawberries were wrapped in delicate, clear plastic, with a line of cursive English printed on the bag:
Tomorrow is another day.
The classic line from Gone with the Wind—a promise that everything would turn out alright. Qi Ji stared at it, lost in thought.
By the time he stepped out of the flower shop, the sky had grown heavier and darker. The wind cut through him, icy and sharp, as he walked slowly to the street corner and placed the pristine white bouquet beside a lamppost.
He straightened up and looked around. Gray and bleak. Cars rushed past. Few pedestrians lingered.
It was bitterly cold.
He cupped his hands together and blew warm breath onto them. A faint white mist rose, quickly dissipating. His pale fingertips remained icy, stubbornly refusing to hold any heat.
Qi Ji stood silently among the bustling crowd, rooted in place. Time passed, people passed, and he didn’t move a muscle. Only his eyelashes fluttered slightly like butterfly wings, his nose and eyes rimmed with a soft pink.
Even when tears slid down his pale cheeks, they fell silently.
A few days ago, when Xia Jing borrowed money from him, she’d mentioned her parents. She knew they had always favored her brother over her. Friends advised her to leave home, to escape the abuse. Even for the funeral, some suggested she skip it altogether.
Yet Xia Jing’s voice had trembled with emotion. “But after all, they raised me,” she had whispered.
“They weren’t always kind. I complained, tried to leave, but they tricked me back with a dowry…”
“Since they passed, I dream of them every night, but I no longer dream of their anger or punishment—only the flowers, hair ribbons… and new dresses from my childhood.”
How could he not care?
Death is the most perfect filter.
Qi Ji felt it too. After so many years, his childhood complaints, his fears of his mother, had faded. Only the warmth remained—hands soft and warm, carrying the scent of soap.
The wind rustled the plastic bag holding the strawberries, which had shifted with the movement.
Strawberries.
L Province was famous for them—large, sweet, high quality. Even so, they were never cheap, especially a decade ago. As a child, his family only bought them for holidays, in limited numbers.
Back then, his parents never ate the strawberries themselves, leaving them entirely for him. He shared, they didn’t. If anything, they’d nibble just a little from the ends, letting him savor the sweetest tips.
Now, the plastic had faint creases from his fingers’ grip, water droplets clinging to the fruit beneath the packaging. Qi Ji gazed silently at the strawberries, tears falling one by one, quietly.
Though he made no sound, standing at the street corner drew attention. People glanced curiously at him, but soon, dark clouds rolled in, wind picked up, and cold rain began to fall. The tears were swallowed by winter drizzle.
Qi Ji rubbed his eyes and carefully put the strawberries away. He reached for the hood of his coat, but before he could, the rain suddenly stopped.
Above him, a shadow darkened his view. To his right, something blocked half of his sight.
He looked up and met a pair of pale eyes.
“Pei…”
Qi Ji blinked in surprise.
“Mr. Pei?”
When had Pei returned?
The man, handsome and captivating as ever, wore a long coat, holding a wide black umbrella that shielded them from wind and rain.
Before Qi Ji could react, Pei lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears from his cheek.
The touch, warm against his cold skin, sent a faint tingling, like sunlight breaking through winter’s chill. Qi Ji stared into those pale eyes, seeing only himself reflected there.
Before guilt could creep in for feeling exposed, Pei spoke in his low, magnetic voice: “Why aren’t you wearing the coat I set aside for you?”
The weather was freezing, rain falling, and yet the extra warm layers hadn’t been used.
Embarrassed, Qi Ji rubbed his nose and said, “There’s nothing formal today, so I wore my own clothes.”
Pei’s eyes softened slightly at the sight of Qi Ji’s flushed nose and pale cheeks. He handed over the umbrella handle. “Take it.”
Qi Ji accepted, only to watch Pei shrug off his own long coat, warm from his body, and drape it over Qi Ji.
“I don’t need it—I’m not cold…” Qi Ji started.
“Wear it,” Pei said firmly, ignoring his protest.
Taking the umbrella back, Pei added, “There’s another coat in the car. Wear this for now.”
Qi Ji had no choice and slipped into the oversized coat, which reached just past his thighs, warmer than the long coat he’d been wearing.
“Why are you here, Mr. Pei?” he asked, hesitant.
“Just returned from the airport. Passing by,” Pei replied evenly.
He glanced at the strawberries by Qi Ji’s feet. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Will you be standing here much longer?”
Qi Ji shook his head. “No. I’ve already told them everything.”
He explained quietly, “This is where my parents passed.”
“Mm,” Pei acknowledged, taking Qi Ji’s hand in his.
“Mr. Pei?”
The warmth from Pei’s touch sent a shiver down Qi Ji’s spine. It tingled not just in his fingers but along his back and neck.
Pei held his fingers a moment longer, then, before Qi Ji could pull away, gently slipped his hand into the coat pocket. He didn’t comment, only asked, “Do you have news to share with them?”
Qi Ji was distracted, nodding. “Yes. Our family’s debts are finally cleared.”
Pei nodded calmly, unsurprised. Qi Ji reflected—of course. This was his debt, not Pei’s. Their own arrangement was separate.
“I’ll handle it differently from now on. No cash needed—just deduct from the salary,” Qi Ji offered.
Pei made no comment, only tilting his head. “We’ll discuss in the car.”
As soon as they got in, Pei’s phone rang, and the topic was set aside. Qi Ji placed the hot milk Pei had handed him aside and began to fold the coat he had worn, but Pei gestured for him to remove it.
Though puzzled, Qi Ji complied. The car heater blew warm air, yet he still shivered in just a sweatshirt. His coat, damp from earlier rain, would have been uncomfortable to continue wearing anyway.
Qi Ji worried about Pei’s coat—if his own was wet, the long coat Pei had lent him must also have been damp.
As he fretted, a warm presence enveloped his back. He realized another thick coat had been draped over him—new, thick, still Pei’s.
His long coat had been retrieved. Pei, still on the phone, now wore the coat that had been covering Qi Ji.
Qi Ji’s eyes widened. Pei had said there was another coat in the car, but Qi Ji hadn’t expected him to lend a fresh one as well. He now wore two of Pei’s coats, while Pei himself had the wet one.
Embarrassed, Qi Ji tried to return the coat but was stopped by a hand. That hand pressed a finger lightly to his lips, sending a sudden rush of heat to his face.
The touch lingered briefly, leaving him flushed. Pei merely gestured to his earpiece, signaling silence.
Qi Ji complied, hugging the hot milk, his ears bright red.
After ten minutes, Pei’s call ended. Both coats had been worn long enough; there was no point swapping back. Qi Ji remained silent.
Finally, Pei spoke: “Do you have time now?”
Qi Ji nodded. “Yes. I took half a day off.”
“Good. We’ll make a detour somewhere before heading back.”
Soon they arrived. The car stopped in front of a commercial building window, and Pei’s gaze caught something in the display—a bouquet made entirely of fresh strawberries, half the height of a person, each berry plump and inviting.
Seeing Qi Ji clutch his small packet of strawberries like a treasure, Pei immediately abandoned his plan to wait in the car. He got out, umbrella in hand, circled to Qi Ji’s side, and opened the door.
Qi Ji stepped out, still wrapped in Pei’s coat, slightly shorter and warmer than the long coat, allowing easier movement in the rain.
His eyes fell on the strawberry bouquet—so enticing it reminded him of a famished kitten discovering a fish treat.
Though reluctant, he closed the car door and followed Pei into the shop.
“The one by the window—selling?” Pei asked.
After confirming with the clerk, he bought the entire strawberry bouquet.
The strawberry bouquet had just been freshly arranged and placed by the window, still receiving its final touches. While it certainly caught the eyes of passersby, the shop hadn’t expected a buyer to appear so quickly—or such a decisive one.
Pei Yusheng didn’t even ask the price before swiping his card.
The clerk carefully carried the bouquet over, and as Pei returned after payment, he saw the boy standing there, eyes glued to the strawberries, unable to look away.
Pei took the bouquet and held it out to him.
“For you.”
The boy’s eyes lit up instantly.
His large, round eyes were already expressive, and whenever surprise showed in them, they were enchanting. Now, overflowing with unrestrained delight, they were utterly heart-melting.
Pei couldn’t help himself and reached out to smooth the boy’s soft black hair.
Yes, it felt just as good as it looked.
The bouquet was enormous. The boy had to hold it with both hands; it reached nearly half his height, covering most of his body. Only his small, pink-tinged face peeked out, glowing with excitement.
Joy radiated from him visibly. The striking strawberries drew attention from both staff and customers, and as the two interacted, whispers of curiosity floated through the store.
Qi Ji held the bouquet carefully, letting the excitement subside little by little. “Mr. Pei, where should I take this?” he asked.
He added curiously, “Is there some important guest we’re visiting?”
Pei remained silent for a moment, pushing back the undercurrent of emotion stirring in his chest. “No,” he said finally.
“It’s for you.”
His tone was calm, but seeing the boy’s expression shift from joy to confusion, then to faint panic, stirred waves of emotion within him that he couldn’t suppress. He closed his eyes briefly, and before Qi Ji could hesitate or refuse, he added evenly, “Take it back to the villa. Someone will deliver it to your mother tonight.”
The boy nodded eagerly. “Ah, for Aunt Xu, right?”
Seeing the relief wash over him, Pei reached up to pinch his own nose in quiet amusement.
He didn’t say anything further, only, “Let’s go.”
“Can you carry it?”
“Yes!” Qi Ji replied.
They left the shop and stepped into the rain. Pei held the umbrella, shielding both of them as they walked to the car.
Although the streets were relatively empty in the rain, the red light held a few pedestrians waiting. Qi Ji, burdened by the large strawberry bouquet, moved cautiously. Pei walked slightly behind him, protective. “Wait in the car a moment. I’ll—”
Qi Ji nodded but didn’t hear the rest.
A chill ran down his spine as cold rain splashed across his face.
The umbrella was gone.
He froze, noticing that the man who had been walking in step with him had lagged behind, stopping in place.
Qi Ji turned and saw a rare sight—Pei Yusheng, normally unreadable, eyes wide, jaw tight, veins on his temples visible, staring unblinkingly across the street.
Before Qi Ji could see what had caused such a reaction, Pei threw the umbrella aside and bolted into the rain.
“Pei—”
His voice died in the wind. Cars honked. The light changed, traffic began moving, pedestrians started to cross—but someone suddenly dashed from behind like the wind itself, racing straight across the street.
Many bystanders gasped.
But Pei didn’t notice them. He pushed through the crowd, focused on a single target.
The wind howled, rain stung, and Qi Ji, holding the strawberries, could barely keep his eyes open. He couldn’t even bend to retrieve the umbrella and squinted through the rain, trying to make out the scene.
Finally, his vision cleared enough to see Pei stop and grab another person’s hand.
The person turned, revealing a face Qi Ji had never seen in person, yet felt hauntingly familiar.
His body shivered, eyes widening.
He understood why Pei had reacted with such shock—this person was Wen Chuming.
Alive.
The winter drizzle wasn’t heavy, but the north wind cut sharply, making the wet cold cling uncomfortably. The once-perfect strawberry bouquet now looked slightly battered under the rain.
Qi Ji shivered in the wind. Despite the visual curtain of rain, he couldn’t shield his mind. His sharp eyesight confirmed it—Pei Yusheng was holding the same Wen Chuming who had long been declared dead in official records.
Two years had passed. Wen Chuming’s appearance hadn’t changed much, and from afar, his aura seemed calmer, more reserved—like a gem honed to perfection over time.
As the light turned green, the crowd thinned, and the pair across the street became clearer. Qi Ji saw Pei gripping Wen Chuming’s shoulders, speaking with evident agitation.
Pei seemed unaware that Wen Chuming was alive—perhaps there had been a misunderstanding back then, Qi Ji thought.
A reunion of old friends, separated by life and death, felt like fate’s blessing, an astonishing joy. Yet now, it was not the time to approach. The two of them existed in a world that did not admit outsiders.
Qi Ji watched quietly, arms weary under the weight of the strawberries.
Curiously, when he first received the bouquet, it had felt light, almost effortless. He could have run a marathon carrying it. But now, after just a few minutes, his arms ached.
Had he been slacking on exercise recently? He wondered, turning back. He needed to get the strawberries to the car first, then retrieve the discarded umbrella.
The wind blew harder, the rain chilled against his skin, almost freezing. Even the thick coat he wore leaked cold air.
Qi Ji shivered and quickened his pace.
So cold.
He longed to reach somewhere warm.
Before he could take more than a few steps, a hesitant voice called out through the wind and rain.
“Qi Qi?”
He turned to see a tall, imposing man standing not far away, his expression a mix of intensity and surprise. Another person held an umbrella over him, and they both looked toward Qi Ji.
Holding the large strawberry bouquet made him even more conspicuous. Without an umbrella, his striking appearance and soaked state were fully visible in the rain.
He furrowed his brow, unsure if the man was calling him. Then the man started walking toward him.
Those beside him followed, holding umbrellas. The man reached Qi Ji and placed one above him.
From a distance, most of the umbrella tilted toward Qi Ji, leaving the man’s back and one shoulder exposed to the rain.
The chill was blocked, and the stranger’s presence brought a rare comfort. Qi Ji looked up, confused, and saw the tall man smile.
“It’s really you!”
Though the man radiated formidable energy, his gaze at Qi Ji was gentle, joy shining through his eyes.
Qi Ji hesitated. “You… are?”
The man laughed. “Don’t remember me? Ungrateful little one—you ate so many of my candies as a kid.”
Though scolding in words, the smile tugged upward, a playful, affectionate tone clear.
Qi Ji froze, staring in disbelief. “…Xiu Ge?!”
His scattered thoughts now aligned. He recognized him—He Xiu, the retired special forces soldier who had once personally trained him in combat.
Hearing the familiar nickname, He Xiu’s smile deepened. “Finally, my effort raising you wasn’t wasted.”
His smile lines were shallow; his stern exterior hid this warmth. But to Qi Ji, it was instantly recognizable—overlaying memories of a young boy squatting on the wall, holding grass, watching him practice boxing years ago.
“You… how…” Qi Ji stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden reunion, “How are you here, Ge? Weren’t you rehired by the military district?”
He Xiu hurried a few steps, leading Qi Ji to a sheltered area by the building entrance. He handed the umbrella to his subordinate and took the cumbersome strawberry bouquet from Qi Ji.
“I’m here for a meeting,” he said.
“But you, you changed your address and didn’t tell me.” Freeing a hand, He Xiu lightly tapped Qi Ji’s forehead, scolding him, but with minimal force. “I knew you were at F University, yet no one collected the letters you sent.”
Qi Ji was momentarily speechless.
Before he could explain, He Xiu reached out and pulled him into a solid, familiar hug.
The warmth pressed into him, the embrace exactly as it had been all those years. Qi Ji blinked, eyes watering, nose tingling.
He murmured softly, “Ge… hmm?!”
Before he could finish, He Xiu shifted his arms, cradling him under the hips, lifting him effortlessly with one hand.
It was a pose he had practiced countless times.
Qi Ji had always been slight, thin from childhood neglect. One-handed, He Xiu could lift him with ease, just as he had while training him.
Now an adult, Qi Ji blushed with embarrassment, clutching He Xiu’s shoulders. “Ge!”
He Xiu laughed. “So, your brother’s still as handsome as ever, huh?”
Then he grumbled. “Why do you still look so small, like a little kitten? Where have the years of meals gone?”
The few subordinates who accompanied him stared, dumbfounded. Qi Ji, embarrassed, struggled. “I-I’m not…”
“Put him down.”
A cold, low voice cut sharply through the scene, full of menace.
He Xiu had just intended to tease the long-unseen boy, but was interrupted. He looked up to see a young, handsome man a few steps away, eyes cold and sharp, staring him down.
Qi Ji saw him too. “Mr. Pei…?”
It was Pei Yusheng.
Another person followed behind him, surprised to see He Xiu holding Qi Ji, but quickly composed himself, straightening posture and giving a crisp military salute.
“Greetings, sir.”