February in Jing City was bitterly cold, the roadside greenery blanketed in snow.
A black nanny van sped along the highway, its tires kicking up melted slush that splattered in all directions. Wrapped tightly in a soft down jacket, Ming Qi curled up in the back seat. The faint reflection from his phone screen outlined his delicate features beneath lowered lashes.
Sitting in the front, Meng She noticed he was awake. He picked up a bag at his feet and rummaged through it before finally pulling out a small medical kit. Carefully disinfecting a thermometer with alcohol, he handed it back to Ming Qi.
Ming Qi blinked, a helpless smile forming. “Brother Meng, I don’t have a fever anymore.”
Meng She frowned, scolding him, “You’re not the thermometer. What you say doesn’t count.”
He wasn’t being overly strict for no reason—Ming Qi had really suffered this time.
A few days ago, Ming Qi had joined a historical drama, playing a minor role that appeared only three times. Despite the limited screen time, the character had quite a reputation in the story, even earning the title “Young Master Lan Yue.”
To achieve a better effect, the director had made Ming Qi film in subzero temperatures—minus five degrees, with snow falling—while wearing only a thin white robe. A single jumping scene took four hours to shoot.
During filming, the director kept shouting things like, “The snow doesn’t look good enough, do it again,” “The blocking is off,” “The lighting isn’t bright enough.”
In the end, after all that effort, they realized the best take had been the very first one.
The director happily went off to flatter the male lead, while poor Ming Qi, with his frail body, ended up freezing in the wind until his fever spiked to 39.8°C and he was rushed to the hospital on the spot.
The fever persisted for two days without dropping. Just when Meng She thought they’d have to spend New Year’s Eve in the hospital, Ming Qi suddenly insisted on being discharged.
Meng She hadn’t minded staying—he’d never spent New Year’s Eve watching the gala from a hospital bed before—but unexpectedly, it was Ming Qi who refused.
Five minutes later, Ming Qi handed the thermometer back. Meng She glanced at the mercury reading, his brows knitting tightly, enough to crush a fly.
“I thought you said your fever was gone? Why is it still 37.5°C?”
Ming Qi: “…”
He genuinely felt fine—but he didn’t dare suggest something like “maybe the car heater is too warm.” If Meng She started nagging, he might very well drag him straight back to the hospital.
Fortunately, Meng She only said, “After dinner tonight, remember to take some cold medicine.”
Ming Qi nodded quickly.
The van pulled into the underground parking garage of Ming Qi’s apartment in Jing City. Seeing how frail he looked—like he might be blown away by the wind—Meng She sighed softly and resigned himself to playing the role of a concerned parent. He got out, took the luggage, and personally escorted him all the way to the apartment door, carrying the suitcase inside.
Even then, he hesitated and asked, “You sure you don’t need me to take you there?”
This was only a temporary place for Ming Qi. Later, he still had to head to his home in the western suburbs of Jing City for the New Year.
In the two years Meng She had known him, he had rarely heard Ming Qi mention “the western suburbs.” Combined with the fact that Ming Qi was always alone, it was easy to assume his relationship with his family wasn’t great.
Now that Ming Qi had brought up going back for New Year’s, it probably meant things with his family had finally improved.
Ming Qi was happy for himself, too.
“I’ll just take a taxi over,” he said with a smile. “It’s getting late—Brother Meng, you should head home. Wouldn’t be good if you missed New Year’s Eve dinner.”
Meng She thought to himself it was only one in the afternoon—still a long way from dinner—but since Ming Qi insisted, he didn’t stay. With a wave of his hand, he left behind a reminder:
“If anything comes up, call me. And stay off Weibo and Douban—nothing but headaches there.”
Then he turned and stepped into the elevator.
Ming Qi obediently answered “Okay.” Only after the number on the display dropped to 1 did he enter the apartment.
The place hadn’t been lived in for a while and carried a faint musty smell. He opened the windows to air it out, then, shivering from the cold, retreated into the bedroom. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he frowned at his reflection.
Although he had changed out of his hospital gown, the lingering sickly pallor in his features hadn’t faded much. A thin layer of sweat soaked through his soft, warm undershirt, making him feel uncomfortable all over.
If he was going out for New Year’s, he couldn’t show up looking like this.
He turned on the heater. Just then, his phone lit up with a message from Meng She:
By the way, you’re still running a fever—absolutely no showering! Got it?!
Ming Qi muttered, “Didn’t turn on message notifications, didn’t see it,” and decisively turned on the hot water.
After a quick, comfortable shower, he changed into clean clothes, put on a mask and hat, grabbed his phone, and headed out.
He got into a car and went to the mall first.
The mall was called Dongyu, backed by the Yu family—basically a place where you could find anything. Ming Qi remembered that Jiang Jianian liked gaming, and there happened to be a well-known esports gear store on the eighth floor. After successfully buying the mouse and keyboard he wanted, he went up to the twelfth floor. There was a flower tea shop there, rumored to have excellent handmade pastries—perfect as a gift for Aunt Lin.
The shop was full of young girls quietly discussing which tea tasted better. When a tall young man suddenly walked in, their eyes were drawn to him almost instinctively.
The black bucket hat and matching mask obscured half his face, making his already fair skin look even paler and his features more delicate. At a glance, even if he wasn’t a celebrity, he at least looked like an internet influencer.
Ming Qi considered himself just a nobody actor—probably unrecognizable—but to be safe, he paid quickly and left the mall.
It took about an hour to get from the mall to the Wanghe Mountain villas in the western suburbs. Sitting in the car, listening to the driver chatting happily with his family about New Year’s dinner, Ming Qi couldn’t help but smile.
He lowered his head, his pale, soft fingertips brushing over the phone screen as he silently reread every word in the chat. The smile in his eyes deepened.
Compared to being invited home for New Year’s, what made him even happier was that Aunt Lin had been the one to bring it up first.
“We’re here, young man. Happy New Year,” the driver said cheerfully as he stopped at the entrance to the villa complex.
Ming Qi stepped out. The cold wind instantly replaced the warmth of the car, making him shiver. He hurriedly pulled his scarf higher and smiled.
“Happy New Year to you too, sir. Drive safe.”
Carrying two large bags of gifts, he walked into the villa area.
Wanghe Mountain villas were nestled among forests and rivers, blessed with exceptional natural scenery. The Jiang family’s villa was especially quiet—and more remote than the others.
Having been informed in advance, security escorted Ming Qi to the Jiang residence gate before leaving. Ming Qi pressed the doorbell. The door opened quickly—but the person who appeared made his smile fade slightly.
The man didn’t seem to notice. Arms crossed, he looked Ming Qi up and down with narrow eyes before sneering:
“Well, well, if it isn’t our big star. Here to freeload a New Year’s dinner?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” Jiang Jianian pushed past him with a cold face. Seeing the bags in Ming Qi’s hands, he immediately took them, leading him inside while complaining, “If you’re coming, just come—why bring gifts?”
Ming Qi pressed his lips together in a small smile. “I should.”
Jiang Jianian glanced sideways at the young man following behind them and lowered his voice near Ming Qi’s ear.
“Don’t mind him. My mom and I didn’t invite their family—they forced their way in—”
Before he could finish, a loud crash came from the kitchen—the sound of a ceramic bowl shattering on the floor.
Jiang Jianian’s expression changed. He quickly set the bags down and rushed over. “Mom?”
The woman standing by the kitchen island wore a festive dark red qipao. Her fingers trembled slightly, shards of broken porcelain scattered at her feet.
Jiang Jianian quickly pulled her aside. “What happened?”
At the same time, Ming Qi, who had also come over, grabbed a broom. Just as he bent down to sweep the shards, a sarcastic voice rang out:
“What else could it be? Hearing that little jinx was coming reminded her of the past, that’s all.”
Jiang Jianian’s second aunt looked at Ming Qi with undisguised interest, her tone dripping with insinuation.
“Sister-in-law, Jianian—honestly, you’re just too kind. Sure, Ming Qi being all alone is pitiful. But what about you two? One lost her husband, the other lost his father—aren’t you pitiful too? And yet you invite him here for New Year’s? On such a good day, why bring in bad luck?”
“Have you forgotten how my elder brother died?” she continued. “If it weren’t for Ming Qi, your family of three would still be celebrating together now. What a shame… He was hit so badly—covered in blood. A-Qi said every bone in his body was broken, even the back of his skull—”
“Shut up!”
Jiang Jianian held his trembling mother, who had fallen back into painful memories. When he looked at the woman again, his eyes burned with fury.
“It’s New Year’s—why are you saying this? You think my mom isn’t hurting enough?”
The second aunt let out a theatrical sigh. “Sister-in-law, look at how Jianian talks to his elders. For the sake of an outsider, he’s even scolding me. I’m just thinking about your future—just a widow and her son…”
Her gaze shifted to Ming Qi, who stood with his head lowered, his expression hidden. A flicker of disdain and malice crossed her eyes.
“After all… who knows? If he stays here, maybe the next unlucky one will be Jianian. Sister-in-law, Jianian is your only son.”
“Jianian… Jianian…”
Madam Jiang’s body trembled more and more violently. Her nails dug into Jiang Jianian’s arm, making him frown in pain. But she seemed completely unaware. Like she was talking to herself, she muttered incoherently:
“You’re right… Jianian can’t have anything happen…”
Her grip tightened further, her whole demeanor turning almost hysterical. When she lifted her head again, her eyes were filled with endless hatred. In a sudden burst of fury, she swept all the dishes off the island counter and screamed at Ming Qi:
“Get out! Stay away from my Jianian!”
A bowl flew through the air and struck Ming Qi’s arm. He flinched in pain, his grip loosening as the broom fell to the ground.
Jiang Jianian looked at his mother, then at Ming Qi. It felt like a mountain had collapsed onto his chest, crushing the air out of him. Gritting his teeth, he placed a hand on his mother’s back to comfort her.
“Mom, don’t think too much. Let me take you to your room to rest, okay?”
But she shook her head frantically. “No, no! Make him leave—make him leave!”
“But—”
“It’s okay. I’ll go first.”
Ming Qi set the broom aside, slowly straightening up as he spoke softly.
Seeing how pale he was, barely able to stand, Jiang Jianian felt his heart ache in waves.
After a long pause, he closed his eyes and said hoarsely, “Ge… I’m sorry.”
Ming Qi forced a smile and shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I’ll go now. Happy New Year.”
He didn’t linger. Every breath Madam Jiang took sounded like torment in his ears. Ignoring the dizziness clouding his mind, he just wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible.
But just as he stepped out the door, a voice called from behind:
“Wait.”
Ming Qi paused and turned back instinctively.
Jiang Jianian’s cousin walked over with a smile, leaning close as he said:
“Auntie says you should take your trash with you.”
Then his tone shifted, low and soft—like a snake coiling around Ming Qi’s ear:
“You got away last time. Next time… who knows.”