Liu Qin leaned against the car door, lighting a slender cigarette. She watched Qi Yan laboring in the distance, sweat glistening on his brow, a whirl of emotions churning within her.

The smoke filled her lungs, clearing her head. Those words she’d spoken earlier now felt misplaced—but she didn’t regret them. Qi Yan’s life shouldn’t be buried here.

*Without parents. Ignored by relatives. Was money really the only reason he had to work?*

If only she hadn’t bought this car. She’d still have savings. DongSui Town had trains stopping every three days, but none passed through county cities. Buses and taxis were scarce, always packed. Liu Qin had gritted her teeth and taken a loan for the car.

Even with savings, she doubted she could help her stubborn junior. They’d known each other less than two years.

*A grandson suddenly appearing out of nowhere?* People were baffled. Seventeen years of silence—what kind of neglect made that possible?

Qi Yan’s first impression on Liu Qin? His drawings were striking. Clean lines, natural grace. But his grip on the brush, his haphazard color blending—clear signs of a self-taught artist.

*If he’d trained properly from childhood…* Liu Qin couldn’t fathom his potential. Had he started just two years earlier, *he’d* be the one exhibiting in France. Others had failed; she’d gotten lucky.

Though their time together was short, Liu Qin understood his nature. Shunned by cousins, ignored by uncles and aunts—he never complained. He wouldn’t ask for help. He swallowed every hardship silently.

Even offering a loan—"Pay me back when you can"—felt like charity. Worse than disdain was pity. Charity was a velvet knife, slicing away his hard-won strength, his quiet dignity.

Liu Qin wouldn’t strip him of that. It was *because* he was this way that he deserved her help.

A plan formed in her mind.

The cigarette burned to its end. Liu Qin crushed the butt into a trash bin, stretched her arms overhead with a lazy yawn, and pulled a flyer from her pocket. Handwritten—not printed. Calligraphy and painting were kin; she recognized his strokes instantly.

She folded the flyer into a paper plane, breathed warm air onto its nose, and launched it. It drifted away on the breeze, vanishing.

*"If only dreams could fly that far… That brat set me up, didn’t she? Recommending this car wash… Young love. How nostalgic."*

---

Dusk painted the sky when Qi Yan finished work. He peeled off his rubber gloves on the counter, glancing at the car where his senior sister still waited. Impossible to ignore her, even while scrubbing.

"Uncle Zheng, I’m heading out," Qi Yan said, waving goodbye.

"Hah! City boy’s got charm," Uncle Zheng chuckled, clapping his shoulder. "First that pretty little girl days ago, now this big-chested, wide-hipped beauty. I get it—I *get* it. Men wander, but once you commit? Stay true. That little girl’s sweet and caring. This one’s got hips built for a strapping baby boy. Choose who you like—I won’t lecture."

Qi Yan could only smile weakly. Explaining would dig him deeper. "Goodbye," he muttered, fleeing as Uncle Zheng’s laughter boomed behind him.

Qi Yan approached Liu Qin like a scolded child.

"Finally done," Liu Qin sighed. "Ran a bit late…"

"Still light out," he replied.

"Tired? You scrubbed that car spotless."

"If I slack off, customers won’t return. Business dies."

"Short on cash?"

"A little. But food and rent are covered."

"Let me drive you home. Where do you live now?" She jingled her keys.

"No need, Senior Sister! I reek—I’ll stink up your car. My place is ten minutes on foot."

"I’ve got time. Walking’s good for my diet. Parked okay here?"

"I still need groceries… You should head home—" Qi Yan scratched his cheek, dodging.

"The market’s this way. Let’s go!"

Before he could refuse, Liu Qin grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the market.

Watching him haggle fiercely over pennies with vegetable vendors, Liu Qin felt bittersweet pride. *He’s adapted. He can survive here.* Yet sorrow tightened her chest.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Senior Sister."

Qi Yan emerged victorious, bags swinging, face flushed like a returning general.

They walked side by side down the dim street. After a long silence, Liu Qin steeled herself. "Xiao Yan… I’ve been thinking. Have you considered changing jobs?"

"Huh? Washing cars is fine. With just a high school diploma, what else could I do?"

"Eastgrain Middle School’s desperate for teachers. Half their staff jumped to the private academy. Your art skills? More than enough for an art teacher. I can recommend you. Better pay than car washing. Lighter work. Weekends off."

"Tempting… but I don’t have a teaching certificate. If someone finds out, you’d be dragged down with me."

"You’d be a private tutor. No certificate needed."

She pressed on.

"Senior Sister," Qi Yan cut in gently, "why are *you* in a backwater like DongSui? Even if you didn’t stay in France, the Provincial Artists’ Association would’ve kept you."

He needed space to think.

"Well…" Liu Qin’s smile turned wry. "After returning, I had a promotion lined up. But some men let their dicks do the thinking. Saw a young woman, thought they could take advantage. I refused. Poured wine on his face. Got exiled here as punishment." She shrugged. "Not so bad, though. The principal’s got a beer belly, but he’s decent. Truly cares for students…"

They stopped before a row of low, narrow brick houses, windows dark.

"My place is there," Qi Yan said. "Tea? Come in."

"Another time. It’s late—I’ll visit properly soon. Think over the teaching job. No rush to decide. Don’t push yourself too hard. Nights are chilly—bundle up, or you’ll catch a cold."

"I will. Thank you, Senior Sister."

Qi Yan watched her walk away, glancing back every few steps. He exhaled heavily. Her warmth was… overwhelming.

Teaching *did* sound good. She had no reason to trick him. But it felt too perfect. Unreal. Car washing was honest work. Exhausting, but real.

At his door, dizziness crashed over him. His vision blurred. He gripped the handle, forehead pressed to the wood, waiting for the world to steady. *Maybe I should ask Uncle Zheng for a day off tomorrow.*

He straightened, pasting on a smile as he opened the door.

"Xiao Ran, I’m home."

Everything was as usual. Except for his sister’s note on the table:

*【Brother, you carry a new smell today.】*

Qi Yan frowned. *New smell?* It was always car wash solution and motor oil. What did "new" mean? And that "again"...?