After leaving the company, Jianglai felt utterly dazed. She’d gone there hoping to salvage her job. But just recalling Siyina’s disrespectful behavior made her determined to hide every trace of her secrets. If Siyina knew them, Jianglai could already picture the pressure she’d face. Siyina was far too dangerous—best avoided whenever possible.
Now, Jianglai was truly a triple-no person: no job, no household registration, no academic credentials. Even if she sought new work, no decent company would hire her. Her old qualifications were useless. Worse, lacking household registration was a major hurdle. She’d once hoped to change back soon. But now, it seemed she’d live as this person forever.
Resolving the registration issue was urgent. Jianglai knew little about the rules. She wasn’t sure if her sister-in-law, Yingyu Chi, knew either. Still, one step at a time. Right now, lunch was the priority. That morning, she’d checked Yingyu’s fridge. It held only eggs, fruit, and pre-packed salads—nothing more.
Years ago, Jianglai had brought Yingyu home to care for her. Yet Yingyu ended up caring for Jianglai more. Thinking of it, Jianglai felt embarrassed. Yingyu had stayed until graduating. From then on, Jianglai kept her distance. She wanted Yingyu to have her own life, free from nasty rumors.
Now, for the first time since then, Jianglai was curious about Yingyu’s daily routine. Remembering how Yingyu once strictly managed all meals, Jianglai’s heart ached. Yingyu’s empty fridge couldn’t even make a proper dish. Jianglai knew Yingyu had cooked for her health. Living alone now might be Yingyu’s true self. Jianglai felt happy glimpsing this—but also sorrowful. Yingyu had always told her to eat well, yet ignored her own advice. It was Jianglai’s turn to care now.
Before cooking, Jianglai shopped for groceries. She left the supermarket laden with bags. Halfway home, she realized a problem: she had no keys. She set the bags down on a clean spot. Just as she reached for her phone to call Yingyu, a familiar voice spoke.
“You should’ve called me. Even if the apartment’s close, carrying all this is tiring.” Yingyu Chi appeared, snatching the remaining bag. She set it aside, then gently cradled Jianglai’s hands. They’d been icy since leaving the store. Yingyu gasped. “Your palms are red from the straps. In this cold, you really don’t take care of yourself.”
Jianglai’s hands were bone-chilling. The red marks lingered. Yingyu unbuttoned her coat to warm them against her chest. Jianglai tensed—this gesture reminded her of the office incident. But now, she felt only shyness, no resistance. Instead, she worried about Yingyu catching a chill. After a brief warm-up, Jianglai pulled her hands back.
January’s cold was fierce. Even at noon, biting winds made people shiver. “It’s freezing out here. Weren’t you at the office? Is work done already?” Jianglai noticed Yingyu’s bare neck. She touched her own scarf. Had Yingyu given her the only one? “Why dress so lightly today?” Jianglai sighed, draping the scarf over Yingyu. “You bundle up like a puffy penguin for others, yet neglect yourself.”
“I planned to wait at home,” Yingyu said, “but you promised lunch. My fridge was empty, so I guessed you’d shop. I hoped to bump into you, brother-in-law…” She lifted the scarf, sniffing deeply. “Mmm, still your familiar scent.”
“Familiar?”
“Yes. Since yesterday, even as a woman, you smell just as nice as before.” Jianglai wanted to ask how Yingyu knew her scent so well. But seeing Yingyu hoist all the bags alone, she swallowed the question. “Give me one!” Jianglai took a bag back. They walked home side by side, carrying groceries. In that moment, Jianglai relived their past cohabitation. But this time, it was just the two of them.
