Ever since long ago, Yingyu Chi had seemed almost too dreamlike. Jianglai knew their entire family had been held up by just the two of them—herself and Yingyu. No matter how much she tried to thank her sister-in-law, it never felt enough.

Yingyu deserved most of the credit for their hard-won peace today. Jianglai had once sworn in her heart to make up for everything Yingyu sacrificed, in any way possible. But the chance never came—until now.

Jianglai refused to be useless. She couldn’t bear freeload at Yingyu’s home, living off her sister-in-law’s kindness. Until she figured out her next job, she’d squeeze every bit of value from what she had left.

Back home, they stashed their groceries in the fridge and stepped into the tiny kitchen—a space untouched for ages. Even after using the rice cooker that morning, the kitchen still looked brand new.

"Barely any signs of use here…" Jianglai murmured. She’d kept the unopened seasonings from that morning but tossed the opened ones, just to be safe. Now, she unpacked fresh bottles from the supermarket and got to work.

Yingyu sat quietly in a chair, eyes fixed on Jianglai. *Maybe this is what they call apron romance.*

Jianglai had tied her long hair into a neat ponytail. It swayed gently as she chopped vegetables, a cat-patterned apron wrapped around her waist. She looked every bit the devoted homemaker—someone you’d want to take home and cherish.

This warm, intimate scene felt unreal to Yingyu. Like a dream. Yet it was undeniably real. Sitting here, it almost felt like Jianglai was her partner.

Beyond that morning’s porridge, when had she last tasted a proper meal cooked by her brother-in-law? At home, no one cooked better—not even her late sister. Jianglai had no flaws Yingyu could name.

Yingyu herself hated cooking. Her attempts were barely edible, just enough to swallow. She’d only learned because she feared Jianglai would collapse under work stress. Selfish and averse to trouble, Yingyu usually stayed detached—even from her own well-being. *As long as I don’t starve or drop dead.* But for Jianglai, she’d poured out every ounce of warmth and effort.

An hour later, lunch was ready. Simple, but every dish was Yingyu’s favorite. Even after all this time, Jianglai still remembered what she loved.

Yingyu sometimes laughed at herself. During her years living with Jianglai, she’d even envied her niece—the daughter of Jianglai and her sister—for stealing most of Jianglai’s love and attention. Back then, even Jianglai’s rare kitchen appearances were for the girl’s favorite foods.

*Of course,* Yingyu thought. *Jiang Leyi is her precious daughter. Half her sister lives in that child.* Yet Yingyu still felt childish pangs of jealousy—resentful over something as trivial as a meal.

She remembered Jianglai’s first home-cooked meal for her: New Year’s Eve, years ago. Spoiling the youngest in the family, Jianglai had filled the table with Yingyu’s favorites. So much time had passed, Yingyu had nearly forgotten her own tastes—but Jianglai never did.

Jianglai was Yingyu’s anchor. Her dawn in the darkness. The one she longed to lock away for herself.

*What if I worked while she stayed home?* Yingyu dreamed. *Just stay put. Only look at me. Only be mine…*

---

During lunch, Jianglai noticed Yingyu eating like she hadn’t seen food in days—devouring most of the meal. She didn’t interrupt, but watching her sister-in-law focus so intently on eating, Jianglai itched to ruffle her hair. *Would it still feel as soft as before?*

After eating, Jianglai held nothing back. She told Yingyu everything—her plans, her fears, even how she’d become completely jobless. She spoke calmly, but shadows layered over her face. The light that had filled her earlier dimmed.

Losing a career built over decades hurt. It was a heavy blow, yet one she’d braced for days ago. No use blaming fate. Better to fix this mess, step by step.

"I can’t change back now… So how do I get legal residency?" Jianglai’s voice tightened. Being undocumented crippled her. No ID meant no bank account, no job, no normal life. This had to be solved.

Yingyu was a lawyer. She’d know more than any online search. "I’ll ask around. Leave it all to me!" Yingyu promised instantly.

Jianglai didn’t know the truth: if she handled this alone, it’d be faster. Yingyu had no intention of freeing her. *If she has no papers, she’ll only have me.* Only Yingyu knew Jianglai’s real identity.

Yingyu wanted Jianglai’s world to hold only her. She craved hiding her away—somewhere no one else could touch her.

Regret flickered in Yingyu’s chest. *I shouldn’t have booked that lingerie fitting this afternoon.* Jianglai’s size needed precise measurements. The thought of strangers’ hands on her sister-in-law made Yingyu’s fingers curl into fists. *No one touches her but me.*