The young nurse straightened up, shot me a timid glance, then turned to Ming Hai with an apologetic smile and hurried out of the ward.

I watched her leave, then turned to Ming Hai—her right arm stretched awkwardly across the left side of the bed. Annoyed, I stared at the two needle marks on her left wrist. They just felt wrong. The room was stifling. I slowly stood, ready to step outside for a smoke.

Behind me, Ming Hai said softly, “Lu Ren, do me a favor.”

I turned, impatient. “What favor?”

“Bring me the laptop from home…”

I shook my head firmly and headed for the door. “Not a chance.”

A resigned sigh came from behind. “Do you really enjoy being the villain this much?”

I stopped and looked back.

Ming Hai sat on the bed, arm still awkwardly extended. Sunlight fell on her back, casting a long shadow. Her face was in silhouette—expression unclear, only the slight upward curve of her lips hinting at quiet resignation.

I stood there a moment. “Yeah. I do.”

Ming Hai stayed silent until I left the ward.

Downstairs, I bought bread and milk from a convenience store. She had low blood pressure. Even after the glucose drip, I remembered—she’d skipped breakfast, and likely lunch too.

I handed the food to the front desk, asked a nurse to deliver it, then hailed a taxi home.

Collapsing onto the sofa, I stared blankly out the window.

The room was eerily quiet. After a while, my stomach growled. I froze—realizing I hadn’t eaten anything either. Too lazy to move, I stayed put.

After lounging awhile, I thought: *Haven’t had malatang in ages.*

Xiao Xiu’s shop was as quiet as ever.

I walked down a narrow alley and spotted her place. She sat near the entrance. A few students ate malatang heads-down, occasionally glancing up to chat before diving back in with gusto.

Xiao Xiu scrolled her phone, chuckling softly. Noticing someone enter, she stood—then froze seeing it was me. After a pause, she smiled. “Well, look who’s here. A rare sight.”

I sat at a table. “Beef tendon noodles. Mildly numbing, mildly spicy.”

She smiled, heading to the kitchen. “All grown up, huh? Your taste’s mellowed.”

I blinked.

Used to order extra-numbing, extra-spicy. Now even cola felt rare—just mineral water when thirsty.

In the kitchen, Xiao Xiu bent over the stove, wiped her brow, then gazed thoughtfully at the doorway.

I watched her. She hadn’t noticed. “What’s on your mind? Something bothering you?”

She blinked, raised an eyebrow, chuckled. “Nothing major. Just my younger brother.”

I’d heard of him, but she never elaborated. Once, over malatang, she’d mentioned him briefly before changing the subject—probably too draining to discuss.

She fell silent, stirring noodles in the pot.

“Your brother gonna blow up the Pentagon or what?” I teased.

Xiao Xiu giggled. “You’re such a joker.”

I stayed quiet, smiling.

She stirred the broth softly. “That kid… only hangs with unsavory friends, always fighting…”

“He hospitalized someone recently. Hospital demanded two thousand yuan. All he does is loiter—pool halls, internet cafes. Where’s he getting two grand? Came to me again the other day. Called me ‘sis’… Whenever he says that, it’s never good news. Always money.”

“Did you pay?”

“Of course! What choice? I apologized humbly at the hospital, covered all fees. His family wouldn’t let go—kept demanding explanations… Two thousand yuan! A whole month’s work, gone.”

I sighed.

Hearing her talk, I suddenly thought of Brother Long, of my own high school days.

“Kids get emotional,” I said gently. “Especially in high school. They’ll grow up someday.”

Xiao Xiu smiled faintly. “Yeah. Someday.”

Soon, my bowl arrived—steaming, fragrant. I dug in. She sat across, chin propped in her hands, watching. Then she fetched a cola from the fridge. “Haven’t seen you in half a month. Glad you’re here—this one’s on the house.”

I blew on a hot noodle, grinning. “Thanks.”

I’d been a regular before Brother Long moved in—nearly a year of breakfasts and lunches here. Two-and-a-half yuan for cola? Barely anything. With familiar folks, stiff politeness feels distant. No need with Sister Xiao Xiu.

I ate slowly, scrolling my phone. She cleared tables a few times, then returned, silently tapping her screen.

When I finished and stood to pay, she finally put her phone down and cleared my bowl.

I glanced around. Spring had come; it was mealtime. Any normal spot would be busy. But tucked deep in an alley, her shop stayed deserted—barely a passerby.

I nodded. “Gotta come here more often.”

Xiao Xiu looked up quizzically, sat at another table, eyes back on her phone. “Sure.”

Not rushing, I scanned the room. “Sister Xiao Xiu—be honest. Am I single-handedly keeping this place afloat?”

She smiled, then flicked my forehead—*sharp*.

She’d done this countless times. Delicate hands, hardened by kitchen work. Slender fingers, little padding—stung like hell.

I clutched my forehead, aggrieved. “Hey! What’d I do wrong? Seriously?!”

Xiao Xiu chuckled. “Joker.”

“I’m supporting your business! How’s that joker?”

Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “You just are.”

I held my head, shooting her a reproachful look.

In that moment, I realized: an unreasonable woman is truly invincible.

Try reasoning? She won’t listen.

Act unreasonable? She’s already mastered it.