Chapter 57: The Matchmaker is Three Years Old

A hot coffee, a bag of fries, and a hamburger.

Shi Ying carried his tray to a seat near the window. As he squeezed out ketchup, he noticed a black dog on the empty street outside. Against the pervasive white snow, its black fur stood out starkly. Its tail was held high as it trotted along under the streetlights, sniffing here and there, squatting to relieve itself, occasionally shaking its ears toward the sky.

In such cold weather, why was the dog still outside? Did it not have an owner?

Shi Ying followed the dog with his eyes. Catching his concerned gaze, the dog ran toward the glass door, exhaling warm breath onto the cold surface.

The black nose pressed against the window sticker-clad glass, and Shi Ying finally saw its face clearly—it wasn’t entirely black. It was a piebald native dog, with oval-shaped “eyebrows” above its eyes, resembling a human face.

Staring at each other, Shi Ying raised a fry in his hand. Instantly, the puppy sat down and lifted one paw.

Oh, it was hungry and wanted food. Shi Ying set the fry down, only to notice his own smiling face reflected in the glass.

For the first time in a week, he smiled—because of a stray dog he’d never met before. This was something to be grateful for. Without hesitation, he gathered the food and stepped outside to share it with the dog.

In the freezing cold, man and dog squatted by the entrance. Shi Ying handed over a fry, but the dog merely licked it with its tongue and turned its head away, nudging the burger in Shi Ying’s arms with its nose.

Shi Ying burst into laughter, his voice thick with nasal tones due to the cold. “What do you mean? You don’t want fries but prefer the burger?”

As if understanding, the dog immediately stood up, wagging its head and circling around Shi Ying.

Shi Ying scraped the sauce off the beef patty with a piece of bread and tossed it on the ground. The dog quickly lowered its head to chew vigorously in the snow. Double-layered beef patties were all offered to it, while Shi Ying ate what even dogs wouldn’t touch—the fried potatoes wrapped in bread crusts.

In just ten minutes, the hot coffee in his hand had gone cold. Shi Ying gulped it down, returned inside to throw away the trash, and asked for a cup of hot water. Outside, the black dog was still waiting in the same spot.

Taking the paper cup from the staff member, Shi Ying asked, “Is that dog outside a stray? It seems very familiar with this area.”

The staff member wearing a baseball cap glanced outside and chuckled. “Oh, no, it has an owner who lives upstairs in the apartment building. That dog is clever. Every time its owner brings it to the entrance, it refuses to leave unless it gets a burger.”

“And it insists on eating it right there. Taking it home doesn’t work.”

Several times, the dog’s female owner and the dog had arguments at the entrance. The owner scolded it, pointing her finger at its nose, but the dog would close its eyes and pretend not to hear. All four paws were firmly planted on the ground, behaving like a stubborn child throwing a tantrum, even losing its collar in the process.

“Oh, I see. I haven’t seen its owner.”

“No worries, they’re probably nearby and will come looking for it soon.”

With new delivery orders coming in, the staff member glanced at the list on the monitor, ending the conversation and walking away to prepare the meals.

Shi Ying returned to his seat, warming his hands with the hot water. By the time the water was almost gone, the black dog was still squatting at the entrance like a statue, its round eyes and eyebrows covered in snow, staring intently at him.

Would it freeze to death? Shi Ying realized how ridiculous it was to worry about a well-fed dog when both of them were abandoned in the snow. Based on body fat percentage, he might freeze to death before the dog did.

But he couldn’t bear to leave it alone. After sitting there for a while, before returning to the inn, he took the dog to the security room in the residential complex.

The puppy obediently followed. Leaving it in the security room, he bid farewell. “Gas cylinder, behave and go home later.” It barked twice, its tail wagging more enthusiastically.

That day, just as Shi Ying left the security room, Cheng Simin, having tripped and fallen several times in the snow, limped toward the residential complex.

Cheng Simin also remembered that day vividly. Another day of working overtime until dark at the company, after which she accompanied her boss to entertain clients. Finally, late at night, after escorting several troublesome guests home, a colleague called to ask her to handle some work.

She wanted to refuse, but the colleague immediately sent her a hundred-word sarcastic essay.

Returning home, opening the door, Cheng Simin was so exhausted that she wished she could lie down on the floor. But Beibei, who had been cooped up all day, had already turned over two trash cans and chewed through a slipper, eagerly leaping onto her, barking to be taken out to play.

“It’s snowing outside, we can’t go out.”

“I’m too tired. Can we go out tomorrow?”

“I promise to take you out tomorrow. Be good.”

Perhaps due to being in heat, the usually obedient dog suddenly became abnormally agitated. Recently, Beibei often stood up, using its paws to push against her body. Sometimes, while she was squatting, it would charge out from the shadows, slamming its head hard against her chest.

Today was no different. Just as Cheng Simin crouched down to pet its head and hug it, Beibei jumped up suddenly, knocking her flat on her backside with a loud thud.

An intense sharp pain shot through her chest from the impact. Full of anger and frustration, Cheng Simin screamed, picking up a slipper and cursing loudly at the dog.

Her appearance must have been ugly, her own ears stung by her volume.

Beibei was obviously frightened by her hysterical demeanor. With its tail tucked between its legs, it let out a pitiful cry and bolted toward the slightly ajar door without looking back.

Cheng Simin got up, her chest still hurting. She grabbed her keys and chased after the dog downstairs.

She called out behind it; the dog ran ahead. The louder she shouted, the faster Beibei ran. In just a few minutes, she lost sight of the dog.

At first, her search was confined to the area near the apartment, but finding nothing, Cheng Simin grew anxious, running around aimlessly like a headless fly, fearing the dog might have been hit by a car. Her eyes red-rimmed, she rushed onto the streets.

In the heavy snow, she wore wet suede boots and a stylish yet impractical cashmere coat meant for meeting clients. While running, she slipped on the sidewalk and fell. Too tired to cry out in pain, she crawled back up and continued shouting Beibei’s name.

When the security guard called, she felt immense relief. Hugging Beibei tightly in the warm security room, she felt goosebumps rise, overwhelmed by fear.

The dog hadn’t done anything wrong. It didn’t know much—only eat when hungry, sleep when tired. Its only joy was interacting with its owner who finally came home.

But Cheng Simin hadn’t done anything wrong either. She simply wanted to live a respected life through her efforts. In reality, people lived like dogs, going back and forth between work and home, promotions, loans, bonuses, performance—all invisible pressures forming an iron cage around her, leaving no room to breathe.

Buying a house was for security, raising a dog was for companionship. Yet living in a house with monthly mortgage payments, Cheng Simin and Beibei only saw each other when sleeping. Instead of providing mutual companionship, they only added to each other’s loneliness.

The next morning, she was supposed to go to the company, but the place where she had been hit still hurt unbearably. Previously, she had experienced chest pain, especially during the past six months, but never paid attention to it. She thought it was a common symptom many women experience before their period. Enduring pain was normal.

While washing up, the pain made her frown. There was an unusual icy sensation within her flesh. Taking off her clothes, she examined herself carefully in the mirror, lifting her arm, and unexpectedly found a lump she had never noticed before.

Startled, Cheng Simin had to take sick leave to go to the hospital for an examination.

That day undoubtedly marked the worst start to their year. Who would have thought that the red thread connecting them had already been re-tied on that day.

The matchmaker had no magical powers—it was actually a three-year-old dog.

Looking back now, Beibei rushing into his home and ruining his interview that day was because of the joy of a long-awaited reunion.

This shows that humans aren’t much smarter than dogs. Shi Ying didn’t recognize “gas cylinder,” but “gas cylinder” had recognized him long ago.

There was shock, impact, and disbelief at the smallness of the world and the mysterious workings of fate. They talked all night until dawn, their bewildered thoughts finally settling.

Before falling asleep, Cheng Simin murmured, “It feels like a dream. If you had stayed a little longer that day, perhaps the beginning of the story would have been different.”

But Shi Ying didn’t respond. His voice sounded alert, devoid of sleepiness. He only asked her a few rather unromantic questions: How much did the surgery cost? How much money was lost selling the house at the beginning of the year? Did you choose equal principal repayment for the loan?

The sound of keys unlocking the door echoed, the main door closed, and familiar footsteps approached the bedroom like horse hooves.

Cheng Simin’s head was still buried in the pillow, failing to stay in bed lazily because a cool nose had already touched the sole of her foot. She reached out into the void, and Beibei immediately placed its head on the edge of the bed, its soft tongue like a small washcloth, continuously wiping her face and leaving a trail of drool.

Shi Ying hadn’t slept all night but wasn’t tired at all. After Cheng Simin started snoring, he lay quietly with her in his arms for a while, calculating silently in his mind. Then he got up to take a shower.

By the time he finished bathing, it was only nine o’clock. He took Cheng Simin’s keys and went next door to leash Beibei for a walk.

During the half-hour walk, Beibei successively picked up a label-less mineral water bottle and a half-eaten rotten apple for him. He frowned and threw them into the trash bin.

Finally, Beibei sulked and, taking advantage of his inattention, jumped into a watering tree pit, rolling in the mud and rubbing its back, proudly barking at him.

As a result, the outing extended to two hours, and what was originally breakfast turned into lunch.

Holding a few items of food, he placed them on the island countertop. From the refrigerator, he took out a bottle of mineral water, unscrewed the cap, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Beibei’s fluffy hindquarters and half of Cheng Simin’s face.

Puppy, lover, soft sheets, an afternoon holiday—a tangible sense of happiness.

Cheng Simin’s voice from the bedroom was lazy.

“Did you take it to get washed? Its body feels slippery.”

“Mm.” Shi Ying drank half the bottle of water in one breath, bent down to take out a set of tableware from the cabinet, and began transferring the bought dishes onto plates. “I’ve fed the dog. Now it’s time to feed the person. Are you hungry? Get up and eat.”

Shi Ying had bought three dishes and one soup: lamb chops, wild chives, mixed vegetables, and sour soup—all dishes loved by locals of Banshan.

He had seen these dishes many times at Cheng Simin’s home. During festivals or birthdays, they were the best accompaniments to Cheng Wei’s drinking sessions.

After washing his face, Cheng Simin sat down at the island counter. Seeing these dishes, she was momentarily stunned, but she was indeed hungry. Without much thought, she quickly picked up a lamb rib coated in spicy red oil and popped it into her mouth.

“How did you think of buying stir-fried lamb? I remember you didn’t like it before, saying it was sticky.”

Locals ate lamb either by hand or stir-fried. The stir-fry often used sheep fat, chili peppers, and sweet potato noodles to soak up the sauce, delivering a fiery yet fragrant taste. However, the dish was oily, and as it cooled, the fat would solidify, intensifying the gamey smell of the lamb.

Shi Ying ate slowly, glancing down at Beibei lounging by his feet. “I took Beibei to get washed, and we happened to pass by a shop that specializes in lamb dishes. I figured you’d like it.”

“I’m okay with it,” Cheng Simin replied, popping a piece of cold wild chives into her mouth. It carried that familiar peculiar taste—somewhere between green onions and shallots. She chased it with a mouthful of rice and continued chatting casually. “The one who really loves it is my dad. There was a time when our family had a bit of extra money—before the market renovations. My mom would go to the butcher’s every day and bring back freshly slaughtered lamb to fry for him.”

“He couldn’t get enough of lamb,” she added, almost marveling at the memory. “Once, we ate lamb for half a month straight. He even drank beer with it—who cares about strokes, right? I got so sick of it. I wanted to eat something else, but my mom wouldn’t let me. She said he worked hard, and the whole family had to accommodate him. In winter, when it wasn’t convenient to bathe, I’d sweat, and everything smelled like lamb.”

At the mention of Cheng Wei, Shi Ying paused mid-bite.

He studied Cheng Simin’s expression carefully, trying to soften his tone as much as possible. “Cheng Simin, there’s something about your dad I need to tell you.”