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Psst! We're moving!
At 8 PM, Li Xiangqun emerged from Building 6 and climbed back into the Red Flag sedan that had been waiting downstairs for quite some time.
Regarding her parents’ numerous worries about their grandson, she reassured them one by one, telling them it was just a minor setback. Shi Ying would be fine—he had always been a brave child. Even as a toddler, no matter how hard he fell, he would get up on his own without needing help. A child like that should also learn to face his inner struggles courageously.
Upstairs, Shi Ying leaned against the headboard, flipping through an old photo album his mother had brought over under the dim glow of a bedside lamp.
As Li Xiangqun put it, Shi Ying had inherited only the best traits from his parents. From birth, he was a beautiful child whom everyone praised. His mother, proud of him, took great joy in documenting his growth.
There used to be dozens of thick photo albums like this at home, along with DVDs of birthday videos recorded every year before he went abroad. But most of those photos and videos were maliciously destroyed by creditors during Li Xiangqun’s financial troubles. The only surviving album had been stored in the old residential building before her relationship with her parents soured.
In these photos, there were professional portraits, travel snapshots, and candid shots of daily life. In every picture, Shi Ying knew exactly how to pose, giving adults the reactions they expected.
But one particular photo stirred Li Xiangqun’s heart—the only one where Shi Ying wasn’t looking at the camera. In this image, he revealed his emotions, appearing like an ordinary seven-year-old boy, creating what could be considered a flawed, unusable shot.
Shi Ying’s gaze drifted along the falling pear blossoms in the photo, traveling back through time to observe his younger self.
A few minutes later, he pulled out the photo, got up from the bed, and stuck it on the refrigerator. Then, for the first time in a long while, he walked into the bathroom and took a shower.
________________________________________
Cheng Simin, unaware of what epiphany Shi Ying had reached after his mother’s visit, focused entirely on her business. Three days earlier, she had launched a batch of pre-sale links as planned, but to her astonishment, sales broke 1,000 orders on the very first day.
After 30 days, once the goods were delivered, she would earn a profit of 60,000 yuan.
There was no time to dwell on Shi Ying. Though the failure of their relationship undoubtedly pained her, the excitement of impending wealth drowned out those negative emotions. On the first night, she stayed up all night, adrenaline pumping, working tirelessly to fulfill orders and place wholesale material requests.
However, as orders continued to pour in, sales soared, and by yesterday, Cheng Simin stared at nearly 2,000 pending orders, then looked at the mere 20 squishies she had completed that day. She finally realized the biggest challenge of her entrepreneurship wasn’t selling the products—it was the inability to meet the overwhelming demand.
With only two hands and one person, the order volume required producing hundreds of items daily. She needed help.
It was too late to post recruitment ads online and build a team, so she quickly calculated costs and offered the neighbors on the 12th floor a high salary of 20,000 yuan per month to join production.
Cheng Simin mixed glue, Zhou Yan demolded and cleaned, Jingang assembled plane boxes, and even Grandma Qi used her old sewing machine at home to hem the edges of the squishies.
This week, Chen Xiaofen had purchased a house near the night market and moved out of Yingying’s cold tofu shop with Xiaobao. However, the new house still needed furnishing—aside from old sofas, beds, and cabinets, there was no TV or computer. The living room housed two small freezers filled with half-finished oden ingredients.
Xiaobao preferred staying squeezed into the public rental apartment at Huanghe Garden with her sister and the two pets.
In the afternoon, after school, Xiaobao helped punch air holes in finished squishies. Worried about her studies, Cheng Simin chased her away several times until Xiaobao finally retreated to the bedroom to do homework.
After finishing, bored, she returned to Cheng Simin’s side, helping sprinkle flocking powder onto the squishies. With no space for children to relax in Cheng Simin’s cramped home, Xiaobao was sent to Apartment 1202 to watch cartoons with Beibei in Grandma Qi’s living room.
Grandma Qi’s house smelled strongly of bitter incense. As soon as Beibei entered, he began sneezing.
Xiaobao felt uncomfortable too—not only because of the strange smell but also because the loud noise of Grandma Qi’s sewing machine drowned out the cartoon dialogue. Piggy Knight’s lines were completely inaudible. When she turned her head, she spotted a ceramic figurine on the wardrobe in Grandma Qi’s bedroom, staring directly at her.
The child didn’t know it was a religious statue; she only thought the Guanyin figure’s eyes were unnervingly long, seemingly following her movements. Shaking left and right, Xiaobao grew frightened and immediately tugged Beibei out of the living room.
Grandma Qi, wearing red plastic-framed reading glasses, cut the thread and tossed the squishy in her hand into a large cardboard box beside her. Without looking up but as if sensing something behind her, she loudly asked Xiaobao, “Why aren’t you watching anymore? Is my noise bothering you?”
Xiaobao had lost a baby tooth the other day, and the new permanent tooth hadn’t fully grown in yet, leaving a dark gap in her smile. Despite her efforts to appear reserved, her laughter still came across as comical.
“Grandma Qi, I’m done watching. I—I need to go to bed!”
Grandma Qi glanced at her missing tooth and said nothing, pointing vaguely at the remote control on the coffee table. Xiaobao understood immediately, rushed over to turn off the TV, and respectfully said goodbye to the elderly woman.
Leaving Apartment 1202, Xiaobao passed by Apartment 1201. Glancing at the door crack, her instincts screamed danger. She pressed her ear against Shi Ying’s door, and Beibei, mimicking her, lowered his head to sniff the scent beneath the door.
Ever since fetching her schoolbag together, eating, and visiting bookstores, Xiaobao hadn’t seen Shi Ying again. Regarding why he no longer appeared, Chen Xiaofen and Zhou Yan repeatedly questioned Cheng Simin. Her explanation was simple: “Shi Ying’s family has some issues, so he temporarily moved out.” When pressed further, she refused to elaborate.
Chen Xiaofen remained skeptical, convinced Cheng Simin was hiding something. But Xiaobao disagreed. Every time she passed Shi Ying’s door, she lingered in the hallway to investigate. Based on her observations, the apartment truly seemed unoccupied.
On Monday, she slipped a small strip of hamster pear paper into the crack of his door. If anyone opened it, the paper would fall to the ground. For five days, the pink pear paper remained firmly wedged in the doorframe.
But just moments ago, she noticed the little note had vanished.
Suddenly, Beibei barked loudly toward the door, and Xiaobao heard footsteps inside. Panicking, she bolted back to Apartment 1203, breathlessly telling Cheng Simin, “Sis, someone might’ve broken into Brother’s place!”
Production goals for the day weren’t met yet, and Cheng Simin was overwhelmed. Earlier, Zhou Yan had gone home early due to back pain, leaving tomorrow’s work unfinished. As both boss and employee, Cheng Simin worked without distinction between day and night, carrying a tray of freshly glued molds to the balcony to dry. Hearing Xiaobao’s words, she instinctively stood on tiptoe to peek toward Shi Ying’s balcony.
The light that hadn’t been on for days was indeed lit, but it wasn’t a burglar—it was Shi Ying, freshly showered, opening the window to ventilate.
He held his phone, which had just been charged and powered on a few minutes ago. Strangely, the torrent of accusations he expected from Zhao Fugui never arrived. The WeChat chat remained eerily quiet, save for a few missed calls from Zhou Rong and Manager Qian.
Even yesterday, Zhao Fugui had asked if his family matters were resolved, mentioning that Sun Qiyang from the Chamber of Commerce had visited the winery, emphasizing its importance and arranging a spot for Chixia Winery to attend the upcoming Shanghai Import Expo next month. All they needed was Shi Ying’s confirmation.
Their gazes met, and both froze. Cheng Simin hadn’t expected Shi Ying to be home, and Shi Ying hadn’t anticipated Cheng Simin spying on him from her balcony.
Behind Cheng Simin, Xiaobao and Beibei rushed to the balcony, with Xiaobao repeating urgently, “Should we call the police? There’s someone inside! I heard footsteps, and Beibei did too! Didn’t Brother move out? It must be a thief!”
A vein throbbed on Cheng Simin’s forehead as she pretended nothing happened, retreating slightly and grinding out through clenched teeth, “It’s not a thief. He’s just… suddenly back.”
After five days of hibernation, Shi Ying’s reaction was sluggish. Dazed, he pushed open the balcony door, stood on tiptoe, and innocently addressed Cheng Simin’s direction, “I’m not suddenly back—I’ve been here the whole time… I didn’t leave…”
Cheng Simin let out an incredulous “Huh?”—completely dumbfounded. Xiaobao, however, paid no mind to their cryptic exchange. It was still early, and there was plenty of time to resume watching cartoons. She immediately pulled Cheng Simin aside and called out toward Shi Ying’s apartment, “Brother, can I bring Beibei over to your place to watch cartoons?”
“Do you have a big TV?”
Five minutes later, personnel exchanges were completed between Apartments 1201 and 1203. Xiaobao hummed Little Hero Big Belly as she and Beibei sprawled on the couch, watching cartoons on a massive projector screen. Meanwhile, Shi Ying, having been fed two beef patties, was conscripted by Xiaobao to assist Cheng Simin in Apartment 1203.
At the workstation, Shi Ying wore gloves, washing dozens of mini Beibei figures with dish soap. After cleaning each one, he neatly arranged them on absorbent pads beside him. Nearby, Cheng Simin, also gloved, carefully picked up silicone dog figures, using tweezers to remove tiny hairs clinging to their surfaces.
Jingang sat on the sofa behind them, assembling plane boxes.
The three worked silently for a while until Jingang noticed Cheng Simin’s cardboard box filling up. Dragging his bad leg, he rose to carry twenty newly bagged squishies out of the room.
Temporarily alone, the tension between Cheng Simin and Shi Ying grew palpable, like a bowstring stretched to its breaking point.
Cheng Simin glanced sideways at Shi Ying, then quickly returned her focus to plucking stray hairs. Moments later, Shi Ying raised his eyes to look at her, then lowered his head to continue bathing strawberries and blueberries in bubbles.
The next second, their gloved hands accidentally grasped the same strawberry on the absorbent pad. Heat radiated through the layers of latex, and they simultaneously released it in panic, turning to confront each other in unison.
Cheng Simin asked, “Why didn’t you go sign the contract?”
Shi Ying countered, “Why did you cover for me?”
Seeing Shi Ying’s confusion, Cheng Simin narrowed her eyes, trying to understand his reasoning. Realization dawned, and she scoffed, “Nonsense. I’m not interested in the winery’s affairs. Forget about Zhou Yan being just a friend now—other people’s business is theirs, and mine is mine.”
Everyone creates their own life. She wasn’t helpless—why rely on Zhao Fugui, whom she’d only met once? Was she really that opportunistic? Did she switch allegiances for personal gain?
She admitted she loved Shi Ying. Though she disapproved of his immoral methods of profit, she understood his need for money to fill an inner void. If acquiring it brought him happiness, she could only offer her blessings.
She sincerely wished him wealth and joy in the future—even if she wouldn’t walk that path with him.
But he hadn’t signed the contract, forfeiting the meticulously planned four million. It was utterly absurd.
Shi Ying hadn’t gained the enormous sum nor moved to a better place. Instead, he had spent the past five days hiding in the neighboring apartment, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.
Thinking about it, Cheng Simin couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head. “Shi Ying, I realize how foolish you are. I overestimated your intelligence.”
“Indeed,” Shi Ying replied sheepishly. “Now I feel a bit stupid too.”
How could he have thought Cheng Simin would abandon him so easily?
Both underestimated the depth of the other’s love while exaggerating their own attachment. Neither wanted to be the first to let go, extending their necks in sacrifice, waiting for the other to act as the merciless executioner.
But the blade never fell. Upon opening their eyes, they discovered a glimmer of hope remaining in the labyrinth of love.
Hearing Cheng Simin laugh, Shi Ying joined in. Perhaps being foolish wasn’t so bad after all. Missing the contract signing due to a misunderstanding turned out to be a blessing.
People mattered more than money. At least, Cheng Simin meant far more to him than any sum. This lesson, bought at such a price, was worth every penny.
As their laughter subsided, Jingang reentered, carrying a box of hemmed squishies and resuming work on the sofa.
The pair resumed their tasks, stifling smiles. After finishing the strawberry wash, there was no time to change the water, so Shi Ying began working on colorful toast using another basin of fuzzy water. Crouching by the tub, his gaze clear and movements earnest, he resembled an otter washing shells.
As he worked, the carbohydrates he consumed earlier finally fueled his brain, reigniting his capitalist instincts.
Glancing at Jingang diligently working nearby, Shi Ying offered sincere advice regarding Cheng Simin’s “handmade workshop.”
“Cheng Simin, working yourself and everyone else to exhaustion isn’t sustainable. Sooner or later, you’ll burn out. After this pre-sale ends, if you want to continue, consider setting up a studio.”
“A studio?” Cheng Simin viewed her squishy business as a small-scale venture requiring minimal investment. Having witnessed her parents’ repeated failed ventures, she instinctively feared expansion. Uncertainly, she replied, “Renting a storefront and hiring staff will cost a lot, won’t it? After splitting profits, I’ll probably only net around 30,000–40,000 yuan this time.”
Moreover, she doubted others would willingly take on such labor-intensive work unless, like now, profits were shared equally.
To this, Shi Ying already had a solution.
“In fact, apart from your design work, the manufacturing process can be broken down into relatively simple steps that can be taught quickly. You could reach out to disability organizations, offering positions tailored for disabled workers. Adjust workload intensity, match salaries to market standards, and they might even help secure a venue. With workers, a location, and support for disabled employment, it’s a win-win situation.”
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