HGG - 29

Why?

Even though it was still spring, the fields were already baking under the sun. Song Yi wore a shrunken sweatshirt, a white towel draped around her neck, loose floral pants tucked up, and gloves on her hands, with a straw hat perched on her head.

Dressed like a country girl, she stood in the field, gazing at the remaining half of the overgrown garden, and couldn’t help but sigh deeply.

Half a month ago, she had left the city and returned to her hometown in the countryside.

Before that, she had met Zhan Heqing one last time—at the café they usually frequented.

Song Yi arrived first, ordering plain water for herself and a Kopi Luwak coffee for Zhan Heqing.

This was the first time Zhan Heqing hadn’t sneaked into the café discreetly since they’d known each other. He no longer cared about appearances, quickly getting out of his car and sitting down as soon as he entered. He immediately asked: “What’s going on?”

Song Yi succinctly explained everything to him. After listening, Zhan Heqing leaned on his hand thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry—it’s all my fault that you’re in this situation…” Zhan Heqing hesitated before continuing, “But this matter absolutely cannot reach Chi Zhao.”

Song Yi exhaled softly: “I won’t be returning to the company. She said she’d delete the records once I left, and she wouldn’t let me tell you. But you should still be careful.”

Zhan Heqing nodded: “I’ll transfer some money to your account to cover the compensation for your absences. I’ll handle things with HR too.”

“Thank you,” Song Yi said. With that, she stood up and pulled a suitcase from behind her chair.

Turning to leave, Song Yi’s rigid yet delicate figure made Zhan Heqing call out impulsively.

The original title died halfway through, and he hastily changed course, saying: “Secretary Song… Song Yi.”

Song Yi turned back, her face expressionless.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

“It’s fine,” Song Yi replied. “After my parents’ incident, I’d already considered leaving for a while.”

Zhan Heqing was taken aback—he’d never heard Song Yi talk like this before. However, he knew her family had undergone drastic changes.

Her parents had tried to sell her to human traffickers, and her mother had been detained. Such experiences would be unbearable for anyone.

But Song Yi was so strong, people often forgot she was just an ordinary woman.

Zhan Heqing wanted to apologize again, but seeing Song Yi’s calm demeanor, his words dried up. Finally, he only managed to ask one question: “Why didn’t you resign in person to Chi Zhao?”

The always placid woman paused suddenly. Slowly lowering her gaze, Song Yi seemed to be thinking—or perhaps gathering her thoughts for an answer.

“I lacked confidence,” she said.

“Confidence in what?” Zhan Heqing looked at her.

For some reason, he felt he wouldn’t get an answer.

Sure enough, Song Yi didn’t continue. She simply gazed silently at Zhan Heqing.

Then, she turned and walked away.

As her final memories of Chongming Games faded, reality returned. Song Yi refocused on the weeds waiting to be cleared.

Weeding is exhausting—why am I doing this?

Perhaps I should borrow a hoe.

She thought.

Song Yi did have plans for the future. Zhan Heqing had given her a substantial sum of compensation, and she planned to move to another city or even stay in the countryside.

In a daze, Song Yi reflected that her days at Chongyou felt like a past life.

Meanwhile, somewhere else, someone else was reflecting too.

After the old bus rumbled away, Chi Zhao stood heavily under the bus stop sign, his mind repeatedly circling the question that had haunted him for the past two days.

Why?

Why am I here?

A few days ago, he called Xia Fan to ask about Song Yi. As usual, Xia Fan was efficient, replying within minutes: “She returned to her grandmother’s house in the countryside.”

That line sounded vaguely familiar.

He remembered when someone, cornered by human traffickers, had called him in a panic and lied, saying exactly that.

Was it real or fake?

Chongyou still had work waiting for him, and the address he received was questionable. But after much deliberation, before he realized it, he was standing here.

Walking up the road, he finally reached a populated area. There was a small basketball court, likely communal space for the village. Clothes hung on the basketball hoop and nearby pull-up bars, while some elderly women rested and chatted on stone benches.

Chi Zhao radiated the air of an outsider, immediately drawing their attention.

Among the villagers were several elderly women. Chi Zhao couldn’t help but wonder if Song Yi’s grandmother might be among them.

But then again, even if Song Yi’s grandmother was there, he wouldn’t recognize her.

Thinking this, Chi Zhao decided to approach and inquire. Just as he stepped forward, an elderly woman who had been facing away turned around.

Her hair was silver but styled in fashionable curls. Smiling at Chi Zhao, she asked: “Young man, where are you coming from?”

Chi Zhao was momentarily speechless.

Then, he noticed the clothes she was wearing.

He immediately dismissed his earlier assumption that he wouldn’t recognize Song Yi’s grandmother.

Chongming Games often produced promotional T-shirts, and every employee received a few free ones. The shirt the elderly woman wore was one of the designs from earlier this year.

Meanwhile, Song Yi was still weeding in the field.

Before starting elementary school, she had lived with her grandmother.

Her grandmother was gentle, resilient, and beautiful in her youth. She had even studied abroad and continued to live passionately and enthusiastically in her later years.

Moreover, her grandmother loved fashion, excelled at socializing, and was popular wherever she went—a perfect woman.

However, Song Yi inherited only her looks.

Her personality was worlds apart—aloof, rigid, and often criticized for her interactions.

And the distance others placed between them wasn’t due to her character.

Recalling some childhood memories, Song Yi unconsciously quickened her weeding pace. After a few swings of the hoe, she began panting.

Having worked for most of the day, it was time for a break. Just as this thought surfaced, her grandmother’s voice called out from afar.

“Song Yi—come home!”

Song Yi grabbed the towel around her neck to wipe her sweat and turned to respond: “Okay!”

But as she turned, her voice abruptly cut off amidst the fragrant grass.

In the direction of the sun, the intense light distorted her vision. Her grandmother approached down the field path, followed by someone else.

During university graduation interviews, job seekers often faced questions like: “What are your strengths?”

Under her teacher’s guidance, Song Yi had prepared materials showcasing her various scholarships and awards to highlight her excellence.

However, when facing Chi Zhao, she exposed her shortcomings: “I’m boring.”

In response to her self-deprecation, Chi Zhao accepted her with a smile.

Just like now.

Chi Zhao saw her. Song Yi’s cheeks were bathed in sunlight, glowing a Neapolitan yellow. Unlike her usual precise, suited self, she was disheveled and dressed plainly after a day working in the fields.

The person who should have been playing video games in the president’s office now stood before her. Song Yi looked up, astonishment overtaking her sweat-drenched face.

Meeting her gaze, Chi Zhao smiled as always—just like before.

Sitting side by side outside the village store, Song Yi’s grandmother clasped her hands together in delight: “Oh my! So you and our Song Yi really know each other! When a young man comes all the way to such a remote place, even I was surprised!”

Sitting to Song Yi’s left, she clutched a juice box, struggling for a moment before asking: “Why is Mr. Chi here…?”

Chi Zhao tore open a bag of snacks, pulling out a collectible card and feigning surprise: “Wow, there’s a bonus item.”

“Mr. Chi,” Song Yi interrupted him.

Chi Zhao finally acknowledged her question. He said: “You submitted your resignation letter, right? You don’t need to call me that anymore.”

“Oh!” Just as the tension grew, the grandmother suddenly clapped her hands. “If you’re friends, don’t argue! Let’s be happy!”

“We’re not friends,” both said simultaneously.

The grandmother’s eyes widened: “Eh? If you’re not friends, then are you…?”

“Grandma.” Song Yi raised her hand, holding a bill between her fingers. “Could you buy Mr. Chi a can of cola? Thank you.”

Chi Zhao smiled and looked up: “Thank you, Grandma. Milk is fine.”

“What a good child,” the grandmother smiled. “I’ll be right back!”

“Thank you, Grandma,” Chi Zhao playfully waved goodbye.

Once the grandmother entered the store, Song Yi immediately reiterated her question: “Why are you here?”

Silence.

The wind blew, and the plants swayed like Russian nesting dolls. Villagers passed by leisurely and happily.

Chi Zhao handed her the snack. Looking up, his eyes were bright and clear: “I came to find you.”

Surprised, Song Yi opened her mouth to speak, but the store curtain suddenly lifted, and the grandmother emerged carrying a mountain of snacks.

“Little Zhao, here’s your milk,” the grandmother said warmly. “Let me tell you, don’t be fooled by Song Yi’s stern face—she just doesn’t know how to interact with people. Since a friend has come, I bought extra snacks. Come, you must stay with us for a few days!”

Song Yi incredulously spoke up: “Grandma? You know he… Mr. Chi wouldn’t possibly…”

Chi Zhao decisively stood up, looking earnestly at the grandmother: “Grandma, can I stay until New Year’s?”

“Of course!” The grandmother held his hand. “You can stay until my great-grandchild is born!”

Thus, despite Song Yi’s vehement protests, Chi Zhao made his decision.

The three walked side by side. The grandmother, being elderly, held Song Yi’s hand on one side, while Chi Zhao considerately supported her on the other.

At this point, both fell silent again. They flanked the grandmother, who wore a Chongyou promotional shirt emblazoned with bold letters: “I got the real deal!”

Racking her brain, Song Yi still couldn’t rationalize Chi Zhao’s visit.

Her heart involuntarily tilted toward the idea that “he can’t do without me,” but she quickly forced herself to calm down.

While she was lost in thought, the grandmother cheerfully suggested: “There’s an outdoor movie screening in the square tonight. Why don’t you two go together?”

“The square” was actually the cement basketball court where Chi Zhao had met the grandmother.

“Is that so?” Chi Zhao responded gently. “What movie is playing?”

“Let me think. At seven, there’s a foreign romance film,” the grandmother said. “It’s called La La Land .”

“So that’s what it is,” Chi Zhao continued smiling, though the light in his eyes dimmed—an unmistakable sign of disinterest. “Sorry, Grandma, but I need to make a call with our vice president tonight.”

He disliked romantic films. Zhan Heqing had once told him that Jenny invited Chi Zhao to watch Twilight at the cinema. Chi Zhao slept through the entire movie, waking up refreshed afterward to go home and draw.

Song Yi also lacked enthusiasm: “I’m exhausted from weeding today. Grandma, let’s go home and rest.”

The grandmother persisted: “Alright then. There’s another showing at eleven—Saving Private Ryan . But you young folks probably prefer romance—”

Both sides shot glances at her simultaneously.

Chi Zhao decisively interjected: “Our vice president is already an adult. He should learn to handle work issues on his own.”

Song Yi firmly added: “Actually, I’m not that tired.”