HGG - 7

When it came to the age of twelve, what Song Yi always recalled were those things—the school uniform soaked with the smell of gasoline, the sympathetic gazes from teachers and classmates, and her own numb yet unyielding self that kept fighting.

At first, gambling was only her mother’s vice.

Back then, Song Zuowei was still a teacher at a cram school. Even though he hadn’t been accepted into a public school, the dignity of being an educator sustained him as he strictly disciplined Song Yi.

Having a gambler in the family wasn’t a good thing, but at least back then, there was still hope.

Although her father had strictly forbidden Song Yi from learning to draw, he still showed her care in other ways. Occasionally, when he came to pick her up from school, they would walk home together, and he would say on the way, “Don’t worry. I’ll take responsibility for your mother’s situation and persuade her to stop.”

Who says gambling is less toxic than other vices? When Li Mei gambled, Song Zuowei would say he was going to bring her back—but once he stepped out, he wouldn’t return for days or even nights.

Song Yi cooked meals for herself, went to school alone, did her homework, and slept in their increasingly impoverished home.

Her academic performance remained as excellent as her father had demanded, but gradually, no one cared anymore.

Whenever Song Zuowei came home to take money, she would grab hold of him. At those times, her father would pat her head and say, “Believe in me. Our luck is about to change soon.”

There was a misunderstanding between them. She believed in her father himself, not his luck at the gambling table.

Song Yi lived as if her father were still present—until they were forced to flee from loan sharks and collided head-on with a mountain of debt.

Gripping the broom, she entered the house, and sure enough, Li Mei immediately rushed toward her: “You’re finally back! What’s the password for the bankbook?”

Song Yi had anticipated this scene. She reached out her hand: “Give it to me.”

When she had left, she had hidden the bankbook in the crack of the bed, but they had still found it.

“You tell me the password first!”

“I won’t tell you! You’ve gambled again!” Song Yi declared firmly. She wasn’t angry or sad; her face betrayed no emotion. “Give it back!”

Suddenly, someone lunged at her from behind. Song Yi immediately sidestepped, narrowly avoiding her father bumping into the wall, but he managed to snatch her bag anyway.

“Dad,” she uttered a single word, as if it were a form of greeting.

Even though, originally, her father had intended to grab her from behind.

Song Zuowei rubbed his forehead as he stood up and handed the stolen bag over to Li Mei.

He said, “Song Yi, isn’t this what I taught you? If you have money, you should hand it over—we’re going to repay our debts. Your mother and I have discussed it, and we’re going to live a normal life from now on. If you don’t trust your mother, at least trust me, right?”

Song Yi extended the broom in her hand, assuming a defensive posture.

Song Zuowei stared into her eyes, and she met his gaze.

If this weren’t the tenth or so time she’d heard him say this, Song Yi thought, she might have handed over all her savings to them again.

But maybe this time they really were going to repent?

Under the fervent gazes of Song Zuowei and Li Mei, she slowly retracted the broom: “Give me the bag first, and I’ll tell you.”

“You tell us the password first.”

“Do you want the money or not?” she retorted without backing down.

Once she got the bag, she suddenly threw the broom at them and turned to run as fast as she could.

The broom served its purpose, buying her enough time to escape through the door.

Outside, it was already dark, and the cold air filled her lungs. She ran and ran until the curses of Song Zuowei and Li Mei were far behind her.

Her expression was icy, calm—like dry ice, or perhaps like an emotionless robot.

Song Yi thought, where would she spend the night tonight? During her school years, her family situation had made others too afraid to approach her, and her reserved personality had also made it difficult to make friends. Staying in a hotel wasn’t an option—she didn’t want to waste the money.

As she walked past the building of Chongyou, Song Yi couldn’t help but reaffirm a determination:

She absolutely could not lose her current job.

She greeted the security guard on duty, entered the building, and went upstairs. Seeing the elevator frozen in place, she remembered that everyone must have left after finishing their overtime today.

Walking into the office, Song Yi reached for the light switch in the darkness.

Unexpectedly, her wrist was grabbed, and she was pulled around, her back colliding with the wall. In the pitch-black room, she locked eyes with him at close range.

Chi Zhao’s eyes glimmered faintly, making him resemble some small creature in the forest. He chewed gum as his gaze darted back and forth, observing her rare expression.

Surprised, Song Yi quickly regained her composure. She said, “Mr. Chi, haven’t you gone home yet?”

Trapped within the narrow space formed by his arms, Chi Zhao remained silent as he released his right hand to turn on the lights.

Immediately afterward, he raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. “You scared me. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

He casually scanned her appearance.

At this hour, it was clear she had just run here and was temporarily forced to stay overnight at the company. He didn’t know what had happened, but he could roughly guess it wasn’t anything good.

Song Yi nodded politely and instinctively started working: “Would you like something to drink?”

He shook his head and sat down in the beanbag chair. A pile of stuffed animals surged toward him, while the cat curled up listlessly nearby.

“No need. Are you planning to stay here tonight?” he asked.

Caught red-handed, she didn’t bother denying it. “I’ll be fine in the partition...”

“Xia Fan took the keys,” Chi Zhao said without looking up, engrossed in playing his PSV. “If you mind, I can go stay at a hotel.”

How could she possibly inconvenience him like that? This was his territory, and besides, she was the newcomer.

Seeing Song Yi’s reaction of declining his offer, Chi Zhao said, “But I don’t plan to sleep tonight. You can sleep on the long sofa over there. There are new blankets in the cabinet if you need one. I’m going to take a shower.”

As he spoke, he stood up. As her superior, Chi Zhao maintained appropriate boundaries while still being considerate in his words and actions.

Song Yi had no reason to decline further. However, using the bathroom right after him felt somewhat inconvenient, so she decided to shower early the next morning instead.

By the time Chi Zhao emerged wearing an advertisement T-shirt and jeans, his hair still damp, Song Yi was already lying down.

She lay rigidly, wrapped tightly in the blanket like a shroud. She hadn’t fallen asleep yet but struggled to lift her head slightly in acknowledgment: “My apologies.”

Chi Zhao shook his head. The top half of his outfit was last year’s B-version promotional shirt from Chongyou. On the front was a slogan—”I am the world.”

Drying his hair as he turned around, he asked, “Do you want me to turn off the lights?”

“If it will disturb your work, then there’s no need...”

Before she could finish, the lights were already off. The floor-to-ceiling windows weren’t curtained, allowing the neon-lit cityscape to shimmer faintly into the office.

Unbothered by the dark, Chi Zhao walked over to the desk, sat down, and turned on the computer screen. He began browsing through artworks submitted by outsourcing companies.

Song Yi closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Her mind replayed the hands of Song Zuowei and Li Mei reaching out to her, their voices cursing and deceiving her, their grotesque expressions haunting her thoughts.

In the darkness, Song Yi stared blankly at the ceiling.

She wasn’t accustomed to crying or complaining. For Song Yi, weakness wasn’t an option; she didn’t even feel sad—she simply lay there quietly.

A faint glimmer remained in the abyss. Beside the glow of the computer screen, Chi Zhao flipped through pages absentmindedly when, suddenly and without warning, he spoke: “Do you want to watch something?”

His gaze remained fixed on the screen, almost making Song Yi think he hadn’t noticed she was still awake.

He didn’t ask what had happened. Instead, he pulled a remote control from the drawer, pressed a few buttons, and the projector cast images onto the wall.

Song Yi turned her head to look—it was My Little Pony .

Without a word, she lay back down, watching the colorful ponies gallop and chatter across the wall. Then Chi Zhao went to tinker with the fridge for a while. When he returned, he placed a box of ice cream beside her.

He didn’t eat any himself but brought it specifically for her.

In the vast office, the two of them—far apart, one lying on the sofa, the other sitting in the chair—watched My Little Pony together while eating ice cream with focused attention.

For no apparent reason, she felt that he was simply trying to comfort her.

Her attention diverted, drowsiness gradually crept in. Just as she was about to drift off, Song Yi finally spoke. She said, “Thank you.”

The next morning, the office was empty when she woke up. Song Yi got up, gathered her things, and went to take a shower. As she stepped out, she saw Chi Zhao speaking on the phone in Korean at the end of the corridor, likely discussing work.

She headed downstairs. The bathing area was deserted, and the company’s temperature-controlled water and pressure were excellent.

Midway through her shower, her phone rang. Wrapping herself hastily, she stepped out and answered via speakerphone. Chi Zhao’s voice came through: “Shu Wa hasn’t been feeling well since yesterday, and it seems worse today. I’ll take it to the pet hospital.”

Since she’d also stayed overnight, she decided to accompany him. Quickly putting on her undergarments, she reached for her skirt when her shirt accidentally slipped into a puddle of water.

Hastily picking it up, she realized it was already soaked. Recalling that the cabinets usually contained some promotional shirts, she opened one to find them neatly stacked.

Grabbing one at random, she hurriedly finished dressing and left.

During the drive, she held Shu Wa in her arms. Upon arriving at the hospital, they both went in to handle the paperwork and consult with the doctor.

Hearing the doctor say there was nothing serious, they finally relaxed. While waiting, Song Yi browsed through materials related to Chongming’s banquet on her phone.

“Do you really need to be this meticulous?” Chi Zhao asked.

Song Yi replied, “Just to be safe.”

To prepare for the occasion, she had even enrolled in some tutoring classes using the money Zhan Heqing provided.

But just seconds later, a nurse called out, “Number 38!”

Chi Zhao glanced at the number in his hand and stood up. Song Yi followed him.

The nurse started to say something but first let her gaze linger over them.

Chi Zhao and Song Yi both looked down. Concerned about Shu Wa’s condition, they had rushed out in the morning without paying attention to what they were wearing.

Chi Zhao was still wearing the same B-version promotional shirt from last night, while Song Yi had grabbed the matching A-version in the washroom.

Her shirt boldly proclaimed six large characters—”The world needs change.”

His read—”I am the world.”

Awkwardness washed over them, and Chi Zhao and Song Yi deliberately avoided meeting each other’s eyes.

Whether the nurse failed to notice the atmosphere or was overly aware of it, she calmly said, “You must be Shu Wa’s mom and dad, right? Go inside to sign the papers and pick up the medication, then you can leave.”