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The two grandmas ultimately decided to spend the winter on a warm tropical island abroad. Song Lang’s parents would accompany them for the whole trip. On the day of departure, Jiang Beibei got up early and eagerly volunteered to drive them to the airport.
Everything went smoothly at first. She started the car, loaded the luggage, pulled out of the parking spot—one seamless motion.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Chu Yao, clad in his usual black and white. His coat was perfectly pressed, the collar snow-white. He stood at the entrance of the building, smiling faintly, quietly watching them leave.
Jiang Beibei got excited, shifted into reverse instead of drive, stepped on the gas—and bam, before she could react, she had backed into a black car silently parked behind her.
It was… Chu Yao’s car.
Jiang Beibei looked at the rearview mirror and felt like even the roof of Chu Yao’s car was radiating a sense of grievance.
Her grandmother slapped her thigh in frustration: “Girl! With driving like this, how can I feel at ease!”
Song Lang’s parents burst out laughing. “Hahahahaha—who’d you hit? Was it Yao’er’s car?”
Chu Yao walked over, bent down, and looked at her through the window.
Jiang Beibei rolled it down, too guilty to meet his eyes, staring straight ahead instead. “Yao-ge… it was an accident.”
Whenever he appeared, she got nervous. She always tried to seem calm and skilled—but usually ended up doing the opposite.
Chu Yao’s voice was gentle: “Are you okay? Buckle your seatbelt. Can you still drive? Should Uncle Song take over?”
“I’m fine! Yao-ge, I’ll take them to the airport first and come back to drive you to work.”
“It was just a bump—sounded loud, but no big deal,” Chu Yao said. “Go on and take your grandma and the others to the airport. Don’t rush. Drive calmly.”
“Okay!”
Jiang Beibei clumsily drove off. Only then did Chu Yao inspect his car.
No major damage—just the front license plate bent and pressed up against the car body, leaving a raised dent. Chu’s father, returning from a walk, stared at the plate for a while before suddenly saying, “Lunar birthday.”
“Hm?”
“I mean you,” Father Chu pointed at the license plate. “Today’s the third day of the lunar month. You’re twenty-eight.”
“I don’t go by the lunar calendar,” Chu Yao said.
Father Chu: “So full of yourself. No one’s celebrating it anyway… What do you want for dinner?”
“I won’t be home tonight,” Chu Yao replied. “I’ve got the night shift.”
There was a news van parked outside the funeral home, marked with the logo of Central Vision (CV). Seeing a CV van there made Chu Yao feel a bit uneasy.
Just like Jiang Beibei could love everything associated with someone she liked, so could he. Subconsciously, anything linked to her showing up at his workplace made his heart jump.
Thankfully, it was just an interview. He saw a cameraman setting up gear, and a tall woman chatting casually with the director at the door.
When the director saw Chu Yao, he excitedly waved him over.
“Chief Editor Jin, this is Chu Yao—our best employee! Film him! You can film him!”
The tall woman turned, quickly hiding the flash in her eyes. With a polite smile, she enunciated clearly, “Hello, I’m Huang! Yuanbao. I’m the chief editor of the CV-3 program People Around Us. Have you seen our show before?”
She extended her hand for a handshake.
Chu Yao glanced at her hand, then withdrew his gaze, only nodding slightly without moving his hand.
“I’ve seen a few episodes.” The TV at Chu Yao’s home was almost always tuned to CV-3.
Even though he knew Jiang Beibei would never appear on camera, his family was still obsessed with spotting her name under any news graphic. Over time, Chu Yao knew the CV-3 programming better than Jiang Beibei did.
Huang Yuanbao withdrew her hand.
The director explained, “Chief Editor Jin, in our line of work, we usually avoid shaking hands for various reasons.”
“I understand. I did my research beforehand,” Huang Yuanbao said. “The purpose of this program is to dispel prejudice, break stereotypes, and conduct meaningful education on death. I hope that one day, people in this profession can greet friends and strangers naturally with a handshake.”
“You can really tell she’s in media,” the director sighed. “Chief Editor Jin, you said it so well.”
“…My surname is Huang,” she corrected.
During the lunch break, the crew held a casual interview with the new staff.
Huang Yuanbao personally interviewed Chu Yao.
“I’d heard of you before I came,” she said. “I’m close with Reporter Jiang from News Focus.”
“Jiang Beibei.” Chu Yao smiled a little. “She’s my little sister.”
In that moment, Huang Yuanbao had an odd illusion: when those three words—Jiang Beibei—came out of his mouth, he seemed to become a bit more grounded, not as distant and unapproachable.
During the morning shoot, even with a cameraman nearby, no one dared breathe too loudly—not just because of the somber work environment, but also because of Chu Yao himself.
He was too cold. Like a block of ice.
“She often talks about her older brothers. Everyone at the station is envious.”
At that, Chu Yao gave a faint, bitter smile and shook his head without replying.
The cameraman finished adjusting the lens, and the formal interview began. After discussing a few memorable work experiences, Huang Yuanbao asked, “Are you married?”
Though she already knew the answer.
“No.”
She smiled. “Earlier we asked a few of your colleagues what the hardest thing in their lives is right now. They all said—finding a partner. Is that true for you too?”
“…More or less.”
“Do you currently like someone?”
“…Yes.”
“Mind telling me about her?”
“A little.”
“Why? Does she not accept your job?”
“She probably would. She’s a good girl.”
Huang Yuanbao laid a small trap, smiling: “Oh? Then why not marry her? Is there another reason?”
“Love has to be mutual.” Chu Yao smiled too. “One-sided love just becomes a burden for her.”
“Do you think your difficulty in settling down has to do with your profession?”
“…Not really.” Chu Yao smiled more openly this time. “Even though it’s hard for my coworkers and me to find partners, the specific reasons are different for each of us.”
Huang Yuanbao didn’t push further and changed the subject.
After the interview, she turned off her recorder and asked directly, “Were you talking about Jiang Beibei?”
Chu Yao was visibly startled—a rare reaction.
“If that’s the case…” Huang Yuanbao smiled, “Then she really does like you. She’s mentioned it many times. I think, in her heart, you must be the most special one.”
Actually, at that moment, Huang Yuanbao really wanted to tell Chu Yao that Jiang Beibei was always going on about wanting to sleep with him. But, of course, in front of so many colleagues and meeting Chu Yao for the first time, she had her pride—so she’d never say that even if she died.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Chu Yao replied, “Thank you for letting me know.”
Polite, appropriate, not revealing too much emotion.
Huang Yuanbao said, “I used to wonder—being so close to her, you should have had the advantage. But now that I’ve met you, I can somewhat understand why Beibei only dares to talk about it but never acts on it.”
Half-jokingly, she said to Chu Yao, “Mr. Chu, you’re just… way too cold. Like Antarctica.”
When Huang Yuanbao left, she sent a text to Jiang Beibei: “Get ready to treat me to dinner. That’s as much as I can help you.”
But Jiang Beibei didn’t think much about the message or reply—because… she was shivering.
After work, the apartment was as cold as an ice cellar. Jiang Beibei’s hands were turning blue. When she called property management, she was told the heating pipe on the east side of Unit 2 had broken and was under repair.
“How long will it take? Can it be fixed tonight?”
“Not tonight. The earliest would be tomorrow morning.”
Great. Just great.
Jiang Beibei curled up on the sofa, too cold to even play on her phone. Holding it felt like hugging a block of ice, and her fingers were stiff.
The grannies had just left, so she was alone at home—no hot food, no heating. She was like a lonely little cabbage sprouting in a frozen field, pitiful and miserable.
In the group chat, Song Lang posted the heating repair notice and asked curiously: “Why does the east and west side of one unit use different pipes?”
After all, the three west-side homes still had normal heating.
Second Bro said: “Want to sleep at my place? Call Big Bro too. The three of us can just squeeze in.”
Big Bro replied: “I’m on the night shift, not coming home tonight. Let Fourth go instead.”
Song Lang: “I don’t mind the cold. I’m just worried about freezing my big cat.”
Second Bro: “Come get the key from my office. Just make sure Song the Cat doesn’t get on my bed. Everything else is fair game.”
Jiang Beibei pitifully typed: “Can I say something? Why has no one thought of me?”
Tang Xizhou: “Hahahahaha… forgot, forgot. You off work yet?”
Jiang Beibei: “I’m already home, curled up on the couch trying to stay warm.”
Not long after she sent the message, Qin Yuan called.
“Come to my place. I’ll tell my mom in a bit. You can sleep in my room, and I’ll take the couch tonight.”
“No need…” Jiang Beibei replied. “I filled a hot water bottle.”
Then—a knock at the door.
Jiang Beibei struggled to get up and shivered her way to open it.
“Beibei, come on.” Without giving her a choice, Chu Yao’s mom pulled her over to the apartment across the hall. “Chu Wuchang isn’t coming home tonight. You’ll sleep in his bed!”
Qin Yuan: “…” Aunt Yao really was a star detective back in the day—her efficiency was unmatched.
Jiang Beibei: “Then… Third Bro…”
“You were talking to Qin Yuan?” Chu Mom had sharp ears. She reached for Beibei’s phone and responded on her behalf: “Xiao Yuan, don’t worry about it. A grown man sleeping on the couch is too uncomfortable. My son Yao is on night shift. Beibei has a place to sleep.”
My son is so dependable! Chu Mom cheerfully hung up the call.
Jiang Beibei felt a little embarrassed and hesitated at the door of Chu Yao’s room. “Shouldn’t we tell Yao-ge first… I feel bad taking over his personal space. What if he has secrets or something…”
Chu Mom answered briskly, “He’s got nothing in that room—cleaner than his own face. Old Chu! Get the new bedding from the closet!”
Comrade Old Chu quickly brought over a soft pink quilt. The husband-wife duo moved efficiently, stripping the old bedding and replacing it with the new quilt in no time.
They even had Beibei grab a few stuffed animals and place them on the bed.
Chu Mom stepped back and admired her son’s newly refreshed bed: “Oh my goodness, thank heavens. It finally doesn’t look like a morgue. It’s a princess room now!”
Chu Dad: “...Much easier on the eyes.”
Jiang Beibei: “...” She had a feeling the two of them had been waiting for this day for a long time.
That night, filled with excitement, Jiang Beibei modestly lay down in Chu Yao’s bed.
By rounding up, this basically counted as… sleeping with Chu Yao, right?!
Under the covers, Jiang Beibei giggled.
His room smelled like a crisp autumn morning. It was cold, yet comforting, as if warmth was sure to come.
Snuggled into his soft bed, surrounded by his scent, she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile, Chu Yao left the staff showers, freshly changed but with wet hair still dripping. Just then, a colleague called out to him.
“Chu Yao, you’re on duty tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s switch. I’ve got some stuff this weekend and want to take three days off to go home. I’ll take tonight—swap with you next Wednesday.”
“Alright.”
Work done, he started the car and drove straight home through the night.
After parking at the entrance, he stopped by the convenience store for a bag of bread. While waiting in line, he opened his phone and saw the message in the group chat about the broken heating.
Did she go to Qin Yuan’s place?
He suddenly had no appetite for the bread.
But he was starving.
Chu Yao dragged himself back home with the bag. It was already late at night. The hallway was silent.
He opened the door, washed his hands, too lazy to turn on the lights.
He took off his coat, pushed open the bedroom door, and walked inside while pulling off his sweater and unbuttoning his shirt—
His hands froze.
He stood like a statue by the bed, staring blankly.
On his bed, a girl was sleeping soundly.
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