[I will always love him, just as he did to me in the past.]

Their relationship thus fell into a stalemate—a true cold war had begun.

Hou Zihao remained silent all day, and Zhou Leqi didn’t push either. The two of them competed in silence like stubborn rivals, leaving the apartment eerily quiet from morning to night.

Every tick of the second hand tugged at Zhou Leqi’s heart. While working on her reports, she glanced countless times at the date and time displayed on her computer screen. Each change in the numbers signaled her gradual approach to failure in this emotional tug-of-war, leaving her anxious and disheartened.

The prolonged silence was excruciating. It wasn’t until now that Zhou Leqi realized how imbalanced their relationship had been—Hou Zihao had always been the one to initiate conversations and set the tone. This wasn’t an easy task; it required careful effort and perfect timing. She had always enjoyed the fruits of his labor without ever noticing those invisible efforts.

Only now that he had stopped doing so did she realize she lacked the ability to fill the sudden void between them.

It wasn’t until the third day that Zhou Leqi finally had a chance to speak—Yu Qing called her.

At the time, she was sitting in the living room, while Hou Zihao sat far away at the dining table with his laptop. She stole a glance at him before lowering her eyes and turning on the speakerphone.

“Hello, Mom.”

As she answered the call, she closely observed Hou Zihao’s reaction. When Yu Qing’s voice came through the speaker, his ears twitched slightly, and his broad back unconsciously straightened—a sign of inner turmoil.

“Qiqi, when did you reschedule your ticket?” Yu Qing’s voice was as gentle as it had been seven years ago, carrying the warm familiarity of home. “Mom will pick you up at the airport, and I still need to prepare some good food for you…”

There was some background noise on her end, perhaps the sound of plastic bags rustling. It seemed she thought her daughter would be returning soon and had already started buying ingredients for cooking.

Hou Zihao was still listening, so Zhou Leqi couldn’t tell Yu Qing that she’d be back in two days. After a moment’s thought, she kept her response vague: “I’ll have to stay a few more days… something came up here…”

His ears twitched again.

“A few more days…” Yu Qing’s voice carried a hint of disappointment and concern. “Did something happen? Is it serious?”

Zhou Leqi brushed it off with a few casual remarks, saying only that work was progressing a bit slowly but everything else was fine. As for when exactly she’d return, she said it depended on how things developed.

Yu Qing sighed softly in acknowledgment. Zhou Leqi paused, then suddenly felt the gambler’s urge to take a leap of faith.

“Mom,” she suddenly spoke up, “I think… I’ve seen him.”

This abrupt statement shocked both parties—the Yu Qing on the other end of the line was stunned, and Hou Zihao, sitting at the dining table, could no longer pretend to be unaffected. He abruptly looked up at her, his eyes betraying a rawness and fragility he hadn’t managed to conceal.

After a brief silence, the voice from across the ocean finally came through the speaker.

“You mean… Xiao Hou?”

Zhou Leqi noticed that Hou Zihao instinctively clenched his hand when Yu Qing mentioned him.

“Yes,” she openly locked eyes with him, continuing her conversation with Yu Qing. “It’s him.”

Her response was met with a soft sigh from the other end of the line.

A barely audible sigh—but one that pierced the heart painfully.

“…Is this why you’re not coming back?”

Yu Qing’s voice was filled with helplessness and pity.

“Qiqi… How much longer will you wait for him?”

“Isn’t seven years enough?”

That phone call stirred a subtle psychological battle. Zhou Leqi knew it might not yield positive results—it could even drive their relationship into a new deadlock. But she had run out of time and had no choice but to gamble.

—Bet on his guilt, bet on his lingering love for her, bet on him eventually bowing to her.

The outcome wouldn’t reveal itself so quickly. They were stuck in another day of tension. The turning point came at noon on the fourth day.

He was preparing to cook and asked her what she wanted to eat. She said sweet-and-sour fish. He agreed, but upon checking the kitchen, he realized they were out of vinegar. He asked her if she wanted anything else instead, and after a moment’s thought, she replied, “No, I just want sweet-and-sour fish.”

He: “… “

With no other choice, he had to go out and buy vinegar. Zhou Leqi called out to him, saying, “Let’s go together.”

He looked at her, and she gave him a faint smile. “I haven’t been outside in days—I need some fresh air.”

Vinegar wasn’t easy to find abroad; the most convenient option was to go to Chinatown.

Zhou Leqi was unfamiliar with Rome. Despite staying at Hou Zihao’s place for several days, she hadn’t realized his home was so close to Chinatown—just two or three blocks away, within walking distance.

The sun was shining brightly that day, and the weather was warm. He pushed her along the road, creating a rare atmosphere of peaceful tranquility. Zhou Leqi temporarily set aside her fear of separation and chatted casually with Hou Zihao.

“You’re a great cook,” she said. “Do you cook often?”

This wasn’t flattery—his cooking was truly excellent. For the past few days, he had prepared all their meals, never repeating dishes despite maintaining a reluctant demeanor toward speaking with her. Still, he hadn’t stinted on taking care of her, feeding her well.

He slowly pushed her forward, replying indifferently, “For overseas students, if you don’t know how to cook, you’ll starve.”

She smiled, her tone light. “Yeah, among my classmates, those who can cook well are usually the ones who’ve studied abroad. Those who haven’t gone unless they’re naturally skilled, otherwise they can’t cook.”

After a pause, she added, “Like me—I can’t cook. I can only boil water and make dumplings.”

Upon hearing this, he chuckled lightly and casually remarked, “Of course you don’t need to learn. Auntie’s cooking is so good, why bother…”

Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence, realizing his slip. How did he know that Yu Qing was an excellent cook? Could it not be because he had secretly followed her videos online?

Zhou Leqi caught the implication and wanted to laugh but knew it wasn’t the right time to expose his secret, lest it ruin the newfound ease between them. So she held back, pretending nothing had happened, and walked into Chinatown with him.

Returning here after a month, Zhou Leqi’s mood was different.

The scene of encountering and missing him on this street was still vivid in her mind, but now he was beside her. The foreign land no longer felt so alienating because of his presence. Even those exaggerated ethnic symbols she had quietly criticized over the past month now seemed somewhat endearing. Especially when he accompanied her into the Chinese supermarket and she saw shelves filled with familiar snacks and daily necessities, her mood brightened considerably.

He quickly grabbed the vinegar, but seeing her interest in exploring the store, he indulged her, pushing her around the tall aisles. She picked up a can of Want Want milk, then a bag of Pop Rocks. Turning a corner, she spotted some spicy gluten and reached for it, but he stopped her hand.

Frowning, he reminded her, “You’re still recovering. Eat less spicy food.”

She shrugged, not insisting, and instead picked up a box of egg yolk pastry as a substitute.

At checkout, coincidentally, they encountered the same yellow-skinned Chinese girl who only spoke English and Italian.

The girl recognized Zhou Leqi, remembering how a month ago she had rushed in panic-stricken and crying, asking if she had seen a tall, handsome boy. Now, looking at Zhou Leqi and then at Hou Zihao beside her, the girl finally understood what had happened that day. Feeling like she had witnessed a touching love story, she teasingly remarked, “So you finally found your boy, right?”

Zhou Leqi recognized her too. After a brief pause, she gave a faint smile—happy, yet tinged with a hint of bitterness.

“Yes,” she replied serenely, “but not exactly.”

The girl was astonished by this response, her gaze toward Hou Zihao becoming somewhat curious. It seemed she had already assumed he was a heartbreaker who had wronged Zhou Leqi, this devoted girl chasing after him.

“Sir, it’s none of my business, but I think you should treat your girlfriend well,” she earnestly told Hou Zihao. “There aren’t many people these days who cry sincerely for love.”

This unexpected interlude left Hou Zihao puzzled. He had no idea what had happened a month ago, so he looked at Zhou Leqi, seeking an explanation. But she didn’t directly answer, simply saying, “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

The enthusiastic Chinese girl strongly disagreed. Though she couldn’t understand Chinese, she sensed from their interaction that Zhou Leqi hadn’t told her lover about her search a month ago, which she found inappropriate.

“Why didn’t you tell him you were here looking for him a month ago?” the girl asked, hands on her hips, brows furrowed. “He needs to know how much he hurt you, or he won’t cherish you.”

Hou Zihao was stunned, while Zhou Leqi gave the girl a smile.

“Thank you,” Zhou Leqi’s voice was calm and gentle, masking a reserved affection and evident sincerity. “But whether he still cherishes me or not, I will always love him, just as he did to me in the past.”

After leaving the Chinese supermarket, Hou Zihao became silent again, his mood seemingly heavy. Perhaps the Chinese girl’s words made him realize things he hadn’t before, causing his emotions to fluctuate intensely.

Zhou Leqi knew everything, but she chose not to disturb him, allowing him to make his final decision.

She had done all she could. The rest was up to fate—and in her eyes, the man making the decision was merely another link in destiny’s chain.

There were very few things they could truly decide for themselves.

When they returned home, he finally couldn’t hold back. After casually placing the groceries on the table, he turned to look at her, his eyes carrying a seriousness she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Let’s talk,” he said.

Zhou Leqi knew—this was the final opportunity.