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When I think about it, I want to drink. You might not believe me, but the comment section of DayNight is like countless furnaces. Several times, I even considered selling my house to help those women fight their legal battles because, compared to them, all the hardships I’ve endured seem insignificant. Those girls who were raped by their foster fathers won’t win in court, but their lives are already ruined. Teachers from the mountainous regions contacted us—entire classes of girls are disappearing. By the time they’re teenagers, after being forced to take care of younger brothers, they’re sold off for dowries. When some people’s prosperity comes at the expense of others’ freedom, you realize that life truly isn’t fair.
After two months of living a 9-to-10 work schedule, Ou Jinghe’s initial excitement about full-time work had worn off significantly. Back when she worked at the dessert shop, she often arrived at noon and spent her free time on the third floor when there were no customers. Now, her desk was cluttered with piles of documents, and after sitting for hours, her legs would swell. Dealing with different people added to the frustration—therapists constantly rescheduling, leaders calling endless meetings, volunteers who frequently changed their minds… On top of that, the negative messages flooding the backend made her weary after just seven days. She remembered Zheng Zeyan mocking her: “People who are used to being bosses can’t handle working regular jobs. Your only viable career is being a wealthy housewife.”
Even to spite Zheng Zeyan, she gritted her teeth and kept going. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, still half-asleep, Ou Jinghe realized that time was suddenly turning against her. Fine wrinkles crawled up her face like tiny insects, and the corners of her mouth began to droop. The salespeople at beauty salons no longer pushed treatments like Ultherapy or Thermage, and she didn’t see any ads targeting her anymore. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford facials—don’t be ridiculous. But after taxes, her monthly salary left her with only a few thousand yuan, forcing her to admit that money was hard to come by.
Every night, Zheng Zeyan would drive to pick her up. The ride from Lujiazui to her office building usually took about half an hour. But tonight, Zheng Zeyan was silent, his red Honda Civic nowhere to be seen downstairs. No matter how many times she called or texted, there was no response. Her intuition failed her, and images of other women flooded her mind. The scent of perfume she smelled in Zheng Zeyan’s apartment the last time she visited seemed to creep back into her nose. She hailed a taxi back to Mengye Apartment, unlocked the door with the keypad, and walked in barefoot, clenching her fists as she moved forward. She thought she heard the sound of someone turning over. Furious, she pushed open the bedroom door to find Zheng Zeyan lying alone in bed, a fever patch on his forehead and sweat dripping down his temples.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Fever.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Zheng Zeyan didn’t speak—or rather, he lacked the strength to do so. Ou Jinghe sat beside him and touched his neck—it felt unnaturally hot. When the thermometer read 39.5°C, she finally understood why he hadn’t answered her calls or texts—he simply didn’t have the energy.
“Can you get up? Let’s go to the hospital.”
“No.” Zheng Zeyan pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “I’ve taken medicine. I’ll be fine after sleeping.”
“Are you hungry?”
He remained silent.
“I’ll make you some congee with lean meat and preserved egg. You might not like the sound of it, but trust me, my cooking is exquisite.” She noticed Zheng Zeyan’s furrowed brows and hurried to the kitchen, as if trying to avoid his lack of appetite or fearing he’d see through her suspicions. There was a market downstairs from Mengye Apartment, and despite the rain, she went barefoot inside, leaving her dirty sneakers outside. Though she wasn’t a skilled cook, she could make congee and simple sushi with practiced ease, thanks to her memories of living in Japan. Zheng Zeyan, with no appetite whatsoever, didn’t even want to move. Ou Jinghe coaxed him into opening his mouth with a kiss: “Do you know your breath smells terrible because you haven’t eaten?”
This was probably the first time she’d been so patient with anyone, even willing to kneel on the ground. Zheng Zeyan, propped up by pillows, looked weak eating the congee—a stark contrast to his usual energetic self. Despite this, she still suspected another woman might be hiding somewhere in the room, which made her feel guilty. Zheng Zeyan glanced at her: “If I didn’t respond to your messages, did you think I was already sleeping with someone else?”
“No, how could I think that way?”
Zheng Zeyan chuckled: “How couldn’t you? I could feel the hostility radiating from you when you came in.”
“Just a little bit. After all, when we first met, this room wasn’t exactly exclusive to me.”
The person in bed coughed a few times, seemingly unwilling to hear her bring up the past, and swallowed the congee mechanically, his appetite partially restored. Ou Jinghe leaned by the bed and smiled: “No matter what, I’m the one feeding you congee now. Not everyone gets that privilege, right?” Seeing Zheng Zeyan remain silent, she grew anxious and lightly slapped his arm: “Is it really that hard to admit?”
“There are rice balls in the fridge. Bought from Lawson downstairs.”
“Are you deliberately trying to upset me?”
Zheng Zeyan said nothing, lying there in a daze. After Ou Jinghe finished showering, he seemed to have regained some strength and was scrolling through his phone. She leaned against him, pressing her face to his: “Your fever seems to have gone down a bit.”
“I’ll sleep after finishing work. How was your day?”
“Work is driving me crazy.”
“I told you it’s not for you.”
“So what? Are you going to support me?”
“Didn’t you get a settlement from your divorce? You’re supposed to be financially secure.”
Ou Jinghe disliked hearing him say that and rested her legs across Zheng Zeyan’s waist while leaning against the headboard: “That money was compensation for my losses from my previous marriage. Supporting me is your responsibility. Clearly, you don’t love me enough if you’re unwilling to let me take advantage of you.”
“Then marry me, and I’ll let you spend all my money.”
Zheng Zeyan’s expression remained calm. Ou Jinghe stared at him blankly, and he caught her gaze: “See? You think I’m joking again. I genuinely want to marry you.”
“Do you really love me?”
“Of course.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Ou Jinghe fell silent for a moment: “Give me some time to prepare myself.”
“You’re not asking for time to draft a prenuptial agreement, are you?”
Ou Jinghe’s expression darkened: “Why do you always say such hurtful things?”
Both fell silent, staring at their phone screens for a long time. Having been married, hurt, and now in love again, these two wounded birds sat together, their feathers brushing against each other like wary grass amidst a battlefield. After a half-hour cold war, Zheng Zeyan spoke: “I want to hear you sing.”
“Apologize first.”
“What did I do wrong?”
“You angered me. Do I need to replay everything for you?” Seeing Zheng Zeyan’s chapped lips, she softened and didn’t sing. Instead, she pulled out her phone and played a song:
“Without hesitation, without effort,
You reap where you haven’t sown.
Love so shallow, afraid of dreams too long,
Thrill-seeking leaves me fragile…”
“What song is this?”
“Faye Wong’s Love Life .”
“You seem to really like Faye Wong.”
“Are you trying to say I’m showing my age?”
Zheng Zeyan turned his head away: “Ou Jinghe, I’m speaking sincerely. I’m not arguing with you, so don’t be so hostile. I invited you to live here before, but you insisted on renting the place below Jian Zhaowen’s. I truly don’t understand what we’re fighting about.”
Ou Jinghe leaned against Zheng Zeyan, her arms around his shoulders, unable to voice her thoughts. She had once considered moving in together and hiring a housekeeper to clean, only to discover subtle traces of others—different lengths and colors of hair, dust, and cat fur hiding in the corners of the room. Behind the cabinets, she even found a used condom. The housekeeper didn’t say anything, but Ou Jinghe’s face burned with embarrassment. It wasn’t easy for anyone to fully accept another person’s past. Human nature couldn’t withstand such tests, and she lacked the confidence to completely reform Zheng Zeyan. She lightly tapped his face with her finger: “When you said you wanted to marry me, were you serious?”
He didn’t respond, and the sick man fell asleep quickly.
Her phone lit up in the darkness, and an unusual smile flickered across Ou Jinghe’s face. She typed out a message, then deleted it. On the other end of the screen was—Gao Yuan.
After their divorce, Gao Yuan surprisingly enjoyed chatting with her. Initially, she wanted nothing more to do with him and blocked him immediately after receiving the mediation document, fearing that his undisclosed debts might implicate her. But she kept him in her contacts just in case. Corporate debts were uncollectible, and more companies were defaulting on loans, turning into deadbeats. Gao Yuan’s situation grew increasingly dire. Occasionally, when he came to complain, Ou Jinghe felt a pang of pity. After all, they had once stood together at the peak as a married couple.
And yet, the same Gao Yuan who had subjected her to cold violence now persisted in sending her goodnight messages every day. Ou Jinghe initially ignored him, but after a month of continuous messages, he suddenly stopped for a day. Unable to resist, she asked: “Hey, are you still alive?”
She always fell for it too easily.
Tonight’s conversation began with Gao Yuan’s sudden accusation: “You’re too ruthless.” With no one else to talk to as Zheng Zeyan slept, she couldn’t help but reply: “How am I ruthless?”
“You want to take the Bihu Tiandi apartment from me and still call that not ruthless? I’m broke now; the company isn’t profitable, and I can barely afford food.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“If I end up homeless, I’ll come looking for you.”
“Never. I won’t live there. To avoid you, I’ll rent it out.”
“What about your parents? Oh, right, someone as heartless as you wouldn’t let your lowlife parents live in such a nice place. Renting it out makes more sense. Chatting with me late at night—won’t your little puppy get jealous?”
Ou Jinghe ended the conversation: “Go die. I’m going to sleep.”
“We’ve got the mediation document, but the house hasn’t been transferred yet, so technically, we’re not divorced… Legally, you still owe me your companionship.”
“If you’d said this a few years ago, we wouldn’t even need a divorce. Stop replying to me. My little puppy is calling me to bed.”
After saying this, Ou Jinghe realized she was smiling. The man she despised seemed to have gained a hint of allure at night. Without the thick veil of marriage, the possibility of squeezing a bit more money out of him inexplicably excited her. Especially now, with the person she loved lying innocently beside her.
But none of this would she ever let anyone around her know.
Zheng Zeyan knew Ou Jinghe often suffered from insomnia. More precisely, since she moved in, the desk lamp behind her had become a nuisance. After work, he wanted nothing more than to sleep in peace, but the light and the sound of flipping pages woke him up. Even the slightest noise made him irritable. In his dreams, the dim yellow light became a scorching sun overhead, and the thin pages of books turned into walls on the verge of collapse. When he was awake, he could see the glass-like material of the wardrobe and Ou Jinghe’s expression as she played with her phone. The sound of flipping pages acted as a kind of reassurance, while the way she held her phone so intently revealed her true focus.
Thinking of her holding her phone late at night, Zheng Zeyan spoke: “That book by your bedside—you’ve been reading it for half a month and still haven’t finished?”
“I read slowly. I always have to go back and reread things—after all, I’m older now, and my mind isn’t as sharp.”
Without prying further, Zheng Zeyan still caught sight of her chat partner when she went to the kitchen to fetch milk—it was Gao Yuan. Her chat window was left open, seemingly without any attempt to hide it from him. The content revolved around small loans issued on P2P platforms, which were now unrecoverable. His WeChat was flooded with debt collection messages daily. Ou Jinghe didn’t fall for his sob stories; she cursed freely and spoke in dialects he pretended not to understand, openly admitting that she, too, was broke. But she couldn’t resist venting to him, suggesting that perhaps she should have taken the 20 million instead of the house. Now, the house generated monthly rental income of 30,000 to 40,000 yuan, but it wasn’t enough to cover her beauty expenses.
“Let your little puppy pay for you. Aren’t you best at getting money from men?”
“I’m not that heartless. If I’m going to do it, I’ll wait until after marriage. But because I love him, I actually feel a bit motivated to be independent. If I can make a living on my own, I’ll find a job.”
“Oh, so you’ve finally achieved gender equality.”
“Not quite. Work is exhausting, and the content of my job is filled with negativity—I help counsel people who are emotionally wounded. I’m on the verge of depression—but I can’t tell him that. He works hard enough already.”
“I thought your depression was just an act to fool me.”
“How cruel. Based on your cold-heartedness, I should pray to the heavens that you don’t get a single penny.”
Ou Jinghe went into the bedroom to change, and Zheng Zeyan calmly scrolled through several screens of their conversation, quietly waiting for the screen to go dark. His heart stirred slightly, but not too much. Ou Jinghe’s emotions swung between extremes—gentle and empathetic toward friends like Gao Yuan, yet capable of delivering the harshest curses when provoked. She was brutally honest; he, too, lacked moral boundaries, treating women like seaweed or rocks beneath his feet. There was no accidental tenderness, only carefully calculated warmth. Being partners meant walking slowly through a long tunnel of time, and love meant instinctively loving each other despite seeing the darkest sides of one another.
The woman emerged from the bedroom wearing an emerald green satin dress, her smile tinged with sadness: “Maybe I’ve reached the age where I shouldn’t fight time and gravity anymore. Crow’s feet have appeared at the corners of my eyes. But lately, I’ve grown tired of beauty treatments. Keeping my face stiff and immobile affects my liveliness.”
“Exactly,” Zheng Zeyan’s tone softened. “Maybe you should give up those figure-hugging dresses. Striking poses is tiring. Wearing T-shirts and jeans won’t make you look less valuable.”
She glared at him: “I’m no longer someone obsessed with class distinctions.”
“Right. Saying that yourself doesn’t make you immune to biting your tongue.” Zheng Zeyan, pretending ignorance as he cleared the dishes, casually asked: “How’s work going?”
“After Jian Zhaowen and Lei Zheng split, Jian’s been struggling with investors. Psychological counseling is burning through money. The new investors seem eager to cut this part of the business. Jian allocated some funds to promote the official account, hoping to keep DayNight’s operations running.”
“And you? As the coordinator, you must be under a lot of pressure.”
“What do you think? Colleagues working with me either smoke heavily or gain weight. Those who can’t handle it quit. And I’m their leader and sister figure—even if I’m exhausted inside, I can’t show it. Helping others overcome psychological trauma has great ‘meaning,’ but behind it lies immense exhaustion. The number of people we can help pales in comparison to those in need. All we can do is save one person at a time.” Ou Jinghe sighed as she sat on the stool: “When I think about it, I want to drink. You might not believe me, but the comment section of DayNight is like countless furnaces. Several times, I’ve considered selling my house to help them fight legal battles because, compared to them, all the suffering I’ve endured seems insignificant. Those girls raped by their foster fathers won’t win in court, but their lives are already ruined. Teachers from the mountainous regions contacted us—an entire class of girls is disappearing. By the time they’re teenagers, after being forced to take care of younger brothers, they’re sold off for dowries. When some people’s prosperity comes at the expense of others’ freedom, you realize that life truly isn’t fair.”
“Well done. You’re no longer the woman who’s detached from reality.”
The woman behind him suddenly asked: “Zheng Zeyan, do you have your household registration book?”
“What for? Are you checking my residence status?”
“You called me your fiancée before. Let’s go get our marriage certificate.” Ou Jinghe smiled: “My registered address changed after marriage to the Bihu Tiandi apartment. Even after the divorce, it’s still there. This is probably the only benefit I got from this divorce.”
What a woman with unpredictable character. Zheng Zeyan thought to himself, but aloud, he replied: “Alright.”
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