MC - Chapter 26

The shop was short-staffed, and Shen Mingjin still needed to go to the café in the afternoon. Before leaving, he asked Zhang Rufan if she needed a ride back to Binhu District.

After the meal, Zhang Zitong grew drowsy and dozed off on the sofa. Zhang Rufan wanted to let her nap before heading back, so she didn’t trouble Shen Mingjin.

She walked him to the door, reminding him to drive carefully.

Shen Mingjin stood outside, looking at Zhang Rufan in silence for a moment before finally waving his hand in farewell and leaving.

Zhang Rufan watched him until his figure disappeared around the corner before snapping out of her thoughts.

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she felt that Shen Mingjin’s mood had turned somber after seeing the letter tucked in the book. At the time, he didn’t ask further—just muttered self-deprecatingly, “The handwriting’s ugly,” then slipped the letter back into the book and returned it to her.

Zhang Rufan couldn’t guess Shen Mingjin’s thoughts. Maybe he recalled the past misunderstanding and found it absurd, or perhaps he regretted that she hadn’t seen his letter back then, or maybe he regretted his actions at the time.

The last possibility unsettled her deeply.

With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Zhang Rufan felt restless. Throughout the afternoon, while Zhang Zitong slept soundly, she lay beside her, wide awake, replaying the desolate expression on Shen Mingjin’s face when he left.

Having suffered insomnia the previous night, Zhang Rufan was mentally exhausted yet unable to sleep. Lying idle was unbearable, so she got up, tucked Zhang Zitong in, and quietly left the room.

She went to the kitchen to boil water, then filled Zhang Zitong’s thermos once it had cooled slightly. This thermos was the only trace of Zhang Shengyi’s parenting she had observed in Zhang Zitong so far.

Long naps weren’t healthy, so Zhang Rufan woke Zhang Zitong on schedule. After helping her dress, she dampened a face towel and wiped her face.

Refreshed from her nap, Zhang Zitong was full of energy upon waking. Her first question was, “Where’s big brother?”

Zhang Rufan paused mid-motion. “He went to work,” she replied.

Zhang Zitong’s eyes lit up with excitement. “He went to fight monsters again!”

“No, he went to the café.”

“Big brother is a superhero!”

“No, he’s a barista.”

“Big brother can do magic!” As if to prove her point, Zhang Zitong eagerly pulled a small twist snack from her pocket and held it up. “He made this appear!”

Zhang Rufan didn’t deny it but patiently clarified, “That’s a magic trick, not real magic. There’s no magic in this world.”

She’d merely stated a fact, yet Zhang Zitong suddenly burst into loud, heartbroken sobs, tears streaming down her face.

Startled and confused by the sudden outburst, Zhang Rufan froze, then helplessly wiped her face with the towel, unsure how to comfort her.

“Don’t cry,” she said stiffly.

But Zhang Zitong’s tears continued to flow unchecked.

Recalling how Shen Mingjin had comforted the child earlier, Zhang Rufan wished she knew magic tricks too. All she could do was repeatedly wipe Zhang Zitong’s tears until, exhausted from crying, the girl slumped on the sofa, sniffling unhappily.

She poured Zhang Zitong some warm water and coaxed her to drink, then packed their belongings to head home. As she gathered the scattered colored pencils and organized the sketchbook, she paused at the drawing Zhang Zitong and Shen Mingjin had made together that afternoon.

The drawing depicted a man confronting an ugly monster, with two girls—one tall, one short—standing behind him.

The meaning was obvious at a glance. Zhang Rufan seemed to understand why Zhang Zitong had cried, yet still found it perplexing. To her, she’d simply stated a fact—one the child would eventually accept, even if unwilling to now.

With their belongings packed, they left Jinghua Garden. Zhang Zitong remained sullen during the ride back to Binhu District, asking no questions and staying silent the whole way.

At home, Li Huishu greeted them. Noticing Zhang Zitong’s red eyes, she asked what was wrong.

“I think I upset her,” Zhang Rufan said.

“Oh, she’s just being childish—throws a tantrum at the slightest thing. Don’t take it to heart, Xiaofan.” Li Huishu reassured Zhang Rufan before taking Zhang Zitong’s hand and patting her head. “Let me cheer her up. She’ll be fine soon.”

Li Huishu led Zhang Zitong to the children’s room. With a quiet sigh, Zhang Rufan headed to the living room, where Zhang Shengyi was reading a newspaper. She turned to retreat to her room.

“Your aunt sent you some packages. I collected them for you,” Zhang Shengyi suddenly spoke up.

She stopped and looked at the coffee table, where several parcels indeed sat.

Her aunt had asked for her rental address recently. Guessing she wanted to send clothes or skincare products again, Zhang Rufan hadn’t provided the Jinghua Garden address, hoping to dissuade her from spending. Yet her aunt had found a way to send them home instead.

As she bent to pick up the packages, Zhang Shengyi spoke again: “Your aunt mentioned you’re overseeing an event at your company?”

She paused briefly before replying, “Yes.”

“Getting used to the new company?” He folded the newspaper aside.

Surprised by his concern—and sensing he had more to say—she sat on the sofa and answered, “It’s good.”

“Does the company have a cafeteria?”

“No,” she said, “but there’s a partnered restaurant.”

He nodded, sipped his tea, then asked as he set the cup down, “You take the subway to work?”

She nodded.

“Take some time to practice driving again. I won’t need the family car for now—you can take it.” He pulled the car keys from his pocket and handed them to her.

“No need.” She glanced at the keys but didn’t take them, pursing her lips. “Rush hour traffic in Jinghua District is terrible.”

He insisted, “You’ll need it for work eventually—if not for commuting, then for client meetings.”

“It’ll just gather dust here. Take it with you.” He placed the keys on the table, leaving no room for refusal.

She stayed silent.

Zhang Shengyi studied her, then stood after a long pause. Before leaving, he added, “The temperature’s dropping soon. Don’t forget to buy a winter coat—Shangjing isn’t Qingcheng.”

After a moment, she picked up the keys, examined them in her palm, and sighed softly.

Zhang Shengyi remarried after she graduated middle school, and Li Huishu became her stepmother. Her three years of high school were a period of adjustment for their newly blended family.

Li Huishu wasn’t a fairytale evil stepmother—she wasn’t harsh, nor did she act differently in public and private. But having grown accustomed to a single-parent household, Zhang Rufan struggled to adapt to suddenly gaining a “mother” at sixteen, let alone later welcoming Zhang Zitong. So for university, she left Shangjing.

During her years in Qingcheng, she rarely contacted Zhang Shengyi—and likewise, he seldom reached out. While her roommates frequently called home to share campus life with their parents, she never did. Their communication was transactional: he transferred her living expenses at the start of each month, she thanked him upon receiving them, and mid-month he’d ask if the amount sufficed—to which she usually replied yes.

Though he’d taught her frugality since childhood, he’d never deprived her materially. Her university allowance arrived punctually every month, and even after graduation, he continued sending her a fixed sum despite her protests.

Her aunt once claimed Zhang Shengyi had failed as a father, but Zhang Rufan believed the opposite—he was too fixated on being one.

After her mother’s accidental death, he gave up his military dreams for her sake, leaving the army to become a low-ranking office clerk—a life he disliked.

She’d seen him drinking alone late at night, yet he never showed weakness or complained in her presence. Strict with her, he was harsher on himself, refusing to yield to life’s hardships.

He fulfilled his paternal duty to the utmost—educating, guiding, and forging her, striving with all his strength to keep her from going astray.

Until eighteen, Zhang Rufan grew up within the boundaries Zhang Shengyi had drawn. She resented him at times, but never hated him. Even if raising and teaching her had stemmed from responsibility, at the very least he had raised her into adulthood—and there was warmth between them, however faint.

She still remembered the “milk tea incident” back in her second year of high school: that very night, Zhang Shengyi had squeezed her a glass of fruit juice, and after that he made one for her every day. He cared for her in his own way, but overlooked that what she had needed then wasn’t a glass of healthy juice, but that cup of unhealthy milk tea.

Just like now—what she truly needed wasn’t the car keys in her hand.

…

In early November, a cold front swept down from the north, sending temperatures plunging. With Shangjing’s central heating not yet switched on, the indoors felt just as chilly.

After several years in Qingcheng, Zhang Rufan’s resistance to cold had toughened; this kind of weather no longer made her shiver.

On Monday, she left for work on time and, as usual, stopped by Culture Street after exiting the subway. At Jindu, she was surprised not to see Shen Mingjin. When she asked, Xiao Mu told her he hadn’t come in that morning.

She was a little taken aback. Having grown used to Shen Mingjin being there every morning, she had forgotten what Xiao Mu had mentioned earlier—that he didn’t always arrive at the same time.

After clocking in at the office, she sat at her workstation, staring blankly at the coffee on her desk. Pulling out her phone, she opened her chat with Shen Mingjin. As always, she had wished him goodnight the night before, and as always, he had replied.

Everything seemed unchanged, yet a faint unease lingered in her heart.

Gazing at her phone for a few seconds, she typed and sent him a “Good morning.”

Before long, he replied with a single word: “Morning.” He didn’t ask, as usual, whether she had eaten breakfast, didn’t tell her about the day’s weather, didn’t share a picture of his first cup of coffee.

Her heart tightened. Instinct told her that ever since he had read that letter yesterday at noon, something had gone wrong between them—but no matter how she turned it over in her mind, she couldn’t figure out what the mistake was.

She hesitated, wondering whether to send another message—anything, just to keep talking. But just as her fingers touched the keyboard, Yuan Shuang called her to the morning meeting.

Zhang Rufan had no choice but to put her phone away.

The “Coffee Market” was set to launch that month. As the main person in charge, her workload was heavy. At the meeting she reported the event’s preparations to Liu Pinyuan, and afterward was brought along to meet other department heads.

By the time the discussions wrapped up, it was already noon. When Yuan Shuang asked her to join for lunch, she thought for a moment, then said she needed to stop by Jindu. Assuming it was work-related, Yuan Shuang readily offered to pack a meal for her.

Leaving the office, Zhang Rufan headed straight to Jindu, only to be disappointed again. Xiao Mu, seeing her arrive, explained that Shen Mingjin had gone out to purchase coffee beans and wouldn’t be coming to the café today.

Coffee beans have a short window of peak freshness, and with the café’s high usage, frequent restocking was essential. Shen Mingjin’s standards for bean quality were exacting, so every time he personally went to familiar roasters to select them.

Though Xiao Mu’s explanation made sense—that Shen Mingjin often skipped the café—the heavy stone in her chest still wouldn’t settle.

After work she stopped by again, only to find him absent. She thought about sending a message, but worried it might be ill-timed—or worse, that he simply didn’t want to hear from her.

Uneasy, Zhang Rufan returned to Jinghua Garden. While waiting for the elevator, she kept her head bent over her phone, debating whether to reach out. Just as she wavered, the doors slid open.

She looked up—and froze.

On a day when most were bundled in thick coats, Shen Mingjin stood inside dressed lightly: a sweatband across his forehead, a white basketball jersey, bare arms and legs that made his tall frame seem even longer.

Even someone like Zhang Rufan, resistant to cold, shivered at the sight. He, however, seemed oblivious, sweat still rolling down his neck.

Shifting the basketball to his other hand, he pressed the door-open button and looked at her. “Not coming in?”

Startled back to herself, she hurried inside. Once the doors closed, she couldn’t hold back: “You went to play basketball?”

“Mm.”

“Your leg…”

“Regular exercise is fine.” His tone was even.

When she lifted her eyes, he quickly looked away.

Her heart felt suspended, just like last month when they had first reunited—when she never knew what to say, uncertain of his attitude.

“You didn’t go to the café today.”

“Oh, I went to buy beans.”

The same as Xiao Mu had said. Still, she suspected there was more to it. After a pause, she gathered her courage: “Are you avoid—”

Before she could finish, the elevator lights cut out. With a harsh clang, the car jolted.

She felt herself drop, unbalanced—until a hand grabbed hers, pulling her into the corner.

The elevator had only lurched, not fallen. Protecting her, Shen Mingjin held on until he was sure it had stopped, then slowly released her hand and switched on his phone’s flashlight.

His first glance was at Zhang Rufan. Her expression was steady enough, but the tension in her body was clear.

“It’s okay. The elevator’s stopped.”

She exhaled and nodded.

Turning, he pressed the emergency call button. Within seconds a staff member answered, asking for details. After he explained, they were told repair workers were already on their way and they just needed to wait.

The cabin went quiet. Shen Mingjin turned back to see her leaning slightly against the corner. “The repair crew will be here soon,” he reassured.

“Okay.” Having regained her composure, she knew that a stalled elevator, at least, posed no immediate danger.

With the cabin lights out, the only glow came from his phone. He angled it toward her feet, leaving his own face in shadow.

Zhang Rufan gazed at him, remembering how, in that split second of crisis, he had shielded her without hesitation.

Another gesture of gentlemanly courtesy?

“Shen Mingjin.” She pressed her lips together, calling his name.

“Yeah?”

Looking at his backlit figure, she asked, “That letter… do you regret writing it to me in high school?”

He lifted the light slightly, setting it at just the right height to see her face clearly without the beam stinging her eyes.

“No.” He answered first, then asked, “Why bring it up now?”

“You seemed… upset after you saw it yesterday,” she probed.

Her perceptiveness caught him off guard. “I just…”

He couldn’t name the feeling—only a groundless, restless anxiety. Like crossing a river and suddenly realizing the bridge beneath his feet was nothing but imagination.

Meeting her gaze, Shen Mingjin decided to step down on that bridge, to test whether it was real.

By the glow of his phone, he asked, “Was it because of that letter that you reached out to me?”

She didn’t deny it. The letter had indeed been the trigger.

His chest tightened. “If it had been Du Sheng who wrote it, would you have sought him out too?”

She hesitated.

In those few seconds, it felt as if he plunged straight into the river, ice-cold water shocking him awake.

He understood now. What drew her wasn’t the writer, but the letter itself.

She had never once expressed clear affection for him. Maybe, Shen Mingjin thought, he had misled her all along.

Silence thickened in the cabin. With his face obscured, she couldn’t read his thoughts. The atmosphere felt off, yet no matter how she searched, she couldn’t grasp the crucial thread.

Just then, someone rapped on the elevator door from outside. “Anyone in there?”

“Yes,” Shen Mingjin immediately replied.

After a brief exchange with the maintenance worker, the doors finally slid open.

Retrieving his basketball, Shen Mingjin gestured to Zhang Rufan. “Let’s go.”

Cold air surged outside the elevator. He hadn’t noticed the chill while trapped earlier, but now it made him shiver.

Other elevators were still in service. Worried the malfunction might leave her uneasy, he asked, “Want to take the stairs?”

Seeing how lightly dressed he was, she shook her head and pressed for another elevator.

He let her decision stand and followed when the doors opened.

Once inside, neither spoke. No one mentioned what had just happened.

They had been stuck on the eighth floor; this time, the car rose swiftly without interruption and soon reached the twentieth.

When the doors opened, he stepped out, cradling the ball. Only then did she snap out of her tangled thoughts and lift her gaze to him.

Turning, Shen Mingjin said, “See you.”

Zhang Rufan curled her fingers slightly, glanced at his bare arms, and nodded in return.

As the doors slid shut, he instinctively moved to press the button to reopen them, hesitated, then let his hand fall with a self-mocking smile.

Perhaps his earlier question had made her realize it—she hadn’t been pursuing him with genuine intent.

…

Back at his apartment, Shen Mingjin showered first.

He had been out the entire day. By evening, feeling restless, he accepted a friend’s invitation to play basketball. His fierce play wore them out quickly, and fearing his old injury might flare up, they called the game short.

In the past, sweating it out on the court always helped him shake off bad moods. But tonight, no matter how hard he pushed himself, exhaustion brought no relief; a heaviness still pressed against his chest.

He had thought to give himself time to cool down—yet running into Zhang Rufan afterward, just a few words from her dragged him straight into the abyss, leaving no room for self-persuasion.

Hot water streamed over him. Wiping his face, he wondered if he was being overly dramatic, chasing circles around a single thought.

Even if she had approached him only because of that letter, what of it? He was the one who had written it—not Du Sheng, not anyone else. Love wasn’t like coffee, where one had to distinguish washed beans from sun-dried, dark roast from light. If she was willing to come closer, why scrutinize it so much?

He told himself that, yet the frustration lingered.

Maybe people were simply greedy in love—wanting more once they already had some. He was no different.

After his shower, he dropped onto the sofa. A sleepless night before, a full day out, and a strenuous game had finally caught up with him, leaving him spent.

He lay there, thoughts scattered in all directions, until eventually he drifted off.

He had no idea how long he slept. When he woke again, his throat was parched, his head dizzy, his body weak—alternating between chills and fever.

They say that when healthy people finally fall ill, it hits hard. Shen Mingjin couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been sick. He’d always been robust and had never kept medicine at home.

With effort, he rolled over, reached for his phone on the table, and lit up the screen: 10 p.m.

He hadn’t expected to sleep that long.

Staring at the ceiling, he listened. The floor above was silent—no sign of movement. Was Zhang Rufan already asleep?

Acting on impulse, he opened WeChat and typed: Got any cold medicine?

Maybe sickness made him feel vulnerable, or maybe it was just a pretext to let himself be weak.

He stared at his phone until “typing…” appeared. Soon, her reply came: You’re sick?

Seems so, he wrote back.

She seemed to type, erase, then finally sent: Drink some hot water.

Despite everything, the corners of his mouth lifted.

That was so very Zhang Rufan.

Before, he might have guided her, telling her how one should act when pursuing someone. But now—whether from physical weariness or emotional fatigue—he had no energy left.

He set the phone on his chest, closed his eyes, and drifted off again. Half-asleep, half-dreaming, he thought he heard the doorbell.

His brow furrowed. When he opened his eyes, it felt dreamlike.

The bell kept ringing, distant and unreal like a call from ages past. Dazed, he pushed himself up, phone slipping unnoticed to the floor, and stumbled to the door.

When he opened it, Zhang Rufan’s anxious face was right there before him.

1. 咖啡师 (kāfēishī) – Barista; a person who prepares and serves coffee professionally.

2. 魔术 (móshù) – Magic tricks (as opposed to supernatural "魔法 (mófǎ)").

3. 保温瓶 (bǎowēnpíng) – Thermos; a vacuum flask used to keep liquids hot or cold.

4. 咖啡集市 (kāfēi jíshì) – "Coffee Market," the event Zhang Rufan is organizing at her company.

5. 烘焙商 (hōngbèi shāng) – Coffee bean roaster; a supplier specializing in roasted coffee beans.

6. 止汗发带 (zhǐhàn fàdài) – Sweatband; a band worn to absorb sweat during exercise.

7. 篮球服 (lánqiúfú) – Basketball jersey; the uniform worn for playing basketball.

8. 感冒药 (gǎnmào yào) – Cold medicine; medication for treating cold or flu symptoms.

Characters

章入凡 (Zhāng Rùfán) – The protagonist.

沈明津 (Shěn Míngjīn) – A former classmate who wrote Zhang Rufan a love letter in high school, in her copy of Anne of Green Gables.

章胜义 (Zhāng Shèngyì) – Zhang Rufan’s father. 

李惠淑 (Lǐ Huìshū) – Zhang Rufan’s stepmother ("惠姨 Huìyí").

章梓橦 (Zhāng Zǐtóng) – Rufan’s much younger half-sister (~18 years age gap). 

章胜嫔 (Zhāng Shèngpín) – Rufan’s aunt (father’s sister). 

程怡 (Chéng Yí) – Rufan’s close friend from middle school. 

谢易韦 (Xiè Yìwéi) – High school class monitor who is getting married, prompting the reunion.

杜升 (Dù Shēng) – Someone Zhang Rufan didn't want to add as a friend on WeChat at first.

刘品媛 (Liú Pǐnyuán) – The planning department manager at OW.

孙璐 (Sūn Lù) – Zhang Rufan’s direct supervisor at OW, who goes by "Sister Lu" (璐姐, Lù Jiě).

袁霜 (Yuán Shuāng) – A friendly coworker in the planning department.

周慈 (Zhōu Cí) – Shen Mingjin’s mother

Sevyn here ~~~

Exploring more of her childhood and understanding her family relationship 😭