Chapter 030: New Year's Eve

In the blink of an eye, it was New Year's Eve.

Jiang Yao spent the entire morning cleaning the house from top to bottom.

In the afternoon, Ye Yiyi returned, her hands full of goods for the New Year.

She grinned at Jiang Yao, her laughter light and careless. “A Yao, it’s you and me again for the New Year.”

Jiang Yao took the bags from her. “Isn’t it always just the two of us?”

Ye Yiyi had grown up without a father, and since her mother passed away, this was already the sixth New Year she and Jiang Yao would spend together.

“A Yao, A Yao, I want to eat the sticky bean buns you steam,” she whined, her face drawing close, acting spoiled. “Yours are the best in the world.”

Jiang Yao washed her hands and tapped Ye Yiyi lightly on the cheek with her finger. “There’ll be more than just sticky bean buns this year—I've made little meatballs too, and your favorite, dumplings with three-delicacy filling.”

“I love those dumplings too!” Suddenly, a clear male voice called out.

Both Jiang Yao and Ye Yiyi turned toward the sound.

Cheng Yanchi stood at the door, waving, his arms laden with more New Year’s goods.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Yao asked, a little puzzled.

Cheng Yanchi was different from them—he had a family, a happy, complete one. At this time, he should have been at home, celebrating with them.

“Why shouldn’t I come?” Cheng Yanchi strode over gracefully, setting his load down before Jiang Yao. “My family arranged a blind date for me with some woman. I couldn’t stand it, so I slipped away. But I can’t stay long—after dumplings tonight, I’ll head back.”

“What kind of woman? Is she pretty?” Ye Yiyi’s eyes sparkled with gossip.

“She’s pretty, but not my type,” Cheng Yanchi replied with a rebellious arch of his brow.

“Your type? I thought you only liked video games,” Jiang Yao teased.

“Says who? I have someone I like too, you know!”

“Then tell us, what kind of person do you like?”

Cheng Yanchi fell silent.

He shot a glare at the two gossipmongers, then turned to hang spring couplets and lanterns.

Ye Yiyi nudged Jiang Yao with her elbow. “What’s with him?”

Jiang Yao shook her head.

“Let’s forget him,” Ye Yiyi said, her eyes shining with excitement. “A Yao, tonight I want to watch the New Year’s Gala.”

“Haven’t you always thought it was boring? You never watch it.”

Ye Yiyi waved her hand dismissively. “This year’s different. He Yunqing will perform! Though he’s on late, I have to stay awake until he sings!”

Ye Yiyi, in the end, didn’t stay awake for He Yunqing’s performance.

After dinner, Jiang Yao and Ye Yiyi settled in front of the television, leaning against each other, and before they knew it, both drifted off to sleep.

Cheng Yanchi sat beside them, flipping through the channels out of boredom. He glanced at Ye Yiyi, frowning—she was a beauty, but her sleeping posture left much to be desired.

Then he looked over at Jiang Yao, who was frowning slightly even in her sleep. He wondered if she was having another bad dream. After a moment, he gently draped a blanket over Jiang Yao, then watched her sleeping face quietly, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

He leaned down, drawing closer, his lips almost brushing Jiang Yao’s cheek. He lingered there for a moment, then straightened, the smile fading from his lips, his clear eyes tinged with a trace of melancholy.

Jiang Yao didn’t know how long she slept, but when she woke, the New Year’s Gala was still playing on the TV.

Ye Yiyi was sound asleep beside her, lost in dreams and showing no sign of waking. Jiang Yao smiled helplessly, glanced at the blanket on her body, then tucked it over Ye Yiyi instead.

On her phone, a single message from Cheng Yanchi lay waiting: “Gone.”

Jiang Yao rubbed her eyes, grabbed a beer from the coffee table, and took a sip. When she looked up again, He Yunqing appeared on the television screen.

Clad in white, the man looked as if he had stepped out of an ink wash painting—eyebrows like distant mountains, strikingly handsome. The moment he began to sing, the notes conjured up vast mountains and flowing waters, a land of peace and prosperity.

Jiang Yao was transfixed. Seeing He Yunqing like this on TV always felt unreal to her.

When the program ended, Jiang Yao checked the time. It was already past midnight.

Yet she was no longer sleepy.

After some thought, she put on a coat and took a car to Huai’an Hospital.

Aunt Qin and Chen Shu were still there. She wondered how they were spending the New Year.

Patients don’t stop being sick just because it’s New Year’s. The corridors of Huai’an Hospital were still full of people coming and going.

As usual, Jiang Yao didn’t enter the ward to see Chen Shu. Instead, she stood at the doorway from afar, then quietly took a thick brown envelope from her backpack and slipped it through the crack of the door.

Aunt Qin had been caring for Chen Shu, and their snack shop hadn’t opened for quite some time. They must need money desperately now.

After leaving the money, Jiang Yao turned around—and as she expected, saw her mother once again.

Her mother just looked at her without a word, set the lunchbox she was carrying on a chair, and then turned away, her steps unsteady.

Jiang Yao watched that retreating figure and felt her mother had aged so much.

She said nothing more, just went over and gently picked up the lunchbox.

On the hospital rooftop, Jiang Yao opened it.

Inside were dumplings stuffed with a three-delicacy filling.

Ye Yiyi always said Jiang Yao’s dumplings were the best in the world.

But that was because she had never tasted Jiang Yao’s mother’s dumplings.

Her mother’s dumplings used to be Jiang Yao’s favorite.

Staring at them, Jiang Yao bit her lip hard, picked one up with her hand, and popped it into her mouth.

The familiar taste—it had been so many years.

Just one, and tears welled in Jiang Yao’s eyes.

Her tears fell onto the dumplings in the lunchbox. She picked up another and ate it.

Delicious and bitter at once.

Jiang Yao couldn’t tell what she was feeling at that moment.

She longed to be a child again, held in her mother’s arms, breathing in the faint, clean scent of laundry powder on her.

But deep down, a voice reminded her that she couldn’t forgive, that she shouldn’t forgive.

Standing alone in the cold wind of the night, Jiang Yao’s face was soon streaked with tears.

“What are you doing here, crying all by yourself?” a deep, magnetic male voice came from behind.

Jiang Yao started, hastily wiping her tears, and turned around.

He Yunqing was standing not far away, hands in his pockets, his cool eyes fixed quietly on her.

Jiang Yao was truly caught off guard. She had made a point of finding a deserted place, thinking that no one would see her cry here.

But somehow, He Yunqing had found her.

She sniffled. “Didn’t you just perform at the New Year’s Gala?”