She wouldn’t even listen to her wishes.
Xie Qingyi let out a soft sigh, finally resigning herself to her current situation.
But when the faint aroma drifting from the living room reached her, she knew Jiang Lai was preparing breakfast.
Xie Qingyi sighed again and chose to make one last attempt.
“Could I at least have breakfast before I leave? I’d like to say goodbye to Jiang Lai, if that’s alright? But don’t worry—I’ll only say that I’m the one who wants to leave.”
Shen Ruxue looked at the cautious hope flickering in Xie Qingyi’s eyes, her fingertips pausing briefly on the edge of the table before she finally nodded.
“Fine. There’s no harm in leaving after breakfast.”
She hadn’t promised too much, but she’d still given the other woman a final shred of dignity—at least she wouldn’t have to leave in the awkwardness of an empty stomach.
If she chased her away even in this situation, that would be far too cold-hearted.
Hearing this, Xie Qingyi’s tense shoulders finally relaxed completely, as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted.
She murmured a soft “thank you,” her voice still carrying traces of hoarseness.
When the two walked out of the room, the aroma from the kitchen had already drifted into the living room.
Jiang Lai stood at the stove stirring pumpkin porridge.
The milky-white liquid bubbled and gurgled in the clay pot, the rising steam blurring her profile.
Chi Yingyu was peeling eggs beside her, a few bits of shell dust clinging to her fingertips.
Seeing them emerge, she immediately looked up and smiled.
“Perfect timing—the porridge is almost ready. Want to sit down first?”
She’d originally wanted to address her directly as Sister, but glancing at the stranger beside her own sister, she changed her wording instead.
Xie Qingyi’s steps faltered as she looked at the vivid scene before her, and suddenly her nose stung.
Jiang Lai turned around, still holding the stirring spoon, warmth in her eyes.
“You’re awake? I made some porridge. If you don’t mind, we can eat together in a bit.”
Xie Qingyi gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and sat down at the dining table, her gaze resting on Jiang Lai.
“Mhm… thank you.”
Back when Jiang Lai used to cook for Shen Ruxue at her home, she’d always set aside an extra portion for Xie Qingyi too.
Jiang Lai was an excellent cook, though she rarely got to taste her food these days.
Today was a return to that familiar flavor after a long time—but it might also be the last.
Soon, the pumpkin porridge was ladled into bowls, with eggs peeled by Chi Yingyu set on the side.
As she ate breakfast, Xie Qingyi’s fingertips brushed against the warm egg white, and a wave of bitterness suddenly surged in her chest.
Because if nothing unexpected happened, this really was the last time…
During the meal, Jiang Lai noticed she was eating a bit slowly and assumed she was just being shy, so she smiled and said:
“Is it not to your taste? If you don’t like it, I can make you something else in a bit.”
As she spoke, she was already mentally listing what other food was in the house, her tenderness so natural it seemed carved into her bones.
“No, I do like it. It’s really good.”
Xie Qingyi looked up at Jiang Lai and suddenly felt her throat tighten.
She wanted to say something—like she was leaving—but the words got stuck no matter how hard she tried to push them out.
In the end, she managed to say them anyway.
“It’s nothing… I was just thinking about what time I should book my ticket…”
“You’re heading back that soon?”
“No, I was thinking of going somewhere else to clear my head.”
Jiang Lai’s spoon paused, tiny ripples spreading across the porridge in her bowl.
She saw the sorrow that Xie Qingyi couldn’t quite hide beneath her eyes, set down her spoon, and softened her voice further.
“Clearing your head is good. Staying cooped up in one place too long makes it easy to get stuck in a rut.”
She continued:
“Mhm, I want to find a quiet place for a few days, look at the scenery, and sort out my thoughts while I’m at it.”
Xie Qingyi tightened her grip on her chopsticks and nodded.
She didn’t say she’d been “advised” to leave, nor did she mention the bitterness in her heart.
She just followed Jiang Lai’s lead in the conversation.
Meanwhile, Shen Ruxue and Chi Yingyu sat across from them, quietly drinking their porridge, their gazes occasionally sweeping over the two but never interjecting.
Some dignity had to be preserved for the final moment of parting.
Breakfast ended quickly.
Xie Qingyi hadn’t brought much with her to begin with, but before she left, Jiang Lai still packed a small bag for her, stuffing in some snacks for the road.
After all, the porridge from this morning wouldn’t hold anyone over—it could barely fill the stomach.
Xie Qingyi stood in place, watching Jiang Lai bustle around for her, and suddenly felt her eyes grow hot.
She wanted to say something, but glancing at Shen Ruxue standing nearby, she swallowed the words back down.
Once everything was packed, Xie Qingyi took the small bag and headed alone toward the subway station.
Jiang Lai watched her solitary figure, didn’t think twice, and simply threw on a thick jacket before following her out the door.
She wouldn’t ask her to stay a few more days, but at the very least, she should see her off.
A farewell in the morning light.
When Jiang Lai chased after her in that cream-white thick jacket, Xie Qingyi was waiting for the elevator in the hallway.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned around, meeting Jiang Lai’s warm gaze head-on.
“I’ll walk you out!”
Jiang Lai hurried to her side, reached out and touched her arm.
Her fingertips met the cool fabric of her coat, and her brows furrowed slightly.
“It’s been getting colder lately. I brought you some warm packs. If you get cold, stick them on, okay?”
Xie Qingyi looked down at her thin trench coat and forced a smile.
“It’s fine. Once I walk a bit, I’ll warm up.”
She tried to change the subject.
“Why did you come out? You don’t need to see me off—I can find the subway station myself.”
“I don’t have anything to do anyway. Might as well walk you to the station.”
As she spoke, Jiang Lai stepped into the elevator with Xie Qingyi.
“Besides, it was so dark when you came yesterday. I was worried you wouldn’t know the way… Is it that you don’t want me to see you off?”
“No… it’s just that I’ll miss you a little.”
Because if nothing unexpected happened, this might be the last time the two of them would ever meet.
Once her own matters were settled, Shen Ruxue would absolutely never allow her to bother Jiang Lai again.
Shen Ruxue might act incredibly gentle and easygoing in front of Jiang Lai—like she had no temper at all, like anything could be discussed.
But in front of others, Shen Ruxue was a completely different person.
In Xie Qingyi’s impression, Shen Ruxue was someone whose word was law.
If it weren’t for Jiang Lai, Xie Qingyi might never have seen Shen Ruxue’s gentle side in her entire life, let alone receive such kind treatment now.
Her current situation was already far better than she’d ever imagined.
Xie Qingyi couldn’t think of a single thing she was unsatisfied with.
She had already received far too much.
The only thing she might long for was not being able to see Jiang Lai anymore.
On the way to the subway station, Xie Qingyi kept her eyes on Jiang Lai.
She and Jiang Lai had only ever been ships passing in the night.
If it weren’t for Shen Ruxue, they never would have crossed paths at all.
Even if they had, there was absolutely no possibility between her and Jiang Lai.
To have made it this far, she was truly already lucky enough.
But still… a little bit of her refused to accept it…
Xie Qingyi gazed at Jiang Lai’s profile, listening to her cheerfully talk about the food at the shops along the street.
She was clearly happily sharing her daily life, yet all Xie Qingyi felt was bitterness rising in her eyes like a tide that wouldn’t stop.
Until a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, carrying a faint warmth, and only then did Xie Qingyi panic belatedly.
No matter how hard she tried to hold it back, she couldn’t stop it.
She quickly turned her head away, rubbing at her eyes with her fingertips, but only felt more wetness.
At some point, tears had already streamed down her cheeks, the tip of her nose flushing red along with them.
Jiang Lai’s voice stopped mid-sentence.
Because she hadn’t heard Xie Qingyi respond in a while, she turned her head—and caught her frantically wiping her tears.
The warmth in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by pure shock.
“Qingyi?”
She stopped walking and gently tugged at Xie Qingyi’s arm, her voice dropping to its softest.
“Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong? Or… are you feeling unwell?”
Xie Qingyi shook her head, her lips moving but no words coming out.
She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, the sobs she was barely holding back would shatter completely.
So she just clutched the hem of her clothes and buried her face lower, her very breathing trembling faintly.
Jiang Lai didn’t press further.
She glanced at the empty bench by the roadside and gently guided Xie Qingyi toward it by the back.
Her movements were careful, as if handling something that might break at the slightest touch.
Once they sat down, she didn’t rush to speak.
She just unbuttoned her cream-white jacket, drew Xie Qingyi into her arms, and draped one side of the coat over her shoulder, shielding her from the morning chill.
“Cry for a bit if you need to.”
Jiang Lai’s voice was close to Xie Qingyi’s ear, carrying warm breath.
“Don’t hold it in. I’m here with you.”
The coat still carried the faint scent of Jiang Lai’s shampoo, mixed with the osmanthus fragrance in the morning air, making Xie Qingyi’s nose sting even more.
She finally couldn’t hold back.
Her shoulders began to tremble quietly.
Tears soaked into the hem of Jiang Lai’s coat, yet she didn’t dare lean in too hard.
She only clutched the other woman’s sleeve cautiously, like grasping at the last trace of warmth.
After a long while, Xie Qingyi finally spoke, her voice hoarse.
It was as light as a feather.
“I know… I’m just… a little reluctant to let go.”
“I know I shouldn’t be greedy, but I still feel like… just being able to talk to you is already enough.”
Jiang Lai’s hand patted her back gently, slow and steady, like soothing a frightened little animal.
“It’s not like we can never talk again after you’ve cleared your head.”
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
“Whenever you feel like chatting, you can always reach out to me.”
But Xie Qingyi shook her head, tears welling up again.
She knew those were just comforting words.
Shen Ruxue’s stance was so clear—how could she ever go back to bothering her?
But she didn’t say it out loud.
She didn’t dare voice any of it.
She only buried her face deeper into the hollow of Jiang Lai’s shoulder, greedily savoring this fleeting warmth.
Seeing that she didn’t want to say what was on her mind, Jiang Lai fell silent and simply held her quietly.
Until Xie Qingyi’s sobs gradually faded into occasional hitched breaths, Jiang Lai pulled a tissue from her pocket and gently wiped away the tear stains at the corners of her eyes.
“Your eyes are all swollen from crying.”
Jiang Lai laughed softly and gave her cheek a gentle pinch, a hint of concern in her voice.
“If you keep crying, by the time we reach the subway station, people will think I’ve been bullying you.”
That remark coaxed a small tug at the corners of Xie Qingyi’s mouth.
Though her eyes were still rimmed with red, a hint of a smile finally emerged.
She took the tissue, wiped her nose herself, and said quietly:
“Thank you, Jiang Lai.”
“Why are you being so polite with me now…”
Jiang Lai held Xie Qingyi tightly.
At this moment, she could more or less guess why Xie Qingyi had suddenly started crying.
Had Xiao Xue said something to her?
She hadn’t overheard their conversation, but Jiang Lai could roughly figure it out—it was probably about telling her not to stay at the house any longer.
After all, with an outsider in the house, even her own daughter had gone to bed so early yesterday and still hadn’t come out this morning.
Originally, Jiang Lai’s plan had been to let her stay a couple more days before heading back.
But since she wanted to go clear her head, Jiang Lai wouldn’t stop her, and she wouldn’t say anything more about it.
Once a decision was made, there was no need for her to change it, and no point in trying to manage it anyway.
All she needed to do now was stay with her gently until the very last moment.
At least when it ended, there would be beautiful memories left behind.
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