Chapter 24: Repeat Offender

I stared blankly at the droplets of water clinging to the freezer glass, saying nothing, my still-healing throat tightening once again.

That night, when Zhao Qinghe gripped my hand and begged me not to tell anyone about what happened, her trembling eyelashes were just as damp.

The freezer’s compressor buzzed steadily.

Yan Dong suddenly tapped on the glass with his knuckles, the cedar scent on his wrist scattering the mist lingering around Zhao Qinghe’s lashes.

“Senior, can we sample this stuff? My girl friend suspects it’s rainbow trout.”

He deliberately emphasized “girl friend,” and the silver clasp on his hoodie string swung gently, reflecting the cold blue light of the freezer onto my perpetually tense face.

“Yes, sure, I can slice a piece for you to try.”

Zhao Qinghe skillfully cut a small piece of fish and placed it onto a tasting plate, then stuck a toothpick in and handed it to Yan Dong.

Yan Dong, acting completely at ease, casually took the salmon and began eating without hesitation.

“Lin…”

Zhao Qinghe’s name badge trembled slightly in the cold air.

“After that day, I actually…”

Her expression darkened, and she gripped the kitchen knife tightly in her hand before gently setting it down.

But just like that day at the subway entrance, she ultimately said nothing.

I lowered my head too, unsure what to say.

All those polished workplace skills that normally got me through life’s messes were suddenly useless.

Yan Dong was right, I’d never had a close friend.

I had no idea how to open up and talk to someone.

“It really is rainbow trout. Tastes like crap and froze my damn cheeks. So cold.”

Yan Dong set down the tasting plate and walked over to me, reaching for my scarf.

“Don’t push it.”

I raised a hand to stop him, warning him, but Yan Dong ignored my resistance and yanked the scarf off, wrapping it around his own neck.

The moment the knitted fabric left my skin, the bruises on my throat, still healing, were exposed to the cold without any defense.

Zhao Qinghe’s eyes dimmed, and her pale lips began to tremble.

“Go eat something warm. Heat up a bit.”

As he spoke, Yan Dong was already sloppily winding my scarf around his own neck.

“Senior, sharing some oden won’t interfere with your shift, right?” he said while pushing the shopping cart toward the tasting area.

The metal wheels made a faint creaking sound as they rolled across the floor.

Zhao Qinghe hesitated for a moment, then nodded and followed us.

The lady behind the tasting counter glanced at the class monitor in her work uniform but said nothing, continuing to ladle oden into paper cups.

The rising steam from the kelp broth blurred the corners of Zhao Qinghe’s reddened eyes.

“Xiaxia…”

Zhao Qinghe suddenly shoved a warm paper cup into my hands.

The heat from the radish and chikuwa felt like it would melt right through the thin paper.

“I’m sorry.”

When she gripped my fingers tightly, her touch still carried the chill from the freezer, just like that same icy helplessness at the subway farewell.

But this time, she didn’t run away. Instead, she quietly spoke of the past hidden behind it all: “I’ve always been terrified of my parents finding out. Since I was little, they always taught me that when something goes wrong, I should look for the cause in myself.”

The warmth of the paper cup slightly warped it in her palm, and the broth trickled between her fingers, dripping onto the “Salmon Special” flyer we were using as a napkin, soaking the ink around the printed fish gills.

“In middle school, someone threw my backpack into a pond,” she said.

“My parents just said I must’ve provoked them. Otherwise, why would anyone target me?”

We moved to the empty rice and noodle aisle and sat together on an unopened box of cola.

In the steam’s haze, her expression grew faint, but in her eyes was a helplessness that made my chest tighten.

“So even if I spoke up, they’d only blame me for being dirty. I never thought it would turn out like this. Senior Qian was supposed to be my best friend. He said he’d protect me…”

Her voice grew softer and softer until she buried her face into her knees.

“That’s why I said those hurtful things to you that day, Xiaxia.”

Her choked voice was muffled in the fabric.

“Even though he had his hands around your throat too. I’m really sorry… I’m so sorry…”

I gently rubbed the spot on my throat where the phantom pain still lingered.

There should’ve been an Adam’s apple there once, but now only smooth skin remained, this mismatch felt as absurd as the moment we were in.

Wrapped in my cheap scarf, Yan Dong stood beside us, absentmindedly poking at the rice bags with a finger.

In my hair was the jasmine hair tie that belonged to him.

“This wasn’t entirely your fault,” I said slowly after thinking for a moment.

“I guess I was too rigid, speaking and acting without considering your feelings. Honestly, the best thing I should’ve done that day was…”

“Lin Yunxia, I told you you’re long-winded and you still don’t believe it,” Yan Dong interrupted bluntly, scoffing under his breath.

“But when you called me later and said if it happened again you’d still jump in, where was all this damn hesitation then?”

“Young Master, this doesn’t concern you. If…”

My words stopped short as I felt a weight on my shoulder.

Zhao Qinghe leaned gently against me, her hair brushing mine, carrying a faint, warm scent.

“Xiaxia… really… thank you.”

The tears sliding down her cheek landed in the paper cup of oden, creating tiny ripples on the kelp broth’s surface.

Just like Yan Dong said, some things don’t need to be over-explained.

With my eyes lowered, I felt the steady rhythm of her breathing gradually calm beside me, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

But then Yan Dong suddenly shoved himself between us, grabbed two skewers of teriyaki chicken from the sample tray, and stuffed them into his mouth.

The sauce dripped freely down the bamboo sticks onto the sneakers I’d end up scrubbing later.

“Apology’s done, now get back to your shift,” he said, jerking his chin toward the seafood section.

“Your manager’s already throwing daggers.”

***

On the way home from the supermarket, I kept rubbing the little strawberry hair clip that Zhao Qinghe had taken from her own head and handed to me as we parted.

She said it was a tiny thank-you for a friend, and added that she wanted to invite me to study together at the library tomorrow.

“Young Master, thank you.”

I looked at the endless asphalt road stretching ahead through the windshield and tugged up the scarf around my neck, still scented faintly with his cedar cologne.

In the rearview mirror, I could see Yan Dong’s long, defined fingers gripping the steering wheel.

It was only then I noticed he was wearing a cream-colored turtleneck sweater today, unusual for him, and it actually made him look a bit more like a proper human being compared to his usual hoodies.

“Don’t say pretty words. Show it in actions.”

“Mm. So how does Young Master want me to thank you?”

Before the words were even out, he suddenly slammed down on the accelerator.

The car shot forward like an arrow off the string, and inertia slammed my back into the leather seat.

In the rearview mirror, that familiar mocking grin spread across his face.

“I need you to save our cat.”

Startled, I instinctively gripped the seatbelt tighter and glanced at him with suspicion.

“The cat? What’s wrong with Mao Mao?”

“Nothing yet. But it might croak in a bit.”

He steered the car into the garage mid-sentence, as if that bizarre remark explained everything.

When the tires screeched to a halt, he added calmly, “Only you can save it.”

“I mean… I guess I can, but what exactly do you need me to do?”

I looked at him, baffled, having no clue what this was about.

It wasn’t until we got back to Yan Dong’s house and I saw the scene by the display shelf that my eyelid twitched uncontrollably.

On the floor by the display rack lay the shattered remains of one of Uncle Yan’s prized Song Dynasty teacups, completely destroyed.

If you told me Mao Mao had knocked it over and smashed it, I wouldn’t believe it even if you beat me to death.

“Young Master, you’re saying Mao Mao did this?”

I crouched down and picked up a warm shard of porcelain, its edge sharp enough to make my temples throb.

I couldn’t hold back a cold laugh as I looked at the guilty-faced heir beside me.

“Uncle Yan had a custom cat-proof glass cabinet. Seems like it wasn’t enough to stop his son’s sudden artistic urges.”

“Hey now, don’t go slandering me. I just got home, I don’t know anything. Anyway, Mao Mao’s fate is now in your hands.”

Thick-skinned as ever, Yan Dong pushed all the blame onto the cat without so much as a blink.

I had no words.

My lips curled coldly.

“So, how exactly does Young Master want me to explain this to Uncle Yan?”

“Just go be sweet with my dad.”

The scent of cedar drew close as he suddenly leaned in.

I could even see the fan-shaped shadows his lashes cast under his eyes.

“Say Mao Mao’s been acting up because it’s in heat, and as the temporary guardian, you’re willing to take full responsibility. That’s what model master-servant solidarity looks like, no?”

“Heh, how clean of you. You think Uncle Yan’s an idiot?”

“That’s why I need my dear little maid to step up. My dad won’t do anything to you. We’re bound to each other for twenty long years as master and servant, you’d really let me go down like this?”

Yan Dong’s shameless face really made me want to punch him right in the nose.

Of course he dragged me out the moment I arrived, he clearly had an agenda.

He’d purposely timed it to muddy the timeline of the incident.

And with his resources, tracking down where Zhao Qinghe was working wasn’t difficult, so he’d gone out of his way to show up at that supermarket.

The whole point of his elaborate act was just to shift the blame.

Being involved with someone so arrogant and utterly irresponsible was a complete betrayal of my own self-respect.

“Fine. Let’s call it payback for what you did at the supermarket. I’ll take the fall for you.”

I tossed all the broken porcelain shards into the trash bin.

The clattering noise startled the tabby cat sleeping on the carpet.

Mao Mao let out a meow and padded toward the display shelf.

“But do me a favor, Young Master, take back what you said about not having anyone to talk to.”

Yan Dong was teasing the now-fluffed-up cat with the tip of his shoe.

He looked up at me, flashing a sharp canine.

“Why? Was I wrong?”

“Of course you were.”

I stared coldly at that infuriatingly punchable face and nudged the porcelain bits at my feet with my cheap canvas shoes, lips tugging into a thin smile.

“Because standing right in front of you is a shameless repeat offender you can talk to.”

Yan Dong suddenly let out a low laugh, the vibration in his chest echoing through the empty living room.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the evening sun spilled over his face, casting a sharp line of light and shadow across the bridge of his nose.

“Lin Yunxia, I told you, we’re the model master and maid.”

…