Chapter 49
Chapter 49
A little past six in the evening, Jiang Li had already straightened up the apartment before heading out. He whipped up a fragrant plate of egg-fried rice for Kakayan, set it on the table, and reminded her to drop the empty dish in the sink—he'd wash it when he got back. There was still some rice left in the wok, but he wasn't hungry yet; he'd warm it up after the pharmacy run.
"I'm going out to buy you some medicine."
While swapping his shoes at the door, he added, "If the ice pack melts, toss it straight into the trash—don't let the water get everywhere."
Kakayan lay stretched on the sofa, chin tilted so she could watch him through her bangs. She blinked twice.
"When will you be back?"
"Should be around seven." He glanced at the wall clock.
"Oh... could you grab some snacks too?"
"No money."
"I'm a patient."
"You're a pig."
With that, he finished tying his laces and stepped outside.
...
Beyond the window, the last smear of sunset vanished, and a bright new moon climbed into the sky. Hangzhou's evenings turned dark fast—before seven the world outside was already ink-black.
In the living room, Kakayan still lay on the couch, an ice pack propped on her foot, arms flopped lazily at her sides, staring at the ceiling. With Jiang Li gone, her appetite had mysteriously disappeared. She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again—why wasn't seven o'clock here yet?
Tired of lying still, she slid to the coffee table, sat up, and gingerly opened the laptop. She pressed the power button like it might bite her.
The screen glowed. After a moment's hesitation she opened Baidu. Two index fingers stabbed the keys in rapid bursts.
[Is it normal to sprain your ankle while riding a bicycle?]
That didn't feel quite right. She deleted the line and tried again.
[How many people sprain their ankles riding bikes?]
Humans used two-wheeled contraptions every day—someone, somewhere, must have toppled just like her. Probably a lot of someones.
The search results exploded across the screen:
—Twenty injuries in one year of cycling—why?
—Ninety-nine percent of cyclists face this hidden danger.
—There's a curse: if you ride, you WILL fall.
—Shock! Experts reveal how many riders sprain ankles. Click to follow...
"So the bike is cursed... no wonder."
Her mouth parted slightly; twin reflections of the screen flickered in her eyes. After scrolling through the doom-laden headlines, she felt oddly comforted. Cycling was a dangerous sport—falling didn't make her clumsy; it merely proved she was participating in life.
She nodded, a small, satisfied curl at the corner of her lips.
Not her fault. The world's.
With no one home to overhear, she laughed out loud—two bright, unguarded peals that echoed in the empty room.
"See? Falling off a bike and twisting your ankle isn't embarrassing at all."
A glance at the clock confirmed seven had arrived, yet Jiang Li had not. She tilted her head, considered the ceiling, then typed a new query: men coming home late.
[When a man comes home late: he may be busy at work. If it's overtime, there's no need to overreact.]
Was buying medicine "overtime"? Jiang Li had explained their work like this: she was the ingredient, he was the chef. Now the ingredient was sick and the chef was out fixing the problem—surely that counted as extra hours.
Satisfied with this logic, she moved the cursor to close the tab—and spotted a related search:
—Seven things to watch out for when living with a man.
Jiang Li wasn't back yet; curiosity won. She clicked.
...
Seconds stretched. Her cheeks and ear tips ignited; steam might as well have whistled from her head. She slammed the lid shut and squeezed her eyes tight until the heat subsided.
But... had Jiang Li done any of those things with her?
Were they even "living together"?
Without hesitation she reopened Baidu.
[Cohabitation: two people in love temporarily sharing a residence; nowadays usually refers to opposite-sex couples.]
The definition glowed on the screen. Kakayan's delicate brows pinched as she prepared to dig deeper.
Then faint footsteps shuffled outside. Panic flared; she killed every window and snapped the laptop shut. Long seconds passed—no key in the lock. Only a neighbor clattering down the stairs. She exhaled.
Why was she so nervous? All she wanted was to know whether she and Jiang Li counted as housemates. And if they did... what then?
Unbidden, images from the internet blossomed in her mind. She shook her head violently, scattering the thoughts like dandelion seeds.
Seven-fifteen. Still no Jiang Li.
In the silent apartment the air felt thick. She opened the balcony's glass door and stepped outside.
Night pressed close. Leaning on the railing, she watched the far-off clusters of buildings light up, window by window—each square of warm gold a tiny captured firefly. She knew every lit pane meant a home.
She reached out, fingers splayed, wanting suddenly to catch something. When she opened her hand, her palm was empty. Fingertips traced the cold railing, and a wave of despondency washed through her.
Among all these glowing homes, none of the lights were for her.
Where, then, was her own firefly?
Perhaps it didn't exist on this world at all.
She was the stranger.
The only stranger.
Behind her, the living room seemed to swell with darkness, a tide edging forward to swallow half her silhouette.
Black.
So very black.
...
Click.
The sound snapped like a match striking red phosphorus, and light bloomed.
Kakayan spun around. Jiang Li was home.
The shadows behind her melted away. The living-room lamp flicked on, filling the space with warm amber light, thick as honey.
Jiang Li pushed open the front door.
The living room, still unlit, made his brows pinch. He flicked the switch and found Kakayan on the balcony, tilting her head at him.
"Why didn't you turn on the lights?"
"I forgot..."
"It's pitch-black in here. What if you'd tripped?"
Though he sounded reproachful, his tone stayed flat.
He toed off his shoes and crossed to the table.
"All the nearby pharmacies were closed, so I had to go a bit farther." Jiang Li set the ointment down, then pulled a bottle of yogurt from the plastic bag. "Here, your snack."
He was about to hand it to Kakayan when he noticed the plate of egg-fried rice on the table—untouched, not a single bite taken.
That was bizarre.
Everyone knew Kakayan wasn't enthusiastic about anything except eating. If she hadn't touched the food, something had to be wrong with his cooking.
Jiang Li blinked, puzzled. "Why aren't you eating?"
"I forgot..."
"You forgot to eat? You must've knocked the brains right out of your head when you fell."
He tugged the corner of his mouth into a half-smile, amused by her excuse. "You were already pretty dense; now you're even worse."
For once, Kakayan didn't get angry.
She smoothed the stray strands of hair the wind had teased loose, then curved her lips into an adorable smile.
"I wanted to wait and eat with you."