Chapter 9: The Unexpected
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Perhaps it was because there was an extra man in the house, but Wen Dong woke up the next morning feeling unusually alert, completely losing the chance to sleep in. She stared at the ceiling for five minutes before checking her phone—it was only 7:30 a.m.
“Ahhhh!” She rubbed her tangled hair and sat up, frustrated that she couldn’t sleep in on her rare day off. Damn it!
With her hair in disarray, she stepped out of the bedroom. The living room was silent; the husky remained kneeling on the sofa just as it had the day before.
A row of stuffed animals silently watched her. Wen Dong shuffled into the bathroom wearing slippers. “Don’t look at me! I’m annoyed.”
She tied up her hair and washed her face. The cleanser accidentally got into her eyes, spreading a sharp, stinging pain from the corners that made her frown deeply. She hurriedly rinsed with water.
Her eyes were red at the edges, stray hairs stuck to her face, still covered in foam, and the floral scent of the cleanser lingered in the air.
For Wen Dong, waking up was always a battle.
Yesterday, Zhang Xingxu’s unexpected visit had interrupted her plan to sleep in, and today, his very presence made it impossible to fall asleep.
After finishing her morning routine, she stood in front of the fridge with a sullen face, contemplating what to eat.
After two minutes, she grabbed two eggs and decided to make herself a sandwich.
And, as a small act of rebellion against the instigator, she firmly resolved not to make one for him.
She dipped slices of toast in egg wash, cooked them in a pan, then layered cheese and luncheon meat before folding it all up.
If only she had some lettuce and tomato to add.
Wen Dong ate while thinking.
Halfway through, Zhang Xingxu appeared.
He had switched to a different backpack, smaller than the hiking bag from yesterday but still substantial and heavy-looking. The black straps pressed against his jacket, almost blending into the darkness like thick nightfall.
His brows drooped slightly as he changed shoes at the entrance.
His hair was curly and messy, looking as if he had just grabbed handfuls at random.
Wen Dong stretched her neck and couldn’t help but ask, “You’re going out?”
He responded with a grunt but didn’t say where.
“Will you be back for lunch?” she asked, immediately regretting it. Why was she bothering?
“Depends,” he paused. “Maybe not.”
“How about dinner?” Wen Dong pressed.
Zhang Xingxu glanced at her.
She looked a bit regretful, still clutching the half-eaten sandwich.
On the chair opposite her sat a pink pig plush, its front limbs resting on the table as if keeping her company for breakfast.
Before he could answer, she explained, “If you’re coming back tonight, I’ll make extra lunch and cook fried rice for dinner.”
“Do you eat fried rice?” she asked.
“Anything is fine,” he replied, withdrawing his gaze.
He picked up the keys on the table and was about to leave when Wen Dong called out, “Don’t forget to take out the trash by the door.”
He said he knew.
The door closed, and the silence resumed.
Lulu Pig propped itself on the table, looking at her with a worried expression.
She punched it lightly. “What are you staring at?” Then she grabbed the pig’s head and spun it around, “Go reflect on your behavior.”
After breakfast, Wen Dong grabbed her laptop, intending to tackle the rest of her work for the week. She planned to review the client’s requests first but habitually opened her email. The reply made her eyes go dark.
Having worked in this field for two years, she had seen all kinds of setbacks and successes. Okay, she tried her best to meet the client’s demands, but what did it mean to revert to the first draft after so many revisions?
Wen Dong was so frustrated she felt like spitting blood. She shut her laptop and pretended not to see it, then went back to her room to spend an hour making pizza on her tablet. Halfway through, an ad accidentally led her to a streaming app, and she got hooked on an online drama, binge-watching it to the latest episode.
Lunch was simple: she used up the carrots and potatoes in the fridge, then ordered chicken feet and braised dishes.
After eating, inspired, she started drawing on her tablet, nibbling on chicken feet as she worked.
She sketched the steps for making fried rice for dinner.
Two hours later, she suddenly realized—there was no more fresh produce at home.
Without much thought, she changed clothes and went out to buy groceries.
There weren’t many people shopping that evening.
Wen Dong had no specific plan and bought whatever caught her eye.
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A bit of beef and onion, some carrots and greens—seemed like a good combination.
As she wobbled onto the bus with her groceries, climbed to the seventh floor, and reached into her pocket, disaster struck.
She had no keys!
After a moment of thought, she chose to call Zhang Xingxu instead of a locksmith—after all, it was free.
Their chat history still showed the payment notification from yesterday.
She made a voice call. Zhang Xingxu’s avatar appeared on the screen.
It was a sparse tree growing alone in a field of wild grass, desolate and lonely. The sky was gray and bleak, not a hint of blue, exuding a heavy middle-aged vibe.
The call was rejected the next second.
He replied with a message: [Something wrong?]
+V crab roe burger secret recipe: [I forgot my keys.]
[Where are you now?]
[Can you come back to open the door?]
She sent a photo of herself outside the door with groceries in hand, accidentally revealing the cute little charcoal ball on her shoe.
1874: [I still have twenty minutes left.]
No compliment on her shoes? No taste.
+V crab roe burger secret recipe: [I can wait, but Chu Yuqian can’t (rolling and crying.jpg)]
[She’s been hungry for hours.]
[Do you really have the heart? (pitiful.jpg)]
The other side was typing...
1874: [Your friend?]
+V crab roe burger secret recipe: [That’s my stomach. It’s already growling.]
So boring.
Wen Dong stomped her foot.
He didn’t get the joke at all—her puns all fell flat.
But the other side seemed determined to understand. He asked: [Why is your stomach named Chu Yuqian?]
When speech fails, laughter often sneaks in.
Wen Dong tugged at the corner of her mouth, wishing she could reach through the screen and slap him twice.
[…]
[She’s not called “stomach,” she’s called Chu Yuqian!]
1874: [Fine.]
Fine what? Just come back quickly!
Wen Dong didn’t bother explaining and asked when he’d arrive.
Zhang Xingxu said ten minutes.
Ten minutes later, he returned.
Wen Dong was dumbfounded.
His sleeves were torn off, revealing a white sweatshirt underneath. His collar was crooked, the zipper broken. He walked with a rush, the wind puffing his clothes. Mud covered his pants, and wild grass seeds clung to his pant legs.
His face had scratches, as if cut by something sharp, with a few blood droplets that had already dried.
“Where did you go? Got beaten up?”
Zhang Xingxu’s nostrils flared; he was clearly out of breath.
He handed Wen Dong the keys. “It’s nothing.”
The skin behind his ears and neck was flushed red, sweat glistened on his temples, and his chest rose and fell noticeably.
Wen Dong frowned uncertainly. “Are you really okay?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head.
Wen Dong inserted the key, opened the door, and said, “If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. I’m not responsible for you dying here.”
“No, you can’t die here!”
Zhang Xingxu: “I won’t.”
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She could clearly hear his uneven breathing and didn’t press further.
She carried the groceries to the kitchen and saw him drop his backpack and walk into the bathroom after taking off his jacket.
The lean, firm curve of his waist passed by, and Wen Dong was momentarily stunned.
It took her a while to realize—he’d taken off his clothes in front of her?
A pervert?!
Wen Dong frowned the entire time while prepping the groceries, then frowned again as she heard the shower running.
He wouldn’t be using her shower gel, would he?
The thought made her uneasy, poking at the cold rice in the pot and losing all appetite for cooking.
When Zhang Xingxu came out, Wen Dong was still standing in the kitchen, holding a serving spoon.
She instinctively looked up and met his gaze.
Outside, the sky was darkening, no lights on inside, only the warm glow from the bathroom casting amber light onto the wooden floor and illuminating his eyes.
His hair was damp, water droplets gathered at the tips and dripped onto the white towel over his shoulder.
The graceful curve of his brow framed a slightly hooked nose. His lips were subtle, but the sharp jawline balanced the softness of his mouth, still making him seem distant.
Just like the mountain outside his window, always shrouded in white mist.
Zhang Xingxu was the first to look away, glancing at her hand and reminding, “The spoon’s bending.”
Wen Dong snapped back to reality, released the spoon, and turned to get a bowl.
She lowered her head, scooping rice into the bowl, and said uncertainly, “Did you use my shower gel?”
Zhang Xingxu was about to return to his room but stopped, turning to look at her. “You’re overthinking.”
What?
She was overthinking?!
Wen Dong watched him go, stunned, then retorted, “Good if that’s true!”
That night, she made fiery onion and beef fried rice, a spoonful of chili sauce sending Zhang Xingxu rushing to the water cooler.
By the fifth glass of water, Wen Dong felt a bit guilty and offered, “Do you want me to make you some egg fried rice instead?”
He said no.
Then he buried his head and finished the fried rice.
Without warning, he started washing the dishes.
Wen Dong was puzzled. “What’s wrong with you today? Did you hit your head or something?”
Zhang Xingxu was silent for a moment, then softly said, “But I didn’t hit my head.”
Wen Dong frowned, leaning on the table. “How did you fall?”
He had ripped off an entire sleeve.
“Lost my footing; the ground was slippery,” he said.
The kitchen was semi-open. With his back to her, he washed the dishes, the clinking of ceramic faintly audible.
Wen Dong was about to relax when a sudden thought struck her. “You weren’t hiking with that backpack? You fell down the mountain?”
Zhang Xingxu said, “Not high. Just a small slope.”
But something unexpected happened afterward.
“That’s not something you can just brush off,” Wen Dong said, circling into the kitchen. “Did you go to the hospital for a checkup?”
Another soft “Hmm.”
“I was getting IV fluids when you messaged.”
Wen Dong blinked, her mind blank. She couldn’t believe it. “So when you said you had twenty minutes left, you were...?”
Zhang Xingxu poured out the water from the pot and turned on the tap. His voice mixed with the running water, making it hard to hear clearly. “I pulled out the needle and left.”
Noticing her complicated expression, he said, “Not because of you.”
He paused, then added, “I just don’t like hospitals.”
Wen Dong was at a loss for words.
Her lips moved, and after a long pause, she asked, “Did you use insurance to pay for the checkup?”
Zhang Xingxu looked surprised. “No.”
???