Chapter Twenty-Five: The Gift

After delivering the last order, Sang Yijia declined to take any more and rode her little electric scooter back to the milk tea shop. The deliveryman had already been sent to the hospital.

The cashier, Miss He, greeted her with a warmer smile than before. “You’re back?”

“Good thing you stopped that deliveryman. It wasn’t just mild heatstroke—if he’d pushed on, he might not have made it.” Miss He patted her on the shoulder and, noticing the sweat beading on her forehead, pulled a packet of handkerchief tissues from her apron pocket and handed it over. “Wipe yourself off.”

“Take a break. Your boyfriend is covering for you, there’s no rush.” She knew they were currently filming a variety show and the two weren’t actually a couple, but the program said Sang Yijia and Lu Wenchuan were, so that was that.

“Thank you.” After wiping the sweat from her brow, Sang Yijia glanced towards the counter. After placing an order, Lu Wenchuan had headed to the back.

No one was at the front desk, and there were no new customers outside. The people waiting in line already had their tickets in hand.

“Your boyfriend is really impressive—works efficiently, too.” The cashier’s name was He Ling. After graduating from university, she and her boyfriend, the store manager Wang Haochu, had started this milk tea shop together.

Their income wasn’t much, but it was steady.

“Thank you,” Sang Yijia replied, only then realizing she hadn’t taken off her helmet. “I’ll return the scooter to the deliveryman in a bit.”

“No hurry. The manager said your boyfriend can do it later. You rest.” He Ling winked at her. “I know you both have tasks to do.”

“You’re supposed to prepare a small gift for each other.” He Ling smiled. “Later, the manager and I will treat you both to a cup of milk tea. For the rest, you’ll have to think of something yourselves.”

Sang Yijia thanked her again.

He Ling patted her on the shoulder, her laughter bright and hearty. “No need to be so polite—we’re all working together, after all.”

“And with you two here, our shop will be a social media hotspot in no time.” Otherwise, He Ling wouldn’t have agreed to the filming.

Sang Yijia just nodded in response.

After running errands in the heat, her back was soaked with sweat. Her throat parched, she craved nothing more than a drink of water.

After resting a moment outside, He Ling urged her inside to sit under the air conditioning—otherwise, going from hot to cold so quickly could make her ill.

The shop was crowded, every seat taken by curious customers. Sang Yijia could only stand at the counter.

Before long, Lu Wenchuan came out from behind. Without turning, Sang Yijia sensed the faint scent of pine as he passed by.

Then, a gentle tap on her shoulder.

“Here’s a chair—sit for a while.” Lu Wenchuan had brought over a high stool; she could sit without it interfering with her work.

“The manager approved it,” he added, seeing her surprise.

“Thank you.” As she sat down, her legs felt a wave of relief—sore and weak, unwilling to move again.

This body belonged to the original host, who’d been pampered since childhood and never suffered hardship. Today’s delivery run was her first real ordeal.

As for Sang Yijia herself, she’d grown up in an orphanage, used to all kinds of menial labor. She’d thought she could handle it, but had forgotten this body wasn’t as resilient.

By evening, around five or six o’clock, Sang Yijia felt a bit dizzy but said nothing, holding on until Lu Wenchuan returned the scooter. Only then did their day’s work finally end.

Before they left, He Ling brought over two cups of fruit tea, each filled to the brim with fresh fruit—a clear display of favoritism.

“Your gifts.” He Ling smiled, eyes squinting in delight. This time, instead of patting Sang Yijia’s shoulder, she ruffled her hair gently. “Go on, your boyfriend’s waiting for you.”

Turning to look, Sang Yijia saw the golden light of early evening spilling through the buildings, casting a dreamy glow over Lu Wenchuan, as if he were wrapped in a veil of sunlight.

Beneath that radiance, his dark eyes were clear and captivating.

Unaware, Sang Yijia found herself staring.

The viewers in the livestream hadn’t been watching them the whole time. While working at the milk tea shop, the two had barely interacted—no sweet moments, no drama.

Some had tuned in hoping to catch Sang Yijia making mistakes, but when nothing came of it, the troublemakers simply left.

Now, only four viewers remained. Among them was Sang Yijia’s second brother, Sang Qiwu.

He watched her toil all day, his heart aching. He wanted to rush over and bring her home, but before she’d left for the show, Sang Yijia had assured them things might be different but not to worry.

And so, Sang Qiwu held back.

But noticing her pallor on camera, he immediately sent a message in the chat.

“Has anyone noticed Yijia doesn’t look well?”

With just four people online, everyone saw his comment.

Sang Qiwen noticed, his brows knitting as he called Sang Qibo. “Did you see something wrong?”

Sang Qibo had just finished surgery and returned to his office. Seeing it was his eldest brother calling, he picked up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“You didn’t watch the livestream?” Sang Qiwen’s tone tightened. With only four viewers, he’d assumed it was their family, but if it wasn’t Sang Qibo, then who?

“I was in surgery all afternoon. Just finished,” Sang Qibo replied. “What’s going on?” He’d brought two phones just to watch the stream, puzzling his colleagues—especially since he watched a reality dating show during meals.

Rumors spread in the department that Sang Qibo was a fanboy.

He didn’t bother explaining, doing things his own way.

Reopening the stream, the camera lingered on Sang Yijia’s face. Watching for a moment, Sang Qibo’s brows furrowed. He told his brother, “She really doesn’t look well.”

“Should we go get her?” The Sang family could endure hardship themselves, but would never let Sang Yijia suffer.

Seeing her pale face, Sang Qibo’s first instinct was to bring her home.

But the filming location was far; even if they left immediately, it would take two hours to get there. Sang Qiwen fell silent. “I’ll make arrangements.”

“All right.” The eldest brother could always be trusted. With that, Sang Qibo hung up.

Afterward, Sang Qiwen stared intently at his phone screen, his expression grave.

—

Dazzled by the sunlight, Sang Yijia raised her hand to shield her eyes as she stepped out. “A gift from the manager and He Ling.”

“Which one do you want?” She handed both cups of fruit tea to Lu Wenchuan, catching a glimpse of the green fruit in his bag—it seemed familiar.

“Your gift.” He handed it to her. “I heard you liked these.”

He’d searched around and finally found a few left with an old woman.