Chapter 6

Jiang Qishen took a step, turned back. Looked at her, disbelieving. “What did you say?”
“We’re breaking up.”
“Say it again.”
“I want to break up.”
Jiang Qishen watched her with a smile for a moment. Then asked, “What’s the reason?”
“I’m going back home. My parents need help.”
“You’re going back to the countryside?” Jiang Qishen turned away, laughed arrogantly, didn’t hide it. “Going back to raise pigs?”
“Sheep.”
Yang Bufan straightened, chin up. Didn’t look like she was breaking up. More like she’d accomplished something and was being rewarded.
“You just built up a little work experience, and you’re going back to raise pigs? Do you know how many people want a foothold in this city? You leave now, you think your spot will stay open? Someone more ambitious, more capable will replace you immediately.”
Yang Bufan knew. Whether at work or in love, Jiang Qishen wouldn’t have a dry spell. Capable people would flock to him.
She used to fear that. Now she didn’t.
She’d long felt that the position or opportunity she had in this city didn’t actually exist. Because if she lost the relationship, she’d lose the job.
Yang Bufan sounded thoughtful. “Better to sleep on the floor and be the boss than work for someone forever! And work has no hierarchy. The state has policies. Raising sheep is a path too.”
“Are you delusional?”
Jiang Qishen was getting agitated. His voice rose.
“Do you know how hard starting a business is, especially farming? Can you handle that? Just decide on a whim, shout slogans, you think that’s success?”
Their company had long worked with local governments on agricultural credit. Agriculture and livestock had low output, high risk. Everyone knew that without data.
Yang Bufan knew too. But she kept weakly, stubbornly resisting. “My parents did farming half their lives. They raised me.”
Jiang Qishen couldn’t hold back the malice swelling in his blood. Mocked: “Then why did your parents send you to school? So you could go back to farming? No other goals? If that’s the case, why the hell did you study? You can raise pigs illiterate. What did you waste all that time for?”
“Do you know how tough the job market is? How are you going to explain the gap on your resume? Over a little thing, you’re gambling your past and future. I think you haven’t just not improved—you have no brain.”
At the mention of her parents, Yang Bufan’s adrenaline spiked. Her parents hadn’t asked her to come back and inherit the sheep business. But they definitely didn’t want her living like this—
Working at his company, living in his house, being a messenger between him and his father. She was like an NPC with an identity but no self. Her only purpose was to highlight his success.
But what about her life?
What about her feelings?
“So what if I have no brain,” Yang Bufan was so angry her head buzzed. Said loudly, “As long as my future partner doesn’t mind, I don’t care about anyone else.”
Jiang Qishen laughed again. Laughed so hard his teeth showed, his eyes disappeared. His whole face was fury and malice.
Yang Bufan understood. She’d never get Jiang Qishen’s respect. Forget a peaceful split. What was she expecting? A competitive resolve rose in her. Before he could say something worse, she attacked.
She babbled, stress‑response style: “Anyway, I don’t love you anymore. What happens after we break up is none of your business!”
“Right! I have no brain, I don’t deserve you. Isn’t that what you want? Now I’m going where I belong. But let’s be real—what’s so great about you? What are you so proud of? Why do you always act so superior? I don’t love you anymore. Shut up. You sound like spam. I’m unsubscribing. TDTD!”
“I told you sheep, sheep, sheep, and you keep saying pigs, pigs, pigs. Are you a pig brain? Shut up, don’t talk. Your dad‑vibes are stinging my eyes!”
“Anyway, I won’t keep licking your boots! No! I’m dumping you. Remember—I’m dumping you!”
“Fuck!”
Before, when Yang Bufan said hurtful things, it was to test her place in his heart. Now, she said hurtful things to end it herself.
Different from before. This time when she exploded, she seemed out of control. If she could destroy the relationship, she’d feel vengeful satisfaction.
In her imagination, she was majestic. Said her piece, stormed out, ran downstairs to pack the rest of her things. Didn’t give him time to counterattack.
In reality, her hair was a mess. The worst she could say was “I don’t love you, I don’t want you.” After saying it, she still had to roll out of this house with her bags.
If she hadn’t joined his company, hadn’t lived in his house, or hadn’t been together, hadn’t liked him, breaking up wouldn’t have been this devastating.
She’d always envied people with equal relationships. She only had this one relationship. Only rarely was the love equal. Most of the time, Jiang Qishen didn’t care about her dignity, didn’t care about her honor or shame. When she made a fuss, he’d spend money to placate her. Her love just made him smug, made him look down on her equally.
Outside, thunder rumbled. Massive dark clouds churned. The sky looked like it might fall.
Jiang Qishen stood there a moment. Turned. Found his hand was shaking as he opened the door.
He walked out, stood on the upper floor, looked down at Yang Bufan below.
Let this ungrateful idiot go back and suffer. When she learned how cruel the world was, how fierce its storms, she’d know how much he’d cared.
Unless she came back crying, apologizing, he wouldn’t forgive her.
It looked like it was about to rain. Yang Bufan couldn’t find her umbrella. The two she usually used had gone to the office, shipped home with the rest.
She pushed her suitcase, carried her bag, rumbled to the entryway. Changing shoes, she saw a beautiful bouquet by the door. Big, fresh. Dewdrops on the petals. Jiang Qishen had brought it back.
She just glanced, quickly looked away.
She knew he wasn’t completely emotionless. But that sincerity had to be dug out from under clouds.
He and his love were distant. Conditional.
The base color was cold.
Sometimes Yang Bufan wondered: if Jiang Qishen met someone he really loved, what would he be like?
Would he make time to be with her?
Would he become patient? Afraid of losing?
Yang Bufan turned back, looked at him from afar. Called out: “If you like someone in the future, you have to tell them.”
Jiang Qishen made a really annoying expression.
Yang Bufan said, “Not for any other reason. Just so she knows that even in a smooth life, you can run into fate’s malice. So when she’s feeling good, if she thinks of your face, she’ll feel less lucky. After all, whoever gets liked by trash like you is fucking cursed.”
After that, Yang Bufan opened the door, rumbled out, pressed the elevator, strode off. Golf carts passed, carrying caddies to the course. The property manager smiled apologetically. It took her a long time to walk out of this goddamn complex.
Soon, rain started falling. She had to duck into a nearby bus stop.
Raindrops came thick and fast. Didn’t look like it would stop soon. She squatted, pulled out a piece of gum, started chewing.
Honestly, she didn’t feel the reality of being unemployed and single yet. This day she’d dreaded had finally come, finally passed. Right now she wasn’t the imagined collapse, sadness, wanting to die. Wasn’t even sad. Felt a little free.
A huge relief. Finally, it’s over!
Fuck!
So breaking up was acceptable. The real pain was before—the constant suspicion, weighing gains and losses, that moment before the end when you hadn’t lost it yet.
Shouldn’t have dragged the timeline so long.
She blew a bubble. *Pop.* It burst.
By chance, she saw Jiang Qishen’s car slowly approaching through the rain. Confirmed—it was his.
Yang Bufan thought: Maybe he has a heart. The rain’s so heavy, she has no umbrella. For old times’ sake, he’ll bring her an umbrella, say some nice words, give this relationship a decent ending, really say goodbye. Is that it?
Maybe.
After all, there were no deal‑breakers between them.
But she wouldn’t call out to him. This was after a breakup. People should grow a spine, some integrity. Love didn’t bring equality. But not loving could.
Yang Bufan stood, straightened her collarless shirt, looked firmly into the distance, spun the suitcase handle, made the casters shriek on the uneven tiles. She waited calmly for this reconciliation.
She stood there holding her breath for a full minute, pretending to be casual, just happened to spare a glance in that direction. Her hand was getting carpal tunnel.
But the car just slowly approached, slowly passed, drove straight into the rain, and left.
A drop of water fell on her forehead from the shelter. This was the summary of Yang Bufan’s whole life. Full of wishful thinking, imagination, delusion, being ignored.
In that moment, she swore she’d work hard, make money, reach the peak. She’d always remember this morning when only she got hurt.
Someday, when she reached the peak, she’d mock him mercilessly for going bankrupt, having bad luck, picking trash. She’d drive a luxury car, pass him, pass again, pass two hundred times. Then forget a water bottle—she wouldn’t even spare a glance.
She viciously opened a job site, immediately mass‑applied to thirty companies.
Messages kept coming: read receipts. Soon, people were asking for interviews. One after another.
Yang Bufan relaxed and declined. She wasn’t necessarily looking to work. Just wanted to know if the job market still wanted unmarried, childless her.
If raising sheep failed, there was a fallback.
Yang Bufan felt a little sad. Because subconsciously she knew Jiang Qishen was right. Raising sheep wasn’t that easy.
She squatted again. Felt sad that Jiang Qishen was gone but still a shadow hanging over her head.
Behind her, a rough Cantonese‑accented Mandarin. A man: “Hey! Hey hey! Hey you! Is Sea World subway station ahead?”
The tone was awful, rude. Scared Yang Bufan’s tears right back. She turned to the man with the file folder. Said calmly, “Straight ahead.”
The man left without thanking her. The heartwarming part: straight ahead was definitely not fucking Sea World subway station.
The rain lasted ten minutes, finally lightened.
No breakfast today. Yang Bufan was starving. Thought of a tea restaurant she often went to nearby. Hurried over, found a seat.
The next table had a young couple. The guy picked peanuts out of the cordyceps soup one by one, gave it to the girl. Kept giving her the roast meat she liked. Couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.
Before, seeing scenes like this, Yang Bufan would remind herself not to compare. Jiang Qishen’s good points, maybe others didn’t have. And he’d changed a lot over the years, been good to her.
But now she thought: if you just kept lying to yourself, insisted on being pathetic, then all the consequences you got were deserved.
She’d learned. Loving men rarely brought blessings. Men didn’t know how to love.
In novels, heroines were cool and free. In reality, simps suffered.
She ordered. The waitress brought it quickly. Iced lemon tea, beef brisket rice noodles, fragrant egg waffle. The waitress put away the tray, looked at Yang Bufan’s suitcase. Smiled. “Business trip?”
“No. Going home.”
“Going back to visit?”
Yang Bufan shook her head. “Going back to develop.”
The waitress’s face fell. Tone exaggerated: “Ah, I’ll miss you!”
Yang Bufan scratched her face. “If I come to Shenzhen, I’ll come eat here.”
The waitress nodded, wished her a safe trip.
Yang Bufan felt warm. See? This cold, heartless city of steel and concrete—someone would miss her.
After eating, said goodbye to the waitress. Yang Bufan pushed her suitcase out. It was raining again. The couple was blocking the door, opening an umbrella.
The guy tilted the umbrella toward the girl, his own shoulder exposed to the rain. Got wet quickly.
Yang Bufan followed behind, empty‑handed. That’s fine. They had an umbrella. She had a big head.
How big was her head?
So big it got caught in doors. Twenty‑six years ago when she was born, the nurse must’ve been stunned. Finally scrambled for forceps, pulled this big head out. Left the delivery room, immediately applied for a Guinness record. On TV, opened her mouth like a prairie dog, gestured to the world: This is really the biggest head I’ve ever seen! This big!
Yang Bufan probably discovered in middle school: having a head this big, she was destined to live in rainy regions. Because her whole body could hide safely under her big head.
She walked out, back and forth along the dark green tree‑lined avenue. Suddenly laughed. This is it. Can only go this far.
Then she took a taxi to the high‑speed rail station. Out the window flew the most representative city slices: braised chicken rice, Longjiang pork knuckle rice, urban villages stretching to the horizon, luxury Grade‑A office towers. All of it receded, became small dots.
She opened her phone, opened Jiang Qishen’s chat, searched their history. Turned out she’d said “I love you” 227 times.
She unpinned his chat. Deleted the history.
In that moment, the panic and anxiety of quitting without a backup buried her. From now on, she couldn’t be pathetic, couldn’t regret, couldn’t back down. She had to face the wild, barren world bravely. Fight to survive.
Three hours later, Yang Bufan reached Shantou Chenghai.
The city was still the same. Lively streets. Grandpas and grandmas in shorts, flip‑flops, red plastic bags. No matter what was inside, their expressions said one thing: relaxed.
Route 324 divided Chenghai into two parts. One side, old district with ’90s architecture. The other, new district with tall buildings. A year ago she’d bought a place in the new district. Monthly payment wasn’t high. Just waiting for handover.
The landmark Garden Hotel from her childhood was gone. But nearby, Ningguanyuan’s Yuanyuan rice rolls were still there. Standing strong from elementary school to now. Yang Bufan sat on a red plastic stool, called the elderly owner. Shrimp and seafood rice rolls, plus a bowl of beef ball soup.
In school, she loved going to the seaside promenade. Rode her bike along the blue coastline. In the sea breeze, all pressure vanished. She became soft and open.
Also, Chenghai’s biggest industry was toys. Lots of listed companies. Toy factories with room and board everywhere. But many didn’t know Chenghai had another industry: wool.
Chenghai Central Market, specializing in cashmere and wool.
……
After eating her fill, Yang Bufan pushed her suitcase out, into the fierce spring noon sun, ran full speed toward home.
She was a little grateful. Grateful she could still come back here.
After all, she was just a capybara that happened to climb onto a crane’s back. After seeing the world, one day she had to return to her own mud.
Her phone lit up in her bag. A message from Jiang’s father.
Jiang Guowei: Xiao Yang, that mutton last time was delicious 👍 Also, how did the discussion with Qishen go? 😊😊😊