Chapter 26: Pressing Questions

The agent showing Qi Yu the flat was a middle-aged woman everyone called Sister Zhou—kind face, obviously good temper.
On the way Zhou walked and detailed the neighborhood—thorough, answered everything.
Qi Yu followed, looking around. Entering the building—though she expected it—she still froze.
Several buildings in the complex; the unit she liked was the same building as Jiang Ya’s.
Zhou said only this building had rentals left; near the school, many tenants were teachers, some parents renting for their kids.
Qi Yu said nothing. She had thought of asking another building—pressed the thought down.
Fortunately not the same floor—hers third, Jiang Ya fifth. Two floors apart—low chance of running into each other.
Layouts were similar. Qi Yu viewed a one-bedroom—slightly narrower than Jiang Ya’s set—but overall satisfied.
Zhou was not a hype agent—honest, warm—they got friendly fast. Zhou even thought Qi Yu was a fresh graduate, told her to see more flats, no rush.
Qi Yu had meant to—but after today she changed mind. Zhou seemed trustworthy; sooner or later she would rent—sign early, one less trip. Same day she talked contract and locked the place.
Done with Zhou, nearly five in the afternoon.
She thanked Tang Xuejun by message—Tang called straight back.
“So? You’re renting there?”
“Mm.” Good mood. She sat under a tree, looked at kids chasing on the playground nearby.
Watching, she said, “Place is good. Five minutes walk to our café. Supermarket outside, parcel station downstairs—convenient. Really good.”
“And the agent’s great—said I could look more. I said no need, I’m satisfied. Rent early, move early—moving takes time.”
Tang Xuejun: “Of course—my referral’s solid. Zhou is a friend of a relative, lives there too—won’t cheat you.”
Qi Yu agreed, about to continue—then froze, words stuck.
Her gaze drifted to a figure leaving the playground side.
Tall, slender—even with a cap, brim shadowing half her face—Qi Yu knew her at once.
She locked on—head down on her phone, passing the playground, seeming to come her way.
On the line Tang Xuejun noticed nothing, kept talking. “Anyway once it’s set—after you move I’ll come see.”
Finished—no answer from Qi Yu.
Two seconds of silence. “Hello? Still there?”
Qi Yu watched the figure near, clearer.
“Mm, got it.” She looked away, eyes down. “I’ll tell you after I move. Gotta go.”
Hung up. About to stand—looked up—the figure was a few meters to her right.
Jiang Ya looked at her. Even with the cap low, Qi Yu saw surprise on her face.
A brief blank—Qi Yu recovered, walked toward her, smiled. “You’re… going out?”
She looked Jiang Ya over—black baseball cap, khaki windbreaker, black leggings and sneakers. Leggings fitted—long lines.
First time seeing her dressed like this—Qi Yu looked twice.
Jiang Ya came closer, still a bit dazed. “Just finished gym—going to eat… why are you here?”
“Looking at a flat.” Qi Yu smiled—facing Jiang Ya much more natural than before. “Just signed. Coincidence—same building as you.”
“Ah? Really?” Jiang Ya’s eyes rounded, then delight, smile opening. “You’re moving here? So sudden?”
Side by side along the path toward the gate. “Mm—the café’s almost done. I’ve been helping a lot. I’ll be at the shop long hours—easier to live nearby.”
“Mm… yeah.” Jiang Ya nodded quietly.
Qi Yu glanced at her. “You still work out?”
“Yeah.” Jiang Ya paused, slightly embarrassed. “Not often actually. I don’t exercise much—thought I should.”
“Otherwise school starts in a few days—busier, no time.”
“Mm. Occasional exercise is good.”
Nearly March—weather warming. Evening wind cool not cold, pleasant. Maybe the air—or just finishing rent—Qi Yu felt rare ease. With Jiang Ya no awkwardness; she even chatted more.
At the gate Jiang Ya stopped. Took off the cap—fair, clear face—and asked, “Heading back? Want dinner together?”
The goodbye Qi Yu had prepared went back down. She looked at Jiang Ya, hesitated, then: “Sure. Together.”
She remembered the call a month ago—drunk then, but Jiang Ya had stayed hours to comfort her.
Jiang Ya truly treated her as a friend—no need to keep dodging. This month she had thought: if they were friends, loosen up—more contact might make things natural again.
Now the distance with Jiang Ya was just right—not too far, not too close—comfortable—much better than months ago.
Qi Yu rode with Jiang Ya on the back to an old malatang place near No. 1 High—frequented in high school. Thought it had closed; one day Jiang Ya found it had only moved and renovated.
Dinner hour—two floors, moderate crowd, malatang scent filling the room.
When the boss brought two big bowls, Qi Yu glanced at Jiang Ya’s—red oil on the broth, ingredients piled high.
“You don’t eat spicy?” Qi Yu broke chopsticks, stirred her noodles.
Jiang Ya wiped the table with a wet wipe, looked up, smiled. “Can’t often—but occasionally I indulge. This heat I can handle.”
Qi Yu: “Why not often? Unhealthy?”
Jiang Ya: “Mm… I’m fine. Mom says ingredients aren’t that fresh—so I mostly cook at home, rarely order delivery.”
Qi Yu’s chopsticks paused on the noodles. “Not every day—won’t kill you. If you like it, eat.”
Jiang Ya’s lips curved faintly. She spooned red oil aside. “It’s not whether I like it.”
“You know my family situation.”
Casual—but Qi Yu looked at her again.
Jiang Ya’s family—she had heard in high school. Father university professor, mother key middle-school teacher—education family, natural bookish air.
Parents loved her, expectations high, strict. Qi Yu vaguely remembered Jiang Ya mentioning once—but even without words she could feel it—from the endless blind dates.
Qi Xuan said Qi Wenping controlled her too much. Truthfully Qi Wenping was tolerant—if Qi Xuan truly refused, Qi Wenping would not force her.
But on the other hand…
Thinking so, Qi Yu ate in silence a while. Then asked, “Now… does your family still push you to see that guy?”
She saw Jiang Ya stiffen clearly—swallowed food, shook her head.
“No more.”
“Our values don’t match—hard to get along. Some of his views… women should marry and raise kids, be full-time housewives—my family disagrees too.”
“But…” Jiang Ya paused. “They said in two weeks they’ll set me up with someone else. Showed me a photo.”
She smiled at Qi Yu—smile somewhat helpless.
Qi Yu understood—but lowered her eyes, pretended not to see, asked, “This one… how does he look?”
“Mm…” Jiang Ya thought. “Better than the last. Not ugly, not handsome—average, refined.”
“Then okay.” Qi Yu said.
That word made Jiang Ya pause—the ball she was about to eat stopped. “What did you say?”
“I said…” Qi Yu looked up, smiled. “Not ugly is enough—or he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Refined is fine.”
Explained, she looked down again.
Jiang Ya did not move—eyes on the crown of Qi Yu’s head, watching.
A long while—whether on purpose or not—Qi Yu stubbornly would not look up, only eating, as if the words were casual.
Jiang Ya’s gaze held, then withdrew; she slowly picked up her chopsticks too.
The mood turned subtle. Chatting moments ago—now neither spoke, each eating.
Minutes passed. Qi Yu’s peripheral vision caught the person across stopping, looking again—her hand stilled.
She lifted her gaze to Jiang Ya’s face—first time seeing such a forced expression.
A thread of a smile. “You want me… to go on blind dates too?”
Jiang Ya had always seemed flawless—now a flash of helpless desolation in her eyes left Qi Yu at a loss.
She looked at Jiang Ya, lips parted, voice rough a moment, lashes fluttering fast, gaze flicking away. “No…”
“I mean—if you had a chance to meet someone who shares your values, if he fits—you could try knowing him.”
Jiang Ya: “I don’t think it fits.”
Eyes straight on Qi Yu. Tone absolute.
Qi Yu frowned, not quite getting it. “Why? You haven’t met him—what if?”
“What if he’s suitable… you could also…”
“Could what?” Jiang Ya still looked at her.
For some reason that gaze felt heavy—Qi Yu’s chest tightened; she had to look away.
Silence. As if she did not read Jiang Ya’s face, Qi Yu hardened her heart. “If he fits, you could get to know him. Try dating.”
The air went dead.
Feeling Jiang Ya still watching, Qi Yu’s heartbeat sped without warning. Brow creased uneasily—careful look at Jiang Ya—and caught a flash of sorrow in her eyes.
That look again.
That night… she had seen it once.
Eye contact—a moment—Jiang Ya looked away first, picked up chopsticks. “I don’t want to date yet.”
Qi Yu: “You will eventually. Knowing people helps.”
“……I don’t want to know anyone.” Jiang Ya gripped her chopsticks.
Qi Yu: “Then later.”
Chopsticks tighter—until the stuffy ache inside swelled unbearable, burst into bone-deep sourness—Jiang Ya looked up, brow knit, eyes complex beyond Qi Yu’s reading.
She said, “Now or later… I don’t want to. If I don’t want to, I don’t.”
“Why do you keep insisting… I have to fall in love?”