Qi Lian returned quickly, breathless and carrying a small kit. His clothes were now completely soaked, and bead-like drops of sweat slid down his square chin; he tilted his head to wipe the moisture against the shoulder of his shirt.
He dragged a stool in from outside and sat across from Yu Mo, their knees nearly touching.
"Is it still bleeding?" he asked.
Yu Mo shook her head.
To see more clearly, he spread his legs to either side of her knees and leaned his upper body forward. This posture effectively boxed her legs in between his.
Yu Mo felt the heat radiating from his legs and the puff of his breath as he drew near. She didn't dare move. Her gaze fell upon his face, noting his dark, downcast lashes—they weren't long, but they were thick.
When a woman begins to notice the thickness of a man's eyelashes, things are no longer quite so simple. Yu Mo knew this.
Qi Lian looked up at her, his voice dropping low as if afraid of startling her. "I’m going to rinse the wound with iodine now. In my experience, it doesn't hurt much, but it might sting a little. Don't be afraid."
Yu Mo nodded.
Qi Lian skillfully cleaned her wound, talking to her as he worked. "Scared stiff? Does it hurt that badly?"
He wasn't quite sure; she hadn't said a word, just watched him with those watery eyes, making his heart ache with every look.
On construction sites, bumps and bleeding were daily occurrences, and he was well-versed in handling minor injuries. This kind of cut was hardly worth mentioning, but she was different—delicate as silken tofu, liable to break at a touch. Just looking at it made him feel the pain himself. The hand treating her wound felt as though it were being pulled by a string, unable to stay steady or move freely.
"It doesn't hurt!" Yu Mo looked at him and softly protested.
The slight tension in her voice amused Qi Lian. His heart felt as though it were swelling like a rising tide, and a hint of a smile touched his eyes, though his movements became even gentler.
"Qi Lian..."
Qi Lian finished wrapping the last turn of gauze and looked up. "Hmm?"
Yu Mo shook her head. "Nothing."
Qi Lian instructed her, "Keep it out of the water. Hold your hand up when you shower. Don't worry about the moving or packing; I'll handle it tomorrow."
Yu Mo withdrew her hand and tried to flex her finger. "I have something to do tomorrow. Let's not move then. Another day."
Qi Lian was surprised. "I thought you were in a hurry to move in. If you're busy, I can—"
Yu Mo interrupted before he could finish. "No, no need. Another day. You have your own work tomorrow; I've already taken up too much of your time these past few days."
Qi Lian glanced at her but said nothing more. He turned and went back out to continue his work.
The next day was a scorcher. The weather forecast predicted temperatures nearing 40 degrees Celsius.
Qi Lian rose early and headed out in his pickup truck just after five.
Even though it was only five-thirty, the sky was already bright, yet there wasn't a hint of a breeze.
As Qi Lian stepped out of his building, he specifically looked up at the fourth floor across the way. He laughed at himself as he walked; in the past seven or eight years of coming and going, he had never looked up once. Suddenly, he had become sentimental.
Driving toward the morning sun, he thought back to his early twenties. Back then, he had bought a second-hand electric scooter and left home before dawn every day, collapsing into bed the moment he returned. To earn more money, he worked day and night, sometimes even skipping lunch. The family debts, his mother's medical bills, and the bride price needed for marriage had all weighed on his shoulders like mountains.
Looking back, he didn't remember the bitterness, only the relief—relief that life was getting better—and a sense of regret. It would have been so good if the people from back then were still around now.
Now that he had seniority, he didn't need to trade his health for money, and it had been years since he’d worked overtime this early.
However, he had delayed too much work over the last few days while fixing up the apartment. His schedule was packed tight, one job after another. He preferred to take his time to ensure quality, but wherever there are people, there are social obligations; when people came to his door asking for help, he couldn't turn them all away. He was at the mercy of his circumstances.
Mid-morning, Jiang Yuan called him.
Qi Lian was using an electric drill to cut grooves into a wall. Dust filled the air. He pulled off his mask to answer the phone, feeling as though he had swallowed a mouthful of grit.
He cursed, "Do you have to call me right now?"
Jiang Yuan paused for a second before asking cheekily, "What, is there a woman nearby? A critical moment?"
"Piss off! I'm working. If you have something to say, say it."
"Are you really not taking out-of-town jobs anymore? I thought you were just saying that. What's really going on? Tell me."
Qi Lian spat out the dust from his lips and replied, "Not for now. I've got things to do. We'll see later."
Jiang Yuan raised his voice, shouting, "You don't have a family or kids, what 'things' could you possibly have! If there's something, say it now. What is it that we can't know?"
Qi Lian was covered in sweat and grime, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. He wiped his brow and paced over to the window.
"Jiang Yuan, if you have energy to burn, go to bed early tonight so your wife doesn't fight with you every other day."
Jiang Yuan started hollering on the other end. "You motherf—! You haven't even touched a woman's hair, what the hell do you know? You might not even be as good as me! You're always like this. We grew up together in hand-me-downs; if something's up, you never say a word. Do you still think you're the boss of Third Middle School, looking out for us every day? That was years ago!"
The window faced a dusty road. Just then, a motorized tricycle rattled past. A girl sat in the back, her face hidden by a large hat, revealing only a pair of pale, slender legs.
Those legs reminded him of Yu Mo—equally dazzlingly white.
She’d better not go out. In this weather, if she absolutely had to, she should at least wear a skirt to cover up.
"Hello?" Jiang Yuan called out over the phone.
"I'm listening. I know what I'm doing. If I'm not saying anything, it's because it's nothing major."
"Fine, have it your way. I've said my piece. Didn't the studio say they were handing the out-of-town projects to you? Don't tell me you're turning those down too!"
Qi Lian remained silent for a moment. They both knew he couldn't easily refuse that work. He said noncommittally, "We'll see when the time comes."
Outside the window, the tricycle and the girl had vanished.
Qi Lian shoved his phone back into his pocket, put his mask back on, and continued drilling.
Amidst the deafening roar of the drill, Qi Lian thought about what Jiang Yuan had said. For all these years, he had been alone, coming and going as he pleased, unattached. Suddenly, a rope seemed to have materialized out of thin air, tethering him, sprouting branches and vines that entangled him. Worrying if another person was cold, freezing, or hungry felt like a draft blowing through his heart—never at peace unless she was right under his nose.
After finishing the grooves on several walls, only the large eastern wall remained. The drill in his hand died. No matter how he twisted the switch, it wouldn't start. It took him a moment to remember that the industrial park here had power rationing; this sector only had electricity in the morning. He quickly packed his tools and tossed them into his truck, intending to go home for a shower before heading to another site. In this weather, unless one was rushing a deadline, it was best to rest.
His home was like a steamer basket. The living room had been partitioned into two extra rooms, blocking the airflow and making it much hotter than a normal apartment.
A young man in one of the partitioned rooms was playing games, shouting and swearing. Everyone in the apartment was used to it; he played games almost constantly and never left the house except to pick up food deliveries. No one knew how he made a living.
Qi Lian didn't care, as long as he paid his rent on time.
Although he owned the apartment, he only kept the master bedroom for himself. In recent years, he had only ever come home to sleep anyway.
He entered his room, switched on the air conditioner, and pulled off his sticky T-shirt. Bare-chested, he went to the balcony to grab a change of clothes. He happened to glance across the way, and his eyes narrowed.
There were clearly figures moving in the opposite apartment, and the living room was piled high with things.
He turned, went into the bathroom for a quick shower, and without even drying the water off his body, he threw on some clothes and ran out with his phone.
He ran down the stairs and up to the fourth floor without stopping for breath. By the time he stood at the door of 402, the sweat on his face and the water dripping from his hair almost blurred his vision. He wiped his eyes haphazardly and hammered on the security door.
When no one answered after a second, he hammered again, louder. He was so agitated he felt like breaking the door down.
Yu Mo came to the door looking extremely annoyed, holding a hammer. Her face was flushed red, and her hair hung disheveled around her face.
The two of them stood there, one inside and one out, glaring at each other.
"What are you doing? Trying to tear the door down?" Yu Mo asked crossly.
Qi Lian looked at her with a heavy gaze, then peered over her shoulder at the large boxes in the living room.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, his tone unfriendly. Standing so close, the heat of his words practically puffed against her face.
Yu Mo stepped back and turned into the room.
"Plans changed suddenly, so I just called a delivery van. It's very convenient. I'm sorry for always taking up your time."
"Whether it's a waste of time isn't for you to decide," he said, following her inside, his tone unyielding.
"You've already helped me so much, Qi Lian. I felt bad about it," Yu Mo explained.
"So you're trying to draw a line between us!" Qi Lian nodded with an unreadable expression. "Isn't it a bit late for that?"
Yu Mo stood with her lips pressed together, offering no rebuttal.
There it was again. Whenever she stood like that, tilting her proud little head and looking at him without a word, he was utterly helpless, forced to surrender.
He sighed inwardly.
"Move the boxes to the small bedroom first." He walked over and bent down to lift a box that was half as tall as a person. The muscles in his arms, usually unremarkable, were now as hard as stone.
The box was very heavy. The mover this morning had refused to carry it and threatened to quit; she had only managed to convince him by adding fifty yuan, and even then, he hadn't stopped grumbling.
Yu Mo quickly shook her head. "I only rented one room. That room is for someone else to live in. Put it in my bedroom."
Qi Lian seemed not to hear her. He used his shoulder to nudge open the door to the small bedroom and walked straight in.
Yu Mo followed him, sounding anxious. "Don't put it here. This is someone else's room. It would be so embarrassing if the landlord saw."
Qi Lian looked around, avoiding the window as he placed the box on the inner side of the bed. Sunlight wouldn't reach it here, so the contents wouldn't spoil.
As he set the box down, he looked back at Yu Mo's bewildered expression. "So what if they see? You're living in Lianhua now, not a paragon of civility. Grow a thicker skin, understand? Besides, this apartment belongs to a friend of mine. If I say it's okay, it's okay."
With that, he brushed past her to pick up the second box from the living room.
Yu Mo stood by the door, still clutching the hammer.
Qi Lian asked her, "Did the wound hurt last night? Why do you insist on being so stubborn? You must have done a lot of work today. If the wound gets infected, don't come crying to me."
Yu Mo remained stubborn. "It doesn't hurt. Minor injuries heal fast. It won't get infected that easily."
In reality, the wound had hurt quite a bit whenever she bumped it while working, and she was secretly worried about infection. But she was alone; there were hardships she had to endure and pains she had to swallow. Yu Mo had once been pampered, but she was never one to make a fuss.
"Let me see it in a bit. I'll disinfect it again."
Yu Mo nodded and went off to attend to her own tasks.
Before Qi Lian arrived, she had been trying to assemble a screen according to the manual. She had been hammering away for ages, but the screws and holes simply wouldn't align, leaving her frustrated and overheated.
She crouched down, using all her strength to prop up two panels of the screen. After studying them for a long time, she stubbornly began to hammer again.
Hearing the sound of the hammer, Qi Lian looked over. He saw her crouching before the two wooden boards, brow furrowed as she swung the hammer. Each strike was shaky, narrowly and dangerously missing her fingers. His heart skipped a beat just watching her, yet he didn't dare shout a warning for fear of startling her into hitting her own hand.
She was truly a handful.
He stepped forward quickly and silently, grabbed her waist with both hands like he was picking up a kitten, and lifted her to the other side.
Yu Mo’s face flushed.
"What are you doing? Didn't you say your back was bad? You just have to make things hard for yourself, don't you? If you need something done, just say the word. I can fix anything for you. Don't you know my craftsmanship is among the best in all of Jinning?"
Yu Mo replied, "I can't afford craftsmanship like yours. Qi Shuai said people have to line up for your work. I can just mess around with the stuff here myself."
"Did I say I wanted you to pay? Can't I just do it because I want to?"
Yu Mo pouted and blew a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. She looked down at the man crouching before her. Truly, appearances were deceiving; she had thought he was a cat, but he had suddenly bared his claws.
She still preferred someone like Jiang Qingfeng—like a silly Husky, simple, loyal, and entirely controllable.
"Is Jiang Qingfeng back from his business trip?" Qi Lian suddenly asked.
Yu Mo’s heart gave a jolt. What a coincidence.
"Not yet."
"He called me and asked me to help you move. Did you know that?" Qi Lian looked up at her, waiting for an answer.
Yu Mo shook her head.
"Yu Mo, I don't care what your relationship with him is right now. I told him I have no interest in looking after someone else's girlfriend; I'd rather avoid it."
His gaze was burning as he stared at her. Yu Mo felt as though she couldn't breathe.
He asked again, "Why do you think I didn't stay away?"
The three-panel screen was finished in his hands as they spoke. Standing at 1.8 meters, it felt quite imposing. Yu Mo felt as though the living room was becoming suffocating.
She walked away, saying, "I'm going to get some water."
She wandered into the small bedroom and saw the cardboard boxes neatly stacked in four rows, reaching the ceiling. Looking closer, every box was placed in numerical order according to the labels on the outside. When she was packing, she had used a marker to write large labels like "Bag 1," "Bag 2," "Clothes 1," "Clothes 2"...
Seeing those numbers arranged so neatly felt incredibly... sexy.
She felt something churning in her heart.
Qi Lian found a corner in the living room to set up the screen. He looked it over and, seeing Yu Mo walk back, commented, "Bourgeoisie!"
Yu Mo ignored him. She stepped back a few paces, studied it for a moment, and nodded with satisfaction. Although this screen was a cheap imitation, it looked quite impressive from a distance.
She said to Qi Lian, "I can't afford the original version of this screen right now, but I'll definitely buy one in the future. In my old home, there were many pieces of furniture over a hundred years old. The wood and the carvings were breathtaking. It's a pity..." She didn't finish the sentence.
Qi Lian saw her expression drift into memory. He didn't like this look; he didn't know what was in those memories—it was a part of her life where he was powerless and had no part.
Qi Lian bent down to clear the trash from the floor. "I'm going home now to get the medical kit. I have food in my fridge, so I'll bring some over and make a simple meal, alright?" He noted her expression and added, "If there's something specific you want, you can order takeout. It's up to you."
Yu Mo snapped out of it and said listlessly, "I don't want to eat anything. It's too hot."
"Then go to your room and stay in the air conditioning. I'll call you when the food is ready. Once you cool down, you might find your appetite."
He gathered a large bundle of plastic wrap and cardboard and disappeared out the door. The back of his T-shirt was completely soaked.
Yu Mo stood there for a long time, unable to settle her thoughts.
She went back to her room, replied to a few WeChat messages, and happened to receive a call from a client. The call lasted over half an hour. After hanging up, she drafted a simple proposal and sent it off.
She heard the sound of pots and pans outside and decided to go see.
The moment she opened the bedroom door, a wave of heat hit her.
Qi Lian was standing by the kitchen window cooking, his tall frame turned away from the living room. Sunlight hit his dark hair, and his cotton T-shirt was soaked through, clinging to his back. He was tossing a wok, and with every movement, the definition of the muscles beneath his shirt became clear.
The scene hit her like a bullet. It felt strangely familiar, as if this exact moment had occurred in her memory before. She was rooted to the spot, unable to move. For a moment, her mind was a blur, her consciousness seemingly detached, unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.
The feeling was eerie. Her limbs felt weak, her body flushed with heat, and her throat felt tight.
She moved toward him, step by step.
Qi Lian heard the sound. Still tossing the wok, he turned his head and said, "Don't come out yet. It'll be a few more minutes. It's too hot out here."
His face was covered in sweat, his short black hair was damp, and a drop of perspiration hung precariously from his sharp, chiseled jawline.
Yu Mo pulled a tissue from the dining table and handed it to him. "Wipe your face." Her voice was low and raspy, like sandpaper on the floor.
Qi Lian reached out to take it, wiped his face twice, and turned back to his cooking.
The only sound in the room was the sizzling of the stir-fry, and soon the aroma of meat filled the air.
Qi Lian turned off the heat and brought the dishes to the table.
He asked, "Do you have an appetite now? If it's too hot, we can eat in your room." As he spoke, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face; his lean, muscular waist flashed briefly before disappearing back under the fabric.
"Are you hot? Go take a shower," Yu Mo said.
Qi Lian pulled out a chair and sat down. "Let's eat. I'll just get sweaty again after eating anyway. I'll shower when I go home."
Yu Mo couldn't pick up her chopsticks. "Go take a shower, Qi Lian," she insisted.
Qi Lian put down his chopsticks and stared into her eyes. After a few seconds, he stood up abruptly and charged into the bathroom without looking back. The wooden chair wobbled before settling.
The cicadas outside were truly noisy, making her head ache.
Qi Lian opened the bathroom door. He was still wearing his old T-shirt. He saw Yu Mo leaning against the bathroom doorframe.
They locked eyes for a second.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward. An iron-strong arm hooked around Yu Mo’s slender waist, pulling her hard against his chest. Their noses were almost touching, their hurried breaths mingling on each other's faces.
"And then?" he asked, his voice strained. It was almost a whisper, his lips brushing against her face as he spoke.
Yu Mo felt herself melting. She barely managed to squeeze out the words: "You tell me."
She could feel that he was like a drawn bow, ready to fire. She deliberately shifted her body and heard him catch his breath. The arm around her waist tightened, pressing her into his embrace as if he wanted to snap her in two.
Qi Lian’s gaze searched every inch of her face. Suddenly, he leaned in and nipped her cheek with his teeth, tugging gently. Yu Mo couldn't help but shiver, letting out an uncontrollable gasp.
Qi Lian released her waist, his large hands losing control as they gripped her rounded hips, lifting her up against him.
He gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. He searched her face for a long time before saying in a low voice, "Yu Mo, I am not a toy!"
Then he left, without hesitation, leaving behind an empty room and a fuming Yu Mo.
Fine. Just fine.
For the first time in her life, Yu Mo kicked a plastic trash can across the room.
That night, she dreamed. She dreamed she was standing on the edge of a cliff again, facing a bottomless abyss. That suffocating fear returned, and she woke up with a start.
Outside the window, the moonlight was like white silk.
It was okay. It was okay. There was still time.
She only needed a controllable life.
***
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