Chapter Six: The Peculiar Old Mrs. Zhao

A mini-program startup founded by a group of youths was never going to be highly regarded. Consequently, there hadn't been a single order in the three days since they launched, and Wen Zhi felt as though her hands were beginning to rust from disuse.

As for her home life, Bo Ye had not visited since that night, and she had essentially no contact with the Bo family. The Wen family had sought her out a few times—either to remind her to take care of her pregnancy, implying she shouldn't continue her studies, or to insist that she find a way to capture Bo Ye’s heart.

Whatever. Whoever wants the heart of that scumbag can have it.

Wen Zhi closed her textbook and stood up to leave the library. She hadn't walked far before someone blocked her path.

"Wen Zhi—"

The voice was surprised, yet held a hint of delight. Zhu Wan?

"Is your hand feeling any better?"

Wen Zhi nodded quickly and extended her arm to show her. The woman opposite her seemed taken aback by such a direct gesture.

"Good."

With no intention of leaving, Zhu Wan continued, "Wen Zhi, could we sit down and chat for a moment?"

*Mm.*

"I’m truly sorry. I only just found out that you... are pregnant..."

Upon hearing this, Wen Zhi waved her hand dismissively to indicate it was fine, while simultaneously feeling puzzled, wondering what the woman wanted with her.

"Wen Zhi, do you like Bo Ye?"

?

So direct?

*Do you know Bo Ye?*

She showed the words typed on her phone screen to Zhu Wan.

"People in W City generally know Bo Ye to some extent, don't they?"

Her tone was vague and ambiguous. Wen Zhi still couldn't grasp what she was getting at. *So, what is it you want to say?*

"Zhizhi, even though we haven't known each other long, I still consider you a friend."

"Have you ever heard about Bo Ye's romantic history?"

Bo Ye’s romantic history? How would she know about that? Wen Zhi shook her head. Zhu Wan looked as if she were about to say something, then hesitated, appearing evasive.

*Please, just say it directly. It’s alright.*

"Actually, I only heard this from a friend. Bo Ye once clashed with the Bo family over a woman. I heard that woman got pregnant and tried to use the child to secure her position. Bo Ye liked her so much that he nearly broke ties with the Bo family for her. It was only after his grandmother intervened to mediate that things calmed down..."

Use the child to secure her position?

Her face went pale upon hearing this.

"She came from an ordinary background. For all I know, she’s still being kept in one of Bo Ye’s villas somewhere."

Wen Zhi didn't know what to say, or whether she should believe the one-sided account of the person before her. Seeing the blank expression on the girl’s face, Zhu Wan couldn't hide the smugness in her eyes, though Wen Zhi was too overwhelmed by her own chaotic thoughts to notice.

*Thank you for telling me.*

"Do you love Bo Ye?"

Zhu Wan pressed urgently, and Wen Zhi was startled by the sudden physical contact. Does it matter whether she loves him or not? As far as Bo Ye is concerned, and as far as she is concerned—well, as long as the Wen family is saved from bankruptcy, and as long as she can safely give birth to the child in her womb, isn't that enough? It seemed she had never expected Bo Ye to be a good man anyway. And indeed, he didn't seem like one; he had dumped her by the roadside and left her to spend her nights alone in an unfamiliar house.

*Ding, ding, ding—*

Her phone vibrated violently, interrupting her typing. The phone stopped after a second, followed by a text message from Zhang Zheng.

*We got an order! Check the mini-program, it’s a big one.*

An order? Wen Zhi quickly tapped into the mini-program. A small red dot indicated a notification: Ms. Zhao has an urgent order; please accept.

*Senior, I’m sorry, I have an urgent matter to attend to.*

"Oh? What a coincidence. Go ahead then."

Wen Zhi turned and left. In her hand, Zhu Wan’s fist tightened.

—

The encounter with Zhu Wan felt like a minor footnote; now, Wen Zhi only cared that she could finally start cooking and earning money. Since this was their first external order, Zhang Zheng insisted on tagging along to help transport the groceries, prep the vegetables, and handle translation duties—which, in reality, meant using the rudimentary sign language he had recently learned.

Wen Zhi couldn't talk him out of it, so the two of them followed the navigation to Ms. Zhao’s residence. Ms. Zhao’s request was for nutritious, home-style cooking with a balanced diet. She had purchased tofu, cabbage, shrimp, eggs, and chicken.

*Senior, why don't I help you?*

Ms. Zhao’s neighborhood was quiet with strict access control. The two of them entered the villa complex and spent ages searching for the house number; the shirt Zhang Zheng had worn for his thesis defense was soaked through with sweat.

"It's alright, junior! You just lead the way."

He gathered his strength and hoisted the bags of groceries, which weighed several pounds in total, a little higher.

They finally found it. Wen Zhi stood on tiptoe and knocked a few times. The person who opened the door was not what she had expected—it was an old woman, her face etched with deep wrinkles.

"Which one of you is cooking?" Ms. Zhao asked.

Wen Zhi raised her hand.

"Then you, get out," Ms. Zhao said, glancing at Zhang Zheng. "I’m not used to having many people in my house. It’s noisy and dirty." Her eyes remained fixed on Zhang Zheng’s sweat-soaked shirt.

"But Ms. Zhao, she can't speak, and I’m worried the service won't be up to par."

"Hmph. You don't need a mouth to cook. You young people, always acting so precious, needing to be glued together at all times." The old lady said with a cold face.

What dating? Wen Zhi hurriedly waved her hands; she and Zhang Zheng were not in a relationship. Zhang Zheng’s wheat-colored face, already flushed from excitement, turned even redder—moving from embarrassment to a hint of irritation. Wen Zhi patted his forearm to prevent him from retorting.

*You should go back. I can handle it here by myself.*

"You..."

"Fine. Call me if you need anything."

Before leaving, Zhang Zheng glanced at the old lady and shuddered; he remembered it wasn't even cold today. What a strange old woman.

Wen Zhi handed the menu to Ms. Zhao.

*Shrimp with scrambled eggs, corn and pork rib soup, bridge-crossing tofu, stir-fried bok choy with shiitake mushrooms, and a fruit platter.*

"Acceptable." She added, "Remember to clean the kitchen thoroughly after you finish cooking."

*Understood, though you might have to wait a little while.*

"Mm. As an old woman, time is the one thing I have in abundance."

Ms. Zhao was no longer as fierce as she had been with Zhang Zheng, nor as "strange." Especially when she mentioned the word "time," there was a flicker of emotion in her aged eyes.

When Wen Zhi finished serving all the dishes, it was nearly dark outside. The TV played the high-pitched, melodic sounds of traditional opera. It is said that the elderly have light sleep, and Wen Zhi watched Ms. Zhao, who was dozing on the sofa, unsure whether she should wake her. She pushed her tentatively, but the old woman didn't stir.

She pushed again, and still, nothing. Wen Zhi began to panic, suddenly remembering that her own grandmother had passed away during a gentle sunset just like this.

Realizing what might be happening, Wen Zhi rushed out to find help. Fortunately, a kind woman noticed her and followed her back to the villa, calling emergency services as she walked.

The door wasn't locked. As soon as Wen Zhi pushed it open, she saw the old woman who had been lying so still, now sitting at the dining table, eating in silence.

Old Lady Zhao looked up with a cold gaze. Hearing the conversation of the helpful woman beside her, she finally understood what had happened. "I’m not dead yet."

With a scoff, she continued to bury her face in her meal. Wen Zhi hurriedly bowed and apologized to the neighbor, fearing she had wasted the woman’s time and public emergency resources. A few minutes later, the room was quiet once again.

"Don't worry, I won't go quietly and without a word like that useless old man of mine."

Even though her face remained cold, Wen Zhi detected a trace of loneliness and defiance in her voice. What a proud, isolated woman. Her gaze drifted involuntarily to the photograph on the TV stand. The black-haired woman on the left, smiling brilliantly in the photo, was none other than the old woman before her—only now she was full of white hair. Beside her, the man was smiling just as brightly, and what caught the eye were their two hands, clasped tightly together.

A sense of pity for the old woman welled up in Wen Zhi’s heart.

Zhao Chunhua felt puzzled. She had been suffering from insomnia since last year; the doctors had prescribed a series of medications, but nothing worked. How had she managed to fall asleep today just by listening to the sounds of the girl cooking?

"Not bad," she complimented.

Wen Zhi came back to her senses, signed a "thank you," and smiled. The young girl’s smile was bright and beautiful, stirring a sense of affection in one's heart.

Wen Zhi turned to clean the kitchen. Just as she was tying her apron, a voice came from the living room: "You can come at the same time tomorrow, right?"

Wen Zhi immediately rushed out, her small head peeking over the doorframe as she nodded like a piston.

Zhao Chunhua’s stern face melted just a fraction. It seemed that even the lonely smile hidden within her heart was beginning to thaw, touched by the delightful girl before her.