Another Story

Wang Zijing suddenly flipped over and sat up. The first thing that rose in her heart was not fighting spirit, but panic. She did not know why she felt so guilty. Clearly, she was supposed to be the one in the stronger position.

First, take a deep breath, steady yourself, and answer the phone.

"Zijing, let's talk." Qin Baobao got straight to the point from the other end.

Wang Zijing was good at reading people, but at this moment, she could not detect any emotional fluctuations in Qin Baobao's words. She sounded steady, calm, and resolute.

"Fine," Wang Zijing thought. I was just looking for a chance to talk to you too. Sooner or later, this had to happen. I'll cure that psychological illness of yours. So she said, "When you get back to Shanghai..."

"I'm already back." Qin Baobao cut her off.

Wang Zijing braced herself as if facing a great enemy. "At the airport?"

Qin Baobao said, "I'm on the highway. We'll meet at home—our old home..."

She paused. At last, her voice wavered, carrying a trace of choking sorrow. "Don't let him come."

The call ended there. There was no crying and complaining, no insults. Wang Zijing knew this was the calm before the storm.

The "old home" she meant was that Small Eighty Square Meter House, a place that actually held many of Wang Zijing's sweet and warm memories.

Wang Zijing got dressed, washed her face in the bathroom, pulled herself together, and entered the living room.

Qin Ze had just hung up the phone. He looked at her in surprise. "What's wrong?"

Wang Zijing hesitated. "Your sister called me."

Qin Ze shot to his feet. "What did she say?"

Wang Zijing silently studied him for a moment. "She's back... She wants to talk to me."