Chapter 35: Stray Dogs

It was evening when Meng Zhi got home.

Assembling the PC was tedious work. Unpacking boxes, installing the motherboard, CPU, water cooling, GPU, and power supply—by the time he finished, night had fully settled.

Chen Xinya didn’t understand a thing, but she stayed quietly by his side. If he needed help, he’d ask. Otherwise, she brought him tea or water, watching his focused expression.

“…All set.”

When he hit the power button, the case and GPU LEDs flared to life, glowing like a mech activating. The screen lit up, confirming the build was successful. Wiping sweat, he turned to her. “Made you wait, huh?”

“Nope.”

She shook her head, chin propped up, eyes sparkling with delight. “I like watching you work on the PC. You’re so serious.”

Meng Zhi: “…”

“I-I mean…” She waved her hands, flustered. “Guys look coolest when they’re focused. It’s a compliment.”

“…Hungry?”

“A little.”

“Let’s eat.” He stood, stretching. “I’m starving.”

“What do you want? I’ll cook!”

Her eyes lit up at the chance to show off her domestic skills.

“Egg fried rice. Simple.”

“On it, give me a sec.”

She darted to the kitchen, tying on an apron. Meng Zhi noticed she’d gone home earlier, swapping her elegant white dress for a casual tee and jeans, likely anticipating cooking.

The apron was a bit small, though. Her chest strained against it, making it hard to tie. Her face flushed as she struggled, finally mumbling, “Meng Zhi… help…”

He glanced at her, the apron accentuating her curves.

Chen Xinya’s figure was stunning—not model-level, but her natural curves were a killer. The apron only amplified it, and for a moment, he imagined her in nothing but it—a dangerously tempting thought.

“Stop staring, help me,” she whined, eyes glistening, lips pouting.

He stepped behind her, tying the strings. They were short, forcing him to pull tight.

“Mmph…”

A soft whimper escaped her, cheeks burning, voice tinged with grievance. “D-Don’t tease me…”

“I’m not.” He sighed. “The apron’s just small.”

“It’s not my fault. Auntie’s petite.”

“Or maybe you’re just chubby?”

That hit a nerve. She spun around, indignant. “I’m not chubby! I watch my figure, okay?”

“Kidding, relax.” He smirked, clearly amused.

“Girls hate being called fat,” she huffed, turning away to hide her flushed face, muttering, Am I really gaining weight?

He didn’t tease further. After tying the apron, he gently freed her ponytail from the collar. Her hair, smooth and soft, cascaded over her fair neck, carrying a faint fragrance he couldn’t resist wanting to lean into.

He recalled their married years, how he loved wrapping his arms around her slim waist from behind. Their heights were perfect, letting him breathe in her scent, nibble her earlobe.

Chen Xinya seemed to remember too. As he stood close, she stiffened, waiting.

But all she got was a pat on the shoulder. “Done.”

“Cook. I’m starving.”

“…Mm.” She hid her disappointment, heading to the kitchen.

She’d hoped he’d hold her. How happy that would’ve made her.

Wake up. Time to cook.

Egg fried rice was simple.

Chen Xinya kept it basic—eggs and diced ham. Meng Zhi wolfed down a big bowl.

“Good?”

“Decent.” He focused on eating, barely glancing at her.

Propping her chin, she poked at her rice absently, then asked, “Oh… you said you’d take me somewhere after the exam.”

“Where?”

“Oh.” Mouth full, he mumbled, “No. 3 Middle School.”

Their old junior high, set to be demolished by year’s end. She tilted her head. “To visit before it’s gone?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s our alma mater. Won’t see it again after.”

“Why… ask me to go?” Her gaze drifted.

“Didn’t I say?” He smiled. “I promised to tell you who I like.”

Thump.

Her heart raced.

She fought to stay calm. “Does it… have to be there?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” He looked at her steadily. “Want to know now?”

Her lips quivered, but her eyes fell, voice tinged with sadness. “No… I’m not ready.”

“Tell me later.”

Her heart ached with bitterness, blaming her cowardly self.

Without him, she was hopelessly spineless.

They set a time—three days later.

After dinner, Chen Xinya didn’t linger. She washed the dishes quietly and went home.

Meng Zhi sat at his new PC, taking a deep breath.

Valorant, launch!

The monitor was still his dad’s old one, but he’d upgrade later. For now, it was enough.

The game was still new. Even top players didn’t need crazy setups to compete.

That night, he enjoyed a smoke-free all-nighter, not at an internet café. In top form, he climbed to Immortal 3, one step from Radiant.

When he took off his headset and stretched, dawn was breaking outside.

Time for buns and bed, he thought.

*

No breakfast spots near his place, so he wandered to the school area, reaching a steaming breakfast stall in the crisp morning air.

“Boss, one basket of buns, two fried dough sticks, a bowl of soy milk.”

Settling at a table, he was about to check his phone when he noticed a hooded figure sneaking a glance at him, then quickly turning away.

Caught, the figure stuffed buns in their mouth and hurried to the counter, leaving food behind.

“Boss, check.”

The voice, muffled by food, was unmistakable.

Feng Xiyao?

Why’s she eating breakfast by the school?

He glanced across the street.

…Rongshu Bar.

She must’ve been singing there last night.

But bars close by 2 or 3 a.m. Why was she still here?

“Oh?”

Her flustered voice came. “I don’t even have eleven yuan left… Sorry, boss, one sec.”

She messaged friends for money, but at this hour, no one replied.

As she prepared to call and wake someone, Meng Zhi’s voice cut in: “Boss, I’ll cover it.”

She froze like a caught animal, too shy to look up.

After he paid, he glanced at her, still silent. “Don’t waste food.”

“…Oh.”

Like an obedient puppy, she followed him back to the table, nibbling her food.

He sat across, watching her eat slowly.

“Sang at the bar last night?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t go home?”

“…Didn’t want to.”

“Fought with your mom?”

She went quiet.

He sighed. No need to guess. She’d been skipping classes to sing, and a teacher ratted her out.

Teachers usually ignored her, but chronic truancy meant a call to her parents.

“Achoo!”

She sneezed, rubbing her reddened nose. He noticed her outfit: a loose Supreme T-shirt, a thin black shirt, and tiny denim shorts.

Even in summer, 5 or 6 a.m. was chilly.

Dressed like that, no wonder she was freezing.

While she grabbed a tissue, he tossed her his jacket. “You know it’s cold at night. Bring more clothes.”

“…Couldn’t. My clothes are at home.”

She held the jacket, warm with his scent, then draped it over herself, instantly cozy.

“Out of money?” His food arrived. Sipping soy milk, he asked casually.

She lowered her head, embarrassed.

“Fell out with Mom. She froze my card, said I can’t come home until I cut off my ‘bad friends’ and sell my guitar.”

Her face fell. “I thought I had enough to last till the weekend gig… Didn’t expect I couldn’t even afford breakfast.”

Yeah.

Feng Xiyao never cared much about money.

Growing up well-off, even after cutting ties with her family, Meng Zhi handled her finances. She never worried.

He did.

“Where you staying? The bar?”

“Mm… The lady boss is nice. Said for her friend’s sake, I could sleep there.”

She looked away, muttering, “But I know her friend only likes my singing because she wants to meet you.”

“So, I’m still riding your coattails.” She sipped her soy milk.

Meng Zhi ate silently, then said, “Why not… listen to your mom?”

She froze.

“Sell the guitar, quit the gigs.” His tone was detached, like it wasn’t his business. “Go back to school, get into college, make her happy.”

“Your family’s loaded. If you listen, you’ll live just fine.”

Her fair face, lips bitten tight, looked aggrieved. After a long pause, her reddened eyes glistened. “But I really love music. I worked so hard for this…”

“Love doesn’t pay the bills.” His voice stayed cold, eyes on his food. “You really think you can survive on music alone right now?”

She didn’t know.

Last life, with him handling everything—booking gigs, contacting labels—she only had to create.

Now, she was alone.

She didn’t know if she could live off music by herself.

“Then what do I do…” She hugged her knees, head buried, messy short hair hiding her face, looking like a stray dog.

He stared silently, swallowing a bun whole.

“Come back to my place for now.”

“…Huh?” She looked up, surprised.

“Shower, change.” He eyed her disapprovingly. “Your clothes reek of bar smoke.”

She sniffed her sleeve, then looked at him pitifully.

“You… not mad at me anymore?”

“Just for today.”

He sighed. “Today, I’ll pretend I don’t know anything.”