Chapter 83: Bai Ruo'an, what a lovely name.

Lu Yuanqiu entered with his arms full of packages, immediately catching a faint, refreshing scent in the air—a little like the fragrance that lingered on Bai Qingxia. The floor wasn’t tiled, but bare cement, suggesting there was no need to change shoes at the door. Still, the surface was swept spotlessly clean.

He set his things down and surveyed his surroundings. The space was just a single room, perhaps ten square meters in size, though a large curtain stretched across three-quarters of the center, partitioning the room. A quarter on the left was left open, forming an entrance—effectively dividing the space into two rooms.

There was little in the way of furniture, or rather, almost none. In the “outer room” stood only a bed, a square table, and two small stools.

Uncle Bai, dressed in a worn-out T-shirt and baggy shorts, was sprawled out on the bed, sound asleep. Yuanqiu guessed that behind the curtain—the second “room”—was Bai Qingxia’s “bedroom.”

He glanced back, a half-smile on his face. “It’s… not bad, actually.”

The girl stood at the door, head lowered in embarrassment.

“May I look inside?” Yuanqiu asked.

Bai Qingxia nodded gently.

Yuanqiu stepped forward, halting as he took in the “bedroom” behind the curtain, surprised to find it far more appealing than he’d imagined.

Both walls were covered in newspaper, all painted pink. Bai Qingxia clearly liked pink—just like Lu Yidong—but while Lu Yidong’s room was adorned with expensive pink wallpaper, this was a makeshift affair.

There was a bed with neatly folded quilts, an old wardrobe with chipped paint standing against the wall—likely empty, or the girl wouldn’t always be in her school uniform. Apart from these, there was a battered desk and a single chair, one of the legs tightly wound with tape.

Yuanqiu heard a sound behind him and turned to see Bai Qingxia had followed. She was nervously twisting her hands, casting a shy glance his way, but said nothing.

He sat at the edge of the bed; the hard boards pressed uncomfortably, but he made no complaint. Instead, his eyes drifted to the wall above the bed, where several picture frames hung.

“So many photos…”

“Those are of my mom and dad from before, and my brother. Yuanqiu, that’s my mom and my brother…”

Yuanqiu interrupted her, “Your story—I once overheard a sanitation worker talking about it at the gate of No. 65 Middle School. I just didn’t know then that it was you.”

Bai Qingxia looked startled. She pointed behind her. “You must mean the grandpa living at the corner alley. I see him head out with his broom every morning around five.”

Yuanqiu couldn’t care less what time the old man left for work; he had no particular feelings about the old woman either.

He asked, “Did you know your father used to be a big boss?”

Bai Qingxia nodded, answering as if reciting in class, “I’ve heard a little, but my dad rarely talks about the past.”

It was clear Uncle Bai hadn’t told his daughter about being set up, nor that his old company was White Rhino Foods. Yuanqiu wondered if she’d ever tasted White Rhino instant noodles—she must have seen them in the supermarket. Did she know, in passing, that those were once her father’s pride and labor?

If Uncle Bai hadn’t told her, Yuanqiu wouldn’t reveal it either. There must have been a reason for his silence all these years.

Yuanqiu studied the photographs.

He saw a woman in a ballet costume—truly beautiful, graceful as a proud white swan, almost like a celebrity, her features resembling a more mature Bai Qingxia.

He also saw Bai Songzhe, though in this picture, he wore a worker’s uniform and a yellow safety helmet, arm-in-arm with a group of colleagues, his face smudged with dust but smiling at the camera.

After the bankruptcy, Uncle Bai must have gone to work on construction sites—a sad turn, a business elite reduced to a migrant worker, desperate for money.

Yuanqiu couldn’t help but ask, “What about your other relatives? Have none ever looked for you?”

“My parents met in an orphanage. They grew up together, went to school, married, and had me and my brother,” Bai Qingxia replied, twisting her hands and looking earnestly at the boy sitting by the bed.

Yuanqiu paused in surprise.

So both her parents were orphans. No wonder the girl had shouldered everything alone, without a single friend or relative stepping in to help.

She simply had no relatives.

He hadn’t expected Uncle Bai’s love story to be so pure, childhood sweethearts with Auntie.

Yuanqiu turned back to the photos, noticing the most prominent one on the wall.

In it, a little girl of four or five with two tiny pigtails, dressed in a bright red dress, was held in the arms of a boy of about ten in overalls. Both were laughing joyfully at the camera.

The photo was old and yellowed.

The little girl was obviously Bai Qingxia—her pretty features unmistakable even in childhood. The boy must be her brother.

He was handsome, with fair skin and eyes much like Bai Qingxia’s—a family of striking looks. If he’d grown up, Yuanqiu guessed he’d be even more handsome than Zheng Yifeng.

Yuanqiu sighed. If her brother hadn’t died, he’d be about twenty-two now.

If he were still here, his little sister would have been well protected.

The night of the accident—her brother, limping home with five hundred yuan in his pocket—had he been happily thinking about finally being able to buy his sister some treats?

“Those pigtails are adorable. Why don’t you wear them anymore?”

Yuanqiu turned and smiled.

Embarrassed, Bai Qingxia replied, “That was just when I was little…”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Bai Ruo’an.”

“That’s a lovely name…” Yuanqiu murmured, sighing.

He stood, rubbing his stomach. “Let’s cook. I’m hungry.”

At his words, Bai Qingxia quickly gathered the bags and said, “Take a look—what do you want to eat? How should we pair things?”

“I’m not picky. Anything is fine.”

As Yuanqiu rummaged through the bags for the receipt, he glanced at it—156 yuan. He looked up at her in surprise. “That’s quite a splurge.”

Bai Qingxia paused, then smiled awkwardly, wanting to say something but unable to find the words. She simply hugged the bag and hurriedly turned away. “I’ll go cook!”

Why was she so enthusiastic about cooking?

For the first time, Yuanqiu sensed a spark of “passion” in her demeanor.

He followed her out. Bai Qingxia left the room and went to the end of the second-floor corridor, where a makeshift stove and sink had been set up.

She began to busy herself. Yuanqiu leaned against the doorway, watching her back. Just then, the heavily made-up woman from next door sauntered out, leaning against her own doorframe just as Yuanqiu did.

“Is Xia a pretty girl?” the woman asked casually.

(End of chapter)