The landlord has multiple personalities and wants everyone to pay him.

Xia Qing was in a bad mood today.

This feeling of unease started when I woke up in the morning and realized that the figure who was always busy in the kitchen and whom I used to boss around was really gone. It inexplicably stuck in my chest, like a breath of stale air that I couldn't swallow or exhale.

During the day it's alright, I can pretend to be busy, go downstairs to exercise, and even curse at the air, "It's so peaceful now that you're gone."

But when night fell and the house became completely quiet, that lingering yet indescribable sense of unease surged up even more intensely.

The living room lights were off, leaving only the glow of the TV screen, which draped the sofa like a thin veil.

The commentator on TV was passionately shouting, and the audience was cheering like a tidal wave... She deliberately turned up the volume of these noises to a level that could drown out all thoughts, as if this could fill the emptiness in the room and shake off the mess in her mind.

A dozen or so empty soda cans were scattered haphazardly on the coffee table and the floor. Next to them were several cold takeout containers, from the restaurant she often ordered as snacks to go with her drinks.

Xia Qing was jolted awake from her light sleep by the roar of a goal for what felt like the umpteenth time. She shuddered on the sofa, her eyes still glazed with sleepiness and annoyed at being disturbed.

He wiped his mouth haphazardly with the back of his hand; it was wet, whether from saliva or beer that had accidentally leaked out while he was drinking.

"So annoying..."

She mumbled a curse, it was unclear whether she was cursing the television or something else.

I was woken up from my sleep, but the effects of the alcohol hadn't worn off. Instead, after a short nap, I felt even more tired and a sense of emptiness and discomfort.

She casually picked up the nearest aluminum can from the coffee table, shook it, and found only the bottom was left.

He tilted his head back and gulped down the bitter, bubbly liquor. His mouth felt dry and bitter, so he reached for the food in the lunchbox with his chopsticks.

After taking a bite of the food and wine and chewing it a couple of times, his brows immediately furrowed.

"Pah... What is this crap? It's so salty and greasy... I never thought it was this bad before..."

She muttered to herself, threw down her chopsticks, and felt that the nameless anger in her heart had finally found a specific target to vent. But then she realized that the dish she used to think was "flavorful" and "perfect with alcohol" might not have tasted any different all along.

What has changed is probably something else entirely. Like one's mood, like...

The alcohol in her body seemed to be on a high speed, rushing through her blood vessels. Xia Qing's face was burning hot, and everything in front of her seemed to start twisting uncontrollably like jelly.

After coming out of the bathroom, she planned to linger on the sofa for a while, continue drinking, continue watching the game, or simply continue sleeping.

However, as she passed the closed bedroom door, her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and her hand reached for the doorknob on its own.

With a gentle twist, the door wasn't locked.

The commentator's voice from the living room TV was shut out, and the room was quiet. Only the pale moonlight from outside the window slipped in, barely outlining the furniture and the empty bed.

That empty space, magnified in her blurred vision, was like a boulder that suddenly appeared, crashing heavily onto the already restless lake of her heart, splashing up waves tinged with bitterness.

The frustration that had been building up in her heart since morning was like being doused with hot oil by this scene, instantly igniting into an unventable rage. Beneath the flames, bubbles were rising, a feeling of grievance that she herself was unaware of.

She didn't go in; she just stood there stiffly in the doorway, her eyes somewhat unfocused, staring intently at the empty bed in the moonlight. The alcohol kept pounding into her brain, causing certain emotions that had been suppressed by reason to finally break free.

"snort!"

She let out a heavy, alcohol-smelling sneer through her nose:

"That brat...it's good he's gone! I'll be more at ease on my own now!"

She launched a verbal assault on the empty bed, her voice growing louder and louder, as if only in this way could she prove that she truly didn't care at all:

"I'm all alone, with food and drink, I can do whatever I want! I can stay up all night watching the game and nobody will care! I can drink as much as I want without worrying about anyone's opinion! And I don't have to worry about disturbing some sweetheart who has to get up early tomorrow!!"

The last few words were almost shouted out. After shouting them out, she felt as if a needle had suddenly pierced her heart. The unexpected sharp pain made her throat choke, and her voice, which had been so aggressive just moments before, began to tremble uncontrollably at the end.

"Ahem!"

She seemed startled by her own somewhat embarrassing tremor, cleared her throat sharply, blinked hard, and stubbornly continued to stare at the bed as if the guy who annoyed her so much was really sitting there.

"He's just... a brat who shares an apartment..."

Her voice lowered, as if she were trying to convince herself, or perhaps questioning the unseen other person on the bed:

"Why should I care what you do? Huh? Why should I care if you come back or not? You're just a roommate I took in out of kindness! A tenant who paid rent! I... I don't care if you eat well, sleep well, or anything about the house..."

At this point, she abruptly stopped, as if suddenly realizing something she shouldn't have said. A hint of panic appeared in her eyes, which was then covered by deeper regret.

What on earth is she doing? Why is she acting crazy towards thin air?

I calmed down a bit after I almost blurted out the words, but then a strong headache came over me.

The wine seemed unusually strong today, with a powerful aftereffect. It not only numbed her body but also her heart, which she had always guarded so closely, allowing all the unfamiliar things inside, things she was afraid to face, to surface.

She shook her increasingly heavy head, her steps unsteady as if she were walking on cotton, as she slowly made her way to the empty bed.

She walked to the bedside and almost fell solidly onto Ye Shu's bed.

Her face was buried deep in the pillow, and her nose was instantly enveloped by a very faint scent. It was the smell of sunshine, mixed with a hint of laundry detergent... and a touch of comforting scent that made her both furious and inexplicably longing for it.

All the blustering anger, all the unreasonable questioning, all the chaotic thoughts, were drained of their strength the moment they came into contact with this familiar aura.

She lay motionless on the bed, only the slight rise and fall of her back indicating that she was still awake.

After a long while, a muffled murmur, somewhat indistinct but with a strong nasal tone, came from under the pillow:

"You brat... you..."

"...If everything's alright, then get back here right now..."

The last few words were spoken so softly they sounded like a sigh.

Outside the window, the moonlight was silent.

In the living room, the commentator on TV remained excited.

In this bedroom that belonged to someone else, Xia Qing, who had always been very strong-willed, succumbed to alcohol, to the unresponsive room, and to the feeling in her heart that she refused to acknowledge...