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

When Zhi Qiu woke up, before she even opened her eyes, a hangover headache hit her first.

It felt like a small hammer was slowly tapping my temples, followed by the lingering taste of alcohol in my mouth.

She frowned and slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze focused, and what came into view was the unfamiliar pattern on the ceiling and the feel of the bed beneath her. This was not her room.

He propped himself up, which felt somewhat heavy, and glanced around.

The room was simply furnished, with a few neatly arranged books on the table and a small aromatherapy ornament that she had bought for Ye Shu, supposedly to help him sleep, on the bedside table.

It is Ye Shu's room.

How did I end up sleeping here?

The answer to this question was immediately gleaned from the headache and the smell of alcohol. The answer was right there in the riddle itself: it was definitely Xia Qing messing around again.

Zhi Qiu rubbed her throbbing temples, threw off the covers, and got out of bed. She was still wearing Xia Qing's pajamas, which were a little wrinkled.

Stepping into the living room, the morning sunlight was a bit too bright.

The television screen was lit, showing the morning news.

The coffee table was a complete mess. Empty beer cans lay scattered about, several takeout containers with solidified grease were lying around, and leftover peanuts were strewn across the surface.

"well……"

Looking at the mess, Zhi Qiu simply sighed softly. There was no complaint, no anger; she was used to it.

She ignored the battlefield and went to wash up first. She splashed cold water on her face and felt a little more awake, but the headache was still persistent.

Then I went into the kitchen, quickly fried an egg for myself, and heated a glass of milk. I sat at the table, ate quietly, and then cleaned up the dishes.

Back in her room, she changed into the light-colored dress that best represented "Zhi Qiu's" state. Looking in the mirror, she combed her long hair neatly and tied it into a gentle bun at the back of her head.

The woman in the mirror had gentle features and a faint smile that seemed to always be on her lips. Apart from the dark circles under her eyes caused by lack of sleep, everything about her looked the same as usual.

Having done all this, she seemed truly ready to face this day. She sat down on the sofa, and after a brief moment of blankness, her gaze fell on her phone on the coffee table.

We should ask him.

She picked up her phone, found the name in her contacts, hesitated for a few seconds longer than she expected, and then pressed the call button.

"Beep—beep—"

The sound of waiting seemed to echo in the living room. She unconsciously straightened her back, and the gentle smile on her face, which had been practicing, seemed to become more genuine.

"Feed?"

Ye Shu's voice came through the receiver. This was his habit; because he wasn't sure which of them was calling him, he would say "hello" first and wait for the other person to speak.

"Little Shu, my younger brother."

"Ah, Sister Zhi Qiu."

Ye Shu's voice immediately brightened, with some subtle background noise, perhaps from the hospital corridor:

"Why are you calling me so early? What's up?"

"Nothing much, just wanted to ask how things are going on your end. Is Grandma feeling any better?"

Although Zhi Qiu could already tell the answer to this question from Ye Shu's much more relaxed voice, she still wanted to be sure, because after all, her grandmother's illness had improved, and he would be coming back soon.

Ye Shu's reply came quickly:

"Ah, it's nothing serious. The doctor said I just need to rest and observe. But the observation period might be a bit long, so I might... stay a little longer before going back."

Stay a little longer.

Zhi Qiu heard those four words clearly.

"Oh, I see..."

She responded, but her voice unconsciously lowered, and the smile on her lips vanished for a moment.

On the other end of the phone, Ye Shu sensed something was off about Zhi Qiu's tone. He paused, then asked:

"Sister Zhi Qiu? Are you alright? Are you all... alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing."

Zhi Qiu regained her voice almost instantly, and it was even clearer than before:

"We're doing well, I'm here, so don't worry. Just focus on taking care of Grandma. Come back whenever you're fully recovered, there's no rush."

"Okay, then. When I get back, I'll bring you some local specialties from my hometown. There are several kinds of snacks that are especially delicious; I'm sure you'll like them."

"it is good."

Zhi Qiu responded, but her gaze drifted towards the bright sunlight outside the window:

"Well... you go ahead and get back to work. Remember to eat on time and get some rest. We'll be waiting for you to come back."

"Okay, goodbye, Sister Zhi Qiu."

"goodbye."

"beep--"

Zhi Qiu held her phone, not putting it down immediately.

She sat there, the smile slowly fading from her face, replaced by a quiet calm rather than sadness or anger.

She looked up and gazed out the window. The trees in the neighborhood shimmered in the sunlight, and occasionally a bird would fly by.

"It'll be a while longer..."

She sighed softly, then took a deep breath, as if to suppress some emotion or to inject new energy into herself.

She stood up, went to the bathroom, wrung out a rag, and began cleaning.

She started with the coffee table in the living room, then the TV cabinet, the sofa armrests, the windowsill... She wiped very carefully and vigorously, and being fully immersed in housework allowed her to temporarily forget about other things.

Sunlight cast dappled patterns on her moving figure.

The room was extremely quiet, with only the faint sound of a rag rubbing against a surface and the occasional soft sound of her adjusting her breathing.

She kept wiping, from the living room to the dining room, and then to the door frames of each room. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, but she was completely unaware.

The days stretched out and diluted in the repetitive dawns and dusks and silences, losing their distinct boundaries.

Zhi Qiu stood in the kitchen, the flames on the gas stove quietly licking the bottom of the pot. Inside, the milk was slowly heating, a thin film beginning to form on the surface, and tiny bubbles constantly rising from the bottom, gathering, bursting, and escaping.

She held a spoon in her hand, but remained motionless. Her gaze was fixed on the bubbles that kept forming and disappearing, her eyes unfocused and unfocused.

For several days in a row.

Xiaoxue and Xia Qing did not come out again. The notebook only contained her own messages, with no new handwriting.

Only she. Day after day, she wakes up, washes, prepares food, cleans, waits, falls asleep, maintaining the appearance that the house is still functioning.

She is tired.

very tired.

It's not physical exhaustion, but mental exhaustion.

Every day, she needs to use all her energy to think about all sorts of things to fill the increasingly obvious emptiness in her heart caused by the absence of someone.

What to have for breakfast? What's the weather like today? That pothos needs watering. Supermarket promotional flyers... She used these fragmented thoughts to try to block out the unease in her heart, and... a deeper, vague fear of being "left behind," a fear she herself didn't want to name.

The sounds from the pot grew louder, the bubbles became more rapid, and the smell of burning food brought Zhi Qiu back to reality.

She hurriedly turned off the stove, frantically searched for a cup, and poured the scalding hot milk into it.

"hiss!"

In her panic, her fingertips accidentally touched the scalding hot edge of the pot. The stinging pain made her gasp. Her fingers slipped, and the milk pot crashed onto the stove with a loud bang, splashing a lot of milk.

She didn't bother cleaning her hands and put them under the tap. The cool tap water rinsed her skin, and the burning pain subsided slightly, but the scalded area quickly turned red and stung terribly.

She looked at the red stain, then at the spilled marks on the stove and the slightly yellowed milk in the pot, and a strong sense of frustration and exhaustion washed over her.

She quietly cleaned the countertop and poured the burnt-smelling milk from the pot into a glass.

She didn't pour it out; she just looked at it, then picked it up and calmly drank it down, sip by sip.

The warm, slightly bitter milk slid down my throat, like swallowing all the unspoken emotions of this day, and many days before.

After finishing the drink, I washed the cup. The red marks on the back of my hand were still glaringly obvious.

She went to the bathroom again and wrung out the perpetually damp rag once more. Then, she began cleaning the entire house for the day.

The room was spotless, even cleaner than the model room in the sales office.

But she kept wiping. It was as if only when her hands were moving could she temporarily stop thinking, stop feeling that pervasive weariness and emptiness.

She stopped in front of a table. The edges of this table had been wiped countless times by her.

He idly wiped the already clean corner of the table with the rag in his hand.

His movements were slow, and his eyes were vacant.

One minute.

Two minutes.

...ten minutes.

Time slipped away silently as she wiped, until her arms began to ache from maintaining the same posture for so long, until she finally realized that she was doing something pointless.

The wiping motion gradually stopped.

She looked down at the damp rag in her hand and the overly clean corner of the table in front of her.

enough.

Really... that's enough.

She is tired.

I'm so tired that I can't even "maintain normalcy" anymore. I'm so tired that I don't even have the energy to pretend that "everything is fine."

He gently placed the rag on the corner of the table, walked to the sofa, and slowly sat down.

Instead of straightening her back immediately as usual, she allowed herself to lean back, tilting her head slightly back against the sofa back.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. The living room was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat and the distant noise of the city outside the window.

Maybe... just this once.

Maybe... just once in a while.

Let her escape this once.

No need to think about what to cook for the next meal, no need to worry about whether Xiaoxue is unhappy again, no need to clean up the mess Xia Qing left behind, no need to practice smiling in front of the empty room, no need to suppress all the turmoil in my heart and... longing.

Let her put all of this aside for now.

I'll just sleep for a little while.

Or, she could simply close her eyes and let the silence and darkness envelop her for a moment.

When she came back again...

Maybe……

Maybe he will come back.

Zhi Qiu slowly closed her eyes, and her breathing gradually slowed down.

The sunlight moved slowly through the room, creeping from one end of the sofa to the other.

I don't know how much time passed.

The person on the sofa stirred slightly.

Then... his eyes opened.

Those were extremely calm eyes.

Her pupils were clear, but unlike Zhi Qiu's, they were not always filled with gentle warmth, nor were they as easily startled and blinking as An Su Xue's, nor were they as full of flamboyant vitality as Xia Qing's.

There was no emotion in those eyes. No weariness, no tenderness, no confusion, no expectation.

There was only a cold, calm surface, like a frozen lake in winter, smooth and flat, reflecting everything outside, yet without any ripples, and unfathomably deep.