His physiological preference

Yang Zhiyan replied: I don't want to go back. I want to be kind to myself today.

"I want to be kinder to myself." It actually takes courage to say that.

Jiang Siya: Oh my, you've finally figured it out? Wait here, your sister will take you out for a nice meal.

Yang Zhiyan: What pretty meal?

Jiang Siya: It's the kind of food that's expensive, looks good, tastes good, and looks amazing in photos.

Yang Zhiyan smiled, her eyes crinkling; she had never eaten such a beautiful meal before.

Jiang Siya: We'll be there in forty minutes. Get ready, put on your cheongsam, and let's go have a nice meal and take some beautiful photos.

Yang Zhiyan glanced down at her clothes: an apron over a light purple shirt, paired with black trousers. There was a bit of blue and white chalk on the cuffs of her trousers that she couldn't shake off.

She took off her apron, hung it on the hook next to the worktable, and looked at her face in the black screen of her phone. Not bad.

Her lips were a little dry, so she took out a lip balm from her bag and applied it, then used her fingers to tuck the stray hairs behind her ears.

Then she changed into a cheongsam, tied her hair up, and put on light makeup.

Forty minutes later, a white BMW pulled up at the entrance.

The car window rolled down, and Jiang Siya leaned out, sunglasses perched on her nose, her lips painted a striking red. She whistled at Yang Zhiyan.

"Get in, beautiful."

Yang Zhiyan opened the passenger door and got in. Before she could even fasten her seatbelt, Jiang Siya stepped on the gas and drove off.

"Slow down."

"What do you mean 'slow'? I've been driving for six or seven years, longer than you've spent operating a sewing machine in the studio."

Jiang Siya, with one hand on the steering wheel, reached over and pinched Yang Zhiyan's cheek with the other. "You've lost weight. Are your family starving you?"

"Here you go." Yang Zhiyan rubbed the spot where she had been pinched.

"Give them what? That was food you cooked yourself, it's yours, not something they gave you."

Yang Zhiyan remained silent.

Jiang Siya glanced at her but didn't continue the topic. She pushed her sunglasses up to her head, revealing her entire face—round, fair, with two dimples when she smiled, and two shallow indentations when she wasn't smiling.

She has a cheerful appearance, the kind that makes people feel good just by looking at her, which is completely opposite to her speaking style.

She speaks like a machine gun, rattling away without holding back; but she has the face of a New Year's picture doll, so you can't get angry with her.

"You said you're moving out?" Jiang Siya changed lanes, turned on her lights, and checked the rearview mirror in one smooth motion.

"Yes, I'm looking at houses."

"I should have moved out on my own a long time ago," Jiang Siya said firmly.

"You'll be drained dry sooner or later living in that house. Your brother, your sister-in-law, your mother, your father—four straws stuck in your body, and you still think it's your duty."

Yang Zhiyan looked out the window. The car was crossing the Haicheng Bridge, and several white birds were flying close to the water's surface, their wings flapping slowly, as if they were taking a stroll.

"Have you found a place to rent?" Jiang Siya asked.

"Not yet. I looked at two shows today, and neither was very good."

"I'll keep an eye out for you. A distant cousin of mine works in real estate and has a lot of listings. I'll have him look for some for you."

"it is good."

"Don't go for the cheapest option," Jiang Siya said, overtaking another car while turning the steering wheel sharply and steadily. "Safety first. It's okay if it's a bit more expensive, I'll help you out."

Yang Zhiyan turned to look at her.

Jiang Siya didn't look at her, staring at the road ahead, but the two dimples at the corners of her mouth were deeper than before.

"With your meager salary, what's left after paying rent? Not even enough to buy fabric," Jiang Siya said.

"You can stay here for now. If you're short on money, just let me know. Don't be shy. I'm an only child, and my parents have more money than they can spend. They don't need your money."

Yang Zhiyan opened her mouth, wanting to say thank you, but felt that the words wouldn't do her justice.

She didn't say anything in the end, but gently patted Jiang Siya's arm. Jiang Siya's arm was soft.

Jiang Siya laughed when she was patted on the shoulder, but didn't say anything.

After driving for more than twenty minutes, the car turned into a quiet street. On both sides were restaurants converted from old villas, and the shadows of the plane trees fell on the car roof, patch by patch, like someone had drawn pictures on it.

Jiang Siya parked her car in front of a Cantonese restaurant. The storefront was small, but the decoration was exquisite, with dark wooden doors, brass door knockers, and a plump osmanthus tree planted at the entrance. It wasn't in bloom this season, and its leaves were dark green.

"This place is delicious." Jiang Siya turned off the engine, took out the key, "but it's expensive."

"How expensive?"

"It would cost at least seven or eight hundred for two people."

Yang Zhiyan hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door and got out of the car. Seven or eight hundred yuan—in the past, that would have kept her up at night with worry. But today, she felt that she, Yang Zhiyan, deserved to eat well.

She wanted to have a nice meal, to sit quietly in a restaurant where no one would ask her to wash the dishes, and to eat a meal that she didn't have to cook herself.

The restaurant appears larger inside than from the outside. After walking through a short corridor, the space suddenly opens up.

There were seven or eight tables in the hall, covered with white tablecloths, and on each table was a small vase with a fresh orchid in it.

The light was a warm yellow, shining on the dark wooden floor and reflecting a soft, gentle glow.

The air was filled with the aromas of roasted meats and steamed seafood, a medley that wasn't greasy but rather whetted the appetite.

They chose a seat by the window. The window was large, floor-to-ceiling, offering a view of the street scene outside: sycamore trees, streetlights, the occasional passerby, and the warm light shining from the window of the flower shop across the street.

The waiter handed over the menu, its leather cover embossed with gold and quite heavy. Yang Zhiyan opened it; the first page featured signature dishes, accompanied by pictures, each one exquisitely photographed like a work of art. The prices were also exquisite. She glanced at it, closed it, and handed it to Jiang Siya.

"You order, you know your food."

Jiang Siya didn't stand on ceremony. She took the menu, flipped through a couple of pages, and rattled off a list of dishes to the waiter: Crispy Roast Goose (regular), Steamed Spare Ribs with Black Bean Sauce, Blanched Bok Choy, Two Baskets of Shrimp Dumplings, One Serving of Char Siu Pastry, and Two Servings of Mango Pomelo Sago.

"That's enough, that's enough." Yang Zhiyan pressed her hand down.

"Another seafood congee, please." Jiang Siya ignored her and continued to tell the waiter, "The congee base should be cooked for a longer time, and the rice should be fully cooked."

The waiter finished taking the order and left. Jiang Siya picked up the teapot on the table and poured a cup of tea for each of them. The tea was scalding hot, and wisps of white steam rose into the air.

"Speak," Jiang Siya said, putting down the teapot and resting her chin on her hands.

"What did you say?"

"Tell me why you suddenly had a breakthrough today." Jiang Siya's eyes were bright, with an expression that said, "I'm ready to hear some gossip."

Yang Zhiyan picked up the teacup, blew on it, took a small sip, and pursed her lips because it was too hot.

"It wasn't sudden," she put down the cup, slowly circling her finger along the inside of it, "it's just that I feel like I don't want to live like that anymore."

"What?"

"It's just going home, cooking, washing dishes, getting up the next day, going to get off work, coming home, cooking, washing dishes."

Yang Zhiyan looked at her reflection in the cup, her face tinged with a light brown from the tea. "I feel like in that family, I'm not a daughter, not a sister, but a..."

She paused for a moment, then chose a word: "tool."