Chapter Sixty-Three: A Wager

“Miss Luo, I think it’s about time we head back. The cottage can’t possibly fit all this stuff,” I said, my arms laden with bags and parcels as I tried to persuade the still-enthusiastic Luo Qing.

“You have a point. Maybe we should just rent a bigger place. You could use a change of scenery too,” Luo Qing mused, nodding thoughtfully.

“I’d rather not. The little place is fine,” I refused her suggestion, but when she turned to me with a questioning look, I found myself at a loss for words.

Who wouldn’t want to live in a larger house? Truth be told, there aren’t many memories in that tiny cottage worth clinging to. But even if I were to move, it should be with money I’ve earned myself, not yours, Luo Qing. Changing the furniture is one thing; changing the place itself is another. Luo Qing is living there and has paid me rent, which means she’s renting my place. If she wants to redecorate, I have no objections—after all, it’s still my home. But if we moved to a bigger place, I couldn’t afford the rent; it would be me relying on her, and what she paid me would become charity. I’d be nothing but a kept man, dependent on her. These are two entirely different things; it’s a boundary I cannot cross.

After wandering around for a while longer, Luo Qing seemed to feel there was nothing left to buy, and so our afternoon of shopping came to an end. I carried what I could manage back to the apartment complex.

It was already past five in the afternoon. I needed to hurry and prepare dinner, while Luo Qing busied herself with arranging our new trinkets in various corners of the cottage, occasionally asking for my opinion.

I considered whether I should go downstairs and pick up some groceries. We couldn’t eat out for every meal; it wasn’t practical or healthy. I could get by skipping meals, being alone, but Luo Qing couldn’t—I had to think of her well-being. Even if it was her money I was spending, it’s not as if money grows on trees, and even if she didn’t care, I should still be frugal for her sake.

“Miss Luo, I’m heading out to buy some groceries. You stay here.”

She didn’t even look up, happily fussing with the teddy bear she’d just bought, placing it on the bedside table.

I forced a wry smile to ease my embarrassment, then hurried out the door.

The market in the complex was as bustling as ever, people coming and going, vegetables and fruit laid out in dizzying variety. Apart from rare trips to the market as a child with my parents, I’d never shopped alone like this before. Now, faced with it all, I had no idea where to start.

After considering for some time, I decided I’d better call Luo Qing first, just in case I bought things she didn’t like.

“Miss?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“What do you like to eat? I’ll buy something and try to cook for you.”

“Ice cream.”

I could only roll my eyes and lapse into silence for a moment before continuing, “I meant for dinner.”

“Whatever.”

Resigned, I hung up. That answer… Well, perhaps it was for the best. If she’d asked for something complicated, I probably couldn’t cook it anyway.

I bought some eggs and Chinese cabbage, a bit of green onion, ginger, and garlic, and a bag of rice before heading home.

When I opened the door, I was stunned into silence. Was this really the dilapidated little room I knew?

A small desk lamp now sat on the wooden table, with SpongeBob perching on the corner. Cartoon stickers adorned the drawers. The plush bear Luo Qing adored was nestled at the head of the bed, and tiny bells hung from the curtains, chiming gently in the breeze. The floor was spotless, the whole place transformed—warm, inviting, and unrecognizable from the cold, shabby room I had left behind.

“What are you staring at? Come in,” Luo Qing called, waving me in from where I stood dumbfounded at the threshold.

“Oh—okay,” I replied dazedly, stepping inside.

“Hold it!” Luo Qing suddenly shouted. “Change your shoes!”

I glanced down; a neat row of slippers awaited by the door. I swapped my shoes, then walked over to Luo Qing, giving her a thumbs up. “Miss Luo, you’d make an excellent wife and mother!”

Luo Qing smiled at my compliment, clearly pleased with her handiwork.

Honestly, I could hardly believe that the usually careless, boisterous Luo Qing could be so diligent. Yet as she did housework, she revealed a feminine attention to detail—corners that once felt icy and lifeless now exuded warmth and affection.

Recovering from my surprise, I hurried to the kitchen and busied myself, finally managing to prepare my first dinner for Luo Qing before six o’clock.

She sat before me, holding a new stainless steel spoon, hesitating to speak as she regarded my egg fried rice. My heart pounded; the first time doing anything for someone always brings a certain nervousness.

At last, she said nothing, simply scooped a mouthful of rice, tasted it, then set down her spoon and rested her face on the clean table, staring at me.

“What is it… Is it really that bad?” Seeing her speechless expression, I knew the meal was likely a failure.

“It’s okay,” Luo Qing said, sticking out her tongue, still watching me. She looked adorable, but my confidence was instantly shattered.

I took up my chopsticks and tasted a little myself. It wasn’t bad—certainly edible. Was it just not to her taste, or was she too accustomed to delicacies to enjoy simple fare?

“Don’t overthink it—I didn’t say anything!” Luo Qing finally sat up straight, smiling at my uncertain expression. “I really don’t have any requirements when it comes to food, and I don’t eat much anyway.”

Only then did I realize what she had meant by “whatever” on the phone—not that she didn’t care, but that it truly made no difference to her.

A little disheartened, I set down my chopsticks. “That won’t do. You already have such a good figure; there’s no need to diet. You should eat a normal amount.”

“But I just can’t eat much…” Luo Qing returned to the bed, idly playing with her teddy bear again.

I shook my head, finished off the rest of the fried rice she’d barely touched, tidied up the dishes, then took out a pack of cigarettes and headed for the door to change my shoes.

“Where are you going?” Luo Qing put the bear down and stood up to ask.

“Out for a smoke.”

“You’re going outside just to smoke?”

“I don’t want you picking up the habit. I hope you won’t start—smoking’s bad for you.” I shrugged with a smile. “And after you’ve made the place so clean, I’d feel terrible messing it up again.”

Luo Qing hesitated, then just as I was turning to open the door, she spoke: “If it gets dirty, we’ll just clean it.”

I turned back to see Luo Qing’s earnest face, unsure how to reply.

“Come here!” Luo Qing beckoned, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Since you know smoking’s bad, you should cut back. From now on, only one pack a day!”

Resigned, I sat back down at the table with my cigarettes, but seeing the brand-new ashtray Luo Qing had placed before me, I felt a sudden warmth.

“Smoke these!” Luo Qing pulled a pack of women’s cigarettes from her bag and tossed it to me.

“Seriously… You mean only one pack of these a day?” I stared in disbelief at the unfamiliar English brand.

“Of course, you big smoker!” Luo Qing stuck out her tongue, then sauntered over and snatched away my own cigarettes, tossing them onto the bed.

I opened the new pack, lit one, and Luo Qing naturally took one for herself, holding it between her lips.

But as she waited, she realized I’d put the lighter away and had no intention of lighting hers. She pinched the slim cigarette between her white fingers, scowling. “Yang Chen, aren’t you going to light mine too?”

“You’re not allowed to smoke. Girls shouldn’t pick up the habit!” I declared bossily.

Luo Qing ignored me, returned to the bed, pulled out a fancy lighter, and lit her own cigarette, casting me a defiant glance.

I could only look at her helplessly, powerless to do anything—she really was my nemesis.

“Miss Luo, when did you learn to smoke?” I asked.

“A long time ago, but I rarely do. It’s just that whenever someone smokes around me, I want one too,” she replied, giving me a look of disdain.

So that’s your game: if I smoke, you smoke; if I quit, you’ll quit. The implication was obvious—I’d have to quit if I didn’t want her smoking.

I resolved then and there to cut back, starting today. If I’d managed to quit before, I could do it again. No more smoking.

“If I quit, will you quit too?” I took a long drag and shot her a challenging look.

“Sure!” Luo Qing mimicked me, taking a deep puff and exhaling with confidence. “I just wonder if you’re brave enough!”

“You said it—no backing out! Should we write it down, just so no one can argue later?” I was full of confidence.

Luo Qing readily agreed, fetching pen and paper from the cabinet. After some thought, she wrote the following bet:

If Yang Chen successfully quits smoking within a month, Miss Luo Qing must also quit immediately. If he fails, she wins, and Yang Chen must agree to any condition she sets.

I looked at the written contract. Never mind her constant “Miss Luo Qing” conceit—why was there only a penalty for me, none for her?

I voiced my objection, but Luo Qing looked at me with her beautiful eyes and said naturally, “If I quit smoking, what more do you expect?”