Chapter 100: Li Qianqian's Home

Li Qianqian’s home was a bit far from No. 1 High School, situated by a narrow lane opposite No. 2 High School. There had once been a soccer field here, but long unused, it had become overgrown with wild grass. After the recent rain, the path was even muddier.

Zhang Ye rode his bicycle without stopping, arriving straight at Li Qianqian’s doorstep.

In the previous life, when they were involved, he had naturally been to her house before. Yet, as he jumped off his bike and was about to knock on the door, a sudden feeling struck him—it seemed a bit improper to arrive so abruptly and boldly.

After all, they were merely classmates now, with only a faint connection—her gift to his mother back then. If he just walked in like this, it would be strange if others didn’t cast odd glances his way. Especially if her future parents misunderstood his intentions—that would be quite troublesome.

Caught in hesitation, he was surprised when Li Qianqian came out from outside, looking at him with a face full of surprise. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?” She blushed slightly, holding a bottle of soy sauce, caught between going in and stepping back.

“Ahem, well, I noticed you didn’t come to school this morning and thought something might be up. I came to check on you,” Zhang Ye said awkwardly, then quickly regained his composure, smiling casually.

“N-no, nothing’s wrong. I’ll be back at school this afternoon. Thank you,” Li Qianqian lowered her head shyly.

“Oh, I heard your dad…” Zhang Ye started but didn’t know the exact situation at her home. In the past life, when they came together, the elders had met, though they hadn’t truly married yet. He had seen her mother but never her father. When he asked her, she wouldn’t say, so he didn’t press, though the matter weighed on his mind.

“It’s nothing now. He’s much better, just a bit weak. A few days’ rest and he’ll be fine. You should head back soon; my mom might not like seeing you here,” Li Qianqian whispered, then quickly ran inside. As she ran, Zhang Ye noticed her once-proud, long ponytail had been cut off, replaced by irregular short hair.

Her face remained as beautiful as ever, always radiating a gentle grace that stirred Zhang Ye’s heart. She was shy but proud, never swayed by others’ strange looks or the allure of wealth and status.

She hadn’t changed, but Zhang Ye felt a sharp ache in his heart.

He lingered at the door for a long while, then turned his bike around and rode away.

The sun was still scorching hot today, but as its rays fell on Zhang Ye, he felt no warmth. Li Qianqian had once said she loved long hair most—the feeling of it flowing behind her made her feel free.

Zhang Ye also knew that those wandering the streets, occasionally shouting about cutting hair for money, were never truly desperate. Who would willingly sell the hair they had grown for over ten years? Thinking of her shy smile just a month ago, the long ponytail swinging before his eyes, his heart ached unbearably.

On the road, Zhang Ye ran into his father. As the new homeroom teacher for first-year high school, his father was busy and only left the school some time after classes ended. Zhang Ye came back to his senses, told him he wouldn’t be going home for dinner, and left.

He rode straight to the internet café, parked his bike by the side, and went inside to find someone. The Liangjian Internet Café was now fully operational. Even though school had resumed and many students had little time to surf the net, business was still thriving with idle folks and those drawn in to play. The computers never sat idle.

Liu Wentao wasn’t around; only Wu Dongjun and Liu Guangxiang were in the shop. Zhang Ye went straight to Wu Dongjun without wasting words and said, “How much money is in the shop now? Give me twenty thousand.”

“There’s over thirty thousand. This place is still too small; we plan to save some money to rent a bigger one. Some people nearby are envious of our business and have set up a similar internet café, though much smaller, with only two or three computers running,” Wu Dongjun, thinking Zhang Ye had come to check the accounts, quickly reported.

“Oh, this place does look a bit small now. Fewer machines mean some loss of customers; renting a bigger shop makes sense. But I’m not here to discuss that—I need cash. Give me twenty thousand first; I’ll explain later,” Zhang Ye nodded.

“Alright, I’ll get it for you.” Wu Dongjun had no reason to refuse. As a major shareholder, this twenty thousand was like a dividend.

Without hesitation, Zhang Ye took the money, placed it in a red bag, and rode off.

Something had happened at Li Qianqian’s home. Zhang Ye could tell her father was ill and would surely need money. This was something he could do for her now.

So, determined, he came back to Li Qianqian’s doorstep. This time, he didn’t hesitate; he knocked firmly. The door was ajar and not fully closed, so Zhang Ye pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Who are you?” Li Qianqian’s family was eating in a small living room. A somewhat worn middle-aged woman sat there, eating. Her hair behind her ears showed strands of silver; her brows furrowed deeply, but her youthful beauty still shone through.

“I’m… uh, Li Qianqian’s classmate. My name is Zhang Ye,” he stammered, nearly blurted out “father-in-law” by accident, then hurriedly corrected himself, smiling awkwardly as he explained.

“Qianqian’s in the room bringing food to her dad. Come in, have a seat. Have you eaten?” Xie Yun explained warmly, then called out to Li Qianqian, showing genuine hospitality.

“I’ve already eaten,” Zhang Ye replied quickly, bowing slightly as he found a small stool and sat down carefully. Then he cautiously asked, “May I ask what kind of illness your uncle has? Is it serious?”

“Oh, it’s an old problem. He injured his waist while working when young, which left a chronic condition. At first, it wasn’t too bad, but in recent years, the pain has worsened; now he can’t even get out of bed,” Xie Yun said, tears welling in her eyes.

Zhang Ye opened his mouth but found no words, his heart heavy.

“Look at me—somehow, seeing you feels comforting, so I just told you everything,” Xie Yun smiled, wiping away tears.

“Why did you come?” A soft, shy voice came from inside as Li Qianqian, blushing, emerged from a room. She then explained to her mother, “Mom, he’s Zhang Ye—the one who gave you the gift last time.”

“Oh, good, good. Such a thoughtful boy,” Xie Yun said happily, praising him.

“It’s nothing. I felt bad not being able to give you my gift and blessings in person before. Oh, and this is a little something from me. I know it’s a bit sudden, but your uncle’s illness must be treated. The longer it’s delayed, the worse it will get. I think he should be taken to the hospital as soon as possible.” Zhang Ye lifted the red cloth bag from the side and placed it on the table.

By now, he understood why Li Qianqian had been unwilling to talk about her father—he was seriously ill, perhaps even passed away, and she didn’t want to dredge up painful memories. Now that he was here, Zhang Ye didn’t want her to carry any regrets in her heart.