In the morning, amid the bickering between Chu Duxiu and Chu Lan, the luggage for returning to school was finally packed, and they waited for Chu Shuangyou to come home.
The sound of a lock turning came from the door. As it swung open, Chu Shuangyou stepped inside, immediately spotting her mother and younger sister bustling about in the living room. She hadn’t brought much luggage, traveling light for this return. Despite the fatigue of the journey, her attire remained impeccable, reflecting her poised and capable demeanor.
The scene felt almost miraculous. It wasn’t any holiday, and Chu Shuangyou, always buried in work, had unexpectedly taken time off to come home.
Recognizing her sister, Chu Duxiu felt a subtle stir in her heart and called out, “Sis.”
Chu Lan turned around at the sound, exclaiming in surprise, “Didn’t we say we were going to pick you up? How come you made your way back on your own?”
Shi Qin, hearing the commotion, emerged from the kitchen with water still dripping from his hands. He glanced at the time and remarked, “Huh? Isn’t your flight supposed to arrive later?”
“I booked a car myself—headed straight home after landing. It’s quite convenient,” Chu Shuangyou replied gently. “I didn’t want to trouble you all with the back-and-forth, so I didn’t mention the actual flight time. I was afraid you’d go out of your way to wait for me, especially since we’ll still need to drive to Xian’er Zhai later.”
Shi Qin said, “It wouldn’t have been a problem—just one round trip to the airport. Next time, don’t bother booking a car.”
“No wonder you said there’d be enough time to go to Xian’er Zhai—you already had it all planned out,” Chu Lan said, still taken aback. “You’re home much earlier than expected.”
After the family exchanged a few more words, the parents went to their room to change, leaving the two sisters to talk.
Outside the balcony, the joyful laughter of children at play could be heard, while the faint sounds of a song-and-dance program drifted from the television. Next door, the parents were rustling about in their room, creating a gentle clatter.
Soft sunlight spilled into the room, slowing everything down. Unlike the pace of Haicheng, time in Wencheng seemed to stretch, leaving only ease and comfort—as if they had fallen into a gentle, dreamlike haze.
Chu Duxiu and Chu Shuangyou sat side by side on the sofa, idly watching TV. For a while, neither spoke, yet there was no sense of awkwardness or boredom. The innate understanding of twins brought a quiet calm—there was no need to deliberately create an atmosphere, no barriers or secrets between them.
They leaned against each other, their heads touching, much like how they had nestled together in the womb, or like those days at the kindergarten gate waiting for their parents to pick them up—simply passing the leisurely time in peace.
Chu Duxiu leaned against her sister, whom she trusted deeply. A stray strand of her sister’s hair drifted before her eyes, and before long, her eyelids grew heavy, lulling her into a drowsy state in the midst of this peaceful moment. She had originally decided not to confide in anyone, but now, feeling the tension within her slowly ease, she suddenly murmured, “You were right before.”
“About what?” Chu Shuangyou held the remote control, unwilling to watch the song-and-dance performance, and switched the channel to financial news.
Chu Duxiu closed her eyes. “You once said that people can’t change their environment. We’re like a drop of water in the ocean—when the tide of capital rolls in, we have no idea where we’ll be thrown.”
Her sister was exceptionally sharp and had foreseen it all.
Perhaps it was because she had always been outstanding since childhood that she understood the limits of human effort—that there are always things beyond our control.
Unfortunately, back then, Chu Duxiu had only half-understood, dismissing it as alarmist talk or unnecessary worry. It was only after everything happened that the truth finally dawned on her.
Chu Shuangyou’s body stiffened. Her memory had always been exceptional, and she recalled saying those words to her sister in the café. If she remembered correctly, the next line had been, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did your very best, but there was still no reward.”
Why had she said such things back then?
She had been stating the worst possible outcome—yet who could have known that worst outcome would actually come true?
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Chu Shuangyou switched the channel from financial news back to the song-and-dance program. “What would you like to eat later?”
It was a subtle change of subject.
“…Anything is fine.”
“Let’s get some fresh shrimp, then, and fry some small fish. River delicacies are rare in Nancheng—it’s mostly seafood. I’ve been craving some, too.”
“Okay.”
At Xian’er Zhai, the family of four reserved a private room and indulged heartily in the restaurant’s offerings. There were tender, crisp fresh shrimp, fragrant and delicious fried fish, vibrantly colored steamed crabs, and a rich, milky-white fish bone soup. They also ordered several stir-fried dishes and desserts, making the meal far more lavish than usual—almost rivaling a New Year’s feast.
Chu Duxiu thought it was too much food, but Chu Lan and Chu Shuangyou insisted on ordering generously. As expected, they ended up completely stuffed.
In the end, Shi Qin asked a server for help packing the remaining delicacies to take home. Carrying a plastic bag filled with food containers, he followed his wife and daughters as they slowly made their way out.
Walking ahead, Chu Shuangyou glanced back at Chu Duxiu and asked, “We still have some time—is there anything you’d like to buy?”
This was Chu Shuangyou’s specialty when it came to offering comfort: using good food and gifts to smooth over any trouble or worry.
Chu Duxiu hesitated, “I don’t really need anything at the moment.”
“Hey, isn’t it about time to pick out furniture for the new house? Why don’t we go take a look?” Chu Lan suggested proactively, turning to Chu Shuangyou. “It is your place, after all—you should show a little more interest.”
“Let her choose the furniture, and I’ll cover the cost. I won’t be staying there long anyway, so anything will do.” Chu Shuangyou looked at her sister and said softly, “Don’t you enjoy doing this kind of thing? You even decorated your dorm room in college.”
Unlike Chu Shuangyou, who was always busy with work, Chu Duxiu had all sorts of quirky hobbies. She occasionally enjoyed cooking at home, took up knitting, dabbled in interior decorating, and loved sprucing up her dorm room—whether it was putting up wallpaper, laying out tablecloths, or displaying colorful, whimsical dolls.
“Exactly. Why not come back after your thesis defense and take your time decorating the new place? It’ll be a good way to relax for a while,” Chu Lan chimed in. “No need to rush—just take it bit by bit, like how you used to play house when you were little.”
“Is that really okay?” Chu Duxiu mumbled, “…You guys always said I was childish before.”
She had once put up anime posters at home and bought brightly colored branded hoodies, much to her mother and sister’s bewilderment. With everyone’s tastes being so different, was it really a good idea to let her decorate the new house? Wouldn’t it be too risky?
Chu Shuangyou said, “It’s fine. Anything will do.”
Chu Lan exclaimed enthusiastically, “Yes! Your style is great—it looks youthful and trendy!”
“…”
Shi Qin, well aware that they were trying to distract his younger daughter, couldn’t help but laugh at Chu Lan’s effusive praise. “What kind of nonsense is this?” he said, both amused and exasperated.
Unable to refuse and remembering that her sister had long promised her a room in the new house, Chu Duxiu eventually agreed to her mother’s suggestion and went along to browse the furniture mall.
Inside the furniture mall, the showrooms were flooded with light, displaying a dazzling array of items in various styles—from classical solid wood furniture to sleek modern designs. It didn’t take long for everyone to feel overwhelmed by the choices.
The family strolled through the aisles, examining potential purchases as they went.
Chu Lan and Shi Qin paused among several large beds, gesturing and discussing the right size for a new bed, completely absorbed in their conversation.
Chu Duxiu and Chu Shuangyou lingered behind, occasionally fiddling with small decorative items and admiring the beautiful, intricate lighting fixtures. Just as they were happily adjusting a floor lamp, a sudden ringtone from a phone cut through the air.
Chu Shuangyou glanced down and saw that it was her phone ringing. She immediately took a few steps to the side. Chu Duxiu also fell silent, standing obediently nearby as she waited for her sister to finish the call.
Although Chu Shuangyou had moved slightly away to maintain some privacy, faint traces of her conversation still drifted into Chu Duxiu’s ears.
“My apologies, I’m dealing with a family emergency and am currently not in Nancheng. Is there something I can help you with?”
Chu Duxiu listened quietly, guessing it was probably work-related.
In truth, there was no real family emergency—yet her sister had come home anyway, likely because of what happened with the show.
After everything that had happened during the day, how could Chu Duxiu not understand? Her family was treating her like a child, trying to cheer her up, all because they were worried she was still brooding over the competition. She didn’t know what to say to ease their concerns—all she could do was quietly accept their warm comfort.
Just then, Chu Shuangyou’s voice suddenly shifted, unusually losing its usual calm. “What?”
Chu Duxiu was taken aback. She glanced over curiously and noticed her sister’s slightly furrowed brow.
“I understand.” After a moment of thoughtful silence, Chu Shuangyou replied cautiously, “Could you please give me a moment? I’m still out at the moment. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, alright?”
Seeing her sister hang up, Chu Duxiu asked with concern, “What’s wrong?”
Turning to her sister, Chu Shuangyou softened her expression slightly and shook her head. “It’s nothing. Let’s keep browsing.”
But it was clear the situation wasn’t as simple as she made it sound.
After everyone returned home from shopping, Chu Shuangyou immediately retreated into her room, quietly busying herself as if dealing with the matter from the earlier phone call.
During dinner, Shi Qin simply prepared some congee and paired it with the leftovers from lunch, creating a light and harmonious homemade meal. He ladled the congee into bowls, distributing them one by one, effortlessly taking on his role as the family’s caretaker.
Chu Duxiu and Chu Lan bantered and bickered playfully, their exchanges lighthearted and filled with laughter, making for a cheerful atmosphere.
Chu Shuangyou, however, sat to the side with little expression on her face. Occasionally, when her younger sister asked her a question, her attention seemed elsewhere, as if she were grappling with something difficult to put into words.
After a while, she found a natural pause in the meal and slowly revealed the truth. “Mom, there’s been a bit of a situation with what happened last time.”
Chu Lan paused, the smile fading from her lips. “What do you mean?” she asked in response.
Chu Shuangyou lowered her gaze and said softly, “The money will be delayed for a while.”
Chu Lan fell silent.
Suddenly, the air at the dining table grew still. For a moment, no one spoke.
Chu Duxiu sat between her mother and sister, utterly confused. She glanced around in bewilderment, unable to decipher the cryptic exchange between them.
Shi Qin, sensing the tense atmosphere, was the first to break the silence. In a calm and conciliatory tone, he asked, “What’s the reason?”
Chu Shuangyou’s gaze flickered slightly. “It’s difficult to explain right now. I’ll need to return to Nancheng to verify the details before I can give a clear answer.”
“Right, you’ve always had your own ideas. I told you back then that investing is just like doing business—but you sounded so certain, so in the end, I gave you the money.”
At these words, Chu Shuangyou pressed her lips together.
Despite the bad news, Chu Lan didn’t lose her temper. Instead, her usual sharpness gave way to a measured tone as she said, “You always think I don’t understand anything—that I don’t get your high-profile projects. But I’ve dabbled in business myself, and I’ve never believed in getting something for nothing.”
Chu Duxiu’s eyes widened in confusion. “What money?”
“Your sister had a project she wanted to invest in, but she’d just bought the apartment and didn’t have enough cash on hand, so she borrowed some from the family,” Shi Qin leaned closer and explained quietly. “It must’ve been during her last visit home.”
Fragments of memory surfaced in Chu Duxiu’s mind, reminding her of the time she had eavesdropped by the door. Back then, her sister had been acting as a persuader, explaining “The King of Stand-Up“ to their mother behind closed doors while she was left outside, forced to listen in stealthily.
A sentence from inside the room echoed in her thoughts: “Mom, how much money do we have right now?”
It must have been Chu Shuangyou asking Chu Lan about the family’s finances.
“Go on, what is it you want to do?” Chu Lan asked. “You wouldn’t bring this up for no reason. If it were just a delay in getting the money back, you wouldn’t have said anything—you’d have handled it quietly on your own.”
Chu Shuangyou replied, “I want to put in an additional sum…”
“Out of the question. Don’t even think about it. I told you last time—the portion I gave you, I never expected to get back. Whether you end up making or losing money, it has nothing to do with me.” Chu Lan waved her hand dismissively. “You have your share, your sister has hers. What you do with it is your business—that’s what parents are supposed to provide. It’s not to support your investments, just our way of showing we care.”
Chu Shuangyou, her face pale, insisted, “I can write an IOU and set a repayment deadline.”
Chu Lan exclaimed in disbelief, “Chu Shuangyou, do you have any idea how much you sound like a gambler? Yes, you’ve always been clever, always exceptional—but it’s the swimmers who drown, and sometimes being too smart backfires! How many people who made fortunes have fallen exactly this way!”
“I’m certain the project itself is sound—it’s just that some details in the middle need to be handled,” Chu Shuangyou said earnestly, her words measured. “I promise you, I haven’t lost my head. My judgment about the project is correct. This is a critical moment.”
Chu Lan fell silent.
The sudden tension shattered the warm, harmonious atmosphere that had lingered over dinner.
“Alright, alright, how much do you need?” Shi Qin, sensing the tension, stepped in to mediate. “Your mom already gave you some once—why don’t I handle it this time?”
Chu Lan questioned him, “Where would you get the money? Don’t you keep all your funds with me!?”
“There’s still the housing fund—it’s not like I use it for much normally. Now that we’ve bought the apartment, I can withdraw it,” Shi Qin explained. “It’s certainly not as much as what you two earn, but it’s better than nothing. How much more do you need?”
Chu Shuangyou quietly named a figure—a significant sum.
“Whoa,” Shi Qin paused, then chuckled wryly. “My daughter’s taken on quite the project.”
“Then it’s completely out of the question. We don’t have that kind of money at home!” Chu Lan refused outright. “We just made an early mortgage repayment not long ago. Even if you wanted to borrow, there’s no way to get that much.”
Although the family lived comfortably with a home and a car, their available savings were limited. Ordinary families might have assets, but they often lacked sufficient liquid cash—especially in a city like Wencheng, where average incomes were modest. Chu Lan had long stepped back from major business ventures, only dabbling in small trades from time to time, so it was natural for them to be short on funds.
Upon hearing this, Chu Shuangyou lowered her gaze, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face.
She had indeed anticipated this situation. If it weren’t for the apartment tying up her funds, her own savings wouldn’t have been completely drained. She had originally thought she had a year to secure the money, expecting her future income to cover the gap. But now, just two or three months later, the timeline had been abruptly moved up, catching her completely off guard.
Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what to say.
In the silence, Chu Duxiu stole a glance at her phone, then cautiously raised her hand and said timidly, “Actually… I think I have some money…”
Her words sent a shock through the room. Everyone was stunned, their jaws nearly dropping.
No one had expected Chu Duxiu to speak up. It was as if there were an unspoken understanding—she had always been kept away from the family’s financial responsibilities. She wasn’t expected to earn a living or worry about daily expenses. Her role was to lighten the mood and bring joy to the family, and even the money she had was just pocket change.
Chu Lan stared in disbelief. “Where did you get money? You haven’t even started working yet!”
“Recording the show counts as work…” Chu Duxiu admitted. “The base pay wasn’t high, but I did some other things too.”
During the recording period, she had been too swamped with writing scripts to pay attention to commercial payments. Fortunately, the production team and finance department were very professional, transferring funds to her regularly as per the contract. It added up to a considerable sum, and there was even a final payment yet to come.
Chu Shuangyou hesitated, her voice strained. “Forget it, it’s fine. I’ll figure something else out.”
She could bring herself to ask her parents for help, but taking money from her younger sister felt like bullying a child. She couldn’t bear the thought—it was truly unsettling.
“Why won’t you take my money? Are you looking down on me?” Chu Duxiu sprang up, showing her sister the account balance, and declared confidently, “Don’t underestimate the young and broke—I really have money now! Don’t look down on a stand-up comedian!”
She certainly couldn’t compare to a celebrity, but she was among the top in her industry. Plus, during the show’s broadcast—the peak period for earnings—the money she had saved over several months was quite substantial.
Not to mention, Chu Duxiu and Cheng Junhua had the highest commercial value among the contestants. If the top two finalists had no money, the other performers might as well call it quits.
Chu Shuangyou was taken aback when she saw the account balance. Clearly, she hadn’t expected her sister’s savings to be just enough to address the urgent need. A conflicted expression flickered across her face. Her lips moved slightly, as though there were a fishbone stuck in her throat—something she couldn’t swallow or spit out. For a long moment, she didn’t respond.
Seeing this, Chu Lan understood what she was thinking and sighed. “Alright, you two can discuss this on your own after dinner. We can’t get involved in this—it’s your money and your matters.”
After dinner, Chu Shuangyou didn’t bring up the matter again, but Chu Duxiu followed her persistently, pestering her all the way. “Why won’t you take mine? You even asked Mom and Dad for money!”
“It’s not the same,” Chu Shuangyou frowned, replying bluntly. “You don’t even know what I need it for.”
Chu Duxiu insisted, “Then you can explain it to me. Once you tell me, I’ll understand—I’ll know what you want to invest in.”
Seeing her sister’s innocent and trusting expression, Chu Shuangyou felt even more weighed down by guilt, almost to the point of remorse. Since they were children, it had always been her giving money to her sister—never the other way around. It was impossible to describe the complicated emotions she was feeling.
“Mom at least questioned me, but you’re being so casual about it—I can’t take this money,” Chu Shuangyou said seriously. “This isn’t the attitude one should have in business.”
“But this isn’t business to begin with,” Chu Duxiu replied frankly. “It’s just about supporting you in doing what you want to do, just like how you supported me in doing stand-up. You clearly knew there might not be any return, that you didn’t have high hopes for the industry, but back then, you blamed yourself and worried—thinking you weren’t capable enough to have my back.”
Chu Shuangyou was taken aback.
“I think it’s a good thing. Even though I didn’t win the championship, the show wasn’t a complete loss, was it?” Chu Duxiu’s eyes were bright, her tone calm and gentle. “At the very least, now I can effortlessly solve problems I never dared to dream of before. I finally feel like I have a place in this family.”
Perhaps she had always been an idealist before, temporarily free from the burdens of reality, brushing off her mother and sister’s warnings. That kind of idealism was like glass—simple, pure, yet fragile, shattering at the slightest impact, easily broken by external forces.
The finals were exactly like that. Another idealistic friend had left, but someone had to face the harshness and bleakness, to gather the scattered fragments and pieces.
She was still an idealist now, but she possessed the strength of reality.
After hearing her sister’s heartfelt words, Chu Shuangyou was deeply moved, unsure of how to respond.
Perhaps she had never expected much from her sister in the past, but now it was time to change that perspective—to see her as an adult, to believe in her ability to stand on her own, and to communicate with her as an equal, rather than simply indulging or doting on her.
Without even realizing it, her little sister had grown up.
After a few seconds, Chu Shuangyou explained, “Actually, the project itself is fine. The funding has already been secured, and the return on investment is quite promising. But I originally thought I had a year to manage the funds, and now, due to someone’s interference, the timeline has been shortened to just two or three months. That’s why I’m in such a rush.”
“There are two options. First, I can write you an IOU, borrowing the money from you with a specified repayment date and interest. Second, you can join as an investor—provided you trust my judgment. The return should be higher than the interest.” She added, “Either option is fine. It’s up to you.”
“Someone’s interference?” Chu Duxiu blinked, curiosity piqued. “So you also got ‘one light taken’? Like, you didn’t get the recognition you deserved?”
“Is this some kind of occupational hazard for you guys?” Chu Shuangyou massaged her forehead helplessly, amused by her sister’s attempt to humorously frame their misfortunes. “Do you have to turn everything into a joke?”
She had been deeply worried, but Chu Duxiu’s remark made her laugh despite herself, adding a touch of lightheartedness to the tension.
Chu Duxiu said with feigned seriousness, “I don’t really understand your professional jargon, but is that basically what happened?”
“…Yes, but I already have a lead. I can resolve it once I return to Nancheng.”
“Are you going to reclaim the ‘one light’ you lost?”
“Yes.”
Chu Duxiu thought for a few seconds before deciding, “Then I’ll go with option two. It sounds like a good omen.”
Chu Shuangyou, seeing her sister’s spirited expression, was momentarily stunned before grasping the deeper meaning behind her words. Thoughtfully, she said, “So, you’re also going to reclaim the light you lost?”
“Mm.”
Chu Duxiu nodded.
After briefly settling the agreement, Chu Shuangyou mentioned she would draft a formal document and then review the details with Chu Duxiu. She also reminded her sister to apply the same caution in her work outside—never sign contracts without fully understanding them, and never let emotional connections lead to being taken advantage of.
Though Chu Shuangyou trusted her sister’s ability to earn money, she still seemed skeptical of her legal awareness.
Chu Duxiu, her ears aching from the lecture, watched as Chu Shuangyou returned to her room to draft the document and muttered under her breath, “Why not just come back to Haicheng with me to sign the contract? Who can remember all that…”
Still, Chu Shuangyou’s words served as a reminder—she still hadn’t signed a contract with Shanle, and it was time to give it some serious thought.
Chu Duxiu took out her phone and glanced at Xie Shenci’s WeChat, noticing that he still hadn’t replied. She wondered what exactly was going through his mind.
Is Mr. Xie really that petty?
Did he actually get upset just because my tone was formal and I didn’t use any stickers?
Signing with Shanle was a serious matter. Even if he was annoyed, he should still reply—after all, he was the boss. Shouldn’t the company’s interests come first?
Internally scolding him for leaving her on read, she patiently drafted another WeChat message. Her wording remained polite as she gently inquired about the contract, suggesting that she could also discuss it with Mr. Shang instead, and asking if Mr. Xie could share Mr. Shang’s WeChat contact.
To her surprise, he replied instantly.
Mr. Xie 10.9: [I’m at the airport. Let’s talk in person.]
Chu Duxiu was taken aback, assuming he was about to go on a business trip and had hurriedly replied.
[Alright, we can discuss it at the company once you’re back in Haicheng. Thank you for your hard work.]
Mr. Xie 10.9: [I’m at Wencheng Airport. Would it be convenient to meet somewhere and talk?]
Chu Duxiu: “???”
She recalled last night’s dream—never expecting it to become reality. The black cat had truly followed her all the way to her doorstep.
