Chapter 26: You’re Late... Again
Shortly after nine-thirty, the car reached the Qiao residence.
The ornamental gate opened, allowing them through the stone wall surrounding the property. The three-story house waited at the end of the drive with lights shining across the entrance and lower windows.
Hanchuan looked at it without comment.
Zhiyi knew what he would see if he evaluated it as a shelter. West-facing glass. An ornamental garden requiring too much water. A basement with one exit and no independent ventilation. Rooms designed to display wealth rather than preserve life.
But none of that mattered. The house wasn’t part of their plan.
"I’ll collect you at eight," Hanchuan told her when the car stopped beneath the covered entrance of her house. "Bring your identification, notes and clothing for several days. Wear shoes suitable for walking."
The instructions told her what to pack without revealing enough to begin planning tomorrow’s route.
Zhiyi accepted the bag he handed her. "Eight o’clock," she repeated softly, looking back at him.
"I’ll come through the gate," he continued as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
She nodded again and stepped out. At least that way, it removed the possibility of her family delaying her at the door.
The driver remained parked beneath the entrance until Zhiyi unlocked the front door and went inside. Hanchuan had apparently decided that the previous night’s requirement still applied.
The house was quiet, although no one had gone to bed.
Her father sat in the formal sitting room with a tablet resting against one knee. He looked up when the front door opened, confirmed that it was Zhiyi and returned to whatever he was reading.
Her stepmother occupied the other end of the room with both daughters. Shopping bags covered the sofa between them, and several dresses had been removed from garment boxes and spread across the remaining cushions.
No one asked where Zhiyi had been.
The previous night’s anger had required an audience and an apology. Once Zhiyi refused to provide either, her absence became less interesting than the dresses.
Her younger stepsister held up two nearly identical pieces of pale fabric while her mother considered which one would look better at an upcoming dinner. Qiao Meilin was scrolling through her phone, rejecting every suggestion without looking closely enough to evaluate it.
Zhiyi closed the door behind her.
Her stepmother glanced towards the entrance. "You’re late again."
The statement contained no concern. It was merely another fault added to an existing list.
"Yes," Zhiyi replied.
"The kitchen has already been cleaned."
Zhiyi had eaten in the car, but the woman didn’t ask. She had no interest in whether Zhiyi was hungry. She only wanted to make it clear that the household wouldn’t inconvenience itself because she had failed to appear at the expected time.
"I don’t require dinner."
Her stepmother had already returned her attention to the dresses.
Zhiyi’s father spoke without looking away from his tablet. "The university called this afternoon."
That explained why he had acknowledged her at all.
"You missed your remaining lectures yesterday, and you weren’t in class today," he continued. "Whatever you’re doing, it will not interfere with your grades."
Zhiyi had already completed every assignment for the semester and read the remaining course material. Her absence wouldn’t affect her academic performance, but that wasn’t what concerned him. Her record belonged to the Qiao family whenever it reflected well on them.
"It won’t," she said after a moment.
He nodded once, satisfied by the assurance, and returned to his work.
The conversation was over.
No one asked about the car waiting outside. The dark windows prevented them from seeing who sat inside, and none of them cared enough to investigate. As far as they were concerned, Zhiyi had found another driver willing to bring her home.
She crossed the entrance hall without drawing further attention.
Qiao Meilin shifted one of the garment boxes into her path without noticing. Zhiyi stepped around it and continued towards the stairs.
Behind her, the discussion resumed before she reached the second floor.
Her stepmother preferred the blue dress.
The younger girl wanted the cream one.
Meilin said both were ugly.
Their voices followed Zhiyi partway upstairs before fading beneath the distance.
Her bedroom was at the far end of the corridor, beyond the larger rooms occupied by her stepsisters. The door opened onto the same narrow bed, shelves and desk she had left that morning.
The room had once belonged to a guest.
Nothing structural had been changed when it became hers. The wallpaper had been selected by someone else, and the furniture matched the rest of the house rather than anything Zhiyi might have chosen. Her books and university materials were the only indication that the room had a permanent occupant.
Her stepmother described it as proof that Zhiyi had always been treated equally.
Zhiyi had learned not to point out that both stepsisters had bedrooms more than twice its size, along with separate dressing rooms and private bathrooms.
The difference no longer mattered.
In twenty-six days, the size of their bedrooms would matter even less.
Zhiyi placed her bag on the bed and began packing.
She took her identification, laptop, chargers and the university materials she might need to preserve her current absence from becoming an administrative problem. Five changes of clothing followed, along with practical shoes and the toiletries she used every day.
There were few personal possessions to consider.
Her completed book series could be purchased again. The unfinished ones weren’t worth carrying. She owned no photographs she wanted to save and no gifts that couldn’t be replaced.
Packing the useful parts of her life required less than fifteen minutes.
At 9:52, Zhiyi closed the larger bag and placed it beside the door.
She showered, changed and set her alarm for seven the next morning. When she opened the messaging application, a new message from Hanchuan was already waiting.
Eight o’clock. I’ll come inside if you aren’t outside.
The instruction contained both a time and a consequence.
Zhiyi replied that she understood.
Then she placed the phone beside her bed and lay down.
The house remained awake around her. Water moved through pipes inside the walls. A door closed in one of her stepsisters’ rooms. Someone laughed downstairs, followed by her father’s quieter voice asking them to lower the volume.
No one came to check whether Zhiyi had eaten.
No one asked why she was packing.
No one noticed that the quiet mouse from the previous marriage was preparing to leave.
For the first time, that didn’t hurt as much as it should have.
Hanchuan would arrive at eight.
When Zhiyi closed her eyes, twenty-six days remained.
When she opened them again, there would be twenty-five.