Chapter 62 Bad Cake

Yin Xian’s career was thriving, and not long after, he was promoted again—this time into the company’s management team.

With such good news, a celebratory dinner with colleagues and subordinates was a must, and they insisted that Yin Xian bring his girlfriend along. Unable to refuse, he called Wang Jiexiang.

She was at work and didn’t answer the phone.

In the afternoon, she replied via text asking what had happened. Yin Xian told her he had been promoted and asked if she wanted to join him and his colleagues for dinner that evening.

[“I don’t know them. If I say the wrong thing and embarrass you, I’d rather not go. You go have dinner with them—I’ll make something delicious for you when you get home.”]

Yin Xian didn’t reply to that message.

No reply meant: Got it.

After being together for so long, some things didn’t need to be said—they understood each other’s meaning.

After work, Wang Jiexiang passed by a cake shop and wanted to buy a cake to celebrate Yin Xian’s promotion.

The cakes in the display window were all beautifully crafted. All she had to do was pay, and she could take one home.

She picked one out, took out her wallet, counted the money into her hand, and suddenly felt that such a celebration gift was too easy—lacking sincerity.

If she wanted it to have sincerity, it had to be handmade…

“Excuse me,” she asked on a whim, approaching the store clerk, “can I make my own cake here?”

The clerk shook his head.

“We only sell ready-made cakes. But if you want to customize the wording on a cake, we can do that for you.”

She thanked him and bought two pork floss breads for breakfast the next day.

After ringing up the breads, the clerk added, “If you have an oven at home, you could try baking it yourself. Otherwise, I think some other shops might let you bake your own—maybe try asking around.”

They didn’t have an oven at home. Because of what he said, Wang Jiexiang went to check out a few other cake shops.

In the end, she actually found one that let customers make their own cakes—and she could make one that very night.

The owner was a kind old lady. She and her husband ran the shop together. She provided ingredients, molds, ovens, and guidance. The finished homemade cakes cost the same as the ones sold in-store.

Wang Jiexiang had no trouble cooking regular meals.

But this was her first time baking a cake.

Following the old lady’s instructions, her first attempt at a sponge cake failed.

It came out of the oven looking fluffy, but quickly collapsed into a dense pancake.

The old lady guessed she hadn’t mixed the egg yolk batter evenly.

While munching on the failed cake, Wang Jiexiang started on a second one.

“Hm?” She kept chewing and found it surprisingly tasty. “It’s not fluffy, but it’s really good. Maybe I’m naturally gifted at baking cakes!”

The old lady smiled at her delight and encouraged her.

“Yes, you’re learning very quickly. For your first time, this is really impressive.”

As if to prove them right, the second cake came out perfectly baked—golden, fragrant, and deliciously sweet.

Wang Jiexiang carefully spread the frosting and piped decorations. When she finished, she solemnly wrote in the center: “Congratulations on Your Promotion, Yin Xian!”

Carrying her little cake box out of the shop, she felt completely satisfied.

Even though she had spent the whole evening on it, it was totally worth it. This cake was definitely going to be even tastier than the first one she’d ruined!

She carried it home with great care, humming all the way.

Yin Xian didn’t get home too late.

Wang Jiexiang had just finished doing laundry when she heard the door open. She ran from the balcony back to the room, still holding her towel.

Yin Xian was changing into slippers, and there was a large pale purple cake box sitting at the entrance.

Seeing the box, Wang Jiexiang couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“You bought a cake?”

He kept his head down and didn’t notice her expression.

“They bought it. It was too big, we couldn’t finish it, so they asked me to bring it home.”

“Oh,” she rubbed her hands and mumbled, “I also… made a cake for you.”

He handed her the box. “Perfect. Don’t you love cake? Eat more.”

Wang Jiexiang blinked. “Just me? You’re not eating?”

“I’m full.”

Yin Xian went to take a shower.

She brought the cake box into the kitchen and opened it.

Inside was a lavishly decorated fruit cake, with mango and pudding layers. Less than a quarter had been eaten.

Wang Jiexiang sighed and put the small cake she had made into the fridge.

The fridge could preserve food, but the shelf life of a cake was still less than two days.

Two days later, both her handmade cake and the one Yin Xian brought home ended up in the trash.

He hadn’t been home for dinner either day, and she didn’t have the appetite for cake.

After this promotion, not eating at home became the norm for Yin Xian. In the past, he used to notify her when he’d be late. Now, he only occasionally let her know if he’d be home for dinner.

Wang Jiexiang only needed to buy groceries for herself.

After work, she cooked for herself, ate alone—didn’t even need to save leftovers for him.

Yin Xian came home later and later.

He never told her about work and never complained about being tired.

She didn’t know how much he drank every day, or what kept him so busy; she only knew his shirts smelled of alcohol, smoke, and perfume; that he was taking antacids; that he had insomnia.

Eventually, Wang Jiexiang couldn’t keep pretending to be deaf and blind. She started nagging.

“If you can avoid these networking dinners, just skip them. Come home earlier.”

“Don’t drink so much. Eat meals on time.”

“If you keep skipping meals and drowning in alcohol, you’ll drink yourself into the grave before you ever ‘make it.’”

“What time are you coming home? This kind of irregular schedule will ruin your health!”

She nagged every day—when she saw him, she nagged in person; when she didn’t, she nagged over text.

She got tired of saying it. He got tired of hearing it.

But it didn’t work.

He still worked like he didn’t value his life, and still came home at the same late hours.

One time, he stayed out all night, and Wang Jiexiang finally exploded. They had a huge fight.

Afterward, she pulled out pen and paper and demanded he sign an agreement.

“Set a latest return time. You can’t come home later than that.”

Yin Xian hesitated. “That’s not realistic. Every day is different.”

“Write it down. You said it yourself—two, two thirty, or three. Precisely because it’s not fixed, you have to write it down. I wait for you at home—I can’t relax.”

He brushed it off. “There’s nothing to worry about. Just go to sleep.”

Wang Jiexiang clutched her hair, overwhelmed, and broke down.

She screamed at him.

“I can’t sleep! Yin Xian, I can’t sleep!”

She stayed at home, anxiously following the ticking of the clock, constantly guessing what he was doing tonight. When he came home, she had to pretend to be asleep, pretending to be deeply asleep. He had insomnia, and so did she.

“Why do you think I can just sleep peacefully? You tire yourself out, and I’m supposed to be fine? Is it that easy to separate everything so clearly?”

Yin Xian was speechless at her words.

After some discussion, they reached a consensus.

The latest he could come home was no later than 3 AM.

This agreement, which she had to fight hard to get, was broken within less than a week.

At 3:30 AM, Yin Xian arrived at the door, key in hand, twisting it left and right with no effect.

The door had been double-locked by Wang Jiexiang.

She sat outside, holding a chair by the door, separated from him by the barrier of that door.

Wang Jiexiang demanded an explanation.

Whether he called her, texted her, or tried talking through the door, she wanted an explanation.

Realizing the door was locked, Yin Xian pulled out the key. He stood at the door for five minutes, smoked a cigarette, then got up and took the elevator downstairs.

Yin Xian spent the night at a hotel.

The next day.

Not yet 3 AM, his key unlocked the door.

Expecting to find a hysterical Wang Jiexiang, he found none.

She was sitting in her favorite yellow monkey pajama, watching TV. When she saw him enter, she casually greeted him.

“You’re back?”

Yin Xian didn’t reply.

Their relationship had long passed the stage of pretending to be fine, of keeping up appearances. He knew she wasn’t happy, especially not happy—there was no need to pretend otherwise.

After washing up, Yin Xian came out, and Wang Jiexiang turned off the TV.

On the coffee table were two cups—couple mugs, one black, one white. She had made honey water, and there was a cup for him.

Wang Jiexiang sat cross-legged on the couch.

She looked at Yin Xian with bright eyes, smiling.

He wanted to go to his room, but she stopped him.

“We need to talk, Yin Xian.”

Her words were soft, her tone slow, almost playful, but tinged with subtle complaints.

“You talk to so many people every day, can’t you talk to me? You come home just to sleep, it’s like our home is a hotel.”

Yin Xian sat on the couch.

After a moment of thought, he asked, “What do you want to hear?”

Wang Jiexiang countered, “What do you want to say?”

“I don’t have anything to say,” he picked up the honey water cup.

She watched him finish the drink.

“Do you want more?”

Yin Xian shook his head.

He seemed to have no words to say, so she spoke again.

“Is it really that unreasonable? I told you to come home by 3 AM, or I’d lock you out. You need socializing for work, for money. I can’t understand you, and I made it hard for you… But, Yin Xian, to make me understand, at least you should talk. You never discuss it. You assume I won’t understand, but you never even try to explain.”

As Wang Jiexiang spoke, Yin Xian found himself zoning out.

He remembered there were still some documents he needed to review before bed. Hearing her mention “for work, for money,” his mind felt dull, and he wasn’t entirely convinced. His body seemed to be wound up like a clock, pushed forward by stress. When there was a moment to stop and rest, like instinct, he would involuntarily return to that state of pressure.

Yin Xian’s gaze shifted to the carpet in their living room.

It was so old. He thought: it should be replaced.

“Yin Xian…” Wang Jiexiang rubbed her aching temples. “Do you understand what I mean?”

Yin Xian looked at her, as if he really didn’t understand. “What’s the point of saying it?”

Wang Jiexiang truly felt it was pointless.

They weren’t the right fit for each other, even if there was love between them… Well, actually, she wasn’t sure if there was any love left.

“If there’s nothing left to say, then let’s break up.”

She looked at him, her eyes holding neither love nor hate.

She could smile at him, smiling light and unburdened.

“When we were together, we were just living together. Now that conditions have improved, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.”

After the breakup, they still lived under the same roof for two more weeks.

Wang Jiexiang spent a week searching for a new place.

In the second week, she took two days off to pack up and prepare to move out.

While organizing the kitchen cabinets, Wang Jiexiang stumbled upon a long-unused juicer.

She hadn’t had carrot juice in a long time. In place of it, there was a whole row of imported fish oil bought by Yin Xian in the fridge. She hadn’t eaten much of it recently, and he didn’t know.

There were so many little things they had bought together, things that couldn’t be split in half. She didn’t want them, so she left them for him.

The things he gave her, the things she didn’t want, the couple items, the shared memories—they all went into a box. Wang Jiexiang left a note for Yin Xian to deal with.

After organizing everything, her luggage was much lighter, and it wasn’t difficult to carry on her own.

Before leaving, she searched the house to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

At the top of the bookshelf, her fingers brushed against a cold metal box. She tried to take it down, standing on tiptoe, stretching her hand, but accidentally knocked it down.

It was a familiar tin can.

Its packaging said “milk crisp sauce,” but some of the writing was worn and unclear.

The tin hit the floor, its lid popped off, and the letter inside fell out.

Wang Jiexiang stared at the solitary piece of paper, a strange feeling rising in her chest.

She remembered the tin being heavy, filled with letters from Yin Xian’s pen pal. There had been so many letters before, but now only a single thin sheet remained.

She picked up the only letter from the floor and unfolded it.

There was only one line written on it—her own handwriting.

【Yin Xian, if life could start over, it would be great. It’s too hard, let’s never meet again.】

The blank space seemed to hold more words, but they had been heavily crossed out in black ink. The dense black lines intertwined, complex and attention-grabbing.

Wang Jiexiang folded the letter back up.

The handwriting was unmistakably hers.

But she had no memory of writing those words! What did it mean?

Her mind raced, and an unsettling chill gripped her heart. She swallowed nervously and didn’t dare think further.

“Is it just some prank?” Wang Jiexiang muttered to herself, trying to distract herself. “Wasn’t this letter from A Ru’s pen pal? He wrote about his childhood, about stealing candy when he was little…”

Her hands were shaking as she quickly folded the letter, stuffed it back into the tin, and returned it to its place on the bookshelf.

When she closed the bookshelf, the glass reflected a dazed face.

Wang Jiexiang looked at that face—hers.

A sixteen-year-old girl, messy hair, eyes swollen from crying.

Tears hung at her cheeks, and she said to herself, “If life could start over, it would be great…”

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her throat. Wang Jiexiang quickly reached up to touch her face.

In the reflection of the glass, her younger self suddenly disappeared.

Wang Jiexiang rubbed her eyes hard, and her own face returned.

She stared wide-eyed at her reflection in the glass. Her cheeks were dry, and there were no traces of tears left on her face.

“This is really unbelievable!”

Wang Jiexiang’s back chilled, and she quickly walked out of the study.

No longer lingering here.

Dragging her suitcase, she left the apartment.