You Must Marry Me! - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Evening.
Lying in bed, Qi Zhen curled up under the warm, fluffy covers, enveloped by a rare sense of contentment.

She opened the video again, planning to watch it one more time before sleep.

Perhaps it was the relaxing atmosphere in the barbecue restaurant—the aroma of food and the soft, warm lighting—that made Yan Yiyun seem even cuter than usual. She had shed all her usual reserve, completely at ease, smiling sweetly at the camera.

Qi Zhen watched it once, her breath growing warm.

She opened WeChat and saw that Yan Yiyun had changed her profile picture—from a selfie to a white fluffy cloud. It looked soft and sweet, especially with her gentle nickname. It was irresistibly cute.

Qi Zhen pursed her lips and couldn’t help but smile. She tapped on their chat. Their conversation had stopped around the time they returned home that evening, but they’d exchanged a few more messages than usual.

“I’m home. You?”

About half an hour later, Yan Yiyun replied:

“I just got home too!”
“Auntie Li made caramel pudding today, the kind with sugar threads on top. It was amazing!”
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As usual, Qi Zhen said one sentence, and Yan Yiyun replied with several.

In the past, Qi Zhen would’ve just complimented Auntie Li’s cooking and left it at that—never chatting after work. Dinner could still be considered socializing, but endless WeChat messages? That couldn’t be brushed off so easily.

She had initially wanted to keep her distance from Yan Yiyun, then considered being friends, and now—now she was overwhelmed by fantasies that she couldn’t suppress. They tore at her reason and drowned her in a whirlpool of emotions.

Forget it. Resistance was futile.

Qi Zhen thought back on all the meals she’d shared with Yan Yiyun—each one drawing them closer, each one breaking down her self-control. She realized it was already beyond her control.

If people could control their hearts, then perhaps they wouldn’t be human.

When she filmed that video of Yan Yiyun, Qi Zhen had clearly felt her own joy. That once-dried-up heart—numb from years of emotional suppression—was beginning to stir again. A flood of unfamiliar yet familiar emotions moved through her, commanding her to get closer to Yan Yiyun, to sink into her smile, and to wait for her judgment.

She was afraid—yet she hoped.

What if Yan Yiyun liked her too?

When Yan Yiyun was with her, she was obviously happy—her smile bright and alive, completely unlike her cold company persona. The way her tone lifted at the end of her sentences, the way she acted all pampered and confident, like a spoiled little kitten showing its belly after playfully swiping with its paw.

Qi Zhen really liked that side of her. She liked it so much, she wanted to be the only one to see it.

She picked up her phone and replied to Yan Yiyun:

“It looks delicious.”

Almost instantly, Yan Yiyun responded:

“Then I’ll bring some for you tomorrow!”

Qi Zhen couldn’t help but smile again. Yan Yiyun treated her so well—how could she not daydream about her possibly liking her back?

She replied:

“Sure.”

And added:

“I know how to make it too. I’ll bring some for you next week.”

Yan Yiyun: “!!!”

She had initially wanted to say “bring it tomorrow,” but then remembered Qi Zhen had an interview and probably wouldn’t have time. Caramel pudding looked simple, but she’d seen Auntie Li spend quite a while making it.

Next week, then.

The week wasn’t even over yet, and she was already looking forward to next week.

She hadn’t realized yet—her preferences had shifted. From “I love Auntie Li! She makes me yummy food!” to “Zhen Zhen, when you have time, can you make this for me?”

If Auntie Li found out, she’d be heartbroken.

Grinning ear to ear, Yan Yiyun texted:

“Sounds great! Let’s eat it together next week!”

After all, she was just sitting at home. Qi Zhen couldn’t see her expression, so it didn’t matter how big her smile was.

With a free caramel pudding secured, she happily opened the photo and video Qi Zhen had sent and admired herself for the hundred and eightieth time.

Why hadn’t she realized before how pretty she was?

Turns out, you just need someone who knows how to shoot.

Qi Zhen was looking at the photo too. She changed her phone’s lock screen—also to a picture of Yan Yiyun.

Her lock screen had always been blue skies and white clouds—grandpa-core aesthetics. This was the first time she changed it, and right away, Mama Qi saw it.

Mama Qi asked, “Who’s that on your phone?”

Qi Zhen froze, not knowing what she was referring to. “Who?”

Mama Qi said, “That person on your screen.”

Qi Zhen’s heart began to race. She had no idea her mom looked at her phone!

As a kid, she hadn’t been allowed to close her bedroom door. Her drawers couldn’t be locked. Her diary had been thrown in front of her as she was interrogated. All those memories came rushing back. She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white.

She thought all of that was behind her. Turns out, it never really was.

Her mom asked so casually—clearly not seeing it as a problem.

Qi Zhen remembered how, back when she was a teenager, she cried and begged them not to invade her privacy again and again. They’d promised her over and over. She thought they were reasonable—turns out, they just didn’t care.

Makes sense. All they needed was an exceptional daughter. Her thoughts didn’t matter.

Qi Zhen replied coolly, “A celebrity.”

Then added, “Mom, please don’t look at my phone.”

Mama Qi, eyes still on the TV, waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not looking at your phone. It’s just your screen, what’s the big deal?”

Qi Zhen said nothing. She didn’t feel like arguing.

Disappointment never came all at once—it built up slowly. At first, it was pain, confusion, hope, the desire to change things. Eventually, you realize people can’t be changed—not after decades, especially not those who believe they’re always above you and can’t be bothered to listen to your “nonsense.”

If it’s nonsense, then she had nothing more to say.

Qi Zhen had already looked into several new apartment complexes in the north of the city. Fully furnished, minimalist style, 70–80 square meters, move-in ready. Top-tier property management—from security to service.

She planned to go check them out next weekend. If she found one suitable, she’d buy it and move out immediately.

She’d saved up for years. Time to spend it.

Buying her own apartment and moving out had been her dream since college. If it hadn’t been for her father’s sudden illness, she would’ve done it three years ago. Now, with some distance between her and her parents, no one would bother the other.

Thinking about all this messy stuff, Qi Zhen clutched her phone and slowly fell asleep.

Of course, she didn’t sleep well. After exchanges like this with her parents, she always slept lightly—every little noise could wake her.

Night was still manageable, but morning was worse. The light made her more uncomfortable.

Dreams came one after another, chaotic and unrelenting.

Some voice in her dream kept interrogating her: With the way you are now, what gives you the right to think you can love?

In past dreams, Qi Zhen would scoff and say, “So don’t love, then. Won’t kill me.”

But tonight, that voice was persistent—chasing her, refusing to let go. And she—she had lost her old coldness. She stood there, flustered, unable to respond.

At the end of the dream, Yan Yiyun stood on the other side, watching her from afar. Her expression was unclear, but Qi Zhen could feel her disappointment blowing toward her like a gust of wind.

Don’t be disappointed in me. She wanted to say it, but couldn’t get the words out.

Just give me a little more time.

In that muddled dreamscape, Qi Zhen was almost begging: Give me a bit more time and I’ll become who I’m meant to be.

No voice responded, but she woke up anyway.

Her back was drenched in cold sweat, and when she touched her face, she found it wet with tears.

Qi Zhen had long gotten used to it. She knew she was riddled with wounds—only, someone else in the family had the “bigger problem,” so she had to hold it all in, ignoring both physical and emotional pain. She didn’t want anyone mocking her for being “dramatic.”

She took a shower and changed her clothes. It was still not yet six.

Too early.

There was no way she could fall back asleep.

So Qi Zhen went to the kitchen and decided to make some caramel pudding.

Today’s interview topic was planning and future goals—something she knew like the back of her hand. No need for last-minute prep.

She knew that the future of Xingyun Entertainment belonged to Yan Yiyun. No one else’s opinion really mattered. As long as her plan aligned with Yan Yiyun’s vision, everything would be fine.

Clichés and corporate-speak wouldn’t impress her. Practical, executable plans would.

Still feeling agitated, Qi Zhen decided to make dessert to calm her nerves—better that than showing up to the office with a bad mood and giving someone something to use against her.

As for the pudding, since she couldn’t see Yan Yiyun today, she could ask Yu Xiaotao to bring it downstairs and deliver it for her.

After all, Yan Yiyun said she wanted to eat it.

This thought alone lifted her spirits a little.

She cracked six eggs into a bowl and started beating them with practiced, mechanical movements. The repetition helped clear her mind, silencing all those annoying thoughts.

By six thirty, Qi Zhen was halfway through when Mama Qi finally woke up. She paused in the kitchen doorway and asked, “Up so early?”

Qi Zhen nodded, hands still moving as she skimmed off foam with a strainer. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Her mom didn’t ask why. She walked in, grabbed some dried noodles—probably planning to make breakfast. “Want noodles for breakfast?”

Qi Zhen replied coolly, “You two go ahead. I already ate.”

Her mom nodded and boiled enough for two. As she waited, she watched Qi Zhen work on the pudding.

“You’re even making sugar threads? Don’t you find that troublesome?”

Qi Zhen said nothing. She placed the finished sugar threads in one container and the pudding in another, put them both into a lunch bag, and left.

Her mom followed her out and stuffed two boiled eggs into her hand, smiling earnestly.

“Big interview today, right? Eat some eggs and do well.”

Qi Zhen lowered her lashes, looked at the eggs in her hand, and her heart trembled slightly.

This was a tradition before every major exam.

One of the few signs of warmth she’d ever received.

She placed the eggs into her coat pocket, took a deep breath to steady herself, and said, “Okay.”

In the past, she might’ve been moved by those eggs. Even though they didn’t care day-to-day, at least there was some warmth in moments like this, right?

Now, Qi Zhen just found it awkward. Care that only appeared before big tests only confirmed one thing: she only needed to be excellent—nothing else mattered.

She took another deep breath and swallowed down her frustration. “I’m heading out.”

Mama Qi watched her leave and felt something strange.

Something about Qi Zhen’s presence seemed different—subtly shifting, slipping out of her grasp.