On Friday afternoon, Lin Bei was lounging on the sofa, watching TV.

This was the happiest time of her day. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warmly bathing her in its glow.

“Are you not going out today?” Su Chen asked before leaving.

“Why would I go out? There’s no sofa outside anyway.”

Su Chen didn’t argue; he just paused at the door. “There might be a guest coming today.”

“What kind of guest?”

“A… senior relative.”

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

“Is she pretty?”

Su Chen glanced at her. “Why are you asking that?”

“Just curious.”

“She’s pretty,” Su Chen said, then closed the door and left, leaving Lin Bei alone on the sofa, lost in thought.

A pretty female elder? Was it his mom? Or his aunt?

Never mind—either way, it had nothing to do with her.

She rolled over and went back to watching TV.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, the doorbell rang.

Lin Bei sprang up from the sofa—not out of politeness, but because Su Chen had told her to “tidy herself up a bit” when guests came.

She glanced down at herself: her hair hadn’t been washed in three days and was hastily pinned up with a shark clip; there were soy-sauce stains on her T-shirt from last night; and her shorts were so pilled they looked like they’d been worn for ten years.

There wasn’t time to change.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was a woman.

In her forties, well-groomed, dressed in an all-Chanel suit and carrying an Hermès bag. Her features were delicate, her demeanor elegant—clearly the kind of woman who’d never known hardship from childhood to adulthood.

The moment she saw Lin Bei, the smile on her face froze for a second: “Hello, may I ask if Su Chen is home?”

“Su Ge hasn’t come back yet. Who are you?”

“I’m his mother.”

Lin Bei’s mind raced.

Su Chen’s mother. A rich second-generation mom who wears Chanel and carries Hermès.

And here she was—wearing a T-shirt stained with soy sauce, with unwashed hair after three days, standing in the doorway like a stray cat that had just been picked up off the street.

“Hello, Auntie!” Lin Bei forced a bright smile. “Su Ge said you were coming—please, come in!”

Su Chen’s mother stepped into the living room, her gaze sweeping every corner like a scanner.

Lin Bei suddenly realized something: the living room was very clean.

Not because Su Chen had cleaned it, but because she’d had a sudden urge this morning to give it a good once-over. She’d mopped the floor three times, wiped the coffee table twice, and even beaten the sofa cushions.

Su Chen’s mother looked around and nodded. “Cleanter than I expected.”

“Su Ge cleans every day,” Lin Bei hurriedly added. “He hates dirt more than anything.”

“I know,” Su Chen’s mother said, settling onto the sofa and fixing her gaze on the milk-tea cup on the coffee table. “Is this yours?”

“Yes, yes, it’s mine—I’ll take it away right away.”

“No need,” Su Chen’s mother said with a smile. “It’s perfectly normal for young people to drink milk tea. Su Chen doesn’t drink these kinds—he says the sugar content is too high.”

“That’s right, he only drinks black coffee—American-style, super bitter.”

Su Chen’s mother chuckled. “You sure know him well.”

Lin Bei couldn’t help but feel there was more to those words.

She decided to change the subject: “Would you like some tea, Auntie? I can brew you some.”

“No need to trouble yourself.”

“Not at all, not at all!” Lin Bei darted into the kitchen.

Opening the cabinet, she saw Su Chen’s tea neatly lined up—Longjing tea, Pu-erh tea, Tieguanyin, Da Hong Pao. She couldn’t tell them apart at all.

She picked up the most expensive box—Da Hong Pao—and opened it to find a tea cake inside.

A tea cake.

She had no idea how to brew it.

Then she grabbed the Longjing tea. That she knew how to make: just put the leaves in a cup and pour in hot water.

Three minutes later, she brought out a cup of Longjing tea.

Su Chen’s mother took it and sipped.

“Not bad,” she said. “Do you often drink tea?”

“No, this is my first time.”

Su Chen’s mother’s hand paused for a moment.

“Your first time brewing Longjing tea, and you’ve managed to bring out this flavor?”

“Maybe it’s because I used less water,” Lin Bei admitted honestly. “I read online that if you use too many leaves, it gets bitter, so I only put in a few.”

“A few?”

“About… five leaves?”

Su Chen’s mother was silent for two seconds, then burst out laughing.

“You’re quite an interesting kid,” she said, setting down the teacup. “How long have you been living with Su Chen?”

“Almost half a month now.”

“Have you gotten used to it?”

End of Chapter 10: The Landlord’s Family Arrives, Part 1