Madam, Please Behave

An Yuanyao felt as though she had been trapped in a long, vivid dream.

In her dream, she had two children and a loving husband who prepared home-cooked meals every day. They lived in an ordinary but warm home, eating together in a comforting domestic bliss.

It was perfect—so perfect that she sank deeply into it.

But the serenity of the dream was shattered.

One day, her dream husband brought another woman home, declaring he wanted a divorce and planned to take the children with him.

The last scene froze on the rooftop, where she stood at the edge and looked down.

Then she leaped.

With a gasp, she awoke, her chest heaving as she struggled for air. She could feel the sweat trickling down her forehead, the cold, wet sensation sliding along her skin.

Her harsh breathing echoed through the small, empty room. Slowly, the panic subsided.

Then, it clicked.

She had come to Liu Changqing's place.

The memories started trickling back:

The previous night, she had secretly staked out her husband Li Chongming’s company, watching as he left work with his arm linked to Li Wanran’s. They got into a car together.

In a fit of impulsiveness, she hailed a taxi to follow them.

When they entered a hotel together, she tried to go in after them but was stopped by the security guard. With her baseball cap pulled low and wearing her nondescript tracksuit, she had looked suspicious.

She loudly protested that the man was her husband, but her claims fell on deaf ears.

Desperate, she tried to sneak in through the back entrance but slipped and fell into the hotel fountain.

Everything was a mess—her body, her pride, and her life.

She had also somehow lost her house keys during the stakeout. Not wanting to return home and confront the emptiness, she instinctively came to Liu Changqing’s bookstore.

By the time she arrived, the store wasn’t open yet. She had no choice but to sit at the entrance, exhausted and drenched.

Her body gave out, and she fell asleep on the cold ground.

Then, Liu Changqing had woken her up.

Her gaze shifted to the window.

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. The entire day had passed.

She had slept soundly, so soundly that she couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt this rested.

Though her body was still sore, she pushed herself up from the recliner, her muscles aching as she moved.

Her dried clothes lay neatly folded nearby. She picked them up and dressed herself, noting the faint warmth still lingering in the fabric.

Did I dry these before I slept?

She glanced at the closed door of the small room and shook her head slightly.

She didn’t dwell on the thought.

After folding the blanket she had used, she placed it back on the recliner, then slipped on her jacket.

It was toasty.

The faint warmth and softness of the fabric comforted her. Yet as she ran her hand over the surface, she noticed it was slightly worn, with small patches of pilling.

Pushing the door open, she stepped out into the store and saw Liu Changqing.

He was seated at the computer, his eyes locked onto the screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard without pause.

It was as if her presence hadn’t even registered.

His intense focus was evident, his entire being absorbed in whatever he was working on.

An Yuanyao stood there, watching him for a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips. He hasn’t changed much.

After a while, she broke the silence.

“Still so busy?”

Liu Changqing’s typing paused briefly. He turned his head, catching sight of her standing there, her jacket neatly in place, her eyes slightly red from exhaustion but brighter than earlier.

“Awake already?” he asked, his tone neutral but not unkind.

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me rest here,” she said softly.

“Don’t mention it.” He turned back to the screen. “But you look better than before. I’ll take that as a win.”

Her smile widened slightly, her hands tucked into her pockets as she walked toward the counter, sitting down across from him.

“I had a strange dream,” she said, her voice almost wistful.

Liu Changqing glanced at her briefly but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“It felt so real,” she added, her gaze unfocused as if recalling something painful. “It was… bittersweet.”

“Dreams are like that,” Liu Changqing replied absently, his focus drifting back to his work. “They’re just dreams.”

For a moment, the bookstore fell quiet again.

But this time, the silence wasn’t heavy—it was almost peaceful.

An Yuanyao instinctively softened her footsteps, moving silently toward Liu Changqing, step by step, until she was right behind him.

It was only then that she noticed what he was doing—typing on a keyboard.

Writing?

The thought flashed through her mind. She leaned closer, her curiosity growing. As she peered over his shoulder, it became clear that Liu Changqing was writing a novel.

Her heart was filled with surprise.

In her memory, Liu Changqing had been an average student, not particularly studious, but not a troublemaker either. He was a quiet presence, never initiating trouble, yet never being victimized. Back in high school, he had been entirely unremarkable, someone no one paid much attention to.

She had seen him once after school, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he stood with a group of rough-looking boys. That scene had stayed with her.

Later, when he pursued Li Wanran, everything about him seemed to change. He began working hard, putting in the effort to turn his life around. But by then, it was already too late to salvage his academic record. After graduating high school, he chose to start working instead of pursuing further studies.

A year later, news of his marriage to Li Wanran spread, followed shortly by news of her pregnancy.

And now, this Liu Changqing, who had always seemed ordinary, was writing novels?

The realization left her utterly baffled.

Her head leaned closer, her hair falling like a curtain. A stray strand brushed against Liu Changqing’s face, pulling him out of his focused state.

He turned his head, his expression flat as his gaze met hers.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re writing a novel?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

“Yeah,” Liu Changqing replied with a brief nod.

Today, his editor had reached out to inform him that his novel had been given a small recommendation spot—not a front-page feature, but a category-based recommendation. It was a modest but significant step forward.

《Battle Through the Heavens》 was beginning to gain traction. While the click count was still under 50,000, the collection count was approaching 3,000. It wasn’t the explosive success he remembered from his previous life, but it was progress nonetheless.

Calculating roughly, he realized that with consistent updates and full attendance bonuses, the income would be enough to cover his family’s expenses. At least, for now, the children’s school fees wouldn’t be a problem.

But Liu Changqing couldn’t help but wonder—what if it became even more popular?

He shook off the unrealistic thought with a self-deprecating smile. “Be content with what you have,” he reminded himself.

“If only the clothing factory hadn’t collapsed…”

“What’s the title?”

“《Battle Through the Heavens》. It’s aimed at male readers. You probably wouldn’t be interested.”

Liu Changqing shifted slightly, putting some distance between them.

An Yuanyao straightened up and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I used to read novels in high school too,” she said softly.

“Romance novels, right? Maybe something like ‘The Overbearing CEO Falls for Me’?”

“The what?”

She frowned, confused by the phrase.

“You know, campus love stories and the like. Did your friends introduce you to them?”

Hearing the word “friends,” her expression faltered slightly.

“Not anymore…” she murmured.

Deciding to change the subject, Liu Changqing pulled out his phone and glanced at her.

“Let’s eat something before you go. I don’t have long before my shift ends anyway.”

She nodded silently.

Dialing a nearby noodle shop, Liu Changqing placed an order.

“Two bowls of noodles, please.”

At this time, food delivery services weren’t popular yet. However, since the shop was nearby, he had previously arranged for them to prepare takeout.

After hanging up, he turned back to her.

“You’re okay with noodles, right?”

“They’re fine…”

“Not much of a choice, though. I’m pretty broke these days.”

No tact whatsoever!

An Yuanyao shot him an indignant look, her heart filling with mild annoyance.

But then she caught herself—why was she even complaining? It wasn’t like they were close or anything.

Her gaze lowered, becoming more complicated as she looked at him.

Noticing her peculiar expression, Liu Changqing felt a little uncomfortable.

“What's with that look? Do you not like noodles or something?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.