Ji He, Haicheng’s only daughter of a financial tycoon, studied veterinary medicine overseas. After returning to China, she stayed away from finance, preferring to cook, make videos, and rescue cats and dogs.
Her friends threw her a welcome-back party at a little bar. When the singer onstage began to sing, her heart skipped a beat.
His name was Chen Ye. Orphaned young, he lived with his elderly grandmother and ran a small, old-fashioned tofu shop. He ground soybeans by day and sang at night to pay off his debts.
His voice was rough and husky, like the wind blowing through an alley late at night.
Ji He started coming alone, requesting only his songs.
Everyone thought she was just looking for something new. She thought so too, believing she was simply a sucker for a good voice, until she saw him crouched outside an animal rescue center, his hands covered in tofu scraps as he carefully fed a stray cat with a broken leg.
In that moment, she suddenly thought: I want to share countless meals with him.
Later, she asked, “Chen Ye, how about this: I’ll cook, and you sing?”
He was silent for a long time. “Ji He, I’m drowning in debt, and I have a grandmother to look after. What do you see in me?”
Her eyes curved into a smile. “I want you to sing for me. I love the way you feed cats. And I want you to sing only for me from now on.”
