Pillow-Side Stranger

Irene Zhao had just returned to the city after a dusty three-hour bus ride from the countryside with her TV crew. It was already past eight in the evening. As she was about to shower and change, she received a strange text message.

From an unknown number, just a few simple Chinese characters: “Minzu Road, Hanting Hotel.”

Irene paused for only two seconds before a rough idea dawned on her.

She didn’t know who sent the message, but she was certain it was from someone with a strong sense of justice—someone who wanted to do the right thing without seeking recognition.

Glancing at her reflection, she saw her bare-faced, dull complexion. She thought about the possibility of an impending confrontation. Wearing the same dirty clothes for two days suddenly seemed fitting battle attire.

It was springtime. Back in her hometown, Chengdu, the season was warm and blossoming. But here, in this northwestern city, dust storms raged relentlessly.

Stepping out of the taxi, standing at the hotel entrance, Irene suddenly realized she’d forgotten her mask.

On a dust storm night, the streets were nearly empty. The few pedestrians hurried by, all masked, eager to escape this cursed place.

So here was a young woman standing alone in the swirling sand and wind, practically performing some kind of street art.

To avoid looking like a performance artist, Irene lingered a few minutes, then crossed the street to a McDonald’s. She ordered something simple and chose a window seat. Soon she realized the spot had a perfect view of the budget hotel entrance directly opposite.

This discovery gave her a small thrill.

A thrill?!

When Irene caught herself feeling pleased, she thought how absurd it was.

Yes, she was here on a secret tip-off to catch a cheater, yet she felt no pang of betrayal.

No anger. No sadness. Those emotions seemed almost nonexistent.

It was as if, before this relationship even began, she had already predicted this ending. When she saw that text, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d long been trapped in some cruel curse.

This was only her third relationship. From nineteen to twenty-six, three romances weren’t many, but for a reserved, traditional woman like Irene, it was almost too much. If not for each ending badly, she would have wanted a love that didn’t end in heartbreak—one that naturally led to marriage and children.

But fate seemed to enjoy playing this cruel joke. Luckily, the rule of “third time’s the charm” meant she could face this third betrayal with calm, neither sad nor angry.

Her first heartbreak had come before graduation—a complete emotional investment turned ridiculous joke. It took months to recover.

The second, after starting work, was just as harsh a reality check. But by then, Irene had learned to protect herself and manage her emotions. That relationship lasted less than six months. After the betrayal, she only slept for two days and woke up refreshed. If the first heartbreak was a deep wound, the second was just a mild cold.

Now, this time, she was fully prepared to accept the sudden truth.

It was 10:30 p.m. when Victor Tang emerged from the hotel entrance. Irene had just finished a burger and two chicken wings at McDonald’s, washed down with two cups of coffee.

Victor and Irene worked at different channels in the city’s TV station. She was a junior editor for the Agriculture Channel; he was a junior planner at the News Channel. The station had thousands of employees, and they were among the most ordinary. Though both had been there for years, they only met last year.

Both were outsiders without connections, from the same alma mater, and probably bonded over the loneliness of being away from home. Their friendship quickly grew into something more.

They’d been together just over six months, but work schedules meant their actual time together was even less. Still, they shared interests and got along well. Before this trip, Victor had worried about her eating poorly in the countryside and stocked her up with snacks—a decent boyfriend, no doubt.

Under the dim glow of the hotel’s entrance light, Irene squinted to study the woman beside Victor.

It wasn’t that she had keen eyesight—it was the woman she knew well. Zheng Yu, the field reporter for her show, was about her age and considered a friend.

Zheng was on break from field assignments this week. Before the trip, she’d messaged the group chat, asking Irene to bring some local specialties from the countryside, even sending several blowing-kiss emojis.

Irene found it amusing.

Victor was unmarried, Zheng was single, and they were all young. If he wanted to move on, that was understandable. But why the sneaky affair?

Why not just be open, instead of playing secret lovers?

Irene couldn’t understand their mindset.

As the pair walked to the roadside to hail a taxi, Irene grabbed the drinks she’d prepared for them and hurried across the street.

Victor and Zheng’s faces froze in shock as the woman ran toward them under the neon lights.

For a moment, Irene thought—they actually made quite a matched pair.

“Why are you here, Irene?” the two cheaters spoke in unison.

Irene approached with a charming smile. “Victor, that honey-glazed cake you bought me the other day was delicious.” Then she looked at Zheng. “Zheng Yu, you asked me to bring you some local specialties, right? I got you some dried dates from the farmer’s market.”

Victor, caught off guard by her calm demeanor, stepped forward awkwardly and grabbed her arm. “Irene, please let me explain!”

“Did you do something wrong?” Irene’s big, dark eyes sparkled with ambiguous meaning. “You both look tired. I got you two Cokes to quench your thirst.”

Victor and Zheng, clearly guilty, shrank back, neither daring to take the drinks. Victor smiled sheepishly and repeated, “Irene, please listen to me.”

Irene’s smile suddenly turned cold. With one hand holding a Coke each, she threw the drinks straight at them.

It was late March, and the city was still chilly. The two ice-cold sodas drenched Victor and Zheng, who yelped and jumped around in shock and discomfort.

Irene felt utterly satisfied.

Ignoring their bedraggled state, she hailed a taxi and walked away.

Back at her apartment, Irene took a long, refreshing shower as if washing away all the bad energy. She glanced at her phone, deleting a dozen unread messages from Victor without a second thought, then noticed several missed calls from her mother.

It was almost midnight, but her mother had recently taken up late-night computer games and was now part of the elderly night-owl crowd. Without hesitation, Irene called back.

Sure enough, after two rings her mother’s rapid chatter filled the line.

“Irene, what’s going on? I’ve been calling all day with no answer.”

“I was out on a rural assignment with poor signal. I just got out of the shower and didn’t hear the phone.”

“Oh.” Her mother sounded relieved. Then she added, “Irene, Chengdu TV is hiring. Your father pulled some strings and secured you a position in the Finance Channel. The deal’s done. Just come back within two months to start. You know the Finance Channel has the best benefits. If you don’t come back, don’t blame me for disowning you. I don’t understand your thinking—do you really think the Western Development can’t go on without you? That place is cold and dusty. I lasted two days there and couldn’t stand it—how have you put up with it for so many years?”

Irene considered for a moment. “Alright. I’ll submit my resignation tomorrow.”

Since graduating, her mother had been pushing her to return home to work. But Irene—stubborn as ever—had insisted on staying in that dusty northwestern city. For years, her mother tried everything from soft persuasion to threats, stopping just short of tears and tantrums. But Irene never budged, always flying back after spending a few days home during the holidays.

This time, though, she agreed immediately. Her mother was caught off guard and burst into joyful laughter. “Then hurry up and handle the paperwork. When you come back, your father and I will pick you up at the airport.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know when it’s done. You both get some rest—don’t stay up too late. It’s bad for your health at your age.”

In the past, such concern from her mother would have annoyed Irene, who’d respond with irritation about her age and refusal to return. But today, there was no need for complaints. Her mother was genuinely happy, and after the usual reminders about health, they hung up.

Irene stared at her now-dark phone and sighed deeply.

It was truly time to go home.

Four years of university, nearly four years working here—she could hardly believe she’d spent so long in a city that wasn’t hers.

She didn’t really like this city. No blooming flowers in spring, little rain in summer, dry autumns, and long, harsh winters. It paled in every way compared to her hometown, Chengdu—even its modest vibrancy.

So why had she stayed so long?

Maybe at first she wanted to escape something in life. But over time, it became a habit. Habits were powerful—given enough time, likes and dislikes all turned into mere routine.

That night, she slept soundly. A love that ended without drama could no longer shake twenty-six-year-old Irene Zhao.

Only her appetite for love was thoroughly spoiled.

The next day at work, Irene handed in her resignation.

She’d been with the program since graduation and was considered a veteran. Known for her competence, dedication, and easygoing nature, the news of her departure spread like wildfire.

Victor and Zheng, probably assuming she was leaving because of them, secretly came to apologize one after another.

Their story wasn’t some melodramatic scandal—just two people who suddenly connected and, fearing they’d hurt unsuspecting Irene, tried to keep it secret.

Irene knew she’d been the “other woman” and had been cheated on, but considering they’d spent little time together over the past six months, and their affair hadn’t even fully begun, her loss was minimal. That icy Coke had already washed away most of her resentment.

Of course, she wasn’t saintly enough to wish them well. She simply told them the truth: she was leaving for better opportunities at home. This was goodbye, and they would likely never meet again.