My Quest for Love

December’s wind, laced with snow, whistled in a low murmur as it cut through the city.

Street lamps flickered on and off, sputtering in a last gasp of light before fading to total darkness.

In the city’s night, some corners buzzed with life while others lay desolate. It was in one such quiet nook that a girl—bundled in a thick fur coat and a cartoon plush hat—pressed a notice against the wall.

Having no paste or glue, she made do with the last scrap of clear tape, barely securing the roommate-wanted ad to the wall outside her building.

The house was a two-story villa with gray brick walls, its age evident in the faint wear and tear that gave it a weathered charm.

Nestled half an hour’s drive from the city center, it stood far from bustling commercial districts. A lone subway sign glowed in the distance, while neon-lit office buildings dotted the surrounding area.

The girl’s name was Yan Mo. She’d just celebrated her 24th birthday with her best friend Yaoyao a few days earlier, edging closer to the so-called “leftover woman” label. With her finances stretched to the breaking point, renting out a room had become her only option.

“Hope it’s a cute guy!” Yan Mo slapped the lopsided notice onto the wall, not bothering to check its stability before turning to leave.

A gust of wind swept by, easily tearing the poorly taped ad free—and slapping it straight onto the face of a man walking out of the subway.

Gu Tianhai dragged his suitcase, squinting at the scribbled notice under the subway station’s dim glow.

The careless landlord had forgotten to include a phone number, leaving only the address, door number, and rent price.

Five hundred yuan a month? In a city with skyrocketing costs, it was nothing short of a miracle.

A villa meant decent living conditions, and it was close to his internship. Gu Tianhai decided it was worth investigating. He pulled his hoodie over his head, gripped his suitcase handle, and set off in search of the address.

Yan Mo scurried back to her room and dove under the covers, wrapping herself up from head to toe like someone huddled on a northeastern heated brick bed.

Winter had arrived early that year. Outside the window, the world was shrouded in howling north winds and swirling snowflakes—cold and eerily quiet.

Lonely nights bred messy thoughts. Better drink some beer to lull herself to sleep, she thought.

Slipping out of bed, she navigated the heated house. Dishes and bowls cluttered the floor; expired snacks mingled with piles of dirty clothes and socks; empty delivery boxes were tossed haphazardly everywhere.

Moving around her own home felt like trekking through a jungle.

She nearly tripped over a pillow on her way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she pulled out the last four cans of beer and soaked them in warm water to take the chill off.

“Please let someone respond soon… otherwise I can’t even cover the utilities next month,” Yan Mo muttered, carrying the warmed beer back to her cluttered room. She plopped down at her desk, set the cans down with a thud, and began chugging them alone.

As dizziness crept in, her gaze drifted to the stack of manuscripts on her laptop. The screen displayed her email inbox, flooded with rejection notices.

As a manga artist, constant rejections felt like a lifelong failure.

Yan Mo sighed deeply. If she hadn’t been so desperate for money, she’d never have considered renting a room.

Three days earlier—

A graduate of the Academy of Fine Arts for two years, she’d shut herself away in the 200-square-meter villa, avoiding the real world. Her dream was to become a best-selling manga artist, so she’d spent every day drawing and submitting works to publishers.

Yet after two years, she remained an obscure artist with barely any published works. Her style didn’t fit market demands, and rejections poured in. Even her editor had lost his patience.

“Can’t you draw something marketable? Stop sending me this weird stuff! It’s been two years, and you’ve only published one book… The plot is full of holes—do you take me for an idiot? Do you take readers for idiots?!”

The editor’s scolding echoed in Yan Mo’s ears as she stared at her rejected manuscript and the unfinished ending, her heart sinking into despair.

It was her 30th rejection that year. Between rejections and missed deadlines, her chat history with her editor was nothing but reprimands.

She couldn’t blame him—dealing with an author who never delivered must have been frustrating.

But two years ago, she’d been different.

Back then, she’d been head over heels in love, brimming with hope for life and her dreams. Until her boyfriend of three years decided to study abroad.

“Yan Mo, wait for me. When I come back, we’ll get married. I’ll make you the happiest bride in the world.” Those were Li Hao’s last words to her—words she’d etched into her heart, clinging to his promise.

But promises were easy to make, hard to keep.

Love was like sea foam—glimmering colorfully in the sun one moment, scattered by the wind the next.

Li Hao had been her sea foam: brilliant once, then gone without a trace.

The promises they’d made had faded into endless busy signals, and finally, the cold automated message: “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

Sometimes Yan Mo felt like she was wasting her life. Her boyfriend of three years had vanished without a trace. To numb the pain, she’d drawn manga that never got published, ignoring everyone’s advice to change careers.

Maybe the rumors were true—Li Hao had fallen for someone else and abandoned her. And she’d been abandoned by fate too, failing at everything, rotting away like a parasite in society.

“I’ve been heartbroken for ages, but I still can’t focus on moving forward,” Yan Mo stared at her editor’s harsh comments, feeling utterly hopeless. What was the point of living to 24 if she was this much of a mess?

The more she thought, the more miserable she felt. She picked up her phone and called Yaoyao, who’d just finished work, asking her to meet at a food stall for beer and consolation.

“I must be the biggest failure in the world! Heartbroken, unemployed, nothing goes right for me… What’s the point of my existence?!” Yan Mo ranted, chugging beer and sobbing loudly—yet no tears fell.

“You’re making all that noise but not shedding a tear. I don’t even know if I should hand you a tissue,” Yaoyao sighed, watching her. “Rejections are nothing new for you. We’ve told you to change careers, but you refuse. Let me guess—you’re broke, aren’t you?”

At the mention of money, Yan Mo slammed her wallet on the table. “Last fifty yuan. You’re paying the bill later.” She raised her glass again, drowning her sorrows in beer.

Yaoyao glanced at the wallet and the spread of dishes on the table. Yan Mo had insisted on treating her half an hour earlier—now Yaoyao sighed, feeling like she was the one who should be despairing.

“You have such a big house. Why not rent out a room? The rent could help tide you over,” Yaoyao suggested, planting a seed in Yan Mo’s mind.

Why hadn’t she thought of becoming a landlord? It was the perfect plan—she could keep drawing manga without worrying about money!

“Yaoyao, I love you! Gotta go!”

Yan Mo spent the next three days drafting the roommate-wanted notice before posting it downstairs. By the light of her desk lamp, she prayed for a cute guy or girl to respond.

The doorbell rang. Yan Mo, snuggling an anime plushie, scrambled out of bed, slipped on fuzzy slippers, and raced downstairs to answer.

“Excuse me, is this the place for rent? Five hundred yuan a month for a single room?” Standing at the door was a handsome young man, dragging a black suitcase. Dressed in a navy blue hoodie, his light brown shaggy hair was dusted with snowflakes. He held the scribbled notice, glancing down at the oddly dressed Yan Mo.

Yan Mo stared at him with a look that could only be described as a starving beast spotting prey. Before he could react, she’d grabbed his arm and yanked him inside.

Sunlight streamed through the fluttering curtains, casting patches of light across the floor.

The glare forced Yan Mo’s eyes open. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but her body felt heavy. To avoid the sunlight, she rolled over—and came face-to-face with a magnified pair of features.

The young man breathed evenly in his sleep. His soft brown hair fell gently against his cheek, resting on the pillow. One hand was draped over Yan Mo’s waist, utterly defenseless.

“A cute guy! Wow, dreaming about sharing a bed with a cute guy,” Yan Mo smiled happily, thinking she was still asleep. That is, until Gu Tianhai’s hand moved upward, brushing against her chest. The realistic touch jolted her awake—this wasn’t a dream!

“Ah—pervert!” A scream echoed through the villa, followed by a loud thud. Yan Mo kicked Gu Tianhai off the bed, grabbed the quilt to cover herself, and wore an expression like a wronged maiden.

“That hurt,” Gu Tianhai groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He stared at Yan Mo, who was wielding a baseball bat, and sucked in a sharp breath.

He hastily explained: she’d dragged him inside last night, forced him to drink, and he’d passed out cold. He swore he hadn’t done anything weird.

“Don’t misunderstand! I came because of the notice, but you got me drunk. I don’t remember anything after that,” Gu Tianhai pleaded, looking wronged. Yan Mo’s eyes fell on the signed rental contract on the table, and fragments of last night’s events came flooding back—

“Welcome! To celebrate, let’s drink a toast first!” After yanking the suitcase-toting Gu Tianhai inside, the drunk landlord’s home hit him with a strange stench.

He glanced around, his initial excitement about the villa crumbling instantly. Crumpled draft papers covered the floor; paint stains of every color marred the sofa and curtains; dirty socks littered the living room; opened food packages were everywhere. He began to wonder if he’d walked into the wrong house.

“Sorry, I must have made a mistake,” Gu Tianhai grabbed his suitcase and turned for the door. But Yan Mo, already pouring two glasses of erguotou—a strong Chinese liquor—darted to block him.

There was no way she was letting her prize slip away! She’d finally found a cute guy tenant—she had to get him to sign the contract first!

Through a combination of coercion and persuasion, Gu Tianhai drank the erguotou. Unable to hold his liquor, his head spun, and he collapsed onto the cluttered floor, unconscious.

Yan Mo acted fast, shoving the rental contract in front of him and getting him to sign (or rather, scribble his mark). Fearing her new tenant would catch cold sleeping on the floor, she summoned all her strength to carry him to her bedroom. After tucking him in, she, too, collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep.

Now that the misunderstanding was cleared up, Gu Tianhai planned to leave. Even for such a low rent, he couldn’t stand living in such a mess—especially with such a weird landlady.