Sinosteel Courtyard Love Letter ‘SEE YOU MORNING’ 163 The Arrangement of Fate

Back home, Lin Yuhui, who was working online, finally regained his peace. However, his boss Christian seemed unwilling to give up. He had assigned the work Lin Yuhui completed before leaving to a newly hired female employee, so naturally, she would contact him regarding work matters.
It was just that the girl did not leave a good impression on Lin Yuhui during their first interaction. She could have humbly asked for advice, but instead, she started by shirking responsibility and negating others’ efforts. Perhaps she simply didn’t care at all; otherwise, what else could one say? Just utterly clueless?
Of course, due to professional responsibility, Lin Yuhui would still explain things carefully to her, but he already had half of his assessment of her settled.
Because of work calls, Lin Yuhui naturally checked if she had a WeChat Moments feed. Although he never posted anything himself, he did look at others’. Heh.
One glance at her latest post revealed the classic vibe of “the first strike after landing ashore is to cut down the former lover”—basically announcing a breakup over a farewell dinner. Yeah, now that she had entered a joint venture, her original partner no longer matched her status.
Life choices are personal and understandable, but why flaunt one’s private life to others? To prove one’s innocence?
Whether it was her show-off behavior or her ostentatious style, neither aligned with Lin Yuhui’s values. If he were a woman, he would keep the past strictly confidential, saying nothing at all.
So, constantly emphasizing having no choice but to let go, how reluctant she supposedly was, or how she was forced by circumstances—essentially, it was all about shifting blame. Can someone who cannot bravely take responsibility for the consequences of their actions truly be a responsible person? No, because she doesn’t have to bear the consequences, not even moral or ethical ones.
The boss was still urging him to return to solve the problem. The sentiment was commendable, but Lin Yuhui knew full well that neither this girl nor Cerise was the person he was looking for. They could neither connect with his heart nor accompany him through storms, let alone inspire admiration. But he still had to follow the boss’s work arrangements, so he booked his return ticket once again.
However, the hand of fate merely waved gently, altering everyone’s established course. The COVID-19 situation took a sharp turn for the worse, and strict lockdowns were enforced everywhere, including along the route of Lin Yuhui’s scheduled train. Consequently, the trains were suspended. Shortly after, his own area in Jilin was also locked down, forcing everyone into silent quarantine at home.
During the days of confinement, scrolling through short videos became the only source of local real-time news, checking where new cases had emerged or where people had collapsed from sudden death.
Lin Yuhui originally avoided Douyin, not wanting to waste time, but now, with life and death at stake, he had no choice but to check the evolving situation on his phone daily.
Following the lockdown came city-wide nucleic acid testing. The calls demanding his participation came one after another. What puzzled Lin Yuhui was that his number, specifically used for receiving bank verification codes, also received such a call, and they knew his real name. This information could only have leaked from either the bank or the telecom provider. How bizarre. If someone died from the virus at home, would the money in their bank account end up belonging to someone else?
Lin Yuhui wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that every day, everyone lined up downstairs to have samples collected by the Big Whites (health workers in hazmat suits). Those Big Whites were the most dangerous potential sources of infection. If he were dragged away for isolation due to infection or suspicion, separated from his home’s medicine and comfort, he might very well lose his life. So he made a firm resolution: I won’t infect others, and others won’t infect me. I will self-isolate at home. As for food? Heh, self-sufficient; no need to go out shopping at all.
Unemployed with no income, having no one to rely on, and with a fragile body, he had started hoarding food and medicine as early as the beginning of 2019 due to fluctuating food prices. Rice, grains, cooking oil, canned goods, and various essential antibiotics and vitamins—all prepared to hedge against potential hyperinflation risks. It was unavoidable; with limited funds, he feared being unable to afford food if the currency devalued. In the end, that earlier anxiety resulted in reserves perfectly suited for today’s pandemic.
It seemed that past efforts always paid off in unexpected ways. A lifetime of caution and proactively stepping out of his comfort zone had unexpectedly earned him a moment of peace amidst this global turmoil.
Of course, when the Big Whites knocked on doors household by household, he would feel tense, his heart pounding, fearing they might forcibly drag him away to isolation. Lin Yuhui had seen online that forced entries had occurred in many regions. Fortunately, the local customs in Jilin remained simple and honest. The rural atmosphere where everyone knew each other persisted, and no one acted with such utter cruelty.
After finishing his work for the day, it was time to satisfy the most basic human need: eating. For Lin Yuhui, it was simple: if he ate his fill, the whole family was fed—not that there was anyone else.
The rice was steamed with millet, a mix of grains for balanced nutrition, mainly to regulate his gut health. The dish was simple: Russian canned beef. The taste wasn’t great, but the meat portions were generous. It was just that after several days, the canned meat was getting a bit greasy.
That was easy to fix. He soaked some wood ear mushrooms, blanched them, and since there was mustard in the fridge, he mixed his own dipping sauce with aged vinegar and seafood soy sauce, then fried some dried chilies in sesame oil to whip up another dish: Wasabi Wood Ear Mushrooms.
Fed and watered, free from emotional troubles and external disturbances, he spent the evening in utter relaxation, playing a couple of rounds of Game for Peace (Peacekeeper Elite) for fun.
As the saying goes, on the battlefield, you need blood brothers; for gaming, you need proper buddies to squad up with. Recently, Lin Yuhui had been gaming with a middle school kid. The boy had a serious attitude and a positive state of mind, so whenever they were both online, they teamed up.
The kid loved playing the Valley map. Since Lin Yuhui was just playing support for fun, he followed the host’s lead. Their coordination was simple: the kid rushed in with guns blazing, while Lin Yuhui stayed back to ambush enemies and finish off kills.
The pace of the young was always fast-paced. Before long, Lin Yuhui lagged behind while looting supply crates.
“Full of people! The roof is full of people!” came the urgent shouting and dense gunfire from his teammate’s mic.
“On my way!” Lin Yuhui ran toward his teammate’s location while observing the situation.
It turned out his teammate was in the stairwell on the roof, meaning the enemies were all outside.
Seeing his smart teammate outnumbered, he had already thrown a smoke grenade. The enemies were all blocking the rooftop door, taking turns firing inside.
It was too late for Lin Yuhui to run over directly, but there was another way. The enemies were outside, the teammate was inside. Watching and running simultaneously, he pulled out a Molotov cocktail, holding it ready. Then, mid-sprint, he jumped and hurled it straight at the rooftop door, following up immediately with a frag grenade—serving them a generous portion.
The smoke on the roof erupted into a sea of fire, followed by the aerial explosion of the grenade.
He heard his teammate shout excitedly into the mic,
“Holy shit! One grenade and the ground is covered in crates! I ran out and the ground was covered in crates!”
“I’ve got another Molotov! Let’s finish these bastards! Hahahaha.”
The joy of an old man is just that simple.