A glimmer of hope?

The next morning, when I was startled awake by the sounds in the living room, Mom was already fully dressed and standing in the kitchen.

She wore a loose, old gray T-shirt paired with black tight athletic shorts, her long legs—gilded with a honey-colored glow by the sunlight—exposed to the air without a shred of modesty.

She was frying eggs. Hearing me get up, she turned and gave me a stiff smile.

"Awake? Go wash up. Eat quickly and get to school."

Mom's voice sounded slightly hoarse, and her eyes were faintly red-rimmed. Beyond that, though, she seemed no different from usual—as if the person who’d been utterly defeated by reality last night wasn’t her at all.

"Mom..." I hesitated.

"Hmm?" She placed the fried eggs on a plate and poured a glass of milk. "What is it?"

"Are you... okay?" I asked cautiously.

Mom carried the plate and milk to the table, set breakfast before me, then reached out to ruffle my hair—her touch and tone as gentle as ever.

"Silly son, what could possibly be wrong with Mom?"

"It's just that leading the team has been exhausting lately. Actually, Director Wang gave me an extended leave so I can rest properly for a while."

She said it so naturally, so effortlessly. If I hadn't heard that phone call myself, I almost would have believed her.

I knew Mom was lying. She just didn't want me to worry. This woman always was like that—accustomed to weathering every storm alone, leaving me only the seemingly clear skies.

I didn’t call her out. I just lowered my head silently and ate my fried eggs in big bites.

From that day on, Mom truly began her "vacation."

She no longer needed to rise at five in the morning for the training ground, sleeping in until she woke naturally each day.

But I knew her sleep wasn't restful. Many times when I got up late at night to use the bathroom, I could see light seeping through the crack of her bedroom door.

Mom said she was resting, but her body honestly betrayed her anxiety.

She started spending a lot of time on her phone. Several times, I caught glimpses of her screen filled with densely packed job-hunting app interfaces.

One afternoon after school, I opened the door and heard Mom talking on the phone in the living room.

"...Yes, yes, this is Zhu Ling... Right, I saw your gym is hiring personal trainers... Hmm, I used to be on the provincial team, coached youth training for five years... Yes, national championship winner—that's ancient history, nothing to brag about..."

I tiptoed to change my shoes, hiding in the corner of the entryway and peeking out cautiously.

Mom sat on the sofa, dressed unusually lightly for being at home.

A faded, oversized T-shirt hung loosely on her frame. Its wide neckline revealed a deep cleavage as she leaned forward.

Her lower body was still clad in those extremely short athletic shorts, her long, straight white legs curled up on the sofa.

The queen who once dominated the competition arena had now laid aside all her pride and poise.

"...Salary requirements? I... I don't have high expectations. Whatever your company's standard is fine... Yes, I can start anytime..."

Whatever came next on the other end of the line instantly froze the smile on Mom's face.

"Oh... oh, I see... They think my qualifications are too high... It's fine, I understand, I understand... Alright, sorry to bother you."

Mom hung up, slumping heavily onto the sofa, her eyes vacant as they stared at the ceiling.

In that moment, I clearly saw the light in her eyes dim a little more.

This scene would play out repeatedly in the days that followed.

The gyms and sports training centers turned her down for all sorts of reasons.

Some said she was too old—at thirty-four, she no longer held an advantage for a coach who needed to maintain peak physical condition at all times. Others claimed her training methods were too specialized, unsuitable for their business model focused on recreation and weight loss. Still others, like the one just now, used absurd excuses like "You're a champion—we can't afford you" to shut her out.

I know these were all just excuses.

The real reason might be that they didn't want a female coach with such an impressive resume and commanding presence—someone who could threaten their management authority.

Or perhaps they simply thought a single mother with a child would bring unnecessary complications.

Reality was this cruel: the championship titles and professional credentials Mom once took pride in had now become invisible shackles hindering her job search.

As time passed, the atmosphere at home grew increasingly stifling.

That old desk lamp, used for years, now cast a dim light like a flickering candle in the wind. Its flicker grew more frequent, stinging my eyes.

Yet the school's notice demanding payment for tutoring fees lay pressed beneath my textbooks. For a high school student like me, that two thousand yuan was an astronomical sum.

I'd planned to hide it from Mom and borrow from classmates, or just skip the tutoring altogether. But my homeroom teacher posted the reminder directly to the parent group chat.

That night, as I worked under the flickering lamp, Mom entered carrying a plate of sliced fruit.

"Xiao Fei, your eyes are practically glued to your books."

She set down the fruit tray and reached to adjust the lamp, but the bulb emitted an untimely hiss and went completely dark.

The room plunged into instant darkness.

"This damn lamp..." Mom's tone carried frustration and exhaustion.

I couldn't see her expression in the dark, but I could feel the weariness radiating from her.

"Mom, it's okay. I'm done with my homework." I forced a light tone.

"You haven't finished, have you? Your teacher posted in the group chat today about paying the tutoring fees, right?"

My heart sank.

"Yeah..."

"Why didn't you tell Mom?"

"I... I forgot." I lied.

Mom fell silent. The room grew deathly quiet.

After a long while, she spoke again: "It's my fault..."

"No, Mom! Don't say that! I just didn't want to worry you!"

She didn't respond, only standing in the darkness for a long time before turning and walking out.

The next day was Saturday. Early in the morning, Mom woke me up.

"Come on, son. Let's go somewhere."

She changed into her going-out outfit—a plain white T-shirt paired with jeans.

The tight jeans hugged her full, pert buttocks, making her long legs appear even straighter and accentuating her captivating curves.

We rode in silence until we stopped at a bank.

Mom took me inside to get a number, then sat in the waiting area, lost in thought.

I sat beside her, gazing at her profile. The ceiling lights cast a soft glow on her face, leaving no trace of the worry etched between her brows.

Finally, her number was called.

I followed Mom to the counter as she took her passbook from her purse and handed it to the teller.

"Hello, I'd like to withdraw this time deposit."

It was a three-year fixed deposit, still six months away from maturity. I knew it was one of our family's few savings. Mom always said it was for my college tuition and living expenses.

The clerk reminded her that withdrawing early would mean losing a significant amount of interest. Mom just nodded and said, "Withdraw it."

When a stack of crisp bills was handed through the window, I saw Mom's hand tremble slightly.

On the way home, she slipped two thousand yuan into my hand, her face lighting up with a smile as if nothing had happened.

"Here, go pay your tutoring fees. Don't let the teacher keep nagging you. With the rest, I'll take you to buy a new desk lamp this afternoon, and get you a few new outfits too."

"Mom..." My throat felt clogged, and I couldn't utter a word.

"Silly boy,"

she ruffled my hair as usual, her smile unusually bright. "Just focus on your studies. Don't worry about money—Mom has a way."

But seeing her forced smile, my heart ached more than ever.

Life went on. Mom's job search hit repeated dead ends, visibly draining her.

She no longer paid attention to her appearance like before, sometimes even wandering around the house in her pajamas all day.

That silk nightgown was thin and short, perfectly outlining her impressive curves. Yet seeing her like this, I felt not a hint of romantic thought, only endless heartache.

She had once been so proud, the undisputed queen of the athletic field. Yet now, reality was slowly grinding away all her sharp edges and glory, transforming her into an ordinary middle-aged woman struggling to make ends meet....

Just as life was crushing Mom to the point of suffocation, an unexpected turn of events occurred.

That afternoon, her phone suddenly vibrated with a WeChat message.

She glanced at the screen, and her brows instantly furrowed.

It was Zhang Hao.

"Coach Zhu, I heard you resigned?"

"Was it because of me? Because I false started and cost you your job?"

"Coach, don't ignore me. I really didn't mean to that day. I just wanted to win so badly..."

"Coach, where are you now? I need to see you. I miss you so much, I dream about you every night... I dream of you on the training field, wearing that tight-fitting outfit..."

The messages poured in one after another, their content growing increasingly explicit. The teenager's hormone-fueled, reckless energy nearly spilled out of the screen.

Mom's expression grew colder by the second. Her slender fingers flew across the screen, typing back two words: "Get lost."

Then she blocked him.

After that, she tossed her phone aside and sank back into the sofa, silent....

Another fruitless afternoon. Mom gave up on the needle-in-a-haystack search through the job app and idly scrolled through her social feed.

Her fingers moved mechanically across the screen as photos of gourmet meals, travel adventures, and proud parents showing off their kids flashed by. Her expression remained blank, as if all that liveliness had nothing to do with her.

Suddenly, her finger paused.

On the screen was a nine-grid collage. The name of the poster: Shen Yanxi.

The first photo showed a woman in a champagne-colored evening gown, holding a champagne flute and smiling sweetly at the camera.

Behind her was a glittering cocktail party, with the night view of the Bund visible in the background.

Her makeup was flawless, her voluminous curls radiating allure. Though no longer young, she was exceptionally well-preserved, exuding an air of confidence and composure nurtured by wealth.

Subsequent photos captured her: a tourist snapshot beneath the Eiffel Tower; a sensual bikini shot against the Aegean Sea; a close-up savoring gourmet cuisine at a Michelin-starred restaurant; and a company annual meeting group photo where she stood front and center, radiating charisma while surrounded by a bevy of young, beautiful models.

The caption read: "A busy half-year—flew to three countries, signed several new talents. Life’s meant to be lived boldly, isn’t it?"

Mom’s breath caught. Staring at the radiant woman on the screen, she felt envy, disappointment, and perhaps a hint of jealousy too deep for words.

After a long while, she extended a finger and gently tapped the "Like" button beneath that post.

Then, she tapped Shen Yanxi's profile picture, entering her Moments feed and scrolling through page after page.

There, she found a world utterly different from our stifling, dull little home.

Mom sighed, locked her phone, and tossed it aside.

She tilted her head back, leaned against the sofa, and closed her eyes.

Mom and Shen Yanxi were college classmates—best friends who shared a bunk bed. Back then, they were the two most striking beauties in the sports college.

One chose the sweat-drenched track, while the other stepped into the world of fame and fortune early on.

Now in middle age, one had become an unemployed woman crushed by reality, while the other lived a life envied by everyone in their social circle.

The living room was eerily quiet, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock.

After an unknown amount of time, Mom’s tightly closed eyes suddenly snapped open.

A light—a desperate, all-or-nothing light—flared instantly in her gaze.

Should she reach out?

Ask that radiant former best friend to pull her up?

Once the thought surfaced, it became impossible to suppress.

Mom immediately grabbed her phone, unlocked the screen, and without hesitation opened her contacts.

Shen Yanxi.

Mom’s finger hovered over the name, yet paused, unable to press.

Should she call or send a WeChat?

She opened WeChat, tapped the chat window, and began typing.

"Yanxi, it's me, Zhu Ling. How have you been lately?"

Deleted. Too stiff.

"Hey, old classmate! Long time no see. Remember me?"

Deleted. Too flippant.

"Ms. Shen, hello. I apologize for the intrusion..."

Deleted. Too submissive.

Mom tossed her phone back onto the sofa in frustration, leaning back against the cushions.

Her chest heaved violently. The thin spaghetti-strap nightgown couldn't conceal the surging waves created by her full breasts rising and falling with each breath.

She was afraid.

Afraid of rejection, afraid of contempt, afraid that the last shred of her pitiful self-respect would be torn to shreds before her former best friend.

She sat in the living room for a long time, so long that the sunlight outside the window shifted from golden to orange-red.

Finally, she steeled herself once more and picked up her phone again.

This time, she didn't open WeChat. Instead, she pressed the dial button directly.

"Hello? Who is this?"

A crisp, efficient yet slightly lazy female voice came through the receiver. It was exceptionally pleasant, yet tinged with a formulaic politeness and detachment.

Sweat beaded on Mom's palms as her voice cracked, "…Yanxi, it's me."

A two-second silence hung on the line, as if the voice was trying to recognize hers.

"...Lingling? Zhu Ling? Oh my god! Is it really you?!"

The formal tone instantly gave way to surprise and warmth, her voice rising several octaves.

"Yes, it's me."

Hearing her childhood nickname, Mom's tense body seemed to relax slightly.

"My goodness, Zhu Champion! Where have you been hiding? I didn't even know you remembered to call me! I thought you'd become so successful you'd forgotten your sister!"

Shen Yanxi's voice was overflowing with warmth, tinged with exaggerated playfulness.

"Not at all... I just..."

Mom momentarily lost her words, managing only a dry chuckle.

"Hold on a sec, sweetie,"

Shen Yanxi called out to someone nearby. "You guys go ahead and wait in the car."

The background echoed with respectful "Yes, Ms. Shen" responses, followed by someone speaking English: "Ms. Shen, the car is ready."

Then silence fell on the line, broken only by faint classical music in the distance.

"Alright, I'm free now."

Shen Yanxi's voice returned, tinged with amusement. "Spill it. Where have you been all these years? Ignoring calls, not replying to messages, skipping every class reunion."

"I... I was just busy," Mom offered a flimsy excuse. "Coaching the team. You know how it is."

"I know, I know. Our national champion, always so busy." Shen Yanxi's tone was teasing, but without malice. "So? Still coaching the provincial team? Or have you become head coach by now?"

"No... I'm still just a junior coach."

Mom's voice trailed off, her pride slowly being crushed by reality.

"Enough about that,"

Shen Yanxi sensed her mother's low spirits and smoothly changed the subject. "Don't get me wrong—I really have missed you. Remember back in college? We were dirt poor. On cold winter nights, we'd pool our money for a pack of instant noodles. You'd eat the noodles, I'd drink the broth—and it felt like the most delicious thing in the world."

Recalling those days, a genuine smile finally spread across Mom's face, her eyes softening. "How could I forget? You used to say that once we had money, you'd buy a truckload of instant noodles and eat them every day."

"Ha ha ha ha, you're telling me!" Shen Yanxi laughed out loud on the other end. "Look at me now—eating bird's nest and shark fin soup every day, almost sick of it. But honestly? That bowl of instant noodle broth from back then still tastes better."

As they reminisced, the atmosphere gradually relaxed and felt natural, as if the years that separated them and their vastly different circumstances had never existed.

But Mom knew deep down it was just an illusion.

Once the warm current of memories receded, the cold reality still lay between them.

After a long silence, Mom finally gathered her courage and steered the conversation back.

She took a deep breath, her full chest rising high, as if summoning strength.

"Yanxi... Actually, I called you today because... I need to ask you for a favor."

The words barely left her lips before her shoulders slumped and her eyes dimmed.

The Coach Zhu who commanded absolute authority on the sports field now looked like a child who’d done something wrong.

"Help?"

Shen Yanxi’s voice rang out again, still brimming with warmth, showing no hint of surprise. "What kind of help? If it’s within my power, I’ll definitely help. Between us, do we even need to say it?"

Mom struggled to find the words. "I... I've left the team. I just... wanted a change of scenery, to see if there might be... new job opportunities."

In the end, she couldn't bring herself to say the word "unemployed." It was the last shred of dignity she held onto.

"Change environments? That's great news!"

Shen Yanxi's reaction was far more enthusiastic than her mother had anticipated. "You should've left ages ago! With your qualifications, staying cooped up in that lousy little team as a coach is a complete waste of your talent! What kind of job are you looking for? Tell me."

"I... I don't know," her mother replied, feeling lost. "Besides track and field, I don't know how to do anything else..."

"Who says that!"

Shen Yanxi cut her off immediately. "Sis, have you forgotten what your greatest asset is?"

Mom froze: "...What?"

Shen Yanxi chuckled on the other end: "Hard to explain over the phone. Let's meet up and talk. It's been ages since we last saw each other. Perfect timing for a catch-up."

"O-okay..." Mom agreed instinctively.

"How about tomorrow afternoon? Three o'clock?"

"Yes, I'm free."

"Perfect. It's settled then. Tomorrow at three, Sky Lounge at Genting Highlands. I'll send you the address on WeChat. Remember to dress up, my champion."

Genting Highlands...

Mom silently repeated the name in her mind. It was a place she'd only seen on TV and outdoor ads—one of the city's most exclusive private clubs. They said a single cup of coffee there could cover our weekly living expenses.

"Okay..." Mom replied, her voice already fading.

"Alright, it's settled then. I've got a meeting now, gotta go. See you tomorrow, Lingling."

"Mhm, see you tomorrow."

After hanging up, Mom remained frozen in that position, staring blankly at the sofa. The phone slipped limply from her hand, landing on the upholstery without a sound.

Silence settled back over the living room.

The orange-red sunset streamed through the window, stretching her shadow long, long...