It was early morning, and the sky was tinged with the pale light of dawn.
Perhaps because she was so excited, Lin Sangyu woke up very early. As soon as she opened her eyes and looked around, she realized something was wrong.
Why wasn’t I in Jiang Wenze’s bedroom?!
Where was my two-meter-wide bed?
Where was my Jiang Wenze?
Lin Sangyu immediately rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, and tiptoed back into Jiang Wenzhe’s room.
The early morning light was already faint, and with the heavy handmade curtains drawn, the entire room was pitch black.
Lin Sangyu carefully made her way from the doorway to Jiang Wenzhe’s bedside and gently knelt down beside him.
Jiang Wenzhe, still fast asleep, didn’t stir at all. He remained in a slightly sideways sleeping position, his hair hanging limply due to gravity. His breath was long and steady, and, unusually, he lacked his usual icy aura.
Lin Sangyu folded her hands, resting her chin on the backs of her hands, and carefully traced the contours of Jiang Wenzhe’s face in the darkness. In the darkness, his chiseled features stood out even more—his deep-set eyes and brows resembled the model for a meticulously crafted sculpture.
With a soft plop, a single raindrop—condensing the essence of all things—descended from ten thousand meters above, adding a rare sense of tranquility to the already serene room.
Listening to the gentle patter of rain, with the unique scent of cedar incense from Jiang Wenze’s bedroom wafting to her nostrils, Lin Sangyu found herself growing drowsy once more. Unconsciously, as she gazed at Jiang Wenze’s chiseled profile, her eyelids fluttered, growing heavy, and she soon drifted into a deep sleep.
She slept for two whole hours. So much so that when Jiang Wenzhe opened his eyes in the morning, he saw a fuzzy head nestled right next to his pillow.
Jiang Wenzhe extended his index finger and gently tapped the round head.
“I’m going to have to think about getting into the habit of locking the door when I sleep from now on.” Jiang Wenzhe’s first words of the morning sounded as hoarse as the first toll of a bell in a quiet, ancient Zen temple.
“Why lock the door?”
Lin Sangyu, who had already woken up once, quickly snapped back to consciousness at this. She propped her head up and replied while rubbing her eyes.
“To lock you out,” Jiang Wenzhe said casually.
“Why would you lock me out?” Lin Sangyu retorted indignantly, her eyes brimming with displeasure. “And why did I end up sleeping in the movie room last night? Wasn’t I supposed to be sleeping with you?”
Jiang Wenzhe stared at her as if she were an idiot: “What do you think?”
“Don’t be so petty.”
“Let me repeat: impossible for you—or anyone—to climb into my bed.”
The moment he pulled back the covers, he didn’t hear the patter of rain on the leaves, but he felt a chill seep into his bones. Jiang Wenzhe sat up, intending to pull back the curtains, open the window, check the weather outside, and let in some fresh air.
As soon as he opened the window a crack, a gust of damp, chilly spring breeze swept in, ruffling the strands of hair on Jiang Wenzhe’s forehead.
Looking down, he saw that the plants in the garden on the first floor were shrouded in moisture, washed until they gleamed, and the bluestone path was wet, giving off a soft, lustrous sheen.
It seemed it had rained last night, and the temperature had dropped sharply.
Jiang Wenze closed the window again and turned to look at Lin Sangyu, who was still kneeling by the head of the bed.
With Jiang Wenze backlit by the light, Lin Sangyu couldn’t make out his expression—but she wasn’t in the mood to care about it anyway; she was still fuming.
Why couldn’t we sleep together?
So she asked half-heartedly, “What’s wrong?”
“Come here,” Jiang Wenzhe said in a flat, unemotional tone.
“Oh.” Lin Sangyu got up from the floor and shuffled slowly toward Jiang Wenzhe.
Jiang Wenzhe, his face dark with displeasure, took Lin Sangyu’s hand—it was ice-cold—and said sharply, “How long have you been lying there by my bed?”
As soon as he finished speaking, he grabbed a thick coat from the nearby coat rack and threw it over Lin Sangyu’s head.
Lin Sangyu adjusted the coat and thought for a moment. “I forgot.”
After she finished speaking, she added somewhat sheepishly, “Are you worried about me? Afraid I’ll catch a cold?”
“From now on, you’re not allowed to be crouched by my bed in the morning.” Jiang Wenzhe’s eyes were a deep, dark void. “I won’t bother caring about an idiot.”
“Okay… But if I can’t even sleep here, can’t I at least lie down for a bit?”
Jiang Wenze’s voice rose, commanding respect without anger: “No.”
It seemed he wouldn’t budge no matter what, so Lin Sangyu was forced to agree: “I’ll just do as you say.”
“So why did you get up so early today?”
Lin Sangyu gave a couple of sheepish laughs: “I’m a little excited about my first day on the job.”
What a wimp—is a dishwashing job really worth all this? She went to bed so late last night, yet she’s up this early this morning.
Doesn’t she care about her health at all?
Jiang Wenzhe shot her an emotionless glance, then turned and walked away.
“Where are you going?” Suddenly left behind, Lin Sangyu felt a bit flustered and hurried after him.
“To cook. Do you really want to go to work without breakfast?” Jiang Wenzhe didn’t even turn his head; he didn’t look at her.
“So what are we having?”
“Whatever I eat, you eat.” The man’s tone remained as flat as ever.
Lin Sangyu followed Jiang Wenzhe into the open kitchen like a little puppy.
Under her watchful gaze, Jiang Wenzhe took two pieces of rested snowflake steak out of the fridge, patted them dry, and dropped some butter into the pan, which sizzled immediately.
Before long, the steaks were seared to a rich golden brown on both sides, juicy and bursting with aroma.
Lin Sangyu stared wide-eyed, swallowing hard. “What is this? It smells so good.”
“Steak.”
“It looks so delicious.”
Jiang Wenzhe didn’t answer her; instead, he pushed Lin Sangyu back a little to keep the splattering oil from hitting her.
After a moment, he said, “What sauce would you like? There’s tomato sauce, cream mushroom sauce, or black pepper sauce.”
Lin Sangyu looked at him, completely confused.
Jiang Wenzhe sighed inwardly, scooped some sauce onto a spoon, and, with a stern expression, fed it to Lin Sangyu without a word.
After tasting it and savoring the flavor, Lin Sangyu said, “I’ll have another one.”
“That’ll be the cream mushroom sauce.”
“Okay, I’ll remember that. I like the cream mushroom sauce.”
The perfectly seared steaks, drizzled with various sauces and garnished with green vegetables, wafted a delicious aroma as they were quickly served at the table.
As he reached for the knife and fork, Jiang Wenzhe suddenly turned his head and asked Lin Sangyu, “Do you know how to use a knife and fork?”
Lin Sangyu honestly shook her head. “No.”
As expected, Jiang Wenzhe replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll teach you.”
At the table, Lin Sangyu sat down first. Jiang Wenzhe walked behind her, spread his arms wide, and held her close in front of him. He reached out, took her hands in his, and guided them to pick up the knife and fork: “Remember, hold the fork in your left hand and the knife in your right. Cut like this.”
His hot breath brushed against her ear, and Lin Sangyu flinched slightly, her body tensing up a bit. “I get it, I get it.”
Jiang Wenzhe straightened up. “Now try it yourself.”
Lin Sangyu mimicked his movements and made a few cuts, her motions awkward and unpolished, not quite up to standard. The knife and fork clinked against the plate, producing a crisp sound.
Jiang Wenzhe forced himself to look away from the haphazardly sliced beef and said, against his better judgment, “Not bad—you managed to cut it.”
Last night before bed, he’d accidentally come across a parenting video that said:
“When it comes to a child’s growth, you should offer encouragement—not use a repressive teaching style.”
Upon receiving the praise, Lin Sangyu couldn’t wait to spear a piece of beef with her fork and immediately pop it into her mouth.
“Hah… huff, huff… It’s hot!” The moment the beef touched her tongue, Lin Sangyu was instantly scalded. She frantically cupped her hands around her mouth and fanned herself rapidly, trying to cool it down.
Jiang Wenzhe patted her on the back and snapped, “Spit it out.”
But Lin Sangyu acted as if she hadn’t heard him, stubbornly refusing to spit it out and continuing to fan her mouth for a few more seconds.
The steak in her mouth soon cooled down, and Lin Sangyu instantly went back to acting as if nothing had happened. With a smile on her face, she began to savor it, her mouth moving rhythmically. After swallowing, she turned to Jiang Wenzhe and said, “It really is delicious. You’re such a great cook.”
Jiang Wenzhe took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and refused to look at her anymore.
After finishing breakfast, Jiang Wenzhe stood up and began clearing the plates.
Lin Sangyu immediately stood up as well, reaching out to take the plate from his hand: “Let me wash them. You made all of breakfast.”
Jiang Wenzhe tightened his grip, his tone cold and firm: “It’s too much trouble.”
Lin Sangyu’s hand came up empty, and she muttered, “What’s so troublesome about it…”
Then she saw Jiang Wenzhe place the plates, knives, and forks into a machine bubbling with water—
It looked like a dishwasher.
Lin Sangyu cupped her hands around her ears, unwilling to believe it, her mouth gaping in shock: “I think I’m out of a job.”
Jiang Wenzhe scoffed at her: “It’s not exactly unemployment. Dishwashers use too much water, and they don’t wash dishes as fast as people do. It’s not cost-effective for many small restaurants.”
“Okay then,” Lin Sangyu’s confidence reignited upon hearing Jiang Wenzhe’s explanation. “I’ll go look for a job today!”
“No rush.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Wenzhe produced a cell phone as if by magic.
“!!!” Lin Sangyu’s eyes widened. Holding her hands up as if receiving a royal decree, she exclaimed, “Is this the legendary cell phone?”
Jiang Wenzhe found it rather amusing. He placed the phone in the palm of her hand and instructed, “Learn how to use a smartphone over the next few days. That way, when you go out on your own, I’ll be able to reach you.”
Lin Sangyu nodded vigorously, her eyes completely glued to the phone.
Watching the sparkle in Lin Sangyu’s eyes as she examined the phone, Jiang Wenzhe’s mouth twitched slightly. He felt he could now understand the frustration parents feel when they see their children playing with cell phones.
“Do you know how to use it?”
“I think so. I used to climb trees and secretly watch other people use theirs,” Lin Sangyu paused, “and I’ve secretly watched you use yours, too.”
“Okay, I’m off to work. Someone will deliver meals to the door at noon and 5:00 p.m. Remember to pick them up and eat on time,” Jiang Wenzhe said as he reached the door. Unable to let it go, he turned back and added, “Don’t spend all day glued to your phone.”
Lin Sangyu didn’t even lift her head, replying half-heartedly, “Okay, okay, okay.”
As soon as the door closed, Lin Sangyu shuffled in her slippers, holding up her beloved phone, and jogged into Jiang Wenze’s room with a smug grin on her face. Then, in one swift dive, she climbed onto Jiang Wenze’s bed.
She propped up a pillow and, mimicking Jiang Wenze’s posture as he read in bed, started playing on her phone.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Jiang Wenzhe was staring at the surveillance feed on his phone with an inscrutable expression, watching Lin Sangyu as she sat reclined on his bed playing with her phone—her round head and the joy radiating from her, palpable even through the screen.
He suppressed the strange feeling welling up inside him, forced himself to turn off the phone, and turned his gaze to the scenery outside the car window.
On the wide road, cars weaved back and forth like a shuttle through a loom, while high-rises lined both sides. The glass curtain walls reflected the first rays of sunlight on the horizon, clean and bright.
A moment later, Jiang Wenzhe found gazing at the scenery too boring, so he turned his phone back on.