After holding her hand for a while, Shang Chenzhou led her into the subway station.
It wasn’t as cold inside the train.
It was past rush hour, so there were many empty seats.
They sat side by side, still holding hands.
Shuai Xihe quietly pulled her hand away.
Shang Chenzhou glanced at her but said nothing.
Across from them sat a young couple.
The girl leaned on the boy’s shoulder, smiling sweetly as they chatted.
Shuai Xihe turned to look at the man beside her.
Shang Chenzhou was silently staring at the advertisement screen above.
They remained quiet all the way home.
Back at the apartment.
“You go shower first,” he said.
She didn’t refuse and quickly went into the bathroom with her clothes.
After she finished, he went in next.
She curled up under the blanket and opened a novel she had been saving for days. Ten new chapters had been updated.
Before she could finish reading, the blanket was lifted slightly and the mattress sank.
Shang Chenzhou lay down.
He turned his head. “Sleep?”
She now understood—when he said “sleep,” he literally meant sleeping.
Not what she had once misunderstood.
“No need to worry about me. Turn off the light,” she said.
He turned off the light.
She dimmed her screen, finished the novel, and scrolled videos for a while before finally putting her phone down.
Her eyes felt dry and tired.
She closed her eyes.
…
The next night, she still had to work overtime.
When she left the industrial park, she saw Shang Chenzhou waiting again.
After getting their shared bikes, he took out a pair of fluffy gloves from his pocket, opened the packaging, and put them on her hands.
Shuai Xihe looked at the cute gloves and smiled.
“Where did you buy these?”
“A supermarket near the company. Only one pair left.”
“Was there a discount?”
“Fifty percent off.”
“That’s a good deal.”
He also took out a mask and put it on her face, covering her nose and mouth.
His long, clean fingers adjusted it on her face.
She could smell his fresh laundry scent.
Clean and warm.
Unknowingly, her heart started beating faster.
To break the strange atmosphere, she joked, “How many more things can you still pull out of your pockets?”
“None,” he replied.
With gloves and a mask, the ride felt less cold.
She looked at him riding beside her—no protection, just calm and steady.
Strangely reassuring.
That night, they lay in bed again.
“Shang Chenzhou, are you asleep?” she asked.
“No,” came his low voice.
She turned toward him. “Tell me about your family.”
He turned too. Their eyes met in the dark.
“Why do you suddenly want to know?”
“We’re married. Is it strange to ask?” she said.
He was silent for a moment.
“It’s not strange,” he said finally.
He stared at the ceiling.
“My family only has me and my mother. She lives in Lincheng.”
“What about your father?”
She already knew the answer but asked anyway.
After a pause, he said, “I’ve never met him. My mother said he’s dead.”
Shuai Xihe remembered the novel’s background: the male lead’s parents were separated by his grandfather. His mother ran away pregnant, and his father never remarried.
Soon, the male lead’s grandfather would discover his existence. A year later, he would be brought back into a wealthy family and inherit vast assets.
But she couldn’t tell him any of that.
So she asked carefully, “If one day you found out you were actually a wealthy heir, what would you do?”
He turned to look at her.
In the dim light, she didn’t notice the darkness in his eyes.
After a long pause, he said, “If you regret marrying me, I can agree to divorce. You can choose again.”
“But there is no such possibility.”
She rubbed her forehead.
He misunderstood again.
“I didn’t mean that. I was just asking casually.”
“Even your real thoughts are fine,” he said quietly.
“Shang Chenzhou, I really didn’t mean that. Don’t overthink it.”
But he turned away and stopped talking.
She panicked internally.
Now it was completely impossible to explain.
He probably thought she regretted marrying him because he was poor.
She didn’t want a divorce now.
She still needed to wait until he returned to his wealthy family and the plot progressed.
Then she could leave with money.
She poked his back. Hard.
“Shang Chenzhou.”
He didn’t respond.
She sighed and lay back down.
The next day after work, she came home to a table full of dishes.
“Wash your hands and eat,” he said.
She looked surprised. “What’s the occasion?”
“We’ve been married for two weeks.”
She was stunned.
So he even remembered that?
After eating, she complimented his cooking.
“Whom did your cooking skills take after?”
“Maybe my father,” he said.
She tilted her head, thinking about the novel. There wasn’t much about his father.
After she had eaten her fill, Shang Chenzhou suddenly said,
“Let’s go handle the divorce tomorrow.”
Shuai Xihe: “……”