The next morning, Zhong Nian packed her things and headed downstairs.
As soon as she stepped out of her apartment building, she saw a black sedan parked at the entrance. Morning light filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns across the car’s surface. The familiar vehicle slowly rolled down its window, revealing the sharp, lean side profile of the driver.
He turned his head and spoke cleanly and decisively: “Get in.”
Zhong Nian: “You…?”
“Passing by on the way to work,” Liang Yifeng said. “Aren’t you heading to the hospital too?”
Zhong Nian hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Get in.”
She didn’t overthink it and slid into the passenger seat.
Traffic was heavy that morning. Zhong Nian glanced at the cars ahead and silently thanked herself for leaving half an hour early—or she would have been late.
The car was quiet. Suddenly, Zhong Nian spoke: “Have you had breakfast?”
Liang Yifeng: “No.”
“There’s a breakfast shop ahead. The food’s decent.” She pointed toward it.
He followed her gesture, squinting slightly. “Hmm.”
“I’ll treat you,” Zhong Nian said.
He kept his hands on the steering wheel. “Fine.”
The car slowed to a stop outside the shop. It was the height of the morning rush—crowds of office workers and students streamed in. Steam rose from the bread trays, carrying an increasingly enticing aroma.
Zhong Nian checked inside. Seeing a table free, she suggested: “Shall we eat here?”
“Hmm.”
“What do you want to eat?” she asked.
He raised a brow. “What do you usually eat?”
“Doufunao, fried dough sticks, and xiaolongbao.”
“Same as you,” he said.
After she ordered, they sat facing each other in the cramped shop. The atmosphere was lively, the owner calling out: “One bun!” “One fried stick, one fifty each!” “Alright!”
Simple, real, and unpretentious.
When it was Zhong Nian’s turn to pick up the food, the man across from her moved faster. He handed over two bowls of doufunao, then returned with the fried dough sticks and xiaolongbao.
She whispered, “Thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of laughter in his eyes.
Liang Yifeng rarely ate at such humble stalls. In his eyes, these places were unclean and unsanitary, so he usually avoided them.
But Zhong Nian ate with gusto. She popped a xiaolongbao into her mouth, cheeks puffed, chewing slowly and deliberately.
She always carried herself with a sense of earnestness. Even back in school, she had been like this—focused, meticulous, never slack. Now, eating breakfast, her eyes and features were concentrated, serious.
She ate slowly, yet every bite seemed to bring her delight.
Liang Yifeng tried a bite. It was mediocre—but he still ate most of it.
After breakfast, they arrived at the hospital.
Zhong Nian said thanks before stepping out and closing the door behind her.
Liang Yifeng sat in the driver’s seat, fingers tapping the steering wheel. A faint smile curved his lips as he muttered into the air: “See you later.”
·
After leaving the car, Zhong Nian walked around the hospital lobby before hailing a taxi back to the newsroom.
The drill was scheduled for 3 PM. Originally, she had planned to arrive at the hospital by 2 PM, but seeing Liang Yifeng at her building made her adjust her timing slightly.
Back at the newsroom, she arrived just on schedule.
She sat at her desk, organizing materials. Xu Jiajia leaned over and poked her hand. “Stay away from your team’s deputy head these days.”
“Huh?” Zhong Nian asked.
Lowering her voice, Xu Jiajia whispered: “I heard she got a cold shoulder from Sui Yu during her interview yesterday. So today, she’s got a sour look. A few of your teammates got scolded.”
Zhong Nian glanced at Zeng Yu—sure enough, she was in a bad mood, lips pressed tightly, lecturing an intern.
She nodded and patted Xu Jiajia’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem!” Xu Jiajia hesitated, then asked, “Can I ask you something?”
Zhong Nian stopped typing and turned to her. “What is it?”
“You and Sui Yu… never mind. Forget I asked.” Xu Jiajia realized she might be prying. In this line of work, everyone knew the value of privacy.
It was that kind of question.
Zhong Nian had never had an occasion to talk about it. She didn’t care much either way, but if someone asked, she wouldn’t be vague.
She smiled slightly and answered succinctly: “Good friends.”
“Hmm?” Xu Jiajia looked a bit incredulous.
Her expression was calm and gentle, like clouds drifting across the sky, her words slow and measured. “We’ve known each other for years. A good relationship between friends.”
“Oh, I see.” Xu Jiajia scratched her head. “Actually, you could have told everyone. People still think you were…” She couldn’t bring herself to say “kept” or “sponsored.”
Zhong Nian just smiled lightly and returned to her work.
Most people only believed what they saw or heard. They judged, critiqued, and assumed the mantle of justice, yet they never had any real interaction with the person.
This society was absurd. They never met the person, never interacted—just heard some so-called “word of mouth” and imposed a definition.
Ridiculous.
·
Soon it was time for the drill.
The hospital and fire department scheduled it from 3 PM to 5 PM, covering floors 6 to 9 of the general ward. All patients and staff had been notified and prepared.
Zhong Nian was to act as a trapped patient, so Liang Zhaozhao led her to the office first.
Liang Zhaozhao, one of the coordinators, hurried off after setting her up.
Left alone in the office, Zhong Nian idly stared into space.
Soon, the door rang—three measured knocks. She had a feeling, and when it opened, her premonition proved correct.
Standing there was Liang Yifeng.
Zhong Nian stood by the window, backlit by a clear, pure blue sky. Her makeup was light, her presence serene and refined, quietly striking.
He closed the door behind him and looked at her. “What a coincidence.”
“Indeed,” Zhong Nian said, unaware of any complexities, taking it as chance.
The drill, however, soon turned chaotic. Smoke rolled in thick and pungent. Neither had brought a damp cloth; neither seemed to take the drill particularly seriously.
The smoke was harsh, with a foul, almost excremental stench. In minutes, both were coughing violently.
From outside came sirens and hurried footsteps.
High-pressure water sprays hit the interior. Liang Yifeng opened the office door, water droplets floating in the thick, sticky air, stinging their noses.
The smoke outside was too heavy; he closed the door again.
Footsteps echoed frantically in the corridor.
Liang Yifeng and Zhong Nian faced each other in silence.
Zhong Nian coughed into her hands. He looked around quickly, then removed his white coat, soaked it with bottled water, and pressed it to her face.
Only her eyes remained visible, misty and blurred.
Her pupils strained to focus. Finally, she fixed him with a steady gaze, unflinching.
Sometimes, fate favors the destined pair.
He had simply wanted to be alone with her—but instead saw her eyes, hazy like Jiangnan mist.
Holding the coat, she said, “You should cover yourself too.”
He didn’t refuse.
They stayed like that for ten minutes.
No one came.
The smoke remained thick, the stench lingering.
Liang Yifeng’s phone rang.
He answered—it was Liang Zhaozhao, frantic. “Where are you?”
He replied flatly: “Office.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Trapped.”
“Trapped? No one’s coming to rescue you?”
“No.”
Liang Zhaozhao seemed to be speaking to someone nearby, then returned, exasperated: “You know to call for help, right?” Her Shanghai accent became apparent when she spoke in urgency.
After the call, Liang Yifeng and Zhong Nian were momentarily awkward and silent.
After a while, Zhong Nian smiled. “If you were really trapped, would you call?”
He didn’t even pause to think. “Impossible.”
She found it amusing. He was always low-key, but his behavior subtly betrayed the pride and freedom of a wealthy heir. Of course, they wouldn’t usually be in such a predicament—but life is unpredictable.
“What about you?” she asked.
She lowered the coat, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I’d probably do the same as now. You know… sometimes shouting is meaningless. In life, you can only rely on yourself.”
The smoke slowly cleared, but the foul odor lingered.
Liang Yifeng adjusted his glasses, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Zhong Nian, want to try something?”
“What?”
“Try putting your life in my hands.”