Pei Shuyi looked at Jiang Congli’s gentle gaze, then glanced up at the still-falling snowflakes, curling the corners of her lips. “Alright.”
The car drove for forty minutes before stopping in a quiet residential area.
The security guard clearly recognized Jiang Congli’s car, raising the barrier from a distance.
The elevator reached the top floor. Jiang Congli stood at the door, entered the passcode, and the lock made a soft sound. He stepped aside to let Pei Shuyi enter first.
Pei Shuyi walked in and froze in the entryway.
A floor-to-ceiling window spanned the entire wall, from one end to the other.
Outside, the city of Beijing was laid out before her eyes. The gray-blue sky was still sprinkled with delicate snowflakes, while distant buildings twinkled with scattered lights.
Dusk had not fully descended yet, and the horizon still retained the last trace of dark purple light, interwoven with the white of the snow and the yellow glow of the lights.
Pei Shuyi changed her shoes and walked to the window, her forehead almost pressed against the cool glass.
Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, swirling in front of the floor-to-ceiling window before floating away.
She reached out and touched a snowflake through the glass. It clung to the spot beneath her fingertip, slowly melting into a tiny droplet.
Jiang Congli glanced at her, placed the bags in his hands on the coffee table, and turned toward the kitchen.
Soon, the sound of running water and chopping came from the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Pei Shuyi was drawn by the noise and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Jiang Congli.
As soon as he entered, Jiang Congli had taken off his overcoat, wearing only a dark turtleneck sweater. Broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, he had rolled his sleeves up to his forearms and was chopping ginger.
Pei Shuyi suddenly felt the snowy scenery outside was nothing special in comparison.
Jiang Congli placed the sliced ginger into a pot, turned on the gas stove, and answered her question. “Making ginger soup.”
The flame leaped up, licking the bottom of the pot. Beside his hand was brown sugar, prepared earlier.
Pei Shuyi leaned against the doorframe, watching him—his arms with the sweater sleeves rolled up, his hand slowly stirring with a wooden spoon.
“Go upstairs and take a shower.”
Jiang Congli glanced at her sideways, the wooden spoon in his hand never stopping.
“You stood outside for so long just now. The cold has seeped into your body. After your shower, come out and drink the ginger soup.”
Pei Shuyi looked at him, hesitating. “But I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
“Wear mine.” Jiang Congli turned back to stir the ginger soup, not finding this the slightest bit unusual.
“The bathroom is on the second floor. Use the master bedroom’s. There’s a bathrobe inside, and new toothbrushes and towels are in the drawer under the sink.”
“Never mind, I’ll take you there.”
Jiang Congli turned the heat down, covered the pot, washed his hands, dried them, then walked over and naturally took her hand.
His palm seemed to still carry the warmth from holding the wooden spoon earlier—warm and dry.
The two walked through the living room and up the stairs.
The stairs were covered with dark gray carpet, muffling their footsteps.
Jiang Congli walked ahead of her, holding her hand in his palm as she followed him up to the second floor.
At the end of the second-floor hallway was a half-open door. Jiang Congli pushed it open and stepped aside to let her enter first.
The master bedroom was spacious, just like the living room downstairs, with a floor-to-ceiling window spanning an entire wall.
Snow drifted down from the gray sky, falling silently outside the window. A bedside lamp cast a warm, orange glow, illuminating the entire room.
The bed was neatly made, with two pillows placed side by side. A book lay open halfway on the nightstand.
“The bathroom is inside.”
Jiang Congli pointed to the left, released her hand, walked to the bathroom door to turn on the light, fetched a set of loungewear from the walk-in closet, folded it neatly, and placed it by the sink. Then he bent down, pulled open a drawer, took out a new toothbrush and towel, and arranged them neatly on the sink.
Pei Shuyi nodded, preparing to close the bathroom door, only to find that Jiang Congli hadn’t left yet.
“You go out first, I’m going to take a shower.”
Jiang Congli glanced at her, walked past her, and exited the bathroom. “Just put your clothes in the laundry hamper. Come find me downstairs when you’re done.”
“Okay.”
Half an hour later.
When Pei Shuyi emerged from the shower, she looked as if she had been swallowed by his clothes.
Jiang Congli’s loungewear was far too big for her. The collar of the top slipped down, revealing a section of her collarbone. If not for the full curve holding it up, she might have risked exposure.
The sleeves were also too long, covering her hands and leaving only a few pale pink nails visible.
As for the pant legs, they dragged on the floor with every step she took, forcing her to bend down and pull them up.
Jiang Congli had thought of everything, except that she had no clean undergarments to change into.
At that moment, aside from his loungewear, she wore nothing at all.
The bare state made her feel somewhat uneasy. She looked down at the crumpled pant legs piled around her ankles, then glanced up toward the staircase at the end of the hallway.
Forget it, she’d go downstairs first.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jiang Congli emerged from the kitchen, holding two bowls of ginger tea.
He looked up and saw her appearance, his footsteps halting abruptly.
Pei Shuyi was wearing his clothes, from head to toe.
She was wrapped entirely in his garments, looking small, like a child who had sneaked into an adult’s wardrobe.
Jiang Congli placed the two bowls of ginger tea on the coffee table, took two strides over, and steadied her.
The man’s hand rested on her waist, his palm pressed against her side, the dry warmth seeping through the fabric of the loungewear.
“Jiang Congli.”
“I don’t have any clean undergarments to change into.”
In the silence, Jiang Congli’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
That delicate expanse of fair skin was particularly eye-catching. The man’s thumb brushed lightly against the fabric at her waist, as if an unconscious gesture.
Jiang Congli lowered his gaze, took her hand in his, and led her to the sofa, helping her sit down.
The floor lamp in the living room was on, casting a warm, orange glow that filled the entire space.
Jiang Congli knelt before her, reached out, and took hold of her left pant leg, rolling it up layer by layer.
His movements were meticulous, each fold neatly aligned.
Occasionally, his fingers brushed against her calf, sending a tingling current through her. Pei Shuyi pressed her lips together.
After finishing the left side, he moved to the right.
The same careful motions continued until two sections of fair ankles were revealed.
Once both pant legs were rolled up, he took her wrist and began rolling up her sleeves, layer by layer.
Pei Shuyi’s hands were slender; his fingers encircling her wrist still left some space.
Seizing the opportunity, Pei Shuyi looked down at him.
The light from the floor lamp fell on his head, casting a warm hue over his half-dry hair.
His eyelashes were lowered, casting a small, fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes. His nose was straight, his lips slightly pursed, and his jawline taut.
She couldn’t help but want to reach out and touch his hair. Her fingers twitched slightly before she withdrew them, feeling it might be too intrusive, so she restrained herself.
After rolling up her sleeves and pant legs, Jiang Congli lowered his gaze to her feet.
The slippers were too big, slipping off her feet after just a few steps, the edges rubbing against her little toes.
He frowned. “I’ll have someone send over a pair in your size later.”
But Pei Shuyi wasn’t concerned about the slipper size at the moment; she was more anxious about another issue.
“Jiang Congli, do you have any new undergarments here?”
Jiang Congli looked up at her, then stood and sat down beside her.
“There’s a dryer,” he said.
Pei Shuyi blinked. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“I just remembered it now.” Jiang Congli picked up the bowl of ginger soup from the coffee table and handed it to her. The bowl wasn’t too hot to touch—he must have let it cool just now.
“Drink the ginger soup first. It’s just the right temperature.”
Pei Shuyi took it, cradling it in her hands as she took a sip.
The ginger soup warmed her all the way from her throat to her stomach. The sweetness of the brown sugar mixed with the spiciness of the ginger made her frown slightly from the heat, but she took another sip anyway.
After finishing the bowl, she felt warm from the inside out.
Combined with the comfort of having just taken a bath, her entire body felt utterly relaxed, making Pei Shuyi reluctant to move.
Jiang Congli drank the other bowl as well, then took both bowls to the kitchen. After rinsing them quickly, he returned to the living room.
He found Pei Shuyi lazily curled up on the sofa, the collar of her shirt slipping to one side.
He walked over, reached out, and pulled her into his arms.