She straightened up and turned her head slightly.
In that single instant, he recognized the profile.
The curve of her nose, the line of her chin, the shadow tracing her jaw beneath the hallway light.
Yang Zhiyan.
Was it really her?
Qin Yuzheng’s hand froze on the doorknob. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the neighboring door was firmly shut.
A hallucination…
This was Qin Yushang’s apartment, the one their grandmother had left to his younger brother. Yushang lived in Shenzhen, and the apartment had been vacant ever since. Their grandmother kept the keys.
How could Yang Zhiyan possibly appear here?
He stood staring at the doorway for a long moment. The hallway fell silent again, and the motion-activated light blinked off.
Darkness flooded in from every direction like water, swallowing him whole.
Leaning against his own front door, Qin Yuzheng stood motionless in the dark.
I’m getting worse.
Now he was even seeing things.
Love at first sight is nothing more than attraction to a pretty face.
Am I really that shallow?
But then he remembered the confidence and poise with which she had introduced the qipaos.
She had been beautiful.
Captivating.
His mind churned like a mixer, blending every thought into an indistinguishable mess.
He remembered his grandmother calling last week, asking him to pick up a qipao from Mu Fei’s studio.
He remembered how she’d recently kept asking, in roundabout ways, whether he’d found someone yet.
He remembered her saying over the phone that day—
“Ah Zheng, you’re not young anymore. Don’t spend your life alone.”
He stood in the darkness for about a minute.
Then he turned around, unlocked the door, and went inside.
Without turning on the lights, he walked by memory to the sofa. Still wearing his suit jacket, he collapsed onto it, lying flat on his back with one arm draped across his forehead, covering his eyes.
The alcohol still hadn’t completely worn off.
The burning in his stomach had grown worse, climbing upward until it reached his chest and throat.
He tossed and turned on the couch before eventually drifting off to sleep.
His shirt became wrinkled, his tie still hanging loosely around his neck.
In the middle of the night, a cool breeze drifted in through the window.
He instinctively hunched his shoulders, but never woke.
In his dream…
It was unbearably warm.
The air was thick with steam, like standing inside a giant bamboo steamer.
A woman’s body was pressed against his.
Even through the thin layer of fabric between them, he could feel her warmth…
Her softness…
A warmth carrying a faint, delicate fragrance.
In the dream, he kissed her.
Her lips were as soft as flower petals, carrying the slightest hint of sweetness, like cherries in spring.
He captured those tender lips, gently parting them, tasting the warmth of her breath.
Her breathing became uneven, hot against his face.
Her fingers clutched tightly at the front of his shirt.
He kissed her too fiercely—
As though he wanted to pull her into himself forever.
Her body trembled faintly in his embrace, like a leaf quivering in the wind.
The sight made his chest ache.
But he couldn’t stop.
Nor did he want to.
His breathing became faster and faster.
The air in his lungs seemed to be squeezed out inch by inch, as though someone were covering his nose and mouth.
He tried to breathe.
Yet every breath he managed to take was too little.
Never enough.
He couldn’t breathe—
Qin Yuzheng’s eyes snapped open.
A dim white ceiling greeted him.
Only a thin sliver of light filtered through the gap in the curtains. It was impossible to tell whether it came from a streetlamp or the approaching dawn.
He was still lying on the sofa.
His shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his chest and back.
At some point, he’d loosened his tie, and it now hung crookedly around his neck.
His nose was completely blocked.
He inhaled once.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
It felt as though both nostrils had been stuffed with cotton—dry and painfully sore.
His throat hurt too, as if it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. Every swallow burned.
He’d caught a cold.
Supporting himself on the armrest, he slowly sat up.
His head felt heavy, his body light, while his temples pounded as though two tiny drummers were hammering away inside them.
Looking down at himself, he saw that his shirt was badly wrinkled.
One button had popped open sometime during the night, exposing a small patch of his chest.
His trousers were creased as well.
Then he remembered the kiss in his dream.
It had felt so real.
The warmth of her lips…
Her breathing…
The strength with which she’d gripped his shirt…
The slight trembling of her body…
Every detail remained vividly etched into his mind.
He brushed the back of his hand across his lips.
Cold.
Yet in the dream, they’d been burning hot.
He buried his face in his palms and rubbed hard before lifting his head to stare at the thin beam of light peeking through the curtains.
His stuffed nose made his voice sound muffled.
In a hoarse whisper, he cursed himself.
“What a loser.”
Thirty-five years old…
Getting so worked up over a wet dream that he’d caught a cold.
If the others ever found out, they’d laugh at him for the rest of his life.
Leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed, he could only breathe through his mouth because of the congestion.
His lips had cracked from the dryness.
When he licked them absentmindedly, he tasted the faint metallic tang of blood.
He must have bitten them sometime during the night.
In the apartment next door…
Yang Zhiyan had barely slept.
She’d been too excited after moving in, and her body hadn’t yet adjusted to the unfamiliar surroundings.
Morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading a soft layer of gold across the wooden floor.
Early that morning, Grandma Qin called.
Qin Yuzheng had no idea what she wanted.
He was honestly a little afraid she’d start urging him to get married again.
He could ignore anyone else’s nagging.
But his grandmother…
She was the person who had always loved him most.
The last thing he wanted was to disappoint her.
Fortunately, she was open-minded.
She only brought up marriage after listening to other people’s grandchildren being praised one too many times.
Qin Yuzheng cleared his throat.
It didn’t help.
His throat still felt as though it were full of sand.
Even he was startled by how hoarse his voice sounded.
“Grandma.”
“Ah Zheng,” Grandma Qin greeted cheerfully, her voice as energetic as ever. “Have you been back to Shengshi Tianxi lately?”
Still leaning against the sofa, Qin Yuzheng stared at the narrow beam of sunlight slipping through the curtains.
He didn’t answer immediately.
His fingers tapped lightly against his knee twice.
“I just wanted to let you know,” Grandma Qin continued without waiting for a reply, “I’ve rented out the apartment next door. So if you happen to go back one day and find someone living there, you won’t be surprised.”
His fingers stopped.
“You rented it out?”
His voice was even hoarser now.
Not entirely because of his cold.
“That’s right. A very nice young woman,” Grandma Qin replied casually. “She makes qipaos and studies under Grandma Mu. You picked up that qipao last time—you should’ve met her.”
Holding the phone, Qin Yuzheng remained silent.
“Ah Zheng?”
“I’m here,” he finally answered. “I’m at Shengshi Tianxi right now.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Grandma Qin couldn’t help thinking with amusement:
Well, well… what a sharp nose. He caught the scent and came running already?
“You’ve caught a cold?” she asked.
Her conversation took such a natural turn that it barely seemed like a change of topic.
“Why does your voice sound so hoarse?”
“I had a few drinks last night and caught a chill.”
He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.
No fever.
But his nose was so congested that his words came out heavily nasal.
“Did you take any medicine?”
“No.”
“You…” Grandma Qin’s tone shifted into gentle scolding, though it was wrapped in obvious concern. “Whenever you work, you forget about everything else. Your health comes first, understand? You live alone. If you really got sick, who would take care of you?”
Qin Yuzheng listened quietly without arguing.
He knew she wasn’t finished.
If this call had only been about the apartment, a text message would have been enough.
“That young woman,” Grandma Qin continued as expected, “her name is Yang Zhiyan. She’s a good girl. Kind, sensible. While you’re both living there, make sure you get along with her.”
Get along with her?
What exactly did Grandma mean?
Had she… noticed?
“…Okay,” he replied.
After hanging up, he set his phone on the coffee table.
Resting his clasped hands on his knees, he lowered his head and sat there quietly for a while.
A ray of sunlight squeezed through the curtains, landing squarely on his intertwined fingers.
How could Grandma Qin not know what her grandson was thinking?
When Qin Yuzheng had brought the qipao home for her that day, he’d absentmindedly praised the craftsmanship several times.
She had also caught him staring at a WeChat contact named Zhiyan more than once.
She had raised him with her own hands.
How could she not recognize that look?
He was interested.
So the first time she met Yang Zhiyan and realized what an exceptional young woman she truly was…
She decided she might as well lend him a little help.
As for everything that came afterward—
That would be left to fate.
Hot water cascaded over his body, washing away the lingering scent of alcohol and the sweat from the previous night.
Steam quickly filled the shower stall, leaving a thin layer of white mist on the glass door.
Standing beneath the showerhead with his eyes closed, Qin Yuzheng let the hot water pour over him, flowing from the top of his head, down his brow, over the bridge of his nose, past his chin, and slowly along the rest of his body.