He remembered what his grandmother had said earlier.
“When you went to pick up the cheongsam last time, you must have met her, right?”
Met her?
More than that.
Not only had he met her, he’d added her on WeChat.
Not only had he added her on WeChat, he’d gone through every one of her Moments.
Not only had he gone through her Moments—he had seen her countless times in his dreams.
Qin Yuzheng turned off the shower and dried his hair with a towel. Standing before the bathroom mirror, he looked at the face that had been flushed slightly red by the steam.
His cold hadn’t gone away. His nose was still stuffed, and his throat felt dry, but he was already feeling much better than before.
He changed into a white lounge T-shirt and a pair of black casual pants. He hadn’t bothered to fully blow-dry his hair, merely toweling it until it was half dry before casually brushing it back with his fingers. A few loose strands fell over his forehead, making him look several years younger—and much less stern than usual.
He paused before the mirror in the entryway and gave himself one last look.
Then he opened the door, walked to the apartment next door, and knocked three times.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The rhythm was steady, but inside, Qin Yuzheng was strangely nervous.
It was the first time he’d ever knocked on a young woman’s door.
If his younger sister, Qin Yuyan, knew what he was thinking, she’d definitely curse him.
“What the hell? Am I not a girl?”
The apartment fell silent for a brief moment.
Then came light, cheerful footsteps.
The peephole darkened for an instant before brightening again. Someone was peeking at him through the tiny lens.
Qin Yuzheng instinctively straightened his posture.
It was the unconscious urge to present his very best self in front of the woman he loved.
The door opened.
Yang Zhiyan stood in the doorway wearing a creamy-white cotton house dress trimmed with delicate lace around the collar.
Her hair was loose over her shoulders, the ends curling softly.
Her face was completely bare of makeup, clean and fresh. Her lips were naturally pale pink, and her eyebrows needed no shaping—they were already beautifully defined.
“Mr. Qin?” she asked cautiously, uncertainty evident in her voice.
Morning sunlight streamed from behind him, casting his long shadow across the floor inside her apartment until it stretched all the way to her feet.
“Miss Yang.”
The corners of his lips lifted into a gentle smile.
“Good morning.”
Yang Zhiyan blinked rapidly.
She looked at him, then glanced toward the hallway behind him.
“You live across the hall?” she asked.
Qin Yuzheng nodded, slipping one hand into his pocket.
His posture looked relaxed, but every detail had been carefully considered.
Too formal, and he’d seem distant.
Too casual, and he’d appear disrespectful.
He’d spent a long time finding that perfect balance.
He’d never put this much thought into preparing an important speech for a government meeting.
Politics was his comfort zone.
Love was his blind spot.
At thirty-five, he had only just become interested in matters of the heart—wanted to study them, wanted to learn how to make the woman he loved smile.
“My grandmother told me this morning that she’d rented out the apartment.”
His tone carried just the right amount of explanation.
“I was wondering why she’d suddenly decided to lease it. I was worried she’d been deceived and rented it to someone unreliable.”
He paused, his gaze settling on her face.
“But when I saw it was you…”
“I was relieved.”
Standing in the doorway, Yang Zhiyan still had one hand resting on the doorknob.
When she heard the word deceived, her fingers tightened slightly around the handle.
Wasn’t she the one who had, in a way, deceived the old lady?
Such a wonderful apartment…
Rented to her for only 3,500 yuan a month.
Grandma Qin had said it was because she wanted someone to look after the place, that an empty house lacked warmth.
But Yang Zhiyan knew those were only polite excuses.
Grandma Qin didn’t need the rent money.
Nor did she need anyone to watch over the apartment.
The elderly woman simply wanted to help her.
She lowered her eyes, unconsciously brushing her fingertips over the cool metal doorknob.
“Mr. Qin… your voice…”
She looked up at him briefly before quickly averting her gaze.
“Do you have a cold?”
Qin Yuzheng had been waiting for that question.
He cleared his throat.
Not as an act—his throat genuinely hurt.
But the timing of that cough was impeccable.
Right after she’d asked.
Right while she was looking at him.
“I had a few drinks last night and caught a chill,” he replied.
His voice sounded even hoarser now—just enough to make it obvious he wasn’t feeling well without seeming deliberate.
Yang Zhiyan hesitated.
She wasn’t someone who liked meddling in other people’s affairs.
After living in her family home for so many years, she’d learned to keep out of things.
When her brother and sister-in-law argued, she stayed out of it.
When her parents bickered, she stayed out of it.
Anything that wasn’t her business, she simply ignored.
But Grandma Qin had rented this apartment to her at such a low price.
She had never forgotten that kindness.
And the man before her was Grandma Qin’s grandson.
His voice was this hoarse because of a cold.
If she hadn’t known, that would have been one thing.
But now that she did…
Ignoring it somehow didn’t feel right.
“I just made some ginger tea,” she offered politely.
“Would you like a bowl?”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
She had just invited a man she’d only met a few times into her home.
She wanted to take the invitation back.
But it was already too late.
Qin Yuzheng looked at her, the smile in his eyes growing more obvious.
“Wouldn’t I be disturbing you?” he asked.
His voice was gentle, carrying just the right amount of hesitation.
He wanted to go inside.
He wanted that bowl of ginger tea.
But more than that, he wanted her to know he cared about her comfort.
Yang Zhiyan shook her head.
She opened the door a little wider and stepped aside.
“Not at all. Please, come in.”
As Qin Yuzheng stepped over the threshold, he quietly drew a deep breath.
He was inside.
Her home.
Her space.
The place that belonged to her—one she’d only moved into the night before and hadn’t even finished arranging yet.
“Please have a seat. I’ll get the ginger tea.”
She pointed toward the sofa before turning into the kitchen.
Qin Yuzheng stood in the middle of the living room, slowly taking everything in.
The layout was identical to his apartment.
Yet it felt completely different.
His own place was all cool tones—a gray sofa, white walls, a few simple pieces of furniture. It looked like somewhere he merely stayed, without a trace of personality.
Hers was nothing like that.
She had changed the sofa cover.
The original gray-and-white fabric had been replaced with a cream-colored cotton-linen one, draped with a light mocha knitted throw.
A glass vase sat on the coffee table.
Inside were several white and pink daisies trembling gently in the morning light.
The floor lamp in the corner glowed warmly, its soft golden light washing the living room in a gentle apricot hue.
She had lived here for only one night.
Yet the apartment was already filled with her presence.
The fresh scent of cotton and linen…
The faint fragrance of daisies…
Both captivated him.
From the kitchen came the sound of water being poured, the crisp clink of porcelain, followed by her footsteps.
Yang Zhiyan walked out carrying a porcelain bowl.
The white bowl was decorated with simple blue floral patterns.
The ginger tea had just been made. Steam curled upward, its white mist blurring her face.
She walked slowly, her eyes fixed on the surface of the tea, afraid of spilling it.
Every step was careful.
When she reached him, she stopped and held the bowl out.
“Be careful. It’s hot.”
Qin Yuzheng reached out to take it.
As his hand extended forward, she was passing the bowl toward him.
Their fingertips brushed beneath the rim.
Her fingers were cool.
His were warm.
One cool.
One warm.
Meeting like two different temperatures merging in water, swirling together.
Yang Zhiyan jerked her hand back as if she’d been shocked.
The movement was so sudden that the bowl nearly tipped over.
She quickly caught the bottom with her other hand, steadying it before hastily withdrawing both hands behind her back.
“Did it burn you?” Qin Yuzheng asked.