The expensive men's cologne, with its non-irritating base notes, evoked memories of childhood princess storybooks—the moment pink endpapers opened to reveal a dance floor under the stars, crystal slippers racing down a narrow garden path with a rapid "click-clack-click-clack" sound.
Yun Shui apologized mechanically.
The man steadied her with practiced courtesy, stepping back a pace, a gentle smile never leaving his face. "Careful."
Yun Shui clutched her chest and stumbled backward three frantic steps. It was hardly ladylike, but fortunately her flat leather shoes helped her keep her balance. Feeling deeply embarrassed, she hurried away. She'd originally meant to ask where the restroom was, but somehow found herself unable to speak up.
Yun Shui felt as if she'd been split in two. One soul continued functioning as normal—asking a staff member for the restroom's location, guiding her body into a stall, locking the door, and taking care of business.
The other soul remained in a state of dazed bewilderment from that direct hit, like one of those squishy toys sealed in plastic bags—squeezed flat and crumpled, wobbling its deflated body, dazedly and desperately trying to spring back to its original shape.
Only when she washed her hands, as cold water poured from the sensor faucet, did the two souls finally merge into one. Yun Shui stared at the stream of water and thought: I'm done for.
Chen Xi: You're done for! You've fallen in love!
Yun Shui typed: No, he's just really handsome.
She was genuinely just excited about seeing a handsome guy and couldn't help sharing it with her best friend. Her best friend was also her very, very distant cousin—the kind you might even miss during New Year family visits—but that didn't stop them from being close.
Her cousin's name was Chen Xi. She ran a self-founded dessert shop in the capital, managed a social media presence alongside it, and the business was thriving. Though people complained daily that this internet-famous baker's cakes were outrageously expensive—tasty but not worth it—that didn't stop a steady stream of customers from coming to check in and take photos. Chen Xi racked her brains every day chasing trends and experimenting with new products. She was someone Yun Shui deeply admired for her boundless energy.
Chen Xi sent her a Conan meme sticker and concluded: Yun, do you realize your tone is way off?
Yun Shui started reviewing the voice message she'd just sent—sure enough, her voice had even drifted slightly at the end.
She sent a photo of his back and admitted guiltily: Fine. He really is good-looking. And he smells nice too.
Chen Xi clicked her tongue: You fickle woman. What about your Fleet Commander? Don't want him anymore?
Yun Shui scrambled frantically, sneaking a furtive glance left and right to confirm the restroom was still empty. But she didn't dare send another voice message, typing instead: What Fleet Commander! Chen Xiao Xi, I'm warning you not to talk nonsense! When have I ever mentioned him to you?
In truth, although she and Chen Xi often rambled on endlessly with all sorts of wild banter, she was still fairly reserved. In her memory, she'd rarely brought up the Fleet Commander with Chen Xi. She tried searching the chat history for the Fleet Commander and his name—and sure enough, aside from occasional complaints, there was nothing.
Chen Xi: Hehe. You told me once when you were drunk.
Yun Shui's fingers trembled: N-No way!
Chen Xi: Oh please. It's not like I'd tell anyone. You just said the Fleet Commander was someone you used to like. Back then, he wasn't the Fleet Commander yet.
Yun Shui emphasized: That chapter's closed. It's in the past. Really. I absolutely, completely, totally, entirely, one hundred percent don't like him anymore. Besides, there's no possibility whatsoever. No meaning in it at all.
This was the first time she had spoken with such serious emphasis. On the other end, Chen Xi had been typing for a while before sending a meme to lighten the mood, changing the subject: "Alright, forget about him. What about that guy from earlier! You said he was handsome—so is he tall? Does he have abs? The photo only shows his back, and it's all blurry."
Yun Shui couldn't help the corners of her mouth turning up: "Tall. With a figure like that, he probably does. Ahhh, how would I know? He was wearing clothes!"
Chen Xi: "You got this, Yun Yun. Hope that next time you meet, you can report this serious question to the organization, and submit a frontal photo as evidence—pics or it didn't happen."
Yun Shui couldn't guarantee that to the organization, because it was only a fleeting encounter. The kind where she might only see him once in this lifetime. She could only try to recall that face again—not that she harbored any improper thoughts, but that gentle, water-soft face was extraordinarily handsome and elegant, like a spring breeze brushing across one's cheeks.
By the time she returned to the round table, they were already bidding on the next collectible.
The Fleet Commander's mood was visibly terrible. When his gaze swept over, it was like knives falling in a cold wind.
Yun Shui played dead, trying her best not to provoke him.
But the Fleet Commander didn't let her off easily: "Why did you take so long?"
Because I couldn't find the restroom, because I ran into a handsome man, because I was slacking off and chatting.
Yun Shui secretly rolled her eyes: "General, this place is too big. I had a bit of trouble finding my way."
The Fleet Commander: "Did you just side-eye me?"
Yun Shui sucked in a breath and forced a smile: "Ah, no, I didn't."
The Fleet Commander: "You did."
Yun Shui: "I didn't."
"You did." The Fleet Commander accused her. "Yun Shui, this is a problem with your work attitude."
Yun Shui sulkily dredged up old grievances: "General, last time you used me as a shield, you didn't seem to consult me about it."
The Fleet Commander: "Don't change the subject. Soldiers only need to obey."
Yun Shui: "I'm just civilian personnel." Not a soldier under your command.
The Fleet Commander: "Everyone on the fleet should obey me. Is there a problem?"
Of course there was a problem—this was oppression, tyranny, one-man rule.
But Yun Shui had already exceeded her quota of backtalk for today, having exhausted all her courage. She lowered her head and accepted the scolding, not daring to argue further, afraid that the furious Fleet Commander would dock her pay.
The Fleet Commander let out a "hmph" and quickly glanced at Yun Shui. Finding nothing unusual, he temporarily let her off. After a moment, he suddenly said: "You can buy a display cabinet."
Yun Shui worried this was some trap that would lead to another scolding, and asked cautiously: "What cabinet?"
The Fleet Commander said matter-of-factly: "Since you like it, shouldn't you display it? This is your first time owning an antique, isn't it?"
Yun Shui's mouth twitched and her face turned pale: "I-I-I-I… own an antique?!"
The Fleet Commander frowned again: "Don't you want it? You've already bought it—thinking of backing out?"
His slightly softened expression froze over again as he examined the flustered look of the girl before him who had never seen the world. Seeing how pitiful she looked, his tone softened a bit: "Don't you like it?"
Yun Shui felt as if she'd been struck head-on by a lead ball made of sun—her head buzzing, scorching hot and rattling at once. She forced a smile uglier than crying, her voice nearly cracking: "General, don't joke like that."
The Fleet Commander and Yun Shui stared at each other, each growing doubly more confused. At that moment, both appeared utterly foolish in the other's eyes—like a key that could never fit its lock no matter how it was turned.
The Fleet Commander wore an expression of disapproval: "I'm not joking."
The air conditioning in the room was turned down a bit too low. Yun Shui felt like a long-haired animal struck by static electricity—her back tingled, and goosebumps broke out all over her skin.
The Fleet Commander was stern by nature. Though his tone was never pleasant, he had never once played tricks on Yun Shui. Given that, she judged that he was telling the truth.
Insane.
The Fleet Commander was going to buy her an antique. From the Tang Dynasty. The kind that was either some family's heirloom or dug out of a noble's tomb.
Could it be real? This was a fortune utterly unlike finding money on the street, winning a free drink from a bottle cap, or scratching off a hundred-yuan prize on a receipt. This was far more unbelievable, far more absurd—it felt like a dream. A nightmare.
The Fleet Commander watched Yun Shui stare blankly at him, then stiffly lower her head and murmur, "Where's my phone…"
The Fleet Commander looked at this at-a-loss cloud with pity and, in a rare show of mercy, tapped the desk. "Here."
Yun Shui shakily retrieved her phone from the tabletop.
The Fleet Commander lifted his chin slightly. "Don't believe me? Want to record this?"
He leaned in a little closer and saw Yun Shui unlock her phone with her fingerprint. The wallpaper was a gold ingot. He felt he could understand. A money-grubber whose dream had suddenly come true would naturally short-circuit.
Then he watched that wooden finger slide and slide, trembling its way to a blue app icon. He looked closer. It was the Alliance Anti-Fraud Center. The Fleet Commander was so angry he laughed instead: "Yun Shui, you penniless wretch, what could you possibly have for someone to scam?"
Yun Shui had already been dazzled blind by the fortune crashing down from the heavens—startled, delighted, and terrified all at once. When she came back to her senses, her gaze had grown dreamy: "General, why would you give me…"
The Fleet Commander looked at her still-trembling lips and felt something strange in his chest, something light and airy. But he soon popped the fool's bubble all the same: "If I don't give you something, how will anyone believe I'm 'pursuing' you?"
Pop. The bubble carrying Yun Shui up to the heavens burst.
Yun Shui stiffened. The little figure on the bubble instantly tumbled onto the lawn and rolled a few times.
This feeling was strange. Something that should have been impossible had happened, yet when you thought about it carefully, the miracle and the luck were just candy wrappers wrapped around rotten fluff—only superficially sweet. Peel it open, and it scattered at the slightest breath.
Yun Shui inhaled. Exhaled.
She had brought this on herself. Unable to think of any tactful phrasing, she could only ask quietly, "General, so this Tang Dynasty porcelain thing—I can't turn it into cash, right?"
The Fleet Commander's expression soured again. His mood had been swinging up and down all day. The fickle man demanded coldly, "You want to sell something I gave you?"
Yun Shui understood.
Couldn't sell it. Couldn't break it. And the cabinet to display it would have to come out of her own pocket. This wasn't a windfall from the sky—this was inviting an ancestor home to be worshipped!
Its maliciousness was on par with being tasked to look after your boss's money tree—laborious and thankless. Raise it well and it's expected; let it die and you're unforgivably guilty.
For a moment she looked crestfallen and worried: "General, maybe… let's just forget it."
"Forget it?" The Fleet Commander's face stiffened. He had already been angered countless times today by this troublesome assistant. He closed his eyes, then said coldly, "No. It's settled."
Yun Shui was on the verge of tears: "But… my home's security system is terrible. What if someone breaks in…"
The Fleet Commander's veins bulged with irritation. "What do you think the Fortress is? That kind of thing doesn't happen here. And no one would dare lay a hand on what's mine."
Suddenly, he felt inexplicable—there was really no need for this, it was entirely superfluous. But he was in a foul mood, and he didn't like going back on his word. Watching Yun Shui's face crumple in dismay, the furnace in his heart blazed, and he wanted to skewer her and roast her over the fire.
He pinched the lower half of her face, startling her so badly she nearly sent her phone flying. He forced her flickering, evasive eyes shut and turned her head away.
The Fleet Commander wiped his hands with a handkerchief, refusing further discussion. His verdict was final, brooking no argument. He emphasized once more: "It's settled, then."
Yun Shui sat there, dazed, her gaze forcibly redirected, and found herself meeting the furtive stare of a strange woman in the neighboring seat—someone clearly savoring the gossip. The woman gave an awkward smile and buried herself in her phone.
She dared not move or speak. Her chin, where he'd gripped it, felt sore and strangely hot.
It was so bizarre. Why, exactly? Lately, the Fleet Commander had been reining in his temper, bringing her to banquets, buying her clothes, buying her antiques. Though it was all superficial, all troublesome.
But it was also all new.
It was ripples in the stagnant waters of Yun Shui's unchanging life.
She stole a glance from the corner of her eye at the Fleet Commander's flawless, indifferent face. She didn't dare look long, but it was enough to spark a terrifying conjecture.
She must have been hexed, she thought, to believe the Fleet Commander's "special treatment" was so enigmatic, so strange that it seemed like genuine "courtship."
Yun Shui felt guilty for her pathetic, romance-addled brain and such an audacious guess.
The Fleet Commander used her to reject others. He used her while thinking she wasn't presentable, that she was an embarrassment. He gave her expensive collectibles as a smokescreen. She was still just a tool.
And the tool felt pain.
Yun Shui wasn't an enthusiastic worker, but she always did her best to complete her tasks, considering herself a passable workhorse. Yet she wasn't outstanding enough to earn her superior's special favor or targeted mentorship. She had no money, no looks, and by worldly standards, no capital for love at first sight.
So if it wasn't about grooming her, and it wasn't about wanting her, and the olive branch was only exploitation—then why was the Fleet Commander managing his temper?
It made no sense.
A decorated general had every right to be cold and curt, especially since his harshness hadn't yet descended into personal humiliation.
Eliminate all impossibilities, and whatever remains, however absurd, must be—
The Fleet Commander was actually seducing her.
Sorry.
That guess was too ridiculous. The Fleet Commander looked down on her, didn't like her, but he wasn't proper—he wanted to lure her into being his devoted admirer and backup option. Perhaps years of repressed, ascetic military life had twisted him. Such sinister intentions fit the Fleet Commander all too well.
Fine, actually, that guess was absurd too.
Yun Shui's head throbbed. She found her own chaotic, wild thoughts amusing. But the idea was too terrifying—it was like a dandelion seed drifting lazily on the breeze, landing harmlessly on the soil of her heart, only to take root the moment spring wind blew.
From then on, no matter how she tried to uproot it, she could never sweep away the star-like seeds.
It was horrifying. Once that thought took root, every move the Fleet Commander made seemed laden with hidden meaning. Even the way he casually pulled on his gloves looked like he was showing off his arsenal.
Yun Shui began to feel afraid. Given her extremely low rank, she decided that from now on she should stay as far away from the Fleet Commander as possible, lest she be caught by his not-so-subtle seduction. The farther, the better.
Time passed quickly when one was lost in thought. The auction concluded successfully in a harmonious atmosphere. Yun Shui followed behind the Fleet Commander like a large goose with its beak pinched shut, flapping helplessly.
After that ordeal, Yun Shui wanted nothing more than to avoid the Fleet Commander at all costs.
The Fleet Commander had been fairly busy lately, and for two days they had no contact whatsoever. Yun Shui let out a long sigh of relief.
Until today.
She received a message from the Fleet Commander in the morning—a cold, merciless single line: Overtime tonight.
Yun Shui took a deep breath, and with a grimace, typed out two characters in reply.