Lin Wan noticed at first glance that the meal was off.
The fish soup was milky white, chunks of radish sank to the bottom, and the stir-fried cabbage glistened on the other side, arranged… far too neatly—almost meticulously careful.
This was definitely not the style of big-pot cafeteria cooking.
In just a second, she realized:
—This meal was made by Gu Ye.
But she didn’t say anything. Pretending ignorance, she picked up a spoon, scooped some fish soup, blew on it, and tasted it.
Honestly, it was very good—far exceeding her expectations.
Across from her, Gu Ye’s hand unconsciously rubbed the handle of his spoon. His peripheral gaze couldn’t help but flicker over to her, betraying him.
Her heartbeat seemed to rise and fall with the spoon.
But whenever he noticed her looking, he immediately looked away.
Pretending not to notice his seemingly casual yet taut attention, Lin Wan rested her chin on her hand and softly called his name.
“Gu Ye,”
He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers.
“The cafeteria chef really outdid himself today. The taste is far better than before,” she said, a trace of a smile in her voice.
Her fingers tightened around her spoon, and Gu Ye’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.
He lowered his head, letting out a muffled “hm” almost swallowed in his throat.
Lin Wan found his attempt to act cool while clearly caring amusing, but she didn’t tease him further.
“What do you think? Master… chef?”
“……”
The atmosphere froze.
Gu Ye stayed silent for a few seconds before slowly lifting his head to meet her knowing yet complex gaze.
After a moment, he asked,
“How did you know?”
Lin Wan blinked. Of course.
A huge, unfamiliar emotion washed over her, engulfing and suffocating.
Choosing Gu Ye as her target had been a last resort, but seeing him pick up a spatula instead of a gun still made her feel conflicted.
If one day he found out everything was fake…
No. She would make the fake into reality.
She really was a selfish person.
Meeting Gu Ye’s gaze, she put down her spoon, walked over, crouched beside him, and looked up at his lowered eyes.
Her sparkling eyes were full of joy and nostalgia.
“Because it tastes exactly like what you used to make.”
In an instant,
Gu Ye felt as if something lightly struck his chest. A strange yet familiar warmth surged through him, leaving him momentarily speechless.
He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress the feeling, deliberately putting on a stern face as he dryly asked:
“But last time, didn’t you doubt whether I had learned? How did you know what my cooking used to taste like?”
Unexpectedly, the person in front of him raised her chin confidently, a hint of pride in her eyes:
“That time… I deliberately tricked you.”
“Who asked you to forget me? Just a little punishment.”
She leaned closer, eyes full of mischief:
“I’m your fiancée. How could I not know what your cooking tastes like?”
Strangely,
Even knowing she had teased him, Gu Ye couldn’t bring himself to feel angry.
He looked away and muttered, “…nonsense.”
Under the light, his long lashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes.
Lin Wan watched those lashes flutter; the usually stern man suddenly looked a little obedient.
“I’m sorry…”
Gu Ye frowned: “…hm?”
She spoke softly, sincerely: “I shouldn’t have hidden and scared you just now. I only wanted to play a joke, but I didn’t expect…”
…that you’d react so strongly.
Gu Ye understood her unspoken meaning. Looking at her apologetic face so close to him, the lingering fear and irritation in his chest finally dissipated.
Some things only required an attitude.
He reached out, not to touch her, but awkwardly brushed a small speck of dust on her nose with his knuckle, left from the kitchen.
“It’s okay.”
Forgiven.
But—
He looked at her solemnly, speaking deliberately:
“But next time, you can’t trick me again.”
She paused, looking up at him: “Not even a little?”
Gu Ye met her bright, sparkling eyes.
“No.”
He was a stubborn man—if he committed, he wanted it pure.
His fiancée had to give him her whole heart. Similarly, he would devote himself entirely to her.
Even if it meant learning things today he didn’t remember or couldn’t do.
Lin Wan didn’t speak; she simply smiled after a moment and nodded in agreement.
“Okay.”
Realizing his tone had been serious, Gu Ye added:
“And from now on, I won’t leave you home alone at night. I’ll come back every day.”
This wasn’t a suggestion—it was a promise.
A promise born from tonight’s accidental scare and, more deeply, from the growing sense of responsibility to protect her.
He even felt grateful for tonight’s mishap, realizing clearly the dangers a girl might face in the mining area.
Lin Wan was momentarily stunned, then laughed, exaggeratingly:
“Oh my, are you really being this good to me tonight…”
Gu Ye: …
Had he been bad to her before? Maybe?
He felt a bit insecure.
Hesitating, he finally couldn’t help but ask, with a seriousness he hadn’t realized:
“Then, was I better before or better now?”
Lin Wan paused, as if at a loss for words.
Could it really… all be because of her offhand comment yesterday?
Seeing his insistent, expectant gaze, she sighed and replied plainly:
“Of course now! Your cooking now is the best in the world! And you are the best, strongest man in the world!”
Her heartfelt praise hit him like electricity.
He felt his cheeks and ears heat up. Pressing his lips together, he finally spoke calmly:
“Alright, I got it.”
Not wanting her to immediately say:
“But you could still be better—”
“So, may I sleep a little closer tonight, oh best person in the world?”
Gu Ye: …
Lin Wan, unbeatable in getting her way.
Night deepened, and moonlight bathed the small room in silver.
The room was completely visible.
Gu Ye’s mattress was right next to the bed—so close he could touch the edge with an outstretched hand.
“This is what you meant,” Gu Ye’s low voice sounded in the darkness, tinged with helplessness, “closer?”
Lin Wan lay sideways on the bed’s edge, able to see his clear outline on the mattress below.
Impossible. She wanted even closer—but she gave him a gradual process, fearing he would outright refuse.
The process didn’t matter; the outcome was inevitable.
Feigning innocence, she said: “Is it not close enough?”
She deliberately leaned down, hair nearly brushing his face, voice teasing:
“Then… why don’t you come up? Or I can come down to join you?”
Gu Ye’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes sharply.
Every time he expected her to say one thing, she had ten surprises ready, each catching him off guard.
He remained silent, turned his back to the bed.
Lin Wan chuckled quietly, lying properly.
The room grew quiet, with only their soft breathing.
Moonlight filtered through the new curtains, gentle.
“Gu Ye,”
“Hmm?”
Perhaps not sleepy, perhaps the mood was right, Lin Wan murmured softly, gazing at the moon outside.
“I just found out that Sister Wu has a daughter, only five years old, lively and cute… I was surprised. Their family doesn’t favor sons at all.”
Her tone was simple, admiring—a rarity in this era.
But Gu Ye heard it as her longing for fairness, her envy of a family where a daughter mattered.
A tiny pang struck him.
He stared at the wall, searching for words to comfort her, finally muttering:
“I won’t either.”
Lin Wan paused, then realized what he meant, laughing softly:
“Comrade Gu Ye, are you saying you want children too?”
She drew out her words with a mischievous tone: “But… we’re not married yet, and like this—”
She pointed to the “distance” between them,
“We can’t make children this way.”
Gu Ye: …
He buried himself under the covers, unwilling to continue.
After a moment, he peeked out, clarifying:
“I didn’t mean anything else, I just feel it’s a bit fast… we haven’t recalled our past memories yet…”
Unfair to her, too casual.
Lin Wan, proud of teasing him, paused at his words.
“Do we have to remember everything?”
Gu Ye didn’t understand; wasn’t recalling memories normal?
“How can someone live without a past?”
Lin Wan asked: “If you never remembered, would you keep distance from me forever?”
Gu Ye was speechless—he hadn’t thought of that.
Everything had felt sudden: he lost his memory, she appeared… he never truly processed it, only reacted.
“Gu Ye, which is more important, past or present?”
Her voice, soft and distant.
“I’m a simple person, just want to live each day well, with the one I love,”
“The past may be unforgettable, but we can’t go back. Better to seize the present…”
Like when she knew she couldn’t return to the modern world, she clung to what she could change.
Gu Ye listened silently, unsure.
She might be right—or wrong. Everyone’s view of life differs.
But he noticed the hidden unease and uncertainty beneath her light words.
She too must fear the unknown, facing someone who doesn’t remember her.
“Gu Ye… can you try to get along with the present me?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but her voice continued, almost dreamlike:
“Don’t worry, I’ll also try to get along with the current you, even if you remember nothing, know nothing, have nothing…”
“Alright—” Gu Ye responded quickly, afraid that if he hesitated, the next words would be: he had nothing at all.
His fleeting sentimentality vanished.
Enough. That was enough.
Continuing would become his interrogation.
Lin Wan was satisfied.
“Do you always speak so… casually?” Gu Ye tried a softer tone.
“Can’t help it, spoiled habit.”
“….” Gu Ye fell silent, pondering.
“…Is it me?”
Lin Wan was quiet.
After a while:
“Yes.”
“….”
Gu Ye felt guilty again.
“I’ll treat you well too.”
Even if he didn’t remember or had no experience, he wouldn’t do worse than before.
“Gu Ye,” she called again.
“What is it?”
“Hug me.” She reached out from under the blanket.
“….”
Her voice was light, blending with the night, unreal in its softness.
After “hug me,” the air seemed to pause.
Gu Ye froze, unsure how to respond.
Half a step separated mattress and bed, yet it felt like a chasm.
He watched her hand, fingertips glowing faintly in the moonlight.
“Hug me.”
She repeated it, voice lingering, insistent, even tinged with unspoken… grievance.
His Adam’s apple moved; he finally found his voice: “How… sudden?”
“Not sudden,” she muttered, shadowed by the moonlight, “you always held me when sleeping before.”
She paused, voice lower: “Now, just a hug… you don’t even want that.”
The melancholy in her tone was obvious.
…
A sigh, then a soft rustle broke the silence.
Gu Ye lifted the mattress covers, stood, and sat on the bed.
The mattress sank slightly under his weight.
He leaned down hesitantly, slowly wrapping his arms around the warmth under the blanket.
The faint feminine scent filled his senses, soft and soothing.
Unlike any blank memory, tangible, alive, and dizzying.
Through thin fabric, he felt her shoulder blades and warmth clearly.
His mind tangled like yarn, leaving only instinct.
His hand lightly patted her back twice, a clumsy comfort.
“Hug… alright…”
Before finishing, a moist, cool touch came to his cheek.
Soft, slightly cold, like a hallucination.
He froze, breath stopped.
Before he could process the sudden kiss, a hand grabbed his collar—
It was Lin Wan.
She grinned mischievously, tugging him.
Gu Ye, bent forward, lost balance, was pulled onto the bed beside her soft blankets.
Lin Wan leaned above him, eyes sparkling with triumphant glee.
“Hmph, this is what I meant—closer, a little closer.”
So close, only a sliver of distance remained.
Gu Ye panicked, fumbling to push her away.
Before he could move, Lin Wan teased, voice commanding:
“Move again, and I’ll kiss you.”
Like magic, Gu Ye froze, chest rising with shallow breaths.
He smelled her hair, felt her warmth.
Seeing him on high alert yet immobile, Lin Wan smiled in satisfaction.
“Lin Wan, don’t…” Gu Ye’s dry voice was helpless.
Lin Wan, confidently: “We agreed to get along.”
“Compared to before,” she added, a touch of compromise, “this is my second best effort.”
“But…” Gu Ye wanted to argue, sensing something off.
Before he could finish, Lin Wan interrupted, proposing a compromise, her tone reasonable:
“Then, one bed, one blanket each—okay?”
Gu Ye froze, words swallowed.
From sharing one blanket to one bed, each with their own blanket—the impact felt smaller.
He saw her face; the mischievous smile faded, her eyes serious, as if this was truly a huge concession.
His heartbeat still raced.
Compared to the kiss and being pulled down, just sharing a bed with separate blankets… felt… acceptable?
His taut nerves loosened slightly. After hesitation, he gave in, a touch resigned, whispering: “…Alright.”
Gu Ye unconsciously ignored that “second best” was often the real breakthrough.
…
The room grew quiet again.
This time, the mattress was empty, but the small bed had one more person.
After a while, when Gu Ye thought she had fallen asleep, a soft, faint, almost dreamlike voice came:
“Gu Ye, thank you.”
Then her breathing grew even and steady.
Gu Ye slowly opened his eyes.
He turned silently, using the dim moonlight to observe her sleeping face up close.
She slept, lips curved slightly in reassurance.
He watched long, eyes deep, like the silent night outside.
Finally, he closed his eyes, sleeping a dreamless sleep.