Yan Zhao truly hadn’t expected that merely paying a few times would lead to such misunderstandings.
The discomfort in her heart grew increasingly evident, and she couldn’t help but walk over to Gu Yu, speaking softly, “You should keep the money.”
Gu Yu shook his head and didn’t take it.
He was holding a woolen coat, comparing it against her figure.
He glanced down, then looked up with a smile. “This size suits you well. We’ll buy this one too.”
Yan Zhao looked down and saw five or six pieces of clothing already placed on the nearby counter.
There were dresses, tops, and pants.
All of them were very stylish.
Especially the coat Gu Yu was holding—it was thick, with a simple and clean color, and looked very windproof.
Yan Zhao quickly reached out to stop him, her tone noticeably urgent. “No, no, I have enough clothes to wear. There’s really no need to buy more…”
But Gu Yu seemed to ignore her refusal. He placed the coat aside and signaled to the shopkeeper to wrap everything up. “We’ll take them all.”
Yan Zhao stood there, momentarily at a loss for words.
The embarrassment stirred by the outsiders’ gossip hadn’t even had time to dissipate before it was quietly suppressed by him like this.
Of course, Yan Zhao still ended up paying for the clothes.
As each item was tallied, she stood before the counter, listening to the salesperson announce the total, her heart trembling bit by bit.
It actually came to ninety-six yuan!!
Yan Zhao’s fingers tightened.
Her hand clutching the money trembled slightly.
Especially that woolen coat—it alone cost forty-eight yuan!
Forty-eight yuan.
The combined cost of all the clothes she’d worn in two lifetimes wasn’t this expensive…
Yan Zhao instinctively shook her head, her voice low and urgent. “Let’s not buy this one. It’s too expensive. I can just wear something simple, really.”
She genuinely felt the pinch.
Before Gu Yu could say anything, the salesperson who had been helping them pick clothes grew impatient.
Her expression darkened, her tone turning cold and noticeably impolite. “You had someone pick out clothes for you for so long, and now you’re saying you won’t buy them?”
She gave Yan Zhao a once-over, her tone sharp. “If you can’t afford it, don’t act generous in front of others.”
As soon as these words were spoken, several pairs of eyes nearby immediately turned their way.
The atmosphere instantly froze.
Yan Zhao stood there, her face paling slightly, her fingers clenching even tighter.
Gu Yu gave the salesperson a cold glance.
There was no anger in his gaze, but it made one’s heart tighten.
Without offering any explanation, he simply pointed to another male salesperson tidying up goods not far away, his tone calm to the point of indifference. “Comrade, come over here and ring up the bill for my wife.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear and distinct.
The man who was pointed out froze for a moment. He was just doing odd jobs and hadn’t expected such good fortune to come his way.
He immediately put down what he was holding, jogged over, his attitude noticeably more respectful.
Meanwhile, the female salesperson who had been standing at the counter stiffened in place.
She never imagined that her attempt to “save face” for him would backfire, resulting in her being replaced on the spot.
This was an order worth nearly a hundred yuan.
Ninety-eight yuan.
The commission wasn’t low.
And just like that, it was gone.
Her face flushed and paled alternately. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back, forced to stand aside and watch as the male salesperson efficiently recalculated the bill.
Yan Zhao stood beside Gu Yu, never expecting that her refusal would lead to trouble again.
Now Gu Yu was still looking at her, clearly indicating that she had to pay.
She could only take out a hundred-yuan bill—this was all she had left…
Gu Yu carried the paper bag of clothes in one hand and held Yan Zhao’s hand with the other, leading her out of the store.
As the wind blew outside, Yan Zhao snapped back to reality and realized he was still holding her hand. She quickly pulled away.
But Yan Zhao kept her head lowered the whole way, clearly in a somber mood.
Gu Yu glanced at her, slowed his pace, sighed, and softened his tone. “I’m quite capable of earning money. Can’t you be like before? Just ask me when you need it. Back then, you didn’t have so much to say.”
Yan Zhao’s steps faltered.
His words struck a chord in her heart.
She pressed her lips together, and after a long pause, whispered, “Back then… I’m sorry.”
In her past life, whenever she asked Gu Yu for money, he never refused.
He never asked what it was for or if it was enough—he simply gave it silently.
At the time, she took it for granted for Gu Cheng’s sake, never realizing that he had always been covering for her.
Gu Yu stopped walking and turned around.
He reached out and pinched her chin, not too forcefully but with an unyielding grip, forcing her to look up at him.
His tone wasn’t harsh but was very serious. “Don’t keep lowering your head like this from now on. Otherwise, you’re just giving others the chance to bully you.”
Yan Zhao was forced to meet his gaze. The warmth of his hand on her chin made her entire body stiffen.
She instinctively…
This subtle movement didn’t escape Gu Yu’s notice.
His gaze fell on her tightly bitten lips.
His eyes lingered there, low and long, like something slowly crawling in the shadows, clinging and carrying an indescribable sense of oppression, leaving her no room to escape.
In the next moment, his fingertip pressed against her lower lip, forcefully pulling it away from her teeth.
The motion wasn’t rough, but it was extremely direct.
Yan Zhao’s eyelashes trembled, and she instinctively tried to pull back.
But he suddenly leaned in too close.
So close that her breathing faltered, her heart skipped a beat, and her back tensed. She instinctively tried to retreat but was held firmly in place.
Gu Yu spoke softly, his voice low. “Why do you always bite your lips?”
His thumb remained there, not immediately withdrawing but instead slowly, almost imperceptibly, rubbing against her lower lip, as if confirming something or restraining something.
“Always showing this kind of…” He paused, his gaze still fixed heavily on her, “expression that makes people want to bully you.”
Yan Zhao wanted to say something.
But as soon as she opened her mouth, Gu Yu’s index finger, which had been pressing against her lips, began tracing the line of her mouth.
Gu Yu’s gaze darkened.
No longer concealing anything, his eyes were like damp shadows slowly rising, lingering low on her lips, clinging and oppressive, making her instinctively hold her breath.
Yan Zhao’s breathing grew erratic under his gaze, her heart pounding fiercely.
She could clearly feel his fingertip was too close, almost touching her teeth.
Yet it remained just a hair’s breadth away, as if testing her or deliberately tormenting her nerves.
At the same time, his other hand caressed the side of her face, his fingertips slowly tracing along her cheekbone. The movement was slow, gentle, and carried a heart-palpitating sensation.
Yan Zhao froze completely.
The heat in her cheeks surged almost instantly, her ears burning, and even her back tensed up.
They were outside, after all.
Gu Yu realized in the next moment that he had already stepped to the edge of losing control.
He abruptly withdrew his hand, the movement crisp and decisive, as if forcibly suppressing something. He then took a step back, deliberately creating distance between them.
The oppressive atmosphere dissipated with that.
He bent down to pick up the paper bag from the ground, his knuckles tightening briefly. His voice had already returned to its usual calm, as if nothing had happened. “Let’s go back.”
Yan Zhao remained standing where she was.
Her expression was somewhat dazed.
She instinctively looked at him, but her mind was in turmoil. The pounding in her chest refused to settle, and she couldn’t even tell whether that fleeting moment had been her imagination or not.
The warmth of being too close, the oppressive feeling of being watched—it all seemed to linger, not yet fully faded.
After a delayed half-beat, she softly acknowledged and followed his steps.
The two walked side by side back, neither mentioning what had just happened.
…
Gu Yu escorted her to the door, didn’t linger, gave a simple instruction, and then turned to head to school.
The room fell silent all at once.
Yan Zhao sat alone on the chair, unmoving for a long while.
Too much had happened today—so much that she couldn’t sort through it all at once. It felt like from morning till night, she had been making Gu Yu unhappy.
She raised her hand to rub her head, but halfway through the motion, she suddenly paused.
She remembered Gu Yu ruffling her hair.
As soon as this thought surfaced, her cheeks uncontrollably warmed.
Feeling a bit guilty, Yan Zhao simply flopped onto the bed, rolled over once, then quickly sat up again, thinking this wouldn’t do.
If she kept thinking about it, her mind would only grow more chaotic.
She needed to do something else to divert her attention.
Yan Zhao got up and went to sort through the things she had bought today.
She carefully placed the clothes inside the wardrobe.
The pots, pans, bowls, and utensils were also arranged.
There was also a small stove, with a small bag of coal placed beside it.
She stared at the stove for quite a while.
This was a good thing.
Back in the team, let alone a stove, there weren’t even a few proper iron pots. Only households in the county town could afford to use something like this.
And this stove wasn’t bought with her money.
It was brought back by Gu Yu.
Standing in the room, Yan Zhao tidied up each item one by one, and her heart gradually calmed down.
Cooking inside the room wasn’t allowed—the smoke was too heavy, there wasn’t enough space, and Gu Yu had reminded her it was unsafe.
Fortunately, they were on the first floor. Each household had a small area outside their door partitioned with wooden planks or bricks, serving as their own little space.
She set down the coal stove and placed the pot on it.
By now, it was already dark.
The courtyard wasn’t quiet.
Several families had brought out small stools and gathered in the middle, still discussing the fire from earlier in the day. Voices overlapped—some sighed, some gloated, and others muttered complaints under their breath.
As soon as Yan Zhao stepped out, she was noticed.
Especially when she lit the coal stove.
Coal stoves weren’t unheard of in the courtyard.
But most were old and blackened, having been used for who knows how many years.
Yan Zhao’s stove still had the gleam of new iron, clean and tidy, clearly bought not long ago.
Yan Zhao found herself in a bit of a dilemma.
When Gu Yu came, he had casually bought quite a few things for her.
A small bag of rice, a bag of flour, some meat, and a few seasonings she had never seen before.
Bottles and jars were arranged to the side, each a different color.
When cooking, she had always only used oil and salt, at most adding some scallions or garlic. Things that smelled this fragrant—she had never even seen them before, let alone used them.
Hesitantly, she unscrewed a small bottle, brought it close to sniff, then quickly closed it again, afraid she might accidentally ruin it.
Just as she picked up a spoon, wanting to scoop a little to taste, footsteps suddenly sounded nearby.
Two people walked over, their eyes fixed directly on her stove.
One of them stared for a moment, unable to hold back from speaking, “Young lady, this stove of yours is newly bought, isn’t it?”
Yan Zhao looked up and saw it was a neighbor from the courtyard, her tone relaxing as well.
She was actually quite willing to interact with these people.
After all, a close neighbor is better than a distant relative.
Besides, during that incident with the fire, when she was targeted and misunderstood, some had stepped forward to speak up for her. She knew these neighbors were still good people.
She smiled a bit sheepishly, scratching her finger, “Auntie, I’m not too sure.” After a pause, she added in a softer voice, “It was… my husband who brought it back.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt a little awkward herself.
But once said, her heart settled a bit instead.
Hearing this, the two of them looked back and forth between the stove and her, their tone tinged with admiration, “Your husband is really something.”
Someone nearby began to explain, “This stove of yours is different—it’s an upgraded version.”
As she spoke, she pointed it out to the others, “Look, it has two layers, with a special opening below so the coal ash can fall down. That way, it won’t stick inside or easily block the fire passage.”
“And with this stove, you don’t have to keep taking the coal out to replace it. The fire can burn steadily, making things much easier.”
Hearing this, the people around all leaned in to take a look.
Because of this stove, Yan Zhao gradually became familiar with the people in the courtyard.
Neighbors who had previously only watched from afar or nodded now gathered around to chat for a bit.
Yan Zhao also got to know the neighbors from the two households next door.
One, on the left, was surnamed Li—both husband and wife sold tickets at the cinema entrance. Seeing many people every day, they had a whole repertoire of interesting stories.
The other was surnamed Wang, who drove for a public unit. He seemed quiet, speaking slowly and deliberately.
Yan Zhao took note of each one, a smile on her face, making her seem approachable.
…
Yan Zhao’s cooking skills weren’t actually learned at the Gu household.
It was earlier, when she was very young, after her own family was gone.
Back then, an old nanny had taken her in to live with her for a while.
Later, life became turbulent, but these skills ended up being the most stable thing she had.
Yan Zhao was pondering what to sell.
Steamed buns, dumplings—she had eaten plenty of these in the capital. The shops there made them meticulously, with mature flavors. Even if hers tasted good, it would be hard for people to know.
If she was going to do it, she had to make something different, preferably something others didn’t have yet wasn’t too difficult to master.
After thinking for a while, her gaze fell on the bag of flour beside the cutting board.
Noodles.
Or rice noodles.
This kind of food doesn’t require special utensils or complicated procedures—the key lies in the broth and flavor.
As long as it’s well-seasoned, once the aroma comes out, it’s impossible to resist.
Several flavor profiles slowly surfaced in her mind: savory and umami, mildly spicy, and even adding a little trick she learned as a child.