Qin An stood at the doorway for two seconds.
The light inside the room wasn’t particularly bright, casting a dim, yellowish glow on her, as if coating her in a soft halo.
Before pushing the door open, he had imagined many possible scenarios—haughty, timid, wailing and sobbing—but he hadn’t expected this.
Her floral dress was crumpled, her ankle swollen, and her hair slightly disheveled.
Yet her eyes were strikingly bright, carrying a hint of scrutiny and a touch of caution, like a kitten that had just been caught in the rain and brought home.
The exposed nape of her neck was so pale it was almost dazzling, and her wrist was so slender he could wrap his hand around it.
Clean and delicate—in all his years, he had rarely found any girl so striking.
His gaze lingered on her swollen ankle for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly before he looked away and walked over to her.
Only when he drew closer did he catch the faint scent on her—not the overpowering smell of snowflake cream, but something fresh and clean, like grass after rain warmed by the sun.
This scent was at odds with the dusty, gray room.
Just like her entire being, it was out of place here.
Her eyes looked at him with confusion and helplessness.
Hah, as expected, she had no recollection of him at all.
Suppressing the inexplicable restlessness in his heart, Qin An cleared his throat and spoke in his usual businesslike tone: “Hello, I’m Qin An.”
Cheng Xi took a few seconds to process that he was introducing himself.
Since he was being so formal and keeping his distance, she shouldn’t push too eagerly either.
She collected herself and replied with equal politeness and detachment: “Hello, I’m Cheng Xi.”
Qin An’s dark eyes flickered slightly.
Her voice was even more pleasant—soft and gentle, like a lark’s.
Qin An rubbed his nose.
The words he had prepared suddenly slipped his mind.
He paused before speaking: “I heard you sprained your ankle.”
As he spoke, he took a small brown glass bottle from his pocket, his fingers tightening slightly before handing it over: “It’s for bumps and bruises on the training ground. It’ll help you recover faster.”
Cheng Xi was taken aback again.
She hadn’t expected him to bring her medicine.
Hesitating for a moment, she still reached out to take it.
The moment her fingertips touched his palm, her fingers were cold, while his palm was warm.
Qin An’s knuckles involuntarily curled slightly.
The touch was incredibly tender, smooth as a peeled egg, and soft as tofu freshly scooped from water.
He lowered his gaze. These hands probably had never even washed a bowl.
He took a slight step back, an uncharacteristic hint of awkwardness flashing across his face: “If your ankle is swollen, don’t walk around. Save yourself from making it worse tomorrow—I won’t have time to take care of you.”
Cheng Xi understood.
He had brought her medicine because he was afraid her injury would worsen and he’d have to spend time looking after her.
Cheng Xi pursed her lips.
He was afraid of being burdened, but she was even more afraid of owing favors.
“Don’t worry,” she raised her head, her tone neither warm nor cold, “I can handle it myself.”
Qin An looked at her slightly stubborn profile and said nothing more.
He lifted his other hand and placed two aluminum lunchboxes on the table beside her: “That, you haven’t eaten yet, right? I brought some from the cafeteria.”
Cheng Xi’s eyes instantly lit up. She had been on the move all day and was indeed a little hungry.
Qin An opened the lunchboxes. His hands were long and strong, with distinct knuckles and calluses that only added to his aura of steadiness and reliability.
He opened the lunchbox while glancing at her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
The light in Cheng Xi’s eyes instantly dimmed the moment she saw the food inside.
What was all this?
Cabbage, radish, potatoes.
And those two brownish lumps that looked utterly unappetizing.
Were those the legendary cornbread buns?
Cheng Xi froze, and just then, Qin An handed her a pair of chopsticks.
She was so hungry. Fine, she’d try it.
Cheng Xi took the chopsticks, picked up a bite of cabbage—the taste of mass-cooked food was far from pleasant.
Then she picked up a cornbread bun and took a bite.
So coarse, so rough.
Having grown up eating rice, she couldn’t get used to it at all.
She forced herself to take a few more bites, barely filling her stomach, then set it down.
Qin An frowned slightly at the barely touched bun and vegetables. “Full already?”
Cheng Xi nodded weakly. “Mm!”
Seeing her crestfallen face, Qin An knew she probably wasn’t used to the food. “It’s late today, so only cornbread buns were left. Tomorrow I’ll go earlier and get you steamed buns. That way, the old man won’t have to nag if he finds out.”
But the problem was, she wasn’t used to steamed buns either.
She looked up at Qin An. “Is there no rice here?”
Qin An replied honestly, “There is, but very little.”
The thought of having to eat steamed buns and cornbread buns from now on made Cheng Xi’s face fall even more.
Qin An’s gaze lingered on her drooping mouth for a moment.
Was she… unhappy? Thinking of leaving?
But then again, the conditions here were tough.
She hadn’t truly wanted to marry into this family.
She had someone else in her heart.
But he pushed the thought aside. “Rest for now. I’ll help you unpack.”
With that, he picked up Cheng Xi’s travel bag and deftly unzipped it.
As soon as it opened, Cheng Xi’s undergarments came into view, and Qin An froze.
The tips of his ears instantly burned.
He had joined the army at fifteen, fought on the battlefield at eighteen—there was no scene he hadn’t witnessed.
Yet now, he didn’t know where to look.
Cheng Xi’s gaze also happened to fall on the two pieces of lingerie inside the bag.
Her face flushed bright red.
Damn it, why did he have to see this?
Ignoring the pain in her foot, she rushed over and pressed down on the travel bag. “Um, I… I can do it myself.”
Only then did Qin An snap back to reality. He lowered his head and saw Cheng Xi standing very close to him, her faint fragrance drifting into his nostrils. Her small, flushed earlobes were right before his eyes, her long lashes fluttering slightly, and her neck was fair and slender, its soft lines tightening something in his chest.
His throat felt oddly dry, and he quickly turned his face away.
“Alright.” He took half a step back, his movements somewhat stiff, as if scalded by something.
Cheng Xi fumbled to zip the bag shut.
The air fell silent.
Qin An busied himself adjusting his cuffs, then turned to look out the window, his jaw clenched tightly.
“Um, you’ll sleep in this room. I’ll sleep next door. Call me if you need anything.”
After a pause, he added, “This marriage was arranged by Grandpa, not me.”