The silence in the hospital room lasted for about ten seconds.
Those ten seconds seemed to stretch tenfold.
Shen Che stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Yu Shuang as though he were trying to read some answer in her face.
Yu Shuang met his gaze, her chin slightly raised. She refused to back down, but the fingertips of the hand hidden behind her back were trembling faintly—not from the pain, but from nerves.
She had no idea why he was here. She didn’t know what he wanted, either, after bringing more than a dozen armed soldiers to the doorway of an ordinary hospital ward.
Lin Ziheng was the first to move.
He set down the thermos and stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Yu Shuang. His face was still pale, his lips still trembling, but he forced himself to stand his ground.
“Young Marshal,” he said hoarsely, his voice shaking, “my mother needs to rest. Whatever brings you here… could it wait until another day?”
Shen Che glanced at him.
The look was light, so light it was like the edge of a blade sliding across paper. He hadn’t even seemed to exert any force, yet the paper had already been cut.
Lin Ziheng’s words caught in his throat halfway through, as though something had suddenly lodged there.
Shen Che ignored him.
He stepped into the room.
He wasn’t walking quickly, yet every step seemed to land directly on everyone’s heart.
His military boots struck the concrete floor with a dull thud, once, twice, three times. The hem of his overcoat swayed lightly behind him, while the gold stars on his shoulder insignia gave off a muted gleam beneath the dim yellow light.
Lin Ziheng took another step forward and reached out to stop him.
“Young Marshal, please—”
Before he could finish, Shen Che’s hand had already settled on his shoulder.
It didn’t look like much. Just a light push.
But Lin Ziheng staggered sideways, his back slamming into the wall with a muffled grunt.
The thermos slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor with a clang. The lid flew off, and hot water spilled everywhere.
“Ziheng!” Yu Shuang cried out.
She instinctively moved toward him, but Shen Che was already standing in front of her.
He was so tall that he seemed like a wall standing between her and everything else.
She had to tilt her head back to see his face, but his features were silhouetted against the light. His expression was hidden in shadow; all she could make out was the sharp line of his jaw and the slight movement of his Adam’s apple.
Two of his men stepped forward and seized Lin Ziheng by the arms.
Lin Ziheng struggled, but their hands were like iron clamps. He couldn’t move an inch.
“Shuangshuang!” he called, his voice frantic.
Yu Shuang wanted to turn and look at him, but Shen Che’s gaze was fixed on her face, as though an invisible thread had caught her eyes and held them there.
“May I ask what brings you here, Young Marshal?” she asked.
Her voice was clear and composed, neither submissive nor confrontational, as though she were delivering a line onstage.
But her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it herself.
Shen Che said nothing.
His gaze shifted from her face to the hand she had hidden behind her back.
She tucked it farther away, as though afraid he would see it.
He shifted slightly and glanced behind her.
Gauze.
White gauze, already stained a pale yellow by iodine.
The back of her hand was swollen, and so was her wrist. Along the edge of the gauze, a small patch of burned skin was visible, red and angry.
Shen Che’s brows drew together.
A deep vertical crease appeared between them, as though it had been carved there with a knife.
His lips pressed into a thin line. The muscles along his jaw tightened, and a vein pulsed at his temple.
He suddenly raised a hand.
Yu Shuang instinctively took half a step back.
But he wasn’t going to hit her.
Nor was he trying to grab her.
He merely waved his hand in a simple gesture.
“Keep an eye on them.”
His voice was low and steady, as though he were issuing an ordinary military command.
The two men nodded and pressed Lin Ziheng against the wall.
Lin Ziheng’s mother curled deeper beneath the blankets and let out a weak, frightened whimper. One of the soldiers walked over and stood beside the bed.
He didn’t touch her.
But his proximity alone was enough to make anyone afraid to move.
Then Shen Che’s hand settled on Yu Shuang’s waist.
It happened so quickly that she didn’t even have time to react.
His palm was broad and strong, gripping her side. Through the fabric of her sweater and qipao, she could feel the heat of his palm.
It was scorching, almost as though it carried fire.
“You—”
Yu Shuang’s voice caught in her throat.
Shen Che tightened his grip, and her entire body was pulled into his arms.
His chest was hard as a wall. The stiff fabric of his military uniform pressed coldly against her cheek, carrying the scent of pine and tobacco.
She struggled and tried to push him away, but his arm was like an iron band around her waist, utterly unmoving.
“Let go of me!”
Her voice rose, anger flashing through it.
Shen Che ignored her.
With one arm locked around her waist, he turned and walked straight out of the room.
Her feet barely touched the ground as he half-dragged, half-carried her into the hallway.
“Shuangshuang!”
Lin Ziheng’s voice came from behind them, frantic and furious.
He struggled desperately, but the two soldiers were far too strong. He was like a butterfly pinned to a wall—its wings still beating, but unable to go anywhere.
“Shen Che! Let her go!”
Lin Ziheng shouted his name, his hoarse voice nearly breaking.
Shen Che didn’t look back.
He strode out of the hospital room, his boots striking the concrete hallway in rapid, heavy beats.
Yu Shuang struggled in his arms. She didn’t dare use her injured right hand, so she pushed against his chest with her left.
But to him, that little bit of strength was like a kitten scratching at a door.
Patients and their families scattered out of the way as they passed. The nurses at the station shrank behind the counter, not daring to make a sound.
More than a dozen soldiers followed behind them, their footsteps perfectly synchronized, like a silent honor guard.
The staircase.
The first-floor lobby.
The entrance.
Then the night wind rushed toward them.
Yu Shuang shivered as the cold air hit her. Her sweater was too thin to keep out the chill of late autumn.
Shen Che felt her tremble.
His arm tightened around her, holding her even closer. She could feel the hard muscles in his arm and the rapid beat of his heart beneath his chest.
It was beating far too fast for a man who was supposed to be calm.
Behind the hospital was a small garden.
Calling it a garden was generous. There were only a few parasol trees, several stone benches, and a small patch of withered grass.
A rusty sign hung on the iron gate, its lettering long since faded beyond recognition.
Shen Che pushed the gate open and carried her inside.
There were no lights in the garden. Only the glow of distant streetlamps filtered through the trees, casting mottled patches of light and shadow across the ground.
Most of the parasol leaves had already fallen. The bare branches reached toward the night sky like pairs of bony hands.
At last, Shen Che released her.
Yu Shuang stumbled but managed to steady herself. She immediately retreated two steps, putting distance between them.
Moonlight fell across her face. The wind had tousled her hair, and a few loose strands brushed against her cheeks, making her already fair complexion look even paler.
Her eyes were wide, reflecting the moon above and the dim yellow glow of the distant streetlamps. They shone like two stars submerged in water.
Without any makeup or ornamentation, standing beneath the moonlight, she looked like a white rose blooming in the wilderness.
Unadorned. Untouched.
And breathtaking enough to make it impossible to look away.
Her chest was still rising and falling sharply. The struggle moments ago had left her short of breath.
Two faint flushes had appeared on her cheeks, whether from anger or the warmth of exertion, she couldn’t tell.
Her lips were pressed tightly together, her chin slightly raised, and she stared straight at him like a small animal cornered against a wall, every hair standing on end.
Yet her eyes remained bright—astonishingly bright.
“Young Marshal Shen!”
When she finally spoke, her voice was several degrees louder than it had been in the hospital room, and she could no longer hide her anger.
“What exactly are you trying to do?!”
Her voice echoed through the empty garden, striking the distant wall before breaking apart into several indistinct echoes.
Shen Che stood two steps away.
The moonlight came from behind him, tracing his silhouette in a silver outline.
His overcoat was still draped over his shoulders. Every button of his uniform was fastened neatly, including the collar button, making the sharp line of his jaw appear even more severe.
His face was turned away from the light, his expression hidden in shadow.
Only his eyes could be seen.
Those usually deep, cold eyes were now churning with something she couldn’t understand.
It was like magma beneath the earth. Even buried beneath layers of rock, its scorching heat could still be felt.
Looking at her, Shen Che suddenly found himself wanting to laugh.
She stood beneath the moonlight with her hair disheveled and her clothes rumpled, her injured right hand wrapped in gauze, her left hand clutching the hem of her sweater so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
Her eyes were wide, her lips tightly pursed, the two faint flushes on her cheeks especially obvious beneath the moonlight.
She looked like a cat with its fur completely fluffed up, its tail puffed out in alarm.
What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t frightening in the slightest.
If anything, she was unbearably cute.
The ache in his heart and the urge to laugh tangled together, surging through his chest like a cup of scalding tea.
It burned his throat, yet he couldn’t bear to put it down.
“You tell me,” he said.
His voice was low, resonating deep within his chest. The corner of his mouth moved slightly, though it was impossible to tell whether it was the beginning of a smile or a sigh.
Yu Shuang was rendered speechless by his question.
She watched as he slowly walked toward her.
One step.
Two.
Three.
His pace wasn’t fast, but every step carried an overwhelming sense of pressure that left no room for resistance.
His military boots brushed against the withered grass with a faint rustling sound, like some kind of dangerous warning.
His overcoat swayed behind him, and the gold stars on his shoulders flickered beneath the moonlight like two silent eyes.
“Don’t come any closer!”
Yu Shuang took a step backward, a trace of panic entering her voice.
He didn’t stop.
“What exactly do you want?!”
She retreated another step.
Her back struck something.
A wall.
At the far end of the garden stood a low wall built of blue-gray bricks, covered in withered vines.
She was trapped in the corner.
A wall on her left.
A wall on her right.
A wall behind her.
And him in front of her.
Shen Che stopped before her.
He was far too close.
Close enough for her to smell the pine and tobacco clinging to him.
Close enough to feel the scorching warmth radiating from his body.
She raised her head to look at him.
The moonlight came from behind him, leaving his face in shadow, but his eyes were bright.
There was too much in those eyes.
Pain.
Anger.
Jealousy.
And something hot and turbulent that had been suppressed for far too long and was finally breaking through.
It churned beneath his eyes like a silent tsunami, threatening to swallow her whole.
Yu Shuang tightened her fingers around the hem of her sweater.
Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling as the moonlight illuminated every trace of panic and nervousness on her face.
Yet she still held her head high.
Still stared at him.
Still refused to lower her gaze.
“Young Marshal Shen…”
Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out.
“Please, show some restraint.”
Shen Che looked down at her.
She was pressed into the corner, looking up at him. The moonlight illuminated her features with almost translucent clarity, like a piece of fine white jade—warm and smooth, yet carrying a hint of coolness.
Her eyes were as clear as mountain-stream water, transparent to the bottom.
Yet within them were fear, anger, and confusion.
The one thing he wanted was missing.
She wouldn’t give it to him.
And still, he couldn’t stop himself.
He couldn’t stop wanting to draw closer.
Couldn’t stop wanting to protect her.
Couldn’t stop wanting to pull her away from all the suffering surrounding her, even if she didn’t want him to, even if she came to hate him for it.
He bent down.
Not merely bending at the waist, but leaning over her.
He was so much taller than she was that he had to lower himself to see her face clearly.
He planted both hands against the wall behind her, boxing her in beneath his shadow.
His face moved closer.
So close that he could see the tiny beads of moisture clinging to her eyelashes.
He couldn’t tell whether they were sweat or tears.
So close that he could see the faint rouge tint on her lips, catching the moonlight with a soft sheen.
She turned her face away, refusing to look at him.
“You…” Her voice faltered, as though something were lodged in her throat. “What exactly do you want?”
Shen Che didn’t answer.
Slowly, he raised one hand, moving with such care that it was as though he were afraid of startling a bird that might fly away at any moment.
His hand moved around her face and came to rest against the wall beside her ear.
His arm crossed in front of her eyes, the cuff of his uniform brushing against her hair and stirring a faint breeze.
Her entire body tensed like a bow pulled taut.
His hand left the wall and slowly, gently settled over her injured hand.
Yu Shuang’s fingers jerked.
She tried to pull away, but his fingers had already closed around her wrist.
He wasn’t gripping tightly.
He held her gently, as though he were holding something fragile.
His thumb rested for a moment over the pulse on the inside of her wrist.
The skin there was so thin that the bluish veins beneath it were visible.
Her pulse was racing, erratic and fast.
He lowered his head and looked at her hand.
The gauze wrapped around the back of her hand and wrist looked painfully white beneath the moonlight.
At the edge of the bandage, a patch of burned skin was visible. It was red and blistered; some of the blisters had already broken, seeping a pale yellow fluid.
Her hand was so fair and slender.
Wrapped in gauze, it looked especially swollen and fragile.
Shen Che’s brows drew together even more tightly.
The crease between them looked like an old scar carved into his skin.
His lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw tightened, and the vein at his temple pulsed once, then again, beneath the moonlight.
Then, abruptly, he released her hand and straightened.
He made a short, decisive gesture.
Zhao Jiaming, who had been waiting at the garden entrance, hurried over.
His military boots rustled against the grass, the sound unusually clear in the quiet night.
He stopped beside Shen Che and inclined himself slightly, waiting for his orders.
Shen Che turned his head, lowering his voice until it was barely above a whisper.
“Find the best burn specialist in Linjiang City. Go to Renji Hospital and bring them here. Their burn department is the most renowned. Go now. I don’t care how late it is—bring the doctor here.”
His gaze fell briefly on Yu Shuang’s injured hand.
“Treat her properly. I don’t want her to have a scar.”
Zhao Jiaming nodded.
His eyes flicked toward Yu Shuang before immediately looking away again.
“Yes, Young Marshal.”
He turned and hurried off.
His footsteps gradually faded until they disappeared beyond the garden entrance.
Yu Shuang leaned against the wall, watching the exchange with a frown.
She didn’t understand.
He had dragged her out of the hospital room.
Cornered her against a wall.
Frightened her so badly that her heart still hadn’t settled.
And now he was sending for a doctor to treat her?
“What are you trying to do?”
She spoke again.
Her voice was still slightly unsteady, but most of the anger had faded, replaced by a deep, impenetrable confusion.
She looked up at him, the moonlight illuminating every trace of bewilderment on her face.
“Young Marshal, what exactly are you trying to do?”
Shen Che lowered his gaze to her.
She stood in the corner against the wall, moonlight falling across her from the side and outlining her figure in a soft silver glow.
Her hair was disheveled, several loose strands falling beside her face and making her delicate features look even smaller and more exquisite.
Her eyes were wide, reflecting the moonlight overhead and the dim glow of the distant streetlamps. They were bright as two stars floating beneath water.
Her lips were slightly parted.
The faint rouge that had colored them earlier had been rubbed away, revealing their natural shade—a delicate pink like peach blossoms in early spring, not yet fully in bloom, yet already impossible to look away from.
Her right hand hung at her side, the gauze glaring white beneath the moonlight.
Her left hand still clutched the hem of her sweater, knuckles white, as though she were holding onto something that might save her life.
Her chest was still rising and falling gently. Her breathing had not yet completely returned to normal.
She stood there beneath the moonlight, in the corner, surrounded by his shadow.
Disheveled.
Flustered.
Confused.
And still beautiful.
Beautiful enough to make his heart ache.
Beautiful enough to unsettle him.
Beautiful enough to make him feel that the restraint and self-control he had endured for the past two months had all been worth it.
Shen Che looked at her for a long time.
His Adam’s apple moved.
“Shuang.”
He spoke only one word.
His voice was as low as the deepest string of a cello, resonating from his chest with something hot and turbulent that had been suppressed for far too long and had finally broken free.
When that single word left his lips, it seemed to linger on his tongue, somehow both light and heavy.
Light as a sigh.
Heavy as a vow.
Yu Shuang’s pupils suddenly contracted.
Shuang.
Not Miss Yu.
Not Miss Yu.
Shuang.
Her heart skipped a beat before suddenly pounding wildly, so fast it felt as though it might burst straight out of her chest.
Her fingers tightened around the hem of her sweater until her knuckles turned white, her nails digging faintly into her palm.
She looked into his eyes.
And in those usually deep, cold eyes, she saw something unmistakable.
A single sentence written plainly within them.
I want to love you.
Something seemed to explode inside Yu Shuang’s mind.
It wasn’t a violent, thunderous explosion.
It was silent.
Scorching.
Like a ball of fire suddenly igniting inside her chest, burning its way up her throat and into her eyes until her entire body felt feverishly hot.
She parted her lips, wanting to say something.
But her throat seemed blocked by something, and not a single word came out.
She could only stand beneath the moonlight, pressed against the wall, looking up at the man dressed entirely in black.
Looking at the dark tide surging through his eyes—scorching, turbulent, and almost overflowing.
Her mind went completely blank.