Zhou Mi sat by the headboard all afternoon, her mind empty. She had no idea when Zhang Lian left the hospital room. Perhaps he had said goodbye, but she hadn’t paid any attention.

When nurse Xiao Xuan brought in dinner, Zhou Mi finally emerged from the gray, foggy state she had been in.

As always, she first asked Zhou Mi if she needed to get out of bed for the meal.

After receiving permission, Xiao Xuan began methodically arranging the delicate bowls and plates on the table.

After sitting at the table, Zhou Mi discovered there was an extra dessert today—a piece of light pink cake with bright red cherry decorations on top.

Noticing her gaze lingering on it as if stuck to the cream, Xiao Xuan quickly said: “Miss Zhou, this was ordered by Mr. Zhang from the kitchen for you.”

Zhou Mi came back to herself, pursing her lips for a moment before looking at the nurse: “Oh, thank you.”

“Why thank me?” Xiao Xuan smiled brightly. “Just call Mr. Zhang to thank him.”

Zhou Mi pretended not to hear, resting her chin on one hand while scooping up the cake with a spoon.

—

After a simple wash-up, Zhou Mi continued to rest in bed. Though she lay motionless, her heart was unsettled.

Zhang Lian’s words from earlier in the day still rang in her ears.

Are we being true to ourselves and facing reality, always opposing forces rather than compatible options? This somewhat philosophical question had been troubling her until now.

She didn’t think so.

Zhou Mi tossed and turned for quite a while, and finally edited a message on her phone and sent it to Zhang Lian.

[If I get a permanent position at Aoxing in the future, will you make things difficult for me?]

The moment it was sent, there was a knock on the hospital room door. Zhou Mi’s heart rate quickened as she glimpsed the tall, dark silhouette through the frosted glass, standing quietly, probably reading her message.

Zhou Mi held her breath slightly, quickly retracting her limbs and head back under the covers.

There was still no movement outside. After a moment, her phone lit up the pitch-black environment.

Zhou Mi opened it to take a look. It was Zhang Lian’s reply: Your feet aren’t small either.

Damn it.

Two patches of steam rose on Zhou Mi’s cheeks as she cursed inwardly while turning her phone face down. The screen lit up again with another message from the same person:

Miss Zhou, may I come in?

He had switched to a more formal approach, his words accompanied by some ambiguity, whether intentional or not, creating a double meaning.

Zhou Mi’s features almost scrunched together as she furiously typed back: Is someone stopping you?

A moment later, the hospital room door opened, and Zhang Lian entered along with the corridor light. He glanced at the large white spring roll on the bed that looked the same day after day, chuckled almost inaudibly, and went to the partition to put away his materials and laptop.

Hearing him turn on the light, Zhou Mi finally could stick her head out of the blanket to breathe.

Like an alert flying squirrel, her black eyes surveyed the surroundings before slowly emerging from the snow-like bedding with her entire upper body.

She sat up straight, carefully placing her phone back beside her pillow, and picked up the book from the bedside table, earnestly beginning to read.

After a while, Zhang Lian came out.

Zhou Mi secretly peeked from behind her book, using her peripheral vision to track him as he went to the sofa. He might have come after showering at home, wearing a loose black hoodie that suddenly softened his demeanor, like a night at the junction of late winter and early spring after warming up. Compared to his usual formal attire, he seemed almost half as aggressive and arrogant.

Seeing him about to turn around, Zhou Mi hurriedly fixed her gaze back on the densely printed words.

Zhang Lian sat down and began checking something on his phone.

It had been like this for days. Except when resting, whenever he was in the hospital room, he stayed where she could see him.

Zhou Mi glanced at him a few more times, then suddenly coughed loudly to attract his attention: “Hey.”

Zhang Lian looked up: “Calling me?”

Zhou Mi feigned confusion, looking around: “Is there anyone else here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Can you not scare me?”

“Since you’re calling me, why didn’t you use any form of address?”

“Oh. Boss.”

Zhang Lian turned off his phone, his handsome face suddenly darkening like a mountain shadowed: “Go ahead, what is it?”

As if afraid that her nervousness would be instantly recognized by him, Zhou Mi instinctively raised her book higher, shielding her chest: “How are Yan and the others these days? Has work been delayed? Have they mentioned me?”

“Zhou Mi,” Zhang Lian frowned slightly, “I’m the boss, not surveillance. I don’t record every word and action of employees meticulously every day.”

Zhou Mi asked: “What about my work?”

Zhang Lian replied: “Naturally, someone is covering for you in your absence.”

Zhou Mi let out a dejected “ah. “Then, when I go back, I’ll have no personal value at all.”

Zhang Lian curved his lips: “Weren’t you planning to leave Aoxing?”

Zhou Mi put the book down: “Can’t I change my mind? Why should I flee from my ideal sanctuary just because of the Dark Lord’s reign?”

Her description left Zhang Lian both amused and exasperated: “Your ability to change your stance is the fastest I’ve ever seen.”

“What?” Zhou Mi justified, “Isn’t life just alternating between not understanding and understanding?”

Zhang Lian smiled faintly, unclear whether it was praise or criticism: “You’re quite enlightened.”

“Of course,” she raised the book in front of her, patting the cover with a moderate smack: “I’m someone who has read quite a few books.”

Zhang Lian did not comment and returned to his phone.

Seeing him busy with his matters, Zhou Mi also continued reading. After perfunctorily scanning a few lines, she found herself unable to focus properly. Though she recognized every word, she couldn’t smoothly process them into her brain.

So while keeping an eye on Zhang Lian’s movements, she stretched out her right hand, gradually feeling for her phone, then snatched it lightning-fast and hid it behind her book.

She opened WeChat, struggled with herself for a moment, and finally sent Zhang Lian a basic [handshake] emoji.

Zhang Lian saw it, looked up, his expression seeming to ask, “What are you doing?”

Zhou Mi straightened her posture, earnestly: “Making peace.”

Zhang Lian tilted his face slightly, staring at her, pretending to be confused: “Aren’t you afraid I’ll make things difficult for you?”

“Can you stop going in circles?” Zhou Mi collapsed, covering her forehead, refusing to continue circling the topic of feet and shoes.

Zhang Lian wouldn’t let her off: “How dare you, an intern, ask such a question?”

“…”

Zhou Mi tightened her lips, smiled stiffly, and lowered her head to read again. But she remained distracted, feeling like something was left unsaid. When she gradually realized what it was, she looked at Zhang Lian again: “Although I’m staying at the company, we won’t be continuing our arrangement, okay? From now on, it will be a purely healthy and proper superior-subordinate relationship.”

She pressed her lips together: “And don’t use this incident as an excuse to say you want to compensate me or something. If I don’t perform well at Aoxing in the future and Yan doesn’t want to keep me, I’ll leave on my own.”

“I probably can’t do that,” the man quickly rejected, and called her name: “Zhou Mi.”

Zhou Mi’s heart suddenly suspended to the clouds, and she carefully asked: “Can’t do the former or can’t do the latter?”

“The latter.”

Zhou Mi exhaled in relief, just about to speak when Zhang Lian cut in: “What were you thinking?”

“What did I think?” Zhou Mi’s voice suddenly rose.

Zhang Lian leaned forward slightly, casually placing his phone on the coffee table: “You seemed quite willing with the former previously.”

Zhou Mi remembered and felt angry: “Are you trying to cause more trouble?”

The entire hospital room suddenly fell into dead silence.

The two people seemed to have entered some force field in the universe at that moment because of this sentence, simultaneously falling into a vacuum of silence.

Zhang Lian exhaled, breaking the deadlock first: “That time at the team building, it was my fault.”

Zhou Mi twisted her fingers, her voice faint: “Fine, I was wrong too.”

“Do you know why I called you over that time?” Zhang Lian’s smiles were varied, but their meaning was always hard to discern, like his sudden, seemingly genuine honesty: “A month of restraint wasn’t easy either.”

Zhou Mi uncomfortably exclaimed, “But you didn’t contact me.”

“You could have contacted me.”

“I’m a girl, you know.”

“Now you know?” Zhang Lian gave a light laugh: “The first time, I thought you had no psychological barriers at all.”

Zhou Mi’s teeth itched with irritation. She immediately shifted focus, starting to review his earlier wording: “Restraint for a month… what happened after a month? Wasn’t it always a month before?”

Zhang Lian frowned: “Is that the restraint I was talking about?”

Zhou Mi muttered, “Who knows which restraint you mean?”

Zhang Lian was quiet for a few seconds, probably considering how to express himself more appropriately: “I was thinking about how to end things without hurting your self-esteem.”

Zhou Mi let out a “ha” and turned her face away: “I don’t care about that. It was just mutual benefit, and I’m a person who honors agreements.”

“Really? Asking for a kiss just to talk about work?”

Zhou Mi couldn’t refute, her hair strands almost catching fire: “Can you stop talking about this? How many times do we need to rehash these old matters?”

“Sometimes I admire you.” Zhang Lian’s words carried implications.

“Are you finished?” She shouted like a suddenly out-of-control puppy: “You could have refused! If you had refused, everything would be normal and peaceful now!”

Zhang Lian recalled: “The way you were looking at me, how could I refuse?”

Zhou Mi snorted: “Don’t make excuses for your hormones taking over.”

Every time she got sharp-tongued like this in front of him, he wanted to find a way to shut her constantly chattering little mouth.

Zhang Lian’s throat tightened slightly, and he promptly ended the topic: “Go to sleep.”

“Oh,” during the strange argument, Zhou Mi had unconsciously blushed from her face to the base of her neck. She lay flat with a whoosh, attempting to cover herself with the blanket to cool down, and stiffly uttered two words: “Good night.”

Zhang Lian replied: “Good night.”

He stood up, walked out a few steps, then paused and said: “By the way.”

“Speak—” The life-sized doll on the bed squirmed a bit.

“If you don’t change your mind later, I will most likely let you stay at Aoxing. You don’t have to thank me; I’m just doing it to fill my sense of debt.” he stood there, his voice turning calm, like frost forming in the room or spreading moonlight, spacious and penetrating: “But your future development will depend entirely on yourself.”

“Not necessary,” Zhou Mi grunted, speaking wildly: “When my internship is over, Ye Yan will actively suggest to HR to keep me.”

The man’s laughter carried a hint of mockery, as if giving her an insincere, perfunctory applause, “Then I’ll wait and see.”