“Sleep in the living room!” Lin Shilan decisively made her decision.

“You both sleep in your own rooms. I’ll sleep in the living room.”

Her decision didn’t calm the situation—both brothers had something to say.

“Xiao Lan, you fainted today. Sleep in my room and catch up on your rest. Tomorrow is Saturday, you can sleep until you wake up naturally. My parents get up early. If they wake up and you’re in the living room, they’ll definitely wake you.”

“Right. You’re a guest—you can’t sleep on the sofa. So Lin Shilan, it’s appropriate for you to sleep in my room.”

On the point of not letting her sleep in the living room, the two were quite in sync, but the conversation circled back to the starting point.

There was an inexplicable smell of gunpowder in the air.

Two eager gazes turned toward her. Lin Shilan silently shifted her gaze to the sofa. After thinking, she said: “I don’t think either is appropriate.”

“The sofa is big enough for me to sleep on, but you’re both taller than me—sleeping on the sofa would be a bit small for you. You’re right too—it’s inconvenient for me to sleep here. How about I just go home…”

“Don’t. Listen to me, sleep in my room.”

Tan Jin interrupted her and provided a new solution: “I’ll go sleep in my brother’s room. His bed is big—it can fit two people.”

Tan Ziheng wanted to say something more.

Lin Shilan made her choice before he could speak: “Alright, then I’ll sleep in Tan Jin’s room. Sorry to make you two squeeze together.”

She hadn’t expected that discussing sleeping arrangements could be so intense.

She had reached a conclusion, and their pointless little competition had also determined a winner.

Tan Jin continued eating his noodles, using the motion of drinking soup to hide his smile.

The Tan Jin across from him was too pleased with himself—his crossed leg was even swinging over to his side. Tan Ziheng buried his head in his soup, unwilling to make eye contact with his younger brother.

As she had said, Lin Shilan took charge of washing dishes and cleaning up after the late-night snack.

Tan Jin returned to his own room and quickly tidied it up, pretentiously maintaining his nonexistent tidy image. Tan Ziheng practically helped Lin Shilan put on a fresh pillowcase.

After they finished their tasks, finally, it was time to end this long day.

After saying goodnight, the three returned to their rooms to sleep.

Only when she entered Tan Jin’s room and the door closed behind her, facing the dark bed ahead, did Lin Shilan feel the reality of it.

—She was going to sleep in his bed.

The air conditioner emitted a humming cooling sound.

Lin Shilan curled her toes. Waves of cool air blew toward her, making her head feel light.

This day had been far too eventful: the parallel universe matter, confronting Su Ge, arguing with her mother, searching for the dog, seeing ghosts at the petrochemical plant, going to the clinic…

With her hand against the wall behind her, her body like a large pancake, she limply slumped down, half stuck to the wall, half to the floor.

His room was so quiet.

Her brain returned from chaos to calm, with a faint buzzing sound in her ears.

Hugging her knees, Lin Shilan rested for a few minutes before the sound gradually disappeared.

Her gaze fell on the nightstand. Before Tan Jin went to his brother’s room, he had told her he’d prepared pajamas for her.

It was a set of cotton men’s pajamas—a short-sleeved shirt and shorts with blue trim. Surprisingly, there were no signs of use. Picking them up, she could smell the clean scent of laundry detergent.

In the other room.

Not wanting to hear each other’s snoring, Tan Jin and his brother chose to sleep in opposite directions.

Tan Jin placed his pillow at the foot of the bed, lying down comfortably with his feet freely positioned next to his brother’s head.

“Did you wash your feet?” Tan Ziheng asked sensitively.

“I took a whole shower—how could I not have washed them?” With this mention, Tan Jin became sensitive too: “Did you wash yours?”

His brother smiled shyly, smiling but not answering.

“Lights out, time to sleep.” The room went dark, and Tan Ziheng’s feet also stretched into his territory.

Tan Jin wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, irritably turning away.

The two brothers had basically never slept in the same bed before—both were uncomfortable.

Tan Ziheng was as annoyed as Tan Jin.

While he was being annoyed, he suddenly heard his younger brother giggling in his own blanket.

“What are you doing?” Tan Ziheng got goosebumps all over his arm from his laughter.

“Thinking about some things…” Tan Jin let out a sigh: “You wouldn’t understand.”

What was there not to understand? Even a blind person could see that Lin Shilan sleeping in his room made him very pleased and satisfied.

Tan Ziheng turned over, closed his eyes to sleep, not giving Tan Jin a chance to show off.

Soon, alternating snoring sounds came from their room.

In the living room, the little dog who had been frightened today was also sound asleep. Unable to handle air conditioning, it loyally guarded outside its mistress’s door, its lying body blocking the cool breeze leaking through the door crack.

The only one not sleeping was Lin Shilan.

After a simple rinse, she changed into the pajamas Tan Jin had left—surprisingly, the size fit just right.

Lifting the corner of his blanket, she nervously crouched down.

Taking the cotton quilt by surprise, she burrowed in.

Having used Tan Jin’s bathroom, stayed in his room, worn his clothes, slept in his bed—if her already fuzzy mind thought about Tan Jin on top of all this… she would really be done for.

She felt herself beginning to have difficulty breathing, her heart beating erratically.

Everything was his scent.

The fresh, pleasant smell of a boy’s toner.

Sleeping in Tan Jin’s soft bed felt like lying in his embrace.

Countless versions of Tan Jin came rushing at her, encircling her waist, brushing past her knees, holding her shoulders.

Lin Shilan wanted to throw off the blanket and get some fresh air from outside.

Struggling with difficulty, she instead uncontrollably burrowed deeper and deeper into the blanket until her entire body was wrapped airtight in the cotton quilt before she stopped.

She was going crazy.

Admit it? Choosing to sleep in his room had a selfish component.

Don’t admit it. She lightly knocked her forehead with her fist, trying to summon reason.

This was a parallel world.

He was a liar. This was his first year experiencing time travel—he had lied to her before.

—Not good!

In the scene where she fainted from fright, she had seen him with that strange appearance.

—Very not good!

He knew she suspected him, yet he hadn’t come to explain any of this.

—Especially not good!

Most not good of all was that, detecting all these ominous signals, Lin Shilan still wanted to stay in Tan Jin’s world.

The scent he left behind made her feel delighted and strangely at peace.

Even though she already had a premonition of heartbreak, she still couldn’t escape it. At this moment, she just wanted to pathetically sink into his warm little bed trap.

Lin Shilan thought: sleep through this night first.

When she woke up, she would use a clear head to cut off inappropriate thoughts and sort out their relationship with swift decisiveness.

Before that, she needed to sleep well.

Lin Shilan released her strength, her limbs relaxing and stretching out.

She was a little bird that had flown for too long, folding her wings, weakly nestling against Tan Jin, this broken little tree. Even if the little tree’s branches were precarious, this was her only place to rest.

Although the little bird feared the little tree would break one day.

But that didn’t prevent the little bird from observing keenly.

The little bird could feel it—the little tree was trying its best to support her!

Even though Tan Jin hadn’t mentioned a word about what difficulties he went through, what dangers he faced to rescue Jing Jing… she had seen everything—the gauze on his arm, the small wounds on his hands and feet.

Just like.

That little dog named Jing Jing.

It sat there foolishly, allowing her to rub its fluffy head.

The dog couldn’t say a single word.

But it loved her—everyone knew that.