By the time Yan Qing and Shi Ting returned to the military police headquarters, the meals in the canteen had already been cleared away. Remembering that Yan Qing had not yet eaten, Shi Ting brought her to the small kitchen.

“Wait a moment. Let me go see what ingredients are left in the canteen.”

He searched through the back of the canteen and found only some eggs and tomatoes. The canteen’s meals were prepared fresh every day with ingredients bought the same morning, leaving very little behind.

But eggs and tomatoes would be enough.

In the small kitchen, Yan Qing sat at the table, her chin resting in her hand, watching the man busy himself.

He had draped his outer jacket over a chair and wore only his black knit sweater underneath. The sleeves were pushed high up his forearms, revealing firm, solid arms.

His silhouette was tall and straight, his lines taut and compelling. Standing before the stove like this, he looked even more attractive than when he had a gun in his hand.

Shi Ting deftly cracked the eggs into a large bowl and was just about to beat them when Yan Qing extended her hand. “Let me help.”

“Sure.” Shi Ting turned and passed the bowl and chopsticks to her.

Yan Qing beat the eggs while he sliced the tomatoes. His knife work was impeccably practiced, and the tomatoes transformed into uniformly sized pieces beneath his hands.

“Done.” Yan Qing passed the bowl back to him.

Shi Ting took the bowl, and as he did so, he grasped her hand and leaned forward. A warm kiss landed on her lips. “Thank you.”

So his way of saying thank you was to kiss her?

Though Yan Qing had grown accustomed to his habit of speaking with his lips, she still couldn’t help waving a fist at him.

“It’ll be ready soon.” Shi Ting lightly flicked her on the forehead. “Bear with it a little longer.”

Through his efforts, their lunch was soon on the table.

A plate of tomatoes and eggs, red and yellow together in pleasing contrast; a few slices of steamed bun pan-fried in egg, golden in color and wafting a delicious fragrance.

“Come, eat.” Shi Ting placed the chopsticks in Yan Qing’s hand. “We’ll make do with this for now. I’ll take you out for a proper meal tonight.”

In truth, it didn’t matter to her what she ate. What mattered was who she ate with. If it was him, even this simple meal of one dish and a staple could taste like a grand banquet.

“What are you smiling at?” Shi Ting reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I’m not smiling,” Yan Qing denied.

“Shall I get a mirror so you can see what your own silly grin looks like?”

“You’re the one with the silly grin.” Yan Qing burst out laughing. When the laughter faded, she took a small bite of the fried bun in her hand. “Shi Ting…”

“Hmm?” Shi Ting continued eating.

Yan Qing hadn’t finished speaking, yet her face had already gone red. “I think I’m really very lucky.”

Shi Ting set down his chopsticks, his gaze warm and tender as he looked at her.

“Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Shi Ting reached across the table and took her hand in his.

*Thank you for walking into my life.*

*Thank you for giving me a new beginning.*

*Thank you for liking me.*

“Just… thank you.” Yan Qing gave a playful little pout.

“All right.” Shi Ting shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met, and they shared a smile. Some things needed no words — those who understood would understand.

After the meal, Shi Ting had official matters to attend to, so Yan Qing settled into his office to read.

Halfway through her book, Shi Ting came in carrying a plate of sliced fruit.

This time of year there were not only apples but also tangerines from Bei Di.

“Have a tangerine.” Shi Ting sat beside her on the sofa, picked up a tangerine, and began to peel it. “How far along have you read?”

“About halfway.” Yan Qing took the tangerine he handed her and bit into it — a burst of sweetness filled her mouth. “Delicious.”

“I’ve packed some for you to take home.”

Yan Qing smiled, her eyes curving happily. “Thank you.”

Shi Ting frowned and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “How do you manage to get tangerine juice on your face while eating?”

“Do I?” Yan Qing showed not the slightest embarrassment, and instead tilted her face forward for him to wipe.

Shi Ting gently dabbed away the drop of tangerine juice with the handkerchief.

“Wait, this handkerchief looks so familiar.” Yan Qing’s sharp eyes caught it immediately, and she snatched it from his hand.

Shi Ting was momentarily taken aback, but let her take it.

“These bamboo leaves… I embroidered these.” Yan Qing recognized the handkerchief as her own. It was the very first piece she had embroidered when Jing Zhi was teaching her needlework.

But how had this handkerchief ended up in Shi Ting’s hands?

“Director Shi — taking without asking is theft. Tell me, when did you take my handkerchief?”

“Wasn’t it Miss Yan who gave it to me?” Shi Ting blinked at her with an amused expression.

“I gave it to you? How is it I don’t remember that at all?” Yan Qing thought hard, then shook her head again.

Shi Ting said, “Allow me to kindly refresh your memory. Once, you came to deliver sand tea noodles. While we were eating, you handed me this handkerchief and said it was a gift for me to wipe away sweat.”

“That… that does ring a bell.” Yan Qing pressed her lips together. “But I was giving it to you to wipe your mouth — how have you kept it all this time?”

“Do you not know what it means when a woman gives a man her handkerchief?”

Yan Qing froze.

In her era, handkerchiefs had already been all but rendered obsolete by modern life, and handing one over had felt to her no different from passing someone a paper napkin. But in this era, a handkerchief was a woman’s intimate personal belonging — especially one she had embroidered herself. If given to a man, it typically carried the meaning of a romantic pledge.

She blinked. “So back then, you already thought I liked you?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to assume I was that well-liked.” Shi Ting said, “But it was the first thing you ever gave me, so of course I kept it.”

Not only had he kept it — whenever he found himself missing her, he would take out this handkerchief and look at it. An object in place of the person.

Yan Qing suddenly leaned in close. “You couldn’t have already had feelings for me back then, could you?”

It was rare for Yan Qing to see this man’s ears turn red — which meant she had guessed correctly.

“Perhaps even earlier.” Shi Ting made no attempt to deny it, and instead recalled the memory openly. “Though I never believed there was such a thing as love at first sight, the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different from everyone else. That day at the bridge in the Yan household, seeing you by the lakeside feeding the koi — that image has never left my memory.”

“And do you believe in fated bonds?”

“I didn’t before. I do now.” Shi Ting cupped the back of her wandering head and drew the face that was already close even closer. “Yan Qing, you are my destiny.”

With her small, futile resistance, his warm lips had already covered hers.

Her lips were exceptionally dewy and sweet, carrying her own distinctive taste — surpassing the finest delicacy the world had to offer.

Kissing those clear, sweet lips of hers, with the faint, sweet fragrance that was hers alone drifting past his nose, he felt his usually calm and restrained self on the verge of losing all control.

He knew what he wanted was more — but he had to rein himself in.

Shi Ting pressed one last light kiss to her lips, then reluctantly let go.

“So sweet,” he said with genuine feeling.

Yan Qing’s gaze was slightly dazed, her lips glistening with a dewy sheen. Hearing his words, she let out a small sound of protest. “That’s the taste of the tangerine.”

Shi Ting smiled. “Eat the rest while I take care of some things.”

“Do you need my help?”

He shook his head, then pressed another light kiss to her lips. “Wait for me when I get back.”

After Shi Ting left, Yan Qing picked up the tangerine he had peeled and put it in her mouth. The sweet, rich flavor instantly won over her taste buds. Thinking of the lingering kiss from just a moment ago, her face was still warm. She couldn’t help covering it with both hands, laughing softly out of shyness.

Before, Yan Qing had not known what it felt like to like someone. Now, that question had long since ceased to be a question at all. If anyone asked her, she would tell them: to like someone is to open your eyes and close your eyes and see only them, to think of only them no matter what. You, who were once a distant and cool immortal, become nothing more than a fool who can only smile foolishly.

“Miss, what are you laughing at?” Back at the Yan Mansion, Yan Qing’s expression was thoroughly unguarded, which gave Jing Zhi and Mu Rong the perfect opportunity to tease her.

“I’m not laughing,” Yan Qing refused to admit it.

Jing Zhi promptly fetched a mirror. “Miss, if you don’t believe it, look for yourself. Not only are you smiling with your eyes — even your eyebrows are curved.”

Yan Qing glanced at her own reflection in the mirror and found herself looking exactly as the stories described — “with a rosy glow of happiness.”

She deliberately arranged her expression into something neutral, then thrust a bag of tangerines into Jing Zhi’s arms. “From Director Shi, for you both.”

“Long live Director Shi!” Jing Zhi hugged the bag happily and gave a wink. “From now on, no matter what Director Shi does to Miss, I see nothing.”

“You silly girl — one bag of tangerines and you’re bought. Quite a backbone you have.”

Yan Qing sat before her dressing table and unclasped the pearl necklace from around her neck, carefully placing it in its case.

“Miss, Er Yitai came five or six times today. She only just left before you got back.” Jing Zhi gave a disapproving huff. “And Fourth Miss had it coming, honestly — who told her to conspire with Fifth Miss to harm you? If Miss weren’t so sharp, and that reputation of seducing your own brother-in-law had spread, forget marrying into the Shi household — your name would have been so ruined you couldn’t have hoped to marry even an ordinary family.”

Yan Qing had always been indifferent toward Guo Yanrong and her daughter, and had always lived by the principle of “do not trouble others if they do not trouble you.” She did not seek out conflict, but she did not fear it either. She simply wanted everyone in this mansion to see: if you wished to provoke her, you’d better first weigh your own capabilities. Her legs might be crippled, but her mind was not.

The next morning, after breakfast, Ah Xi came to relay a message — Master Yan was asking for Yan Qing.

Yan Qing naturally understood it was regarding the matter of Yan Ling. She freshened herself up before heading to Master Yan’s courtyard together with Jing Zhi.

Before she even stepped through the door, she could already hear sobbing from within. In the main hall, Er Yitai Guo Yanrong was kneeling in the center, with Yan Ling kneeling at her side. Yan Ling’s eyes were red-rimmed, and Er Yitai held a handkerchief, dabbing constantly at her tears.

When she saw Yan Qing enter, Master Yan’s deep, grave expression finally softened a little.

“Sixth Miss.” The moment Guo Yanrong saw Yan Qing, she hurriedly wiped her tears and spoke urgently, “Sixth Miss, Yan Ling was led astray by a wicked schemer and committed this unforgivable error. I beg Sixth Miss to be magnanimous and overlook it this once. Yan Ling swears she will absolutely never do such a thing again.”

With that, she jabbed Yan Ling sharply with her elbow.

—