Zhou Jin knew this required a careful balance — she couldn’t push too hard and make him genuinely annoyed with her.

She said: “Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Jiang Hansheng was caught off guard — he hadn’t expected Zhou Jin to actually go through with it, yet it didn’t feel right to tell her to come back.

Zhou Jin spread out the bedding, asked Jiang Hansheng to pass her a pillow, reached over to switch on the small bedside lamp, then bounced over to turn off the main light.

The bedside lamp cast a warm, amber glow, and the entire bedroom settled into a gentle quiet.

Zhou Jin slipped neatly under the covers and said to him: “Are you really going into school to teach tomorrow? Your leg hasn’t fully healed — I’ll drive you.”

Jiang Hansheng suppressed the smile that had involuntarily tugged at his lips and didn’t refuse.

The bed was large, but Jiang Hansheng slept right at the very edge, with Zhou Jin just below him on the floor.

A stretch of distance lay between them.

Perhaps having this small distance was good — it allowed them to see each other more clearly.

Ever since their marriage, Zhou Jin had been wound up in one thing after another — secrets, complications — and whenever work stopped, an immense exhaustion would wash over her.

Now, with Jiang Hansheng beside her, she felt herself ease.

She was a ship battered by wind and waves, scarred from every voyage. Jiang Hansheng was her harbor.

Zhou Jin turned her head and looked over at him, then asked suddenly: “How did you always manage to find me? What method did you use?”

“…”

“Come clean.” Zhou Jin’s tone carried a faint threat.

Jiang Hansheng said: “I installed a tracking system on your phone.”

Zhou Jin: “When?”

“Three years ago.”

Zhou Jin hadn’t expected it to be that far back. She retorted: “How is that possible? You’re this good-looking — if I had met you early on, I would definitely have remembered you.”

“…”

It was simply that Jiang Cheng had occupied her eyes and her heart so completely that she had no room to see anyone else.

Jiang Hansheng did his best to ignore Zhou Jin’s teasing and said: “The Major Crimes Unit and the East City District Criminal Investigation Brigade have a gaming tournament every year.”

“Oh.”

Zhou Jin understood at once — Jiang Hansheng had a wide network of connections within the East City District police community, so finding an opportunity wouldn’t have been difficult.

Jiang Hansheng continued: “And the ring.”

The ring was right now hanging around Zhou Jin’s neck. An odd sensation crept along her collar, and Zhou Jin felt a complicated tangle of emotions rising in her throat. She said: “That was a bit much.”

As a detective, Zhou Jin considered herself professionally attuned to things like this — yet Jiang Hansheng had followed her for so long without her noticing once.

Anyone being followed so silently, without ever knowing, would feel at least a little unnerved.

Faced with Zhou Jin’s reproach, Jiang Hansheng offered no defense. He said quietly: “I know it wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

Hearing him apologize again, Zhou Jin turned the wedding ring between her fingers and let out a soft sigh.

Jiang Hansheng, assuming she was unhappy, said: “I’ll delete it all.”

“Leave it as it is.” She stretched out her hand and barely managed to reach Jiang Hansheng’s face. Her fingertip skimmed lightly across his forehead, and she looked at him with a warm smile. “I just don’t want you worrying about me.”

The place she had touched felt faintly itchy.

Zhou Jin quickly asked in a nervous voice: “…But do you have any wiretaps?”

Jiang Hansheng felt a flash of embarrassment and explained: “It hasn’t gone that far.”

Zhou Jin exhaled with great relief. “That’s all right then.”

At least it was within the range of what she could accept.

The weather was getting colder by the day, but inside the room it was still warm. Zhou Jin tugged her blanket and nestled herself more snugly, then murmured: “When it snows, let’s build a snowman together.”

Jiang Hansheng said quietly: “I’m not very good at that.”

“What a coincidence.” Zhou Jin grinned. “I’m extremely good at it.”

“…”

Zhou Jin quieted down and gradually drifted toward sleep.

Jiang Hansheng’s leg was still aching dully, making it hard to sleep soundly, and he woke in the middle of the night to find the bedside lamp still on.

He reached to click it off, then looked down to find Zhou Jin had kicked her covers off again, just as she always used to — legs and arms both left out in the cold air.

Jiang Hansheng had no choice but to get up and pull the blanket back over her, then took hold of her cool arm and tucked it gently underneath.

Zhou Jin seemed to feel the cold, and curled up on her side. Her pajama collar had gone askew, baring one shoulder.

Several small scrapes bloomed across her fair skin.

This soft, slightly disheveled version of Zhou Jin was far too easy to make a heart skip a beat. Jiang Hansheng couldn’t bring himself to leave again. He lay down beside her and gathered Zhou Jin into his arms.

He was a monster afflicted beyond all hope of recovery. Zhou Jin was his medicine — the kind that numbed the pain.

The next morning, Zhou Jin drove Jiang Hansheng to the university. He had two classes in the morning, running until noon.

Zhou Jin, still on medical leave due to her work injury, had plenty of time. She simply stayed on campus and wandered around, and when Jiang Hansheng’s last class began, she went in and sat in at the back.

Jiang Hansheng lectured in a measured, serious manner, but because he had extensive hands-on experience in criminal investigation, he drew on case examples with ease, and it made for genuinely interesting listening.

After class ended, several students gathered around the lectern — asking after his health, and then raising questions about their research projects.

Zhou Jin waited patiently, sitting in the classroom, scrolling through some old footage of Zhou Chuan from his time in the special police unit.

Among the students, someone mentioned that the roses they had been growing just for fun had all withered, and asked whether the bunch they had cut for Professor Jiang had actually been given away — and whether his wife had liked them.

Jiang Hansheng’s gaze drifted toward the back row. Zhou Jin felt their eyes on her and, a little at a loss, walked over. “What’s the matter?”

Seeing the students looking at her with curiosity, clearly too shy to speak first, she took the initiative to introduce herself: “Hello everyone, I’m Professor Jiang’s…”

Zhou Jin paused, then asked Jiang Hansheng in a low voice: “What am I counted as right now?”

“…”

Seeing him at an utter loss for words, Zhou Jin had no choice but to say: “Girlfriend.”

The students’ looks at her became even stranger. One of them, apparently unable to hold back, asked directly: “But isn’t Professor Jiang married? Why does he also have a girlfriend?”

Zhou Jin bit back a laugh.

“Zhou Jin…”

Afraid of letting things develop further and causing a massive misunderstanding, Jiang Hansheng quickly introduced her to his students: “This is my wife, Zhou Jin — Officer Zhou Jin.”

Because this group of students had been working on a research project in criminal studies, they were in frequent contact with Jiang Hansheng.

One day, out of the blue, they noticed that Professor Jiang had suddenly started wearing a wedding ring on his finger. Unable to contain their curiosity, they asked him about it. It was around that time that Jiang Hansheng had mentioned to them that his new wife was a detective.

In his students’ eyes, Jiang Hansheng wasn’t exactly the strict type of professor — but he was a serious man, rarely given to jokes. Yet on that particular day, when he mentioned his wife, there had been a smile in his eyes, a quality about him that was unusually, quietly gentle.

Now, seeing Zhou Jin in person for the first time, they couldn’t help but look her over for a good while. They had imagined that Professor Jiang’s wife would be some formidably imposing woman, but now that they saw her in person, she was less formidable and rather more spirited.

Standing under so many eyes, Zhou Jin felt like an exhibit in a zoo.

Jiang Hansheng quickly shooed them away, and the classroom was soon left to just the two of them.

Zhou Jin leaned against the side of the lectern, eyeing Jiang Hansheng with a half-squint, and asked: “So — are you still thinking about divorce?”

Jiang Hansheng looked faintly resigned. After a long silence, he asked: “Shall we go eat?”

Zhou Jin: “Yes! I want to see what your university cafeteria is like!”

“…”

Jiang Hansheng didn’t much care for cafeteria food, but Zhou Jin was visibly eager and clearly quite interested, so he didn’t refuse.

Zhou Jin put her phone down and helped him gather his notebooks. Jiang Hansheng inadvertently caught a glimpse of Zhou Chuan on her phone screen.

Zhou Jin noticed his gaze and said: “It’s footage my brother left from when he was in the special police unit. They ran a combat drill — my brother came in first place. Li Jingbo is in it too.”

Jiang Hansheng fell quiet for a moment, as if he had noticed something. He pressed play.