The weather was growing colder and colder. Zhou Jin was on medical leave at home and, given her physical condition, had barely gone out lately.

Occasionally she would play games online with the people from the East District Gun Suppression Unit. They told her — back when Jiang Hansheng had presided over the East District, their case closure rate had repeatedly ranked first in the entire city. Such a shame, they said, that Jiang Hansheng had now become the serious crimes unit’s son-in-law.

The two units had once been fierce rivals. The serious crimes unit accused the gun suppression unit of using substitute players; the gun suppression unit accused the serious crimes unit of being sore losers. Now the tables had turned —

Zhou Jin set them straight: “What do you mean, ‘such a shame’? A bunch of jealous crybabies.”

Infuriated, she proceeded to tear through every one of the gun suppression unit’s players in the game, declaring she would wipe them out across generations.

In the end, the gun suppression unit logged off in humiliation and immediately made a point of warning their team captain — when it came to the league matches, Zhou Jin must absolutely be banned.

When she wasn’t gaming, she drifted out to the balcony and tinkered with the flowers and plants Jiang Hansheng had been growing.

That pastime lasted exactly two days before Jiang Hansheng issued an explicit prohibition: she was not to touch those poor little plants again.

Zhou Jin retreated in defeat. When boredom struck, she would browse through the books on Jiang Hansheng’s shelves or watch the films he recommended.

Of course — gaming, tending to plants, reading, watching movies — all of that was secondary. Her main daily activity was:

Teasing Jiang Hansheng.

Jiang Hansheng had been running between the hospital, home, and the university lately. Every time he came home, he was either working or sleeping, which made Zhou Jin feel a faint — but definite — sense of marital crisis.

Today, a light rain mixed with fine snow fell outside. Jiang Hansheng came home from outside, cold air clinging to him, his shoulders damp all over.

Zhou Jin walked to the entryway. She leaned against the wall with one shoulder, wearing nothing but a jade-green silk slip dress, the right strap having slipped down and fallen to one side.

Above the hem: snow-white décolletage. Below it: long, slender legs.

She curved her eyes at him and said, “You’re home?”

Jiang Hansheng glanced at her once, then shifted his gaze away with perfect composure.

He reached over and turned the heating up further, and said in a mild tone, “Mm. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. I just got out of the bath.”

She reached toward the things in Jiang Hansheng’s arms; he sidestepped her. “I’m cold,” he said.

He moved past Zhou Jin and filed the vegetables, fruit, and milk into the refrigerator one by one, then changed into a bathrobe and headed toward the bathroom.

Zhou Jin pulled her slipped strap back up and said, indignantly, “Are you blind?”

If she was honest with herself — in the days she’d been convalescing at home, Jiang Hansheng had been even kinder and more attentive to her than before. But whenever the atmosphere between them began to warm, whenever a hint of intimate tension sparked — Jiang Hansheng would quietly, seamlessly bring it to a halt.

Once or twice was one thing. But every single time — Zhou Jin couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong with him.

Water rushed and splashed in the bathroom.

Zhou Jin lay on the sofa reading The Lord of the Rings. Jiang Hansheng’s shower lasted exceptionally long this time. She waited and waited before finally hearing the blow dryer start.

She set down her book, hopped to the bathroom door, and knocked.

Jiang Hansheng opened it quickly. His upper half was bare, a towel knotted at his waist. His eyes were very dark — washed clean and transparent as water just now, carrying a hint of innocent uncertainty.

Zhou Jin thought he looked rather like a deer at that moment.

He asked, “What is it, Zhou Jin?”

Zhou Jin looked at the faint flush on his fair face, at his lips — thin and tinged with a rose color — and felt an indescribable itch in her heart.

She said, “Want me to blow dry your hair?”

Jiang Hansheng smiled. “Sure.”

Jiang Hansheng sat down. Zhou Jin picked up the blow dryer, set it to the lowest setting, and let the warm, gentle air drift slowly over him.

Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes, feeling Zhou Jin’s fingers move through the tips of his hair — stroking, lightly twisting.

Zhou Jin dried it until it was half-done, then switched off the dryer. She leaned down and inhaled carefully at his hair, then said, “Oh — it smells like roses.”

Her hand slid from his shoulder down, across his bare chest — the muscle there particularly even and firm — and then Zhou Jin wrapped her arms around him from behind.

Pressed close to his ear, she said, “I heard the gun suppression unit in the East District gave you a nickname — they call you ‘The Nation’s Little Rose’…”

Jiang Hansheng found this nickname deeply objectionable. “That’s not a thing,” he said, resisting the idea.

Zhou Jin smiled, and bit the reddened tip of his ear. “It’s true — except now you’re privately owned. Property of Officer Zhou.”

Jiang Hansheng grew even more flustered, smiling helplessly, and pulled her from his back to sit in his lap instead.

“What nonsense are you talking about…”

Zhou Jin stroked his neck and shoulders, blinking at him. “What — you don’t want that?”

“I do.”

Jiang Hansheng gave her a light, brief kiss — and nothing more. His palm rested on Zhou Jin’s thigh and gently prompted her to stand.

“I’ll go make dinner,” he said.

Zhou Jin sprang up, but didn’t leave. She leaned her back against the wall and regarded Jiang Hansheng with a look that was both probing and deeply suspicious.

Jiang Hansheng obviously understood that look. He asked, “Is there something wrong with me?”

Zhou Jin raised a hand to half-cover her mouth, dropped her voice to a mysterious whisper, and asked: “Jiang Hansheng — are you no longer capable?”

“…”

The next instant, Jiang Hansheng raised his hand and pressed her against the wall. He looked down at her, his phoenix eyes narrowing slightly, the outer corners growing even more elongated.

He said, “Is that a provocation?”

His posture was forceful — he bent his knee and pressed it between her thighs. Zhou Jin involuntarily let out a sound, then quickly bit her lip to suppress it.

That sharp, aggressive edge of Jiang Hansheng’s had not diminished in the slightest.

He held Zhou Jin close, gazing deeply at her, his smile hovering between real and restrained. “Privatization comes at a certain price, Officer Zhou.”

Zhou Jin hooked her arms around his neck, legs winding around his waist. Held securely in his embrace, she had no fear of falling. She cupped his face in both hands and kissed him once.

Zhou Jin asked, playing innocent: “Oh? What price?”

Jiang Hansheng suddenly caught her lips and kissed her — biting, drawing her in — like a creature savoring its prey. His kiss was near frenzied: wild and unbridled.

Zhou Jin wanted to laugh, but her throat could only produce two soft, muffled sounds as she surrendered to the kiss.

Jiang Hansheng carried her — supporting her legs and hips — to the desk. He settled her carefully, then his fingers drew her shoulder strap aside, sliding it down off one side to fully expose the beautiful line of her collarbone.

He gripped her shoulder, and his lips fell to her collarbone, wandering there as if in a daze of desire.

When his eyes opened, the edge of Jiang Hansheng’s vision caught the two brand-new glass cups sitting on the desk. His movements stalled, and he surfaced quickly from the haze of desire.

He could not help but think of that day — when he had lost control of his emotions and shattered two glass cups…

Jiang Hansheng’s palm pressed flat against Zhou Jin’s waist. He said, hoarsely, “I’ll go make dinner — alright?”

Zhou Jin saw he still would not continue, and didn’t want to push him. She curled one fingertip against the line of his throat, and decided to ask outright: “Why? Professor Jiang — do you not love me anymore?”

“…”

That Zhou Jin could bring herself to ask such a question — it was nothing short of his failure.

Just as he was about to speak, the doorbell chimed twice in quick succession, forcibly cutting the conversation short.

Jiang Hansheng hadn’t yet finished dressing. Zhou Jin told him to go back to the bathroom and went to answer the door herself.

It was a delivery courier. Zhou Jin signed for a package containing documents, and glanced at it twice more — the return address was a car dealership in Haizhou.

She thought Jiang Hansheng must have bought a new car.

When Jiang Hansheng emerged from the bathroom, Zhou Jin handed him the envelope and asked, “When did you buy a car?”

“I didn’t,” Jiang Hansheng said.

“Then what’s this?”

Jiang Hansheng opened the envelope — and found inside a long, itemized bill for damages.

Zhou Jin leaned over to look. The six-figure sum on the invoice made her eyes go dark. “When did this happen?”

Jiang Hansheng thought for a moment. “The car that was totaled at Kuang Mountain. I picked it up directly from a friend’s dealership right after I landed.”

Zhou Jin watched him standing there in perfect composure, his expression utterly unfazed as though a mountain could crumble before him without so much as a twitch. She had to explain, “Professor Jiang — you’re not an active member of the police force. In circumstances like this, getting full reimbursement would be very difficult.”

Jiang Hansheng nodded casually. “Mm, I’ll cover it myself.”

“…” Zhou Jin had no intention of letting him shoulder such a financial burden alone. She asked carefully, “Can something like this be paid in installments?”

Jiang Hansheng heard her question and finally understood what Zhou Jin was worried about. He looked at her in silence for a moment, then said again, “Zhou Jin, my salary is quite alright.”

Zhou Jin replied, perfectly seriously, “Mine says it isn’t.”

Jiang Hansheng couldn’t hold back a laugh.

It seemed that ever since Zhou Jin got hold of his bank card, she hadn’t once checked the account balance.

Zhou Jin raised an eyebrow. “And you’re laughing! You’re absolutely reckless with money!”

Jiang Hansheng pressed a hand to his lips and spent considerable effort reining in his smile.

In a rare moment of mischief, he asked in a tone of studied innocence, “Then should we sell this apartment and move into a smaller one?”

Zhou Jin shot back, “But what about when we have children?”

Jiang Hansheng stilled.

Since returning to Haizhou, he had been deliberately skirting around this subject — or rather, avoiding everything connected to the day he had hurt Zhou Jin.

He hadn’t wanted to remind her of any of those painful things. And yet here she was, bringing up children so naturally and freely, as though it required no effort at all.

Jiang Hansheng was quiet for a moment, then reached out toward Zhou Jin, gesturing for her to come sit beside him.

“Zhou Jin, about the matter of a child — I think we need to talk it through properly.”

It was rare to see him this forthright and candid. “Alright,” she said. “What did you want to say?”

For a brief moment, nothing followed. Jiang Hansheng simply looked at her in silence, his gaze ardent and earnest.

Zhou Jin leaned in closer, blinking as she asked again, “What did you want to say?”

The light in the room grew soft around them. Their breath mingled together, audible to one another.

Then his lips found hers — and he stole a kiss. Zhou Jin didn’t pull away. She closed her eyes and waited for the next one.

Jiang Hansheng pressed his hand to the back of her neck, and said, “I love you, Zhou Jin. I love you…”

With each word, he kissed her once.

Jiang Hansheng stopped. His forehead came to rest against hers. He said quietly, “I know what I want. What I want is not a child — what I want is to spend every single day of whatever remains of my life with you. Zhou Jin, it’s alright even if there’s no child. Just the two of us — we’re already a family.”

Because he had Zhou Jin. Everything else he had gained beyond that was simply a blessing on top of a blessing. He was willing to make peace with the whole world — with his father, with the idea of children, with all of it — as long as he had Zhou Jin, that was enough.

Zhou Jin listened. Then she pressed both hands to his shoulders, pushed him back onto the sofa, and knelt astride his waist.

She sat up straight, looking down at him — taking in his gentle eyes, his beautiful lips —

She asked, “But what if I want one?”

Jiang Hansheng was startled. He looked into her eyes — they seemed to hold a bright, burning flame, so vivid that his heart clenched.

Zhou Jin smiled and said, “I want us to bring a child into this world together — you and me. He’ll have a father who loves him deeply, so very deeply. You can teach him to walk, teach him to read, teach him to grow into a happy person. And through him, you’ll learn how to be a father — or perhaps how to be a happy child yourself…”

She cupped his face and kissed him gently. “He’ll love you just as I do, Jiang Hansheng.”

“Zhou Jin, Zhou Jin…”

He wrapped both arms around her tightly, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, kissing her skin in a scattered, breathless frenzy.

His voice was very low, trembling in a way that was almost imperceptible. “About the argument that day — I’m truly sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I accept your apology.”

Zhou Jin’s smile broke open into something brilliant. She cupped Jiang Hansheng’s face once more and looked directly into his eyes.

“What I need from you right now,” she said, “is to hold your head high. Accept my love for you openly. Stop feeling like you owe something. Stop saying sorry. Hansheng — I love you.”

“…”

“Do you think I say those three words too easily? Then from now on, I’ll say them every day — until they carry all the weight they deserve.”

They were face to face. Under her direct and passionate gaze, Jiang Hansheng had nowhere left to hide. He should have felt happy — and yet his heart was already pounding so hard it had begun to ache.

“Zhou Jin.”

Zhou Jin saw his eyes reddening. She smiled, bent down, and kissed his lips once more.

“Now — are you still going to refuse me?”