“This door is locked — would you mind finding someone to open it for me?”

Xu Ya’s voice was unhurried, measured — but to the two people inside, it carried more than a little deliberate intent.

The two inside held their breath.

They heard the attendant reply: “Aide Xu, I’ll go find someone to take a look. There’s another restroom available on the floor below — let me take you there first.”

Xu Ya waited a moment, then waved a hand. “Never mind.”

As she walked away she glanced back twice.

Nan Chu came back to her senses and shoved the man in front of her. Lin Luxiao gave a quiet laugh and caught her wrist. “What are you sulking about?”

“I’m jealous.” Direct and plain about it.

Lin Luxiao gripped both her wrists in one hand, laughed softly, and pecked her on the lips. “Heaven and earth as my witness — she hasn’t touched a single hair on me.”

Nan Chu looked into the depth of his eyes — earnest and steady. His features were sharply defined yet carried a trace of mischief. She suddenly thought of the year she was sixteen, when she’d first met him. His eyes then had been cool, proud, sharp — still carrying that untamed youth. His frame hadn’t been as solid as it was now.

The years had tempered him into steel. And she was a small magnet, drawn inescapably toward him.

Nan Chu raised herself on her toes, tilted her face up, and kissed him fiercely on the lips. In a fierce, low voice she warned him: “Nobody gets to touch you. Anyone who does — I’ll cut their hands off.”

Lin Luxiao’s eyes deepened, darkened. He caught her lip between his and bit down hard in return, and there was light in his gaze — as though he meant to pull her into himself.

Lips and teeth tangling, she heard his low voice still threaded through with laughter: “Don’t hold back.”

After another round of lingering, the two of them straightened themselves and stepped out — only to find the attendant had just arrived with someone to unlock the door, looking utterly baffled.

“Commander Lin — the door?”

Lin Luxiao made an acknowledging sound. “I opened it. Something wrong?”

Nan Chu played along with a look in his direction and said: “I got locked inside just now. Commander Lin helped me get it open.”

The attendant scratched her head. “Commander Lin is impressive!”

Lin Luxiao stood with his hands in his pockets, gave a humble response. “You’re too kind.”

Nan Chu gave a wave, the corners of her eyes lifted, lips curving. “Firefighter uncle — see you around!”

The little girl called it out, then turned and walked off on her heels, the hem of her cheongsam swaying with each step, the occasional flash of pale, slender leg just visible below. Lin Luxiao watched her retreating figure, dipped his head, gave a quiet, fond laugh. That little troublemaker.

Every glance, every smile — it was enough to make the young female attendant’s heart skip a beat.

Even after Lin Luxiao had gone back to his own private room, the two of them were still gathered around the restroom door talking. “So handsome.”

“I don’t know why — maybe I’m getting older — but men like that just do something to me. Think about it: the muscles, the face, and when he smiles — so handsome. Firefighters probably know a bit of everything. Great stamina too. And if first thing in the morning he could also make you breakfast and bring it to you with those abs on display…”

The attendant covered her face, cheeks hot with color. The mental image alone was enough to send her.

……

After that dinner, Nan Chu took a long stretch of rest. Aside from a few flat shoots interspersed here and there, the remaining work was simply studying the script and waiting for He Zhengping’s film to begin production.

During this time, Jiang Ge asked her out several times.

He tried every approach — even cutting off her escape routes.

Nan Chu didn’t give him so much as a glance. The second young master’s old temper flared up — by his reckoning he’d done her an enormous favor, and she had no gratitude whatsoever, still treating him like this? He was put out about it, but there wasn’t much he could do if the girl refused to engage with him.

Even when he drove his million-plus sports car to wait at the studio entrance to ambush her, Nan Chu didn’t react at all — she simply turned and boarded her own van.

Impressive composure. He liked it.

Different from those flashy types outside. This one was more alluring.

Once a man has had a certain drive to conquer ignited in him, it is very difficult to put out. Even if it quiets down for a time, the moment he’s idle again and that woman crosses his mind, the yearning rises, the longing stirs — restless and aching.

Jiang Ge had ample experience in love and desire, with a variety of tactics to his name.

But what he least liked was forcing anyone. In this particular arena, mutual willingness — a woman who came to him herself — was what made it worthwhile.

Otherwise it was like handling a dead fish. Where was the fun in that?

His initial interest in Nan Chu had sprung from that one night at the Milan bar — one look, and he’d been struck. But after seeing her in the cheongsam, a small, private intention had taken shape in Jiang Ge’s mind: he had to have her once, while she was wearing that cheongsam.

He was hardly inexperienced in the matter of women — their bone structure, their skin — and Nan Chu was, by any measure, exceptional. He could only wonder whether the rest of her would be equally extraordinary — the kind to drive a man to recklessness.

The more he let himself think about it, the more the desire in Jiang Ge’s chest stirred and burned. He could hardly wait to drag her over and have done with it right then — but from the time he was small, the old master had told him: you can’t eat hot tofu in a hurry. Most women, he knew, couldn’t resist luxury goods and expensive cars. But after the incident, Jiang Ge had come to one realization: Nan Chu was unlike those internet celebrities he’d known before — she had her own money.

The obvious approaches, then, wouldn’t work. Jiang Ge changed his strategy and decided to work on her emotions. The girl had grown up without a father, her mother had abandoned her, and she’d spent years enduring online abuse — she had to be deeply lacking in a sense of security.

Jiang Ge was stumped.

“Sense of security” was a concept entirely absent from his personal dictionary.

The encyclopedia assistant standing nearby, seeing his troubled expression, offered a plan.

“How about this — I find someone to mug her, and you step out at the critical moment and save the day. Hero saves the beauty, and maybe she’ll be so moved she’ll give herself to you right then.”

Brilliant idea.

……

After sending flowers for five consecutive days — stirring up tabloid stories and setting the gossip mills running — Jiang Ge abruptly vanished.

Even Xi Gu found it baffling. “These rich young masters love turning everyone else’s life upside down, and then they just disappear.”

Her tone carried a note of complaint — and, incidentally, personal resonance.

Nan Chu beckoned to the girl and pulled her over to sit across from her. A cigarette dangled from her lips. She tilted her chin toward the sofa opposite. “Sit.”

Xi Gu’s cheeks flushed. “What’s going on?”

Nan Chu raised a brow. “Tell me about you and Han Beiyao.”

Xi Gu startled, color creeping to her earlobes — why the sudden question? “No — there’s… nothing…”

Nan Chu: “If there’s nothing, why are you stuttering? What’s there to be nervous about? What does Han Beiyao have that’s worth being nervous about?”

Xi Gu couldn’t quite explain it herself — she’d never had this problem growing up. But the moment she was near that particular rich young master she’d start stammering. Every time she was in front of him she couldn’t get her words out properly, and it always invited a round of mockery.

Nan Chu pinched the delicate curve of Xi Gu’s ear softly and asked in a low voice: “Have you fallen for him?”

Xi Gu panicked. “I — no.”

Nan Chu watched her steadily, not saying a word. That gaze, mild and unwavering, as though it could see right through her.

Xi Gu gave up the fight. She drew in a breath, and said in a tiny voice: “All right. I’ll tell you — but you have to keep it a secret.”

These things — among the girls, they more or less all understood each other without saying.

Xi Gu dropped her head, eyes down, too embarrassed to look at Nan Chu. “He kissed me once. And after that I figured I probably did like him — I didn’t dislike the kiss, it’s just…”

“What?”

“He’s been ignoring me since then. Like the moment it happened he snapped out of it. That feeling — these rich young masters, they love turning people upside down, and then they’re gone.” Xi Gu, the more she spoke, the more aggrieved she became; her eyes even began to well up. “If he doesn’t want to acknowledge me, fine. Who needs him.”

Nan Chu stubbed out her cigarette, braced both hands on the sofa, tilted her head back, and laughed. “I’d say you need him quite a lot.”

Xi Gu: “You promised — don’t tell anyone.”

Nan Chu sat up straight, arms folded across her chest. “In exchange — I’ll tell you a secret of mine.” She paused, bit her lower lip, that vivid red mouth curving. “I have a man.”

The way she put it.

Xi Gu nearly slid right off the sofa. “You’re in a relationship? Does the company know? Does Guanzong know?”

Nan Chu spread her hands. Great — another secret romance.

Xi Gu’s mind shifted quickly. Suddenly she thought of the missing Jiang Ge. “It’s not the second young master Jiang, is it?”

Nan Chu gave a dismissive snort, practically radiating contempt through her nostrils: “Please. It’s a man with real presence — a genuinely masculine man. I’ll introduce you when the time comes.”

Xi Gu pressed her lips together. She suddenly thought of that cabinet full of contraception, and managed: “Congratulations — finally a use for that collection of yours. At least it won’t go past its expiry date. But you should still be careful around Shen Guanzong — that one’s been in a foul mood lately. No idea what’s gotten into him.”

……

By early October, the weather had turned cool. A handful of days still blazed with autumn sun, and the autumn heat in Beixun was the suffocating, sweaty kind — burning hot, and dry.

Lin Luxiao’s shift ended. He went back to the dormitory, changed into plain clothes, and on his final walk-through of the floor, found Xiao Jiu’er sitting alone with a gloomy look. He pulled Shao Yijiu aside. “What’s wrong with Xiao Jiu’er?”

Shao Yijiu waved it off. “Good produce got taken, basically.”

Lin Luxiao leaned against the door frame. “What good produce?”

“Nan Chu — his goddess.”

Lin Luxiao’s brow tilted up; the note in his voice became pointed and considering: “Goddess?”

“Right — apparently some rich, tall, and handsome guy is going all-out to pursue Nan Chu. Flash sports car, limited edition Maserati, back seat solid with red roses — nine hundred and ninety-nine of them — studded with gold and diamonds.” As he spoke, he fished out the photo Xiao Jiu’er had just shown him and held it out. “Here — look. He’s been picking her up and dropping her off every day. If I were a woman, I’d have married him by now.”

Lin Luxiao slanted a look at him, waved the phone away, and raised his brows in cool, dry amusement: “That makes you pretty cheap, then.”

Shao Yijiu was indignant. “Fine — what would you do to win someone over?”

What would he do?

Lin Luxiao: “Me? I still have to win her over?”

The sheer nerve of that statement left every unattached young man in the dormitory spitting blood — but the thing was, it was absolutely true and he had every right to say it. Since Commander Lin’s arrival, though he’d never said anything, the attitude of those senior leaders toward him made it plain he was no ordinary person. Yet he carried none of the arrogance or bad habits that came with a privileged background.

He said what he thought, and when he was in a good mood, he’d exchange a bit of good-natured ribbing with you. When he wasn’t, he’d go quiet and smoke. There was a natural honor and magnanimity to him, with occasional flashes of something a little dangerous and untamed.

In training he was strict and uncompromising — that set jaw could silence a room. But in private he was easy, and would swap a careless word or two with you. Everyone here treated him as a brother: there was respect, but also genuine warmth.

As for pursuing women — Lin Luxiao really had no experience with it. He’d never taken to the habit. Now that he’d actually fallen for someone, he still couldn’t bring himself to do the flashy things Jiang Ge did. Sending flowers felt far too commonplace for someone like Nan Chu.

……

Early morning. The sky not yet fully light — the white belly of dawn turning at the horizon. Mist heavy, the path ahead barely visible.

At the base of the apartment building, a figure stood beneath the pale, dense fog. Lin Luxiao, dressed head to toe in black, wearing a duck-billed cap — the look clean and decisive. Black suited him well, tracing the lines of his body in smooth flow. He was leaning against the car door, waiting.

Nan Chu came bounding down from the building lobby, took one running step, and threw herself into Lin Luxiao’s arms, calling out sweetly: “Commander!”

The little girl was in simple clothes — a black hoodie and white slim-leg trousers, her legs long and fine and straight, a face mask on.

Lin Luxiao glanced down at the time. Four-thirty.

Just right.

The heavy morning mist felt like a natural curtain between them and the world. Lin Luxiao folded one arm around her, and with his other hand reached back to pull up the drawstring hood of her sweatshirt, tugging it over her head. He gave her head a gentle pat. “Aren’t you cold in that?”

Nan Chu lifted the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled his hand under it to feel the lining. “It’s fleece-lined.”

Lin Luxiao’s hand took the opportunity to slide up and give her chest a squeeze. “Mm. It’s lace.”

“…”

Nan Chu glared at him. “You’re shameless.”

Lin Luxiao opened the car door and steered her in, one hand braced on the door frame, at ease. “Mm. I’ve said it before — I’m no gentleman. Changed your mind?”

Nan Chu swung one leg back out, ready to launch herself at him and kiss him. “I like you exactly like this.”

She was pushed back inside by a palm to the forehead. Perfectly serious: “Watch yourself. Think of the image.”

“You’re performing.”

Nan Chu said it with relish.

……

In retrospect, Nan Chu thought about this often. She once appeared on a variety interview program, and when the host asked what the most romantic thing she’d ever done with her boyfriend was, what she always thought of, without fail, was Lin Luxiao’s expression that day — that warmth and conviction deep in his bones, as though it had been carved into her heart. She knew she would never be able to forget this man, not in this lifetime.

Lin Luxiao had meant every word when he said he’d take her to watch the flag-raising.

The square that morning was packed — as it always was, every day, with people who came to watch. The honor guard marched in step, carrying the national flag to the hands of the flag-raiser.

Nan Chu had grown up here but had never once come, had never even thought to.

Lin Luxiao, on the other hand, seemed entirely at ease — as though he’d come many times before. He found, with no trouble at all, a spot on a raised platform by a bridge with the best view and lifted her up onto it.

The flag-raiser opened the national flag. That brilliant red cloth caught the wind and flew. The national anthem surged up all at once, and it struck something directly in the chest — a warmth rising in the ribcage.

Nan Chu instinctively looked at the man beside her.

He was watching with complete reverence. Grave and present. The careless ease he wore every other day was entirely set aside, his spine drawn straight — like a pine tree standing into the wind, untouchable. She didn’t want to interrupt him.

The flag reached the top of the pole. The flag-raiser drew in the line; the honor guard marched away in formation.

Lin Luxiao said, softly: “I used to come here often.”

Nan Chu pulled the brim of her cap down and listened.

He glanced at her. “When a person is lost, they always have to find something to believe in.”

“You get lost too?”

“Of course. I’m not some deity. When I was small and suspected my father favored my younger brother — it was deep winter, barely light out. I cycled all the way from the west end of the city to come here. I looked at the flag and felt steadier. Growing up, I came to realize many things weren’t as simple as we imagined as children. So I came back to look for something to believe in. One look at the flag — still standing — and the conviction deepened. I came once before my college entrance exams too. Military academy was a kind of faith for me. Truthfully, a person’s whole life is sustained by whatever they believe in.”

Nan Chu put her arms around him. “You’re actually quite sentimental.”

Lin Luxiao gave a light laugh, pulled her out of his arms, adjusted the face mask upward to cover her nose — just her two bright dark eyes visible. “What Jiang Ge has done for you — I find it genuinely beneath me.”

Nan Chu’s heart quietly sang. “You’re jealous?”

Lin Luxiao looked down at her, made a sound of cold, light dismissal through his nose. “He’s worth that?”

“I don’t like him.”

Lin Luxiao gave a quiet sound of agreement. “I know. You like me.”

Nan Chu gave him a solid pinch in the chest. Everything else about him she could tolerate, but she despised this — how this man always seemed to already know everything.

Lin Luxiao winced, drew a sharp breath, then let the playfulness drop. He gripped her shoulders with both hands, set her straight, and let the usual casualness fall away. For once, genuinely serious.

“The things Jiang Ge does — I can’t do them, and I don’t intend to. They’re all performance. What I can give you is my promise. A soldier’s promise. Before the national flag — in any and all circumstances, I will never betray you. Never abandon you. Never give up on you.”

In the year he first enlisted, he had stood in this very spot and taken his oath, and the words were still vivid before him —

Obey orders. Uphold discipline. Fight with courage. Fear no sacrifice. Remain faithful to duty. Work hard.

Under any circumstances, never betray the motherland. Never betray the military.

The national flag was his faith.

A soldier’s promise.

Beyond all else — this was simply what he wanted to give to Nan Chu.

No one else. Only this girl.