Perhaps because it was too sudden, perhaps because they had been separated too long, or perhaps because of moral constraints, Ji Tong had maintained a polite and reserved state, even appearing somewhat cautious. But upon hearing these two words, her tightly wound nerves immediately relaxed, and the bitter water that had accumulated in her chest for years violently surged, instantly pouring out uncontrollably.

Her tears became even more unstoppable.

How embarrassing—she was quite advanced in years and experienced in worldly affairs, yet she still couldn’t control her emotions when facing him.

Ji Tong buried her face in his chest, biting her teeth as she whimpered, even her shoulders trembling slightly.

Zhou Hui understood what was wrong with her. He gently stroked her long hair and back. “I’m back. I shouldn’t have gone out without telling you.” He kissed the top of her head and gripped her shoulders to gently push her away, tilting his head to look at her red nose. “Let me see which family’s little crybaby this is.”

Only then did Ji Tong realize her disheveled and wretched appearance. She suddenly turned her back, facing the wall as she wiped away her tears.

Seeing her like this, Zhou Hui’s heart ached too, but he couldn’t let his emotions develop freely. He didn’t want their beautiful reunion to become sorrowful weeping. He hugged Ji Tong’s waist, lowered his head, rested his chin on her left shoulder, and rubbed against her burning ear, coaxing her in a different way: “You cry so ugly.”

Ji Tong didn’t respond, silently calming her emotions and tidying her appearance. She wore a chestnut-colored nightgown that had been soaked by fallen tears in a large patch. How embarrassing…

Zhou Hui turned her around, his two large palms falling down to almost completely envelop her entire head. “You don’t even need to wash your face now.”

Ji Tong pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him away slightly. “Is it really that ugly?”

Zhou Hui silently stared at her red eyes, crystal teardrops still hanging on her lashes. He took a light breath, pressed down her hands and clasped them behind her waist, then lowered his face again, gently taking her upper lip between his…

There wasn’t the turbulence from before, like thunder roaring before a storm, earth-shattering. This kiss was longer and more lingering, like unhurried white lightning, piercing the gloomy dark night, gently rushing toward the sky, illuminating her world with brilliant light.

Zhou Hui had never had a girlfriend, let alone any kissing skills. Even though it had appeared in dreams countless times, memory and practice were still somewhat different. Fortunately, he seemed to have a special natural talent in this area, and emotion was the best catalyst. His hands unconsciously fell, pressing on her slender lower back, gradually moving upward.

Ji Tong’s hands were free now. She slightly lifted her heels, collapsed in his arms, and raised her arms to embrace his neck.

[In the next life, I’ll come find you]

Zhou Hui suddenly released her.

Ji Tong opened her eyes and looked at his shocked expression. “What’s wrong?”

[We can’t escape]

[I know]

[I don’t want to be captured again. Take us away]

[Okay]

“What’s wrong?”

[I’ll come find you]

Zhou Hui pulled himself from the sudden memories, looking at her blankly. He asked nothing, said nothing, just quietly held her for a while.

His clothes carried a faint scent of laundry detergent, somewhat like sweet citrus, with hints of flower fragrance and morning dew—just like his temperament, very fresh and clean. Ji Tong gripped the back of his collar, listening to the slightly heavy breathing by her ear, and asked, “Did you remember something?”

Zhou Hui swallowed dryly, composed his emotions, his voice slightly hoarse as he asked in return, “Are you hungry?”

“Not hungry.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Ji Tong was lifted into the air.

He still liked using this move—scooping up her legs to hold her, making her suddenly rise and unpreparedlyfall into his arms. Ji Tong gripped his neck tightly. The tears on her face had long dried, her fair skin showing a slight flush. She asked knowingly, “What are you doing?”

Zhou Hui looked up at her, his usually bright eyes now veiled with a layer of clear mist, gradually transforming into a lazy smile. “What do you think?”

Ji Tong smiled restrainedly, lightly swinging her suspended feet. “How would I know?”

“Is that so?” Zhou Hui carried her toward the second-floor bedroom. Of course Ji Tong understood what he intended to do. She curled her fingers and straightened up to embrace him more tightly.

Zhou Hui suddenly stopped halfway. “Lower your head, we can’t get up.”

Hearing this, Ji Tong suddenly raised her head and hit the platform above with a “thunk.” She endured the pain without making a sound.

Zhou Hui freed one hand to gently rub her head. “You’re really resilient—not even crying out from that?”

“…”

“Iron head technique?”

Ji Tong couldn’t help but laugh, punching his right shoulder lightly. “It hurts so much, I’m internally injured. Quickly take me to the hospital.”

“Come to my hospital—I can cure all ailments.” Zhou Hui changed position to carry her horizontally, walking up with his back bent.

He still couldn’t straighten his back. After gently placing Ji Tong on the bed, he simply knelt at the foot of the bed. Even like this, his head still touched the ceiling. “Your house design is too unreasonable—it can’t accommodate me.”

“It accommodates me fine.”

“That won’t do.” Zhou Hui knelt closer, pulling down his jacket zipper. “Without me, it won’t do.”

Only then did Ji Tong notice his clothing. He wore a white T-shirt with a small patch of irregular black lines printed on it, covered by a plain gray zip-up hoodie, with matching loose shorts below. It could only be described in four words: youthfully spirited.

Zhou Hui noticed her direct gaze. “Good-looking?”

Ji Tong admitted frankly, “Good-looking.”

Zhou Hui grabbed the edge of his T-shirt with one hand and pulled it over his head, casually tossing it aside.

He was so tall. She had originally thought He Feng was already very tall, but he was four or five centimeters taller than in his previous life. He must exercise regularly—unlike most seemingly slender young men who appeared somewhat withered, his muscle definition was beautiful without being exaggerated, distributed just right. It was hard to imagine such a strong, healthy boy was only seventeen.

Seeing her subtle smile, Zhou Hui grabbed her calves and pulled her beneath him. “What are you laughing at?”

“Laughing that you don’t look seventeen.” Ji Tong looked at his face so close to hers, her heart growing nervous. “We don’t have condoms.”

Zhou Hui immediately pulled two boxes from his pocket and tossed them beside her face. “I just went out and bought them.”

Ji Tong remembered the groceries he’d dropped by the door. “Didn’t you go grocery shopping?”

Zhou Hui’s hand fell on her abdomen. “Bought groceries along the way.”

…

The cramped space, the short little bed, left his feet hanging outside.

With a series of memories as foundation, this first taste of intimate rain and dew for both parties didn’t seem so awkward. Unlike their true first time—sky, grassland, accompanied by bodily pain, even the wind seeming to carry thorns as it struck.

He was still the same as before, even the sequence of his kisses identical, but what was completely different was how much gentler he was. Unlike seventeen-year-old He Feng, more like the twenty-seven-year-old version—in the repeated rises and falls, less forceful aggression and conquest, more patience and accommodation.

Even after it ended, Ji Tong still felt like she was floating in the clouds, as if she’d had an unrealistic dream.

Young men are full of vigor, with inexhaustible strength and energy. Yet concerned about her physical weakness, he carried her for a bath, then put her back to bed to rest while he went to cook.

In both her lifetimes, Ji Tong never imagined she could eat food personally made by He Feng. After all, she had witnessed his and Qing Yangzi’s wonderful culinary skills at the mountain stronghold, leaving an unforgettable impression.

This lifetime’s Zhou Hui was like someone from a fairy tale—so perfect as to seem unreal, even making her somewhat uncomfortable. Looking at the three dishes and one soup on the table, Ji Tong felt ashamed. “You’re so talented.”

“It’s not talent. I often cook for myself because my parents don’t manage me, and I don’t like what the housekeepers make. I’ve changed several and wasn’t satisfied with any.” Zhou Hui tasted the braised pork. “A bit bland.”

“It’s delicious. I’m usually lazy—at most I cook some noodles and congee.”

Zhou Hui was slightly stunned. “Then how do you eat?”

“Fast food, takeout, or eating out, or not eating.”

“Too unhealthy.” Zhou Hui picked up a mushroom for her. “With me here, you won’t need to eat those things anymore.”

Ji Tong looked at him with moving eyes while biting her chopsticks. Zhou Hui clamped her calf with his feet. “Don’t look at me like that, if you still want to eat.”

Ji Tong picked up her bowl and began eating heartily.

“Slower.” Zhou Hui hooked her foot onto his own foot surface. “Was it your first time?”

“Hm? First time what?”

“Playing dumb.”

“…” Ji Tong looked at his smiling eyes and understood, deliberately saying, “No, many times.”

Zhou Hui obviously didn’t believe it. “So you’ve been saving yourself for me?”

“Who saved themselves for you… I was just too busy with work, no time to find a boyfriend. You know how hospitals are…”

“Excuse—you were clearly waiting for me.” Seeing Ji Tong eating plain rice, he pushed all the dishes toward her. “What if I hadn’t come? Would you have stayed chaste for me your whole life? Died alone?”

“You wish. Just recently colleagues were introducing me to blind dates. I thought that man was pretty good.”

Zhou Hui stared directly at her. Ji Tong felt somewhat guilty under his gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He raised an eyebrow, beaming. “How good?”

Ji Tong didn’t respond, eating with her head down, slowly withdrawing her foot under the table.

“As good as me?” Zhou Hui stepped on her foot in return, holding it firm. “How does this new body compare to before?”

“So-so.”

Zhou Hui nodded, picked up his bowl and continued eating. “Mm, so-so. After we finish eating I’ll work harder, then you can compare properly.”

“…”

“Eat more.”

…

Zhou Hui was terrifyingly disciplined. He had to go for morning and evening runs every day, using the treadmill when it was windy or rainy outside. When Ji Tong asked why he was so persistent, he said he’d been sickly as a child, always getting ill. His father insisted on taking him running every day for thirteen years until it became a habit. Later, even without his company, he would exercise daily.

In the evening, Zhou Hui pan-fried a steak for her, made a sandwich and vegetable salad, and mixed a glass of juice. After dinner he wanted to drag her out running together.

Ji Tong was tired—she finally had a day off and had been thoroughly worn out by him. Looking at him, still energetic—youth really was wonderful.

She sprawled on the sofa unmoving. Zhou Hui crawled over and pressed down on her. “Your stamina is poor, which is why you need more exercise. Look how weak you are—I didn’t even make you move, yet you’re exhausted like this.”

“I’m so sleepy.” As she spoke she closed her eyes. “I fell asleep.”

“In your previous life you fought me so vigorously—I remember it all now.” Zhou Hui pried open her eyes. “That day you ran to the hospital for surgery like you were flying.”

Ji Tong rested her forearm on his back. “It’s different—that was survival necessity. Going to the hospital was to save lives. Now I just want to lie lazily at home without moving.”

“Alright then.” Zhou Hui lightly pecked her lips. “I’m going. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mm.”

Just as Zhou Hui got up, Ji Tong grabbed his hand, looking at him reluctantly.

Zhou Hui sighed lightly. “Alright, I won’t go either. I’ll stay home with you.”

Ji Tong used his strength to get up. “Let’s go together.”

“Not lazy anymore?”

“Exercise keeps you young.”

…

After two kilometers, seeing Ji Tong gasping for breath, Zhou Hui stopped and led her to sit on a bench by the river.

Ji Tong leaned on his shoulder, closing her eyes not wanting to look at the water ahead. Ever since her memories returned, she’d been especially afraid of water and never swam again.

In this moment, both were thinking of the same thing.

Zhou Hui quietly looked at the lake surface rippling with gentle waves, again recalling the brief and tragic scene he’d remembered at noon.

He didn’t know whether to use “painful” or some other word to describe it—this matter had been stuck in his heart. Ji Tong had told him she died by jumping in the river—that must have been that time.

He lowered his gaze to look at her soft, messy hair stirred by the wind, using his hand to tuck it behind her ear, then dropping a kiss on her temple. Ji Tong looked up at him, their eyes meeting, both smiling slightly.

Neither looked away first.

Zhou Hui rubbed her nose tip. “Do I look acceptable now?”

“No.”

“Keep looking—we have a long time ahead.”

“Okay.”

A golden retriever passed by in front. Zhou Hui shifted his gaze, watching it walk away. “My family has two dogs—one golden retriever, one Czech wolfdog.” He looked back at her. “Do you like dogs?”

“I like them. Mom used to have one that died when I was seven. I never dared raise small animals again after that.” Ji Tong hooked his arm, looking at the clear veins on his forearm. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to meet my friend?”

“Not meeting mother-in-law first?”

“She’s on a business trip in Shanghai.”

“Good.” Zhou Hui took her hand. “Continue running?”

“You pull me.”

Zhou Hui smiled and stood up. “Come on.”

…

Ji Tong took a day off. After tossing and turning with Zhou Hui until midnight, he got up early to go running. When he returned, he made breakfast, tidied the living room and kitchen meticulously, and even washed and hung up their clothes in the washing machine.

After finishing everything, Ji Tong was still sleeping.

He couldn’t bear to disturb her, so he lay on her small sofa with the curtains closed, listening to music.

Near eleven o’clock, Ji Tong was finally awakened by Gan Ting’s phone call. She lazily walked downstairs and saw Zhou Hui curled up on the small sofa. “What time did you get up?”

“Six-thirty.”

Ji Tong looked at him incredulously. “Don’t you need to sleep?”

Zhou Hui sat up. “Breakfast and exercise are more important.”

“Fine.” Ji Tong walked drowsily toward the bathroom. Zhou Hui followed and hugged her from behind, burying his face in her neck to nuzzle.

“I need to wash up, don’t fool around.”

He turned her around and gripped her waist to lift her onto the sink.

Ji Tong pushed him away. “We’re eating out later.”

“There’s time.”

…

There really was time, and they even arrived five minutes earlier than Gan Ting.

Since yesterday, Gan Ting had been bombarding her with messages demanding to see photos. She was curious about what kind of man had actually won over this fossilized statue who hadn’t moved in decades.

Ji Tong had secretly taken a photo while he slept—in the picture, the boy had half his face buried in the pillow, fluffy hair covering his forehead, his true features unclear. Seeing him in person for the first time, Gan Ting couldn’t control her excitement and ran to the door to let out a loud shout.

Zhou Hui looked at Ji Tong blankly. “What’s wrong with her?”

Gan Ting ran back with rapid steps, slapping the table in amazement. “This tender grass of yours is way too tender! Twenties? Even twenty-five? Old Ji, are you even human? Did you find a male model?”

Ji Tong: “…”

Zhou Hui: “…”

…