Jiang Hansheng was someone who knew how to command a situation — he understood how to hold a person’s attention, and when he set his mind to it, he could. He wrapped his arm around Zhou Jin and asked her, “Do you want me?”

Zhou Jin quickly found herself unable to resist. “Yes.”

He leaned close to her ear and asked, “Then tell me — between me and Jiang Cheng, who is your man?”

Zhou Jin was a little exasperated. “What are you even—mmph—”

Jiang Hansheng seemed determined to have a proper answer. “Who is?”

Whatever irritation she’d had was worn away by his persistence. She told him, “Untie me, and I’ll answer you.”

Jiang Hansheng couldn’t see her eyes, and couldn’t read her expression clearly — but this time, he was ready to accept whatever answer she gave him.

He loosened the thin sash from Zhou Jin’s wrists. Her wrists were slender and fair, and were now rubbed red.

She wasn’t bothered by a little pain. She turned around to face him. “It’s you — you, alright? Satisfied now?”

Jiang Hansheng’s lips lingered at her neck. “Not enough.”

Compared to everything she had done for Jiang Cheng, how could this be enough?

The thought of how she had once loved Jiang Cheng stirred something bitter in him. He bit down on Zhou Jin’s neck.

He used to know when to stop — this time he truly bit hard, nearly breaking skin. Zhou Jin’s brow creased tight, and she gasped repeatedly from the pain.

Fed up with his shameless, terrible behavior, Zhou Jin reached down and ran her fingertips lightly along the side of his waist. Jiang Hansheng instinctively flinched away from the ticklish sensation.

Seizing the moment, Zhou Jin used the opening to flip things around — she swung her leg over and pressed him down beneath her.

Zhou Jin parted her collar and tilted her head to look at the bite mark, as if cataloguing evidence at a crime scene. Seeing that he had actually bitten hard enough to nearly draw blood, she asked with mild irritation, “Professor Jiang, did you really have to bite me like that?”

Her collar was crooked and askew, one shoulder half-exposed. On it was a vivid red bite mark. Peeking through the open neckline was a patch of her chest — also bearing teeth marks — to say nothing of the scattered trail of kiss marks across her skin.

Her hair had grown a little longer. A few strands were stuck to her forehead with fine perspiration, making her look disheveled and thoroughly undone.

The soft glow of the room’s light slipped down from her shoulder and pooled in Jiang Hansheng’s eyes.

He stilled.

A memory surfaced — from a long time ago, from that particular dusk when he had stood there, enveloped in that woman’s shadow, staring blankly at her pitiful, contorted, tear-streaked face. Then Zhou Jin had burst out from the cabinet, shoved the woman aside, seized his hand, and sprinted out of Gardenia Lane.

His feet had followed her without thought, his gaze fixed entirely on the sweep of her flying hair. At last she had stopped, turned back to look at him — and the brilliant evening glow had poured down over her shoulders just like that.

His heart hammered. As if spellbound, he reached up and touched the light falling across the side of Zhou Jin’s face near her ear.

Jiang Hansheng’s eyes, as though rinsed clean in water, were dark and faintly luminous. Seemingly oblivious to Zhou Jin’s complaints, he murmured in a daze, “So beautiful.”

Zhou Jin was speechless.

She caught his suspended hand and pressed it down into the pillow. “Who’s beautiful?”

Their fingers laced together. Zhou Jin looked him straight in the eye, as if trying to determine whether he was genuinely drunk or feigning it.

He smiled a little, then closed his eyes with the air of someone accepting his fate. “The evening glow.”

Zhou Jin stared at him. “How much exactly did you drink?”

She leaned in toward the vulnerable curve of his throat and pressed her mouth there, sucking firmly at his Adam’s apple. A low, resonant sound rose from deep in Jiang Hansheng’s throat.

His eyes snapped open. He looked at Zhou Jin in a daze.

Zhou Jin held his gaze and asked in return, “Who am I kissing right now?”

His lips moved, but no words came for a long moment. Zhou Jin kissed his cheek, then asked again. “Who is it?”

Jiang Hansheng’s throat worked. His voice came out rough. “Ji— Jiang Hansheng…”

Zhou Jin gave a small nod, reached up to cup his chin, and asked again. “Who was it that proposed to me?”

“Jiang Hansheng.”

“Who married me?”

“Jiang Hansheng.”

Zhou Jin closed her eyes softly. The diamond ring on the chain at her neck swayed and glimmered like a scattered point of starlight.

Jiang Hansheng sat up, lowered his head, and caught the diamond ring between his teeth, drawing it into Zhou Jin’s mouth. The cool, hard stone pressed between them as their tongues met in a slow, tangled exchange.

Jiang Hansheng cupped her face in both hands and said quietly, “Zhou Jin, don’t try to placate me.”

He caught his breath, pressed his lips to her ear, and said, “Zhou Jin, give me a child.”

Zhou Jin’s hair was in disarray, her eyes glistening. This time she didn’t stop to think. She answered him, “Alright.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

In the quiet of the room, their ragged breathing and the sound of heartbeats wove together. Jiang Hansheng’s eyes were slightly wet. He pulled her close and buried his face against her shoulder.

“I love you, Zhou Jin.” His voice was low and hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

The night went on for four or five hours. Only in the early hours of the morning did Jiang Hansheng finally carry Zhou Jin back to bed.

Zhou Jin was utterly exhausted and sank into a deep, unbroken sleep, never stirring.

Jiang Hansheng woke before her. When he sat up, the pain in his head was splitting. Due to the hangover, recalling what had happened the previous night came to him only in fragments, with difficulty.

But the evidence was still there.

He looked over at Zhou Jin. She was wearing his shirt, two of the buttons from the collar gone, the neckline falling open to expose her neck and one side of her fair chest — covered in kiss marks, some of which had already deepened to purple. And the bite that had nearly drawn blood, its mark still visible. As for the scattered trail of marks elsewhere on her skin — there was no need to mention those.

On the bed sheet was a small dark stain of blood. He thought of Zhou Jin beneath him, crying and telling him she was in pain.

Jiang Hansheng pressed his hand to his forehead. His head throbbed all the worse for it. He was overwhelmed with remorse.

He checked the time — past ten in the morning. He moved carefully toward Zhou Jin, took her gently by the arm, and called softly, “Zhou Jin?”

Zhou Jin scrunched her brow, rolled over, and showed no intention of waking.

He leaned in again. “Are you hungry? Does it — does it still hurt?”

Zhou Jin pulled the blanket up over her head and mumbled from beneath it, “Jiang Hansheng, I’m still sleeping.”

Jiang Hansheng fell silent.

Uncertain what to do, he withdrew his hand. Perhaps the hangover was dulling his judgment, but he couldn’t tell whether Zhou Jin was furious with him right now.

He was still turning this over in his mind when the Zhou Jin buried under the covers flipped them back again and forced her eyes open with some effort. “Oh no — I still have to write the action report for the Jingang rescue operation today. And the investigation report for the Huaiguang serial murder case.”

Jiang Hansheng said, “…It’s still early. Get some sleep. I’ll help you write them when you’re up.”

Zhou Jin leaned over and wrapped her arms around Jiang Hansheng, kissed him, and said, “You have to take responsibility for this.”

Jiang Hansheng smiled gently, nodded to reassure her, and then asked, “Are you still in pain?”

Zhou Jin said, “In so much pain. Everywhere hurts.”

Her legs and lower back ached and had no strength in them, and also—

Her face went a little red. “I’m going back to sleep, I’m so tired.” She burrowed back under the covers and paid him no further attention.

Jiang Hansheng didn’t trouble her further either. He got up and began tidying the mess scattered across the floor.

He gathered up Zhou Jin’s clothes, and the buttons that had come loose, and as he thought back over the things she had said the night before, the heaviness that had pressed on his heart for so long began to lift, gradually, into something lighter.

He stood on the balcony hanging up a damp bath towel. The bright sunlight filtered through the glass and fell warm across his shoulders.

Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes, tilted his face up, and let the sunlight wash over him for a moment. He was just beginning to think about what kind of lunch he could make to properly make it up to Zhou Jin, when a ringtone suddenly broke the quiet.

It sounded like Zhou Jin’s phone — not very loud. Not wanting to disturb her sleep, he followed the sound to find it.

Zhou Jin’s bag was on the floor by the front door, where she had dropped it the night before, her phone still inside untouched.

Jiang Hansheng picked it up, brushed off the dust, and unzipped it to retrieve the phone. The name on the screen read: Yan Bin.

Jiang Hansheng wasn’t pleased. He considered it for a moment, then simply declined the call.

As he went to set the phone back, something caught his eye. He reached in and took it out, his brow creasing slightly.

Medicine?