Jiang Hansheng was kissing her.

They hadn’t kissed many times, and he was no master of the art — when he was gentle, he barely grazed her; when he turned fierce, there was no particular finesse to it, just biting and pulling without pattern.

And yet Zhou Jin was ignited by him with no difficulty at all. Her cheeks burned. She cupped his lean, beautiful face in her hands and caught his lips between hers, alternating between soft and firm.

Jiang Hansheng’s body went rigid for a moment, then yielded quickly, eyes closing as he let her lead.

Zhou Jin felt Jiang Hansheng’s body coming alive by degrees — the hardening of him, the scorching heat of his breath.

He’d kept his clothes on, only the top two buttons of his collar undone. Through the gap, Zhou Jin could just make out the line of his collarbone and the rise of his throat — something about it was difficult to name, but undeniably compelling.

Zhou Jin reached for the front of his shirt. Jiang Hansheng caught her wrist and drew it back above her head, pressing it there firmly.

Zhou Jin didn’t fight it. She asked him, “Do you think my place is dirty?”

“No.” Jiang Hansheng, afraid she’d misread him, answered plainly. “There’s a wound. It’s not something worth looking at.”

Zhou Jin blinked, only then understanding why he wouldn’t take the shirt off.

She laughed. “There are marks on your face too. What actually happened? You don’t seem like the type who gets into fights — tell me, and I’ll go beat them back for you.”

“…Zhou Jin.”

He looked faintly exasperated, still unwilling to explain. Instead he kissed her — a light press to her forehead — then asked quietly, “Day off tomorrow?”

Zhou Jin nodded.

The Guan Ling case had reached a close. The next step was the formal transfer to the prosecutor’s office. The investigating officers in the Major Crimes Unit who had handled the case had worked without rest for days — now, at last, they could breathe.

“Once more.”

Still the tone of a request — but his hand had already begun sliding slowly to her waist.

Zhou Jin’s face went a little pink. “You—”

Jiang Hansheng wanted this. Again and again, until she had nothing left, until his name was the only thing her lips knew how to form.

Until she was entirely his.

It was nearly noon the following day when Zhou Jin finally woke.

No one beside her — she was used to that, and her mind was still half-submerged in sleep, so she didn’t pay it much notice. It was only when she walked out to the living room and heard Jiang Hansheng’s familiar, unhurried voice that she came fully awake.

Jiang Hansheng sat on the sofa, phone to his ear.

He was already fully dressed, his expression composed and even. The daylight fell across him in a soft, unhurried way.

Zhou Jin found herself thinking, as if compelled, of the night before — Jiang Hansheng breathing heavily, his mouth at the curve of her ear, warm breath pressing into it.

His slightly roughened voice seemed to linger on, echoing in her ear: “You’re so warm.”

Zhou Jin: “…”

She pressed her fingers to her forehead. This won’t do, Zhou Jin. Don’t let yourself be undone by a pretty face.

The Jiang Hansheng who existed outside the bedroom was a completely different person — all restrained composure and cool propriety. Looking at him now, sitting there with that quiet, unreadable expression, it was nearly impossible to imagine anything else.

When he saw that Zhou Jin was up, he smiled without quite meaning to, and raised a hand to gesture her over beside him.

Puzzled, Zhou Jin walked over. Jiang Hansheng turned his attention back to the phone call, his hand moving without thought to tuck her stray hair behind her ear.

The call lasted a minute or two. He spent most of it listening rather than speaking. The voice from the receiver was indistinct, too muffled for Zhou Jin to make out the words — but from a few stray terms, she caught the general sense that it concerned a case.

“Let me confirm that first.”

He ended the call shortly after.

Zhou Jin started to say, “If you have work to deal with, just go ahead. I don’t have much here — I can pack it up on my own.”

“It won’t get in the way,” Jiang Hansheng said.

And Zhou Jin truly didn’t have much.

Before her arrangement to meet Jiang Hansheng had ever been set up, she had thrown herself entirely into her work. Going on dates, seeing a film — these counted as novelties. And her standards for daily living were so minimal as to be almost nonexistent — she was the sort of person perfectly content with any surface flat enough to lie down on.

In other words, her quality of life had always depended entirely on whoever she was with. First it had been Jiang Cheng. Now it was Jiang Hansheng.

When he found the half-carton of instant noodles left in the kitchen, Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes briefly and gave up entirely on the idea of negotiating with Zhou Jin any further.

Zhou Jin poked her head over, grinning apologetically at him. She had a dust mask on, so the grin itself wasn’t visible — all Jiang Hansheng could see were her eyes curving upward.

“From now on, I’ll do whatever you say,” Zhou Jin told him. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

She dropped that casual from now on and breezed away. It was said without any particular gravity — and yet it stopped Jiang Hansheng for a moment.

If such a future were real, he hoped it would last a very long time.

While Zhou Jin was packing her clothes, a ring box tumbled out of the cabinet by accident. She picked it up, checked that the ring was still inside, and set it on the bed without much thought — right where Jiang Hansheng could see it.

Jiang Hansheng opened the ring box and studied it for a moment. Then he tucked it carefully into his pocket.

Zhou Jin teased him, “What — taking it back?”

“…It could be made into a necklace,” Jiang Hansheng said.

It took Zhou Jin a moment to work out what he meant: he wanted her to keep it on her.

She considered turning it down. “That won’t work — I’m running all over the place every day. What if I lose it?”

He went quiet, and in the silence his gaze carried an unspoken question.

Zhou Jin remembered the promise she’d just made, and quickly nodded in surrender. “Alright, alright. Whatever you say.”

While she was sorting through her things, her phone rang — it was Yu Dan.

Her hands were occupied. She tilted her head and wedged the phone against her shoulder, listening for a moment, then her brow furrowed. She grabbed the phone properly and asked again, “Say that one more time?”

“…”

Jiang Hansheng heard the urgency in her voice and looked over.

Zhou Jin stared. “Me? Suspended pending investigation?”