Lin Qiuyun was briefly taken aback, but quickly smiled and responded warmly: “Of course — come in, come in.”

She patted the back of Zhou Jin’s hand, gesturing for her to go keep Jiang Hansheng company.

Zhou Jin didn’t think much of it, and reached over to take hold of Jiang Hansheng’s arm, inviting him inside: “Let’s go.”

Her eyes were bright and clear.

Yan Bin, seeing how naturally affectionate they were with each other, understood at once that this man’s relationship with Zhou Jin was no simple thing. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

His surprise was understandable.

Yan Bin had grown up in Gardenia Lane — one could say he had been a witness to the entire course of Zhou Jin and Jiang Cheng’s relationship.

Back then, Zhou Jin had loved Jiang Cheng with an intensity that seemed like she would give anything for it. Her devotion had burned so fiercely that it was as though there were only one man in the entire world, and no matter how good any other man might be, in Zhou Jin’s eyes, none of them was worth a single hair on Jiang Cheng’s head.

Even after she and Jiang Cheng had separated, it had never once crossed Yan Bin’s mind that Zhou Jin would one day fall for someone else.

He found it difficult to believe. He asked: “Xiao Wu, you have a boyfriend now?”

Zhou Jin was eager to get inside and said hastily: “Let’s have dinner together tomorrow evening — I’ll introduce you properly then.”

Yan Bin stood there in a fog of confusion, processing for quite some time before he managed to catch, in the man’s appearance, the faint thread of a distant memory.

The realization struck him: “Ah — you’re that kid from Number 23?”

Jiang Hansheng’s expression remained impassive. He gave a brief, polite nod in Yan Bin’s direction, then followed Zhou Jin and Lin Qiuyun inside without further pause.

Once in the courtyard, Zhou Jin’s father Zhou Songyue came out of the house leaning on a walking stick.

Seeing Zhou Jin and Jiang Hansheng arrive together, he smiled and said: “Good to have you home.”

Zhou Jin watched him moving with that unsteady limp and asked: “Dad, is your leg any better?”

Zhou Songyue knocked the side of his leg with the walking stick. “Same as always — nothing serious.”

Zhou Jin noticed that the grey at his temples seemed to have spread considerably since she had last seen him.

People could age so quickly sometimes.

For as long as she could remember, Zhou Songyue had been an all-capable superman in Zhou Jin’s eyes — her greatest hero.

Looking at him now, with his limited mobility, no one would have guessed that five years ago Zhou Songyue had still been able to vault over walls to catch petty thieves, and that a fall from height would leave him laid up for only two or three days before he bounced back and returned to his post.

But after Zhou Chuan’s death, Zhou Songyue fell gravely ill and spent the better part of a year in and out of hospital. By the time he was discharged, his vitality had diminished entirely from what it had once been.

These past five years, they had all worked hard, and had only gradually begun to emerge from the shadow of Zhou Chuan’s sacrifice.

Zhou Songyue and Lin Qiuyun were getting on in years and were slowly, with effort, finding ways to make their peace with it. But Zhou Jin was so young, and she and her brother Zhou Chuan had always been deeply close — his death was something she could not reconcile herself to, no matter what.

When Zhou Jin had left the vice squad and chosen to join the Major Crimes Unit, Zhou Songyue and Lin Qiuyun had not been in favor of it at first.

They had already lost a son. They could not bear the risk of losing a daughter as well.

But Zhou Jin was determined, and they could not dissuade her.

Zhou Songyue had sighed long and deeply, and in the end had said only one thing to Zhou Jin: “My girl — a person has to look forward. Don’t let the past become something that trips you up.”

Come nighttime, Lin Qiuyun would sleep beside her, and in the dark would hold her and weep, saying: “With your brother gone, you’re the only one your father and I can’t stop worrying about. We won’t try to stop you from joining Major Crimes — but find someone who will take proper care of you. Don’t make us lie awake over you the way we lay awake over your brother.”

That person was now standing right beside Zhou Jin.

Lin Qiuyun could not help but feel a quiet relief. She exhaled softly, then bustled about with warm energy: “Don’t just stand there — come inside and eat. Hansheng, this is your first time at our home — if there’s anything you’re not used to, you just tell Mom.”

Jiang Hansheng rested his hand gently at Zhou Jin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mom.”

The family sat down together for dinner, and the conversation, naturally, drifted to old times.

Lin Qiuyun, remembering that Jiang Hansheng had once lived in Gardenia Lane as a child, brought it up with a smile: “Hansheng used to come to our house when he was little, didn’t he?”

Zhou Jin was a little surprised — she had no clear memory of it. She glanced at Jiang Hansheng and asked: “Did you?”

Jiang Hansheng simply smiled and said nothing, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves and turning his attention quietly to peeling prawns for Zhou Jin.

Zhou Jin pushed back: “Just eat yours — you don’t need to peel mine.”

She reached over with her chopsticks and placed a piece of food into Jiang Hansheng’s bowl.

Only after she’d done it did she remember that he was mildly particular about cleanliness. Their household had never had a habit of using serving chopsticks, and she’d done it without thinking. Feeling a little awkward, she said: “Sorry — that was——”

Jiang Hansheng ate it without a second thought, no sign of discomfort whatsoever. When he heard Zhou Jin apologizing, there was a faint trace of puzzlement in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Jin: “……Nothing.”

Something in her chest gave a quiet, inexplicable squeeze. Even with her tendency to let small things roll off her, she became aware of something that hung in the air between them — unspoken and indistinct.

She had shared the most intimate moments with Jiang Hansheng, and never once felt quite like this.

Beside them, Lin Qiuyun watched Jiang Hansheng and felt more at ease with every passing moment. She picked up the thread of what she’d been saying, elbowing Zhou Songyue gently to seek his agreement: “You remember, don’t you?”

Zhou Songyue raised his eyebrows.

He did remember — though not so much because he remembered Jiang Hansheng himself, but because he remembered the housekeeper.

When Jiang Hansheng was young, his parents had divorced, and he had moved to Gardenia Lane with his father.

His father’s career had not yet found its footing at the time, and he was up before dawn and out late into the night working on his business — often away on trips for half a month at a stretch with no sign of him.

To take care of Jiang Hansheng’s daily needs, he had hired a woman from a domestic services company, and whenever he was away, he had that woman live in the house with Jiang Hansheng.

Jiang Hansheng’s father, learning that Zhou Songyue worked as a community officer at the local police station, had quietly pressed twenty thousand yuan into his hands and asked him to keep an eye on Jiang Hansheng when he could.

Zhou Songyue had agreed without hesitation, but flatly refused to accept the money.

They were neighbors, after all, and the child was so small — whether as a neighbor or as an officer, it was only right that he look out for him a little more.

Zhou Songyue had left Jiang Hansheng his own phone number and told him that if anything ever came up, he should feel free to come find Uncle for help.

But this child, though his academic performance was outstanding, had a quiet and reserved temperament — withdrawn and reluctant to interact with others, with no close friends to speak of that anyone could see.

The only time he ever stopped was when he happened to pass Zhou Songyue in the lane — he would halt, grip the strap of his school bag tightly, and bow to him in complete silence.

It took several such occasions before Zhou Songyue understood: this was the child’s way of expressing gratitude.

He didn’t like to show his feelings on his face. He wouldn’t say when he was happy, and he wouldn’t say when he was sad.

It was only after more than two months had passed that Zhou Songyue discovered the truth about the housekeeper his family had hired: having lost her own child through divorce, she had suffered a profound psychological disturbance and carried within her a tendency toward instability and cruelty.

Zhou Songyue still grew angry when he thought back on it: “I remember that woman. Hansheng wasn’t the only child in her care — there were so many others, all of them victims, and in the end she served two or three years and was simply released!”

Zhou Jin’s curiosity stirred. “Which woman?”

Lin Qiuyun looked at Zhou Jin with an expression that bordered on disbelief: “……Wasn’t it you who first discovered what was happening, and brought Hansheng back to our house?”