The arrival of Lu Yicheng and Lu Siyan seemed to unlock something in Jiang Ruoqiao—like striking open the vital meridians.

During the break, Lu Yicheng watched Jiang Ruoqiao striding toward them and felt, strangely, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to look directly at her.

In truth, there had been countless moments before this when he had seen her radiance clearly.

The more he saw of it, the more a feeling of bashfulness would well up from somewhere deep inside him.

More often than not, it ignited his curiosity—he found himself wanting to know: in that future, what had he done to earn her affection, to earn her love? He wanted to ask Lu Siyan, wanted to piece together every single detail, like a student who, on the eve of an exam, knows there is an answer key sitting in the desk drawer. That desperate impatience made him ashamed of himself. Every time the urge rose up, he would quickly rein himself in—that was not the right way to do things.

Over this period, he had also been reading—books, and things people shared online. Someone had written: in matters of the heart, there are no shortcuts.

He found that deeply true.

No shortcuts. From beginning to end, the only way to win was with sincerity.

Jiang Ruoqiao had no idea what was going on inside Lu Yicheng’s head at that moment. She first bent down and cupped Lu Siyan’s face in her hands, “Look how cold your face is—why did you come out on a day this cold?”

The second part of that was addressed to Lu Yicheng.

Lu Yicheng came back to himself and reached for the zipper on his down jacket.

Jiang Ruoqiao: “?”

What on earth was he doing.

Inside the down jacket was a series of pockets, and from one of them he produced a bag-wrapped roasted sweet potato and handed it to her, “I bought it on the way over. It’s still warm.”

Lu Siyan was watching him with wide, hopeful eyes, “Dad didn’t buy one for me—he only bought one for Mom.”

Jiang Ruoqiao looked at Lu Yicheng.

Lu Yicheng looked a little embarrassed as he explained, “It’s not that I wouldn’t get him one—there were too many people buying, and there was only one ripe enough to eat. If we wanted another, we’d have to wait a while.”

He then looked down at Lu Siyan, “I’ll get you one on the way back. Is that okay?”

Jiang Ruoqiao laughed, “It’s fine—I can’t finish it by myself anyway. Siyan and I can share it.”

Fried chicken and chicken wings on a snowy day were not Jiang Ruoqiao’s style—they weren’t what her appetite craved either.

What she loved far more was a hot, steaming bowl of soup—and this sweet, piping hot roasted sweet potato was exactly the kind of thing she adored.

The mother-and-son pair huddled together in a corner and took turns eating.

The sweet potato was gone in no time.

Only then did Jiang Ruoqiao feel like she had rejoined the living. Another photography assistant brought her a thermal flask.

This was the first time Lu Yicheng had ever seen her working, and he truly came to understand just how hard-earned her income was.

The tip of her nose was red from the cold.

In weather like this, most people wouldn’t willingly step outside at all—yet she had gotten up before dawn, standing in the wind and snow for hour after hour.

“Alright, I have to get back to work.” Jiang Ruoqiao reluctantly returned the hand warmer to the photography assistant and told the two Lu boys goodbye.

Naturally, she was reminding Lu Yicheng to take Lu Siyan home soon.

It was far too cold to keep a small child outside for long—they didn’t want him catching a chill.

She slipped back into work mode. Lu Siyan played in the snow nearby, and Lu Yicheng watched her—until, at last, he couldn’t help himself. He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the stunning snow-covered scenery.

Of course, Jiang Ruoqiao in her cape was captured in the frame as well.

Lu Yicheng lowered his head and looked at the photo.

The weather was so cold, and yet the palm of his hand felt as though it was burning.

He didn’t have many photos on his phone. Sometimes he photographed scenery, sometimes food—but most often he documented moments of Lu Siyan growing up. This was the first time he had ever photographed Jiang Ruoqiao.

The photography assistant came over and murmured quietly, “That photo can’t be shared with anyone. It’s from our new collection.”

Lu Yicheng wanted to delete it—but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to press the delete button.

The photography assistant laughed softly, “It’s alright. Just don’t show anyone else—keep it for yourself.”

Lu Yicheng nodded at that, “I won’t show anyone.”

The photography assistant then asked, with the same casual tone one might use to discuss the weather, “Are you Xiaoqiao’s boyfriend?”

Lu Yicheng quickly shook his head, “No, no.”

“So you’re pursuing our Xiaoqiao, then?”

That question… Lu Yicheng didn’t deny it.

The photography assistant grinned brightly, “I could tell right away! Handsome, you’d better work hard—our Xiaoqiao has way too many people after her. See that guy over there in the pale blue traditional costume? He’s a model from another shop. Word has it he’s from the film academy, and he’s been chasing our Xiaoqiao lately—very aggressively, too.”

Lu Yicheng: “…”

He hadn’t intended to look—but he did anyway, searching for the man in blue traditional costume.

There really were many people pursuing Jiang Ruoqiao.

Even back when Jiang Ruoqiao was still with Jiang Yan, Lu Yicheng had heard Jiang Yan complaining about those people from their dormitory.

At the time, Wang Jiangfeng had said something.

“You like her, so of course other people like her too. Being pursued while you’re in a relationship is still fine—but even after she gets married, people will still come after her. This is just the beginning. If you want to date a beautiful woman, you’d better be mentally prepared for that.”

At the time, he had been an outsider, and he’d found Wang Jiangfeng’s words quite reasonable.

Now…

They were still just as reasonable.

Her goodness, her brilliance—he could see it, and so could everyone else.

…

Lu Yicheng took Lu Siyan and stayed a while longer before leaving. And yet, between his brows, there was an indefinable, faint heaviness.

Lu Siyan tugged on Lu Yicheng’s hand, “Dad, we got to see Mom today—aren’t you happy?”

“I am.”

Lu Siyan: “I heard everything. That auntie said someone was pursuing Mom.”

Then Lu Siyan adopted the tone of a grown-up advising another grown-up to be magnanimous and said, “That’s totally normal. Some people call Dad at night, and some people send flowers to Mom’s office. Auntie said Dad is very handsome and Mom is very beautiful, so lots of people like them.”

Lu Yicheng: “…”

“Mom gets jealous sometimes, and Dad gets jealous sometimes—so Auntie says we never run out of vinegar at our house!”

Lu Yicheng let out a long sigh, “You’re wrong. Right now, I don’t have the right to be jealous.”

Lu Siyan’s brow furrowed, and he gave a small nod, “That’s also true.”

“Does Mom have the right to be jealous?” Lu Siyan asked curiously.

Lu Yicheng: “…”

Yes.

But she wouldn’t be.

No—that wasn’t right either. Lu Yicheng shook his head and reminded Lu Siyan, “Those random things—don’t mention them to her.”

Lu Siyan’s round eyes blinked, “Which things are random, which things aren’t? I don’t understand.”

“You understand,” Lu Yicheng said. “What Grandma Wang said—don’t repeat it.”

“About introducing you to a girlfriend?”

Lu Yicheng restrained himself, “Yes.”

Lu Siyan looked immensely pleased with himself: “Dad was scared earlier too, wasn’t he! Don’t worry—I’d never tell her. If I told Mom, she’d get upset, and when Mom gets upset, the consequences are very serious~”

“So you wrangled a meal at Kendeji out of me?” Lu Yicheng couldn’t help laughing.

Lu Siyan: “Grandma Wang said her granddaughter is studying abroad. Said she’s very pretty too…”

Lu Yicheng made a cutting gesture, “That’s enough.”

Lu Siyan burst into laughter, then asked with bright curiosity, “Dad, is it true you could never like anyone else—only Mom? Right?”

“…” Lu Yicheng said nothing in reply, but a faint, quiet smile had settled at the corner of his lips.

That afternoon, Jiang Ruoqiao finished the shoot.

Lu Yicheng was going to the office, so Jiang Ruoqiao came over to give Lu Siyan his dinner and see him to bed. The two of them still hadn’t found a suitable nanny in this time. Fortunately, even though they were both very busy, they had already adapted to each other’s schedules. When Lu Yicheng was swamped, Jiang Ruoqiao stepped in. When Jiang Ruoqiao was busy, Lu Yicheng made sure Lu Siyan didn’t go pestering her. Jiang Ruoqiao had already had a long and tiring day, and her culinary skills were basically a blank skill tree to begin with—so cooking was completely out of the question. She ordered delivery instead, and Lu Siyan ate with great happiness.

Jiang Ruoqiao herself, however, felt vaguely dizzy and out of it. Even when the restaurant included a serving of pickled radish—once one of her favorites—she couldn’t muster any appetite for it.

Most adults have a baseline awareness of their own bodies. Jiang Ruoqiao knew she had most likely caught a cold.

She had been shooting outdoors while snow was still falling, and her outfit wasn’t particularly thick. On top of that, she hadn’t been sleeping well these past two days while rushing to meet a translation deadline—her body had lodged its protest. Lu Siyan noticed that she had no energy and was coughing. He crept over to her and stretched out his paws to feel her forehead, asking with a worried look, “Mom, are you sick?”

Jiang Ruoqiao nodded, turned away, and coughed again, “I think it’s just a cold. I’ll drink lots of hot water, and when I get back to the dorm later I’ll mix up a packet of cold medicine—I’ll be better in a day or two.”

Lu Siyan hesitated, then said, “Then… Mom, maybe you should head back and rest now? I can manage on my own!”

Jiang Ruoqiao reached over and ruffled his curly hair, “Nice try—I’m not leaving you alone at home in the middle of winter. I’m fine.”

A cold wasn’t really a big deal.

She just felt a little dizzy, and her throat was a little itchy.

It happened every year or so; she was used to it.

Lu Siyan knew that his own opinion carried no decisive weight here, so he lowered his head and shuffled off to the bathroom, while Jiang Ruoqiao hugged a pillow and drank cup after cup of hot water.

Lu Siyan still quietly picked up his watch phone and dialed Lu Yicheng’s number.

The line connected almost immediately. Lu Siyan made a deliberate effort to keep his voice low: “Dad, I think Mom’s sick—she doesn’t look well. When are you coming back? Come back soon. That way Mom can go rest sooner!”

In the office, Lu Yicheng had his phone lying next to him on speaker mode. His eyes were still fixed attentively on his computer screen, his slender fingers still clicking away at the keyboard.

But the moment he heard those words, his fingers stilled. His gaze wavered—then, after only a few seconds, he brought the phone to his ear and asked, his voice low and measured, “What happened?”

“Mom says she has a cold!”

Lu Yicheng thought of today’s snow. He thought of her standing out in the cold for hours on end through shoot after shoot. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, and his brow furrowed, “Alright. I’m leaving now. Don’t bother your mom, don’t make any fuss, and wait for me to get back before doing your craft project.”

After hanging up, Lu Yicheng saved his work, then called Brother Li to explain the situation before leaving the office.

He walked into the wind and snow, the city gone quiet and still under the deep white blanket all around him. By the time he reached the pharmacy, his hands and feet had gone completely numb with cold—but he was there.

The shop assistant brought him cold medicine, and he stiffly moved to scan his payment code—then thought of something important and asked, “Is this medicine very bitter?”

The shop assistant looked up with a surprised sound, “It does have a bit of bitterness. Is this for a child?”

Lu Yicheng, awkwardly: “No.”

The shop assistant smiled, “Then it’s fine. The bitterness is something adults can handle.”

Lu Yicheng made a sound of acknowledgment. He picked up the medicine and walked out of the pharmacy, then hesitated—and quickly braved the cold to cross the street, pushing into the convenience store. By the time he arrived, the wind had gone and numbed his entire face. He bought a bag of rainbow candies and a pack of honey loquat throat lozenges, and tucked them both into the bag with the medicine.

Jiang Ruoqiao hadn’t expected Lu Yicheng to come back so quickly.

She had drunk cup after cup of hot water, sweated a little, and was already feeling noticeably better and more clear-headed.

Only the cold had left her voice slightly nasal, which gave her words an inadvertent, almost coquettish quality when she spoke: “Why are you back so early?”

Lu Yicheng paused, catching her bright, dewy eyes. He looked away, “Siyan told me you had a cold.”

Jiang Ruoqiao laughed, “Oh come on, it’s just a cold—look at this whole production. I was starting to think I’d come down with something serious.”

Lu Yicheng’s expression turned unexpectedly stern: “Don’t say things like that.”

Jiang Ruoqiao looked at him, her eyes curved softly, “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. Sorry.”

Something like a feather brushed against Lu Yicheng’s heart—light and ticklish.

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm first.” Lu Yicheng was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke.

Jiang Ruoqiao started to say there was no need—but the usually gentle Lu Yicheng was clearly not asking for her opinion this time. He didn’t even wait for her answer. He looked her over first, then turned and headed straight into the apartment, returning with a scarf he’d pulled from the wardrobe and held out to her.

It was a smoky grey scarf—unmistakably his.

Jiang Ruoqiao looked up at him.

He explained, “It’s been washed. I haven’t worn it this year. It’s clean—no smell.”

It was really only a few seconds, but it felt like an entire century. Under Lu Yicheng’s steady gaze, Jiang Ruoqiao accepted the scarf with great ceremony.

Like accepting a bouquet of roses.

She tilted her head slightly downward, wrapping the scarf around her neck. Her chin and lips grazed the fabric.

Lu Yicheng watched her, his expression a little dazed.

He genuinely hadn’t been overthinking anything just now. He had simply felt that it was a cold night, she had a cold on top of it all, and going out like this, she definitely needed to stay warm.

He had glanced at the slender line of her neck—and then remembered he still had another scarf of his own.

But now that she had wound the scarf around herself, a thought came to him, quite suddenly, that this time last year, this same scarf had been wrapped around his own neck.

In the white fluorescent light, the tips of Lu Yicheng’s ears and his cheeks had gone faintly warm. He didn’t dare look at her anymore.

Jiang Ruoqiao kept her head lowered, the scarf covering her chin. As she bowed her head, her nose brushed the fabric, and she unconsciously breathed in. There really was no strange smell.

Only a very faint scent—of laundry soap.

She hid the smile rising to her face.

He hadn’t thought about any of that before blithely handing over his scarf to her.

And now he’d figured it out, had he?

—