In the first semester of his senior year, Chen Luobai began an internship at the Supreme People’s Court.
Each year, the Supreme People’s Court regularly accepts a batch of interns from major universities nationwide. Most are law school master’s or doctoral students, with a small number of exceptional undergraduates also selected. The annual internship positions are limited and highly competitive. Chen Luobai was the only undergraduate chosen from A University that year.
They had both participated in their university’s summer camp for postgraduate recommendation over the past two summers, making their admission to graduate school almost certain.
Zhou Anran would naturally study under Professor Song.
Chen Luobai chose to focus on criminal law, with a supervisor who was one of the most renowned experts in criminal law in China.
The Supreme Court internship would last five months, from September to January of the following year. As it required full-time participation, Chen Luobai moved to an off-campus apartment for convenience.
Zhou Anran had not yet officially moved in with him.
With her lab work and studies to juggle, living on campus was more time-efficient for her. Chen Luobai had been staying on campus with her all along, even during his internship at the district procuratorate last summer.
However, this internship was more demanding and longer-lasting, so Zhou Anran encouraged him to move to the apartment.
Yet when he moved out, she found herself unexpectedly uncomfortable with the change.
His apartment was just a short distance from campus. Back in freshman year when they weren’t so busy, they often walked there together. But somehow, once he moved out, she felt like he suddenly lived so much farther away.
To make matters worse, Zhou Anran was especially busy during the first few days of the new semester.
With only the final steps of the postgraduate recommendation process remaining, Professor Song had essentially started treating her as a graduate student under his supervision, no longer as courteous in his requests as before.
In the first few days of the semester, Zhou Anran didn’t even get a chance to see Chen Luobai.
It wasn’t until Thursday afternoon that she finally had some free time, but Chen Luobai happened to be working overtime that day.
Not wanting to disturb him, Zhou Anran waited until she had showered and gotten into bed that night, figuring he should be done with work by then, before sending him a WeChat message: [Have you showered?]
His reply came quickly.
C: [Yes]
Knowing he had been extremely busy these past few days, Zhou Anran didn’t want to keep him chatting for too long: [Then get some rest soon?]
C: [Can’t sleep]
Zhou Anran quickly asked: [What’s wrong?]
C: [Thinking about my heartless girlfriend who just wants to send me off to bed after exchanging one sentence]
Zhou Anran: “…”
The corners of her lips curved up involuntarily.
Zhou Anran: [Not true]
C: [Then shall I pick you up tomorrow night?]
Zhou Anran: [I’ll come over myself tomorrow]
*
The next afternoon, Zhou Anran had originally planned to go wait for him so they could have dinner together, but Chen Luobai had to work overtime again. He sent a message telling her not to wait for him on an empty stomach, so she had dinner with her roommates in the cafeteria before riding her bike to his apartment.
After entering, Zhou Anran lay down on the sofa and opened a paper she had downloaded on her phone, intending to read while waiting for him. But she had been so busy herself these past few days that before she knew it, she had dozed off.
When she woke up, she felt someone lifting her.
Zhou Anran opened her eyes to see a tall young man bent over at her side.
His usual style leaned towards sportswear, but today, returning from work at the Supreme Court, he was dressed more formally. His black trousers were crisp, a black belt accentuating his slim waist above. The white dress shirt draped smoothly over his broad shoulders. Perhaps because he had come to check on her as soon as he entered, not a single button of his shirt was undone, giving him an inexplicably austere air.
Zhou Anran couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The boy she had fallen for at first sight seemed to have grown into a steady, reliable adult before her very eyes – yet still radiating that same brilliance.
Chen Luobai had initially intended to carry her to bed, but seeing she was awake, he let go and lightly tapped her nose. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
As he said this, the corner of his mouth quirked up, and that youthful exuberance seemed to bubble up again.
Zhou Anran wasn’t fully awake yet. Perhaps it was the lingering drowsiness suppressing her usual reserve, or maybe it was the sense of dependence cultivated over time. She grabbed his wrist as she sat up, nestling into his embrace, and said softly, “I missed you so much.”
Chen Luobai’s motion to hug her back paused.
“Zhou Anran.”
“Mm.” The young woman responded with a slight nasal tone.
Chen Luobai’s breathing deepened slightly as he lowered his gaze to look at her. “You know I can’t resist when you say things like that to me, right?”
Zhou Anran blinked and raised her eyes to meet his gaze.
After being together for several years, he often knew what she wanted without her having to say it.
Just like now, without him having to speak, she also knew what he wanted to do.
Chen Luobai raised his hand to undo the top two buttons of his shirt, then unbuttoned the cuffs, rolling up his sleeves halfway to reveal his muscular forearms.
His gaze remained fixed on her the entire time, slightly darkened, with that familiar hint of allure.
But when he spoke to her again, it seemed completely unrelated, yet also as if seeking confirmation: “You’ve had dinner, right?”
Zhou Anran’s heart was racing.
The drowsiness had receded, and she was actually starting to feel embarrassed, but she still nodded at him.
Chen Luobai’s hand, which had just been unbuttoning his shirt, moved to cup the nape of her neck.
The living room suddenly fell silent.
Only some faint rustling sounds remained.
After quite a while, the young woman’s voice, half shy and half annoyed, broke the silence.
“Chen Luobai!”
“I told you not to bite that mole in summer.”
Chen Luobai lifted his head. The hem of his shirt had long since come untucked from his trousers, slightly open to reveal his lean, strong abs. The corner of his mouth quirked up again. “You only said no biting, not no kissing, right? What’s not forbidden is allowed, baby.”
Zhou Anran: “…?”
“Is that how you’re supposed to use ‘what’s not forbidden is allowed’?”
“Why can’t I use it like that?” Chen Luobai smiled. “Aren’t you my fundamental law?”
Zhou Anran glared at him but somehow ended up smiling again. “Then no kissing today either.”
“Alright, no more kissing then.”
Chen Luobai’s free hand braced against her side, the veins on his forearm slightly prominent. He leaned close to her ear, as if kissing it, yet not quite, his warm breath brushing against her earlobe.
“Want to sit on my lap?”
Zhou Anran instantly understood his meaning, her heart racing again.
She averted her gaze but still nodded.
Chen Luobai withdrew his other hand and reached out to lift her.
Zhou Anran looked down and saw a glistening sheen on his long fingers. Her face flushed red again, and she lightly kicked his foot, reminding him, “The skirt.”
Chen Luobai glanced down, noting she was wearing a little black dress similar to the one she had worn when bringing him medicine in their sophomore year.
“Keep the skirt on?”
Zhou Anran: “…?”
Once she was straddling him, Zhou Anran immediately buried her face in the crook of his neck.
Chen Luobai seemed to take a light breath, his voice low near her ear, “Relax, baby.”
Zhou Anran’s face was still hidden against his shoulder. It was hard to tell if it was from discomfort or just wanting to act coy with him. Her muffled voice came out, “It feels so full.”
Chen Luobai chuckled again. “How are you still not used to it?”
Zhou Anran: “…”
How could she get used to this?
He was so…
This man was always excessively wicked at times like these. Not hearing her reply, that still slightly damp hand moved to her chin, gently yet forcefully compelling her to lift her head and meet his gaze.
“Why so quiet?”
Embarrassed and annoyed, Zhou Anran simply leaned in and bit his lip.
“So you wanted me to kiss you after all.” The corner of that rascal’s eyebrow lifted slightly as he smiled, his hand moving to the back of her neck and pressing lightly, truly kissing her in this position.
Outside, the sky gradually darkened.
The last rays of sunlight faded, and dusk settled in.
Until the final trace of daylight disappeared and the city was relit by neon lights.
Zhou Anran’s eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness. Looking down, she could see a faint sheen of sweat on his pale neck. She buried her face against him again, feeling the slight dampness, her unsteady heartbeat, and her breathing still erratic.
It was hard to tell if it was hers or his.
Chen Luobai’s hand idly played with her slightly sweat-dampened hair. After a moment, he spoke, “Were the experiments tiring these past few days?”
“Not tiring,” Zhou Anran said, her hand clutching his wrinkled shirt shoulder. She softly reminded him, “You should pull out first.”
Chen Luobai: “Let’s chat like this for a bit.”
Zhou Anran: “…”
Who chats like this?
She couldn’t help but lean down and bite his neck.
Chen Luobai let her bite him before chuckling in her ear, “Seems you like my outfit today. This is the first time you’ve bitten me tonight.”
Zhou Anran did indeed very much like how he looked in formal wear today.
But his current words had a deeper meaning.
She blushed, “Not true.”
Chen Luobai: “Then who was it earlier that—”
Guessing he was about to say something improper again, Zhou Anran hurriedly interrupted, “Don’t you dare say it.”
Chen Luobai hugged her, laughing uncontrollably, his chest visibly shaking.
Zhou Anran felt embarrassed and annoyed again: “And don’t laugh either.”
“Alright,” Chen Luobai barely managed to stop laughing. “Any other orders from my girlfriend?”
The corners of Zhou Anran’s lips curved up involuntarily again: “Then carry me to the shower.”
By the time they returned from the bathroom to the bedroom, it was already late at night.
Chen Luobai reached out to turn off the light, his free hand naturally pulling her into his embrace.
Zhou Anran felt his hand idly playing with her hair again, like before. Then she heard him call her name very softly.
“Anran.”
Zhou Anran responded just as softly: “What is it?”
“I think I’ve decided,” Chen Luobai said.
Zhou Anran: “Decided what?”
Chen Luobai: “I’ll probably apply for the national civil service exam, aiming directly for the Supreme Court or Supreme Procuratorate. I’ll decide which one specifically after my internship at the Supreme Procuratorate next year.”
Zhou Anran suddenly remembered the day she first learned he planned to intern at the Supreme Court. Out of curiosity, she had casually searched for the Supreme Court’s official website. As soon as she clicked in, she saw a line of large text at the top—
“Strive to ensure that the people feel fairness and justice in every judicial case”
She also recalled that rainy day in their freshman year when they were trapped in a convenience store. They weren’t together yet then. She had rested her chin on the table, listening to him say, “My parents always say that our current laws still have many shortcomings. I hope that whatever I do in the future, I can contribute to improving these deficiencies.”
The Supreme Court was about to issue a new judicial interpretation.
His internship assignment involved some auxiliary work in drafting this judicial interpretation. He would be participating in the entire process.
In just three short years, he seemed to already be realizing those idealistic words from back then.
Even if an intern’s involvement was limited, it was still just as he had said then – they would shine as brightly as the passion they held.
Zhou Anran said softly, “I’m sure you’ll make it.”
Chen Luobai chuckled again, “You still have so much faith in me?”
Zhou Anran’s face heated up again.
Chen Luobai seemed to guess that she was blushing. His hand affectionately touched her face. When he continued their previous topic, his voice still carried a hint of laughter: “But I hear the salaries at the Supreme Court and Supreme Procuratorate aren’t very high. You might end up having to support me in the future.”
Zhou Anran had heard Zhu Ran gossip to her about how wealthy he was.
Not that his family was rich, but that he was very well-off.
When he turned eighteen, his grandfather had given him shares in the family business. All his prize money and New Year’s red envelopes from childhood had been professionally managed for him. Zhu Ran had exaggerated at the time, saying that with compound interest, who knew how many digits his wealth had reached by now?
Zhou Anran had just listened for fun back then. It wasn’t until after she married Chen Luobai and he handed over all his bank cards to her that she realized Zhu Ran hadn’t exaggerated one bit.
But at this moment, even though Zhou Anran knew he was joking, she still went along with it: “Alright then.”
“Zhou Anran,” Chen Luobai suddenly called her name again.
Zhou Anran blinked, “What is it?”
The laughter in Chen Luobai’s voice became more evident: “Does this mean you’re agreeing to marry me in the future?”
Zhou Anran: “…?”
Why did he suddenly jump to this topic?
Zhou Anran couldn’t bring herself to say “no,” but she was also too embarrassed to say “yes” right now.
She hugged the young man’s waist and buried her face in his chest: “I’m sleepy, let’s go to bed.”