Beautiful girls always get more attention and flattery, effortlessly. Lin Shuang’s mind ran a bit cruel — the ones she didn’t fancy, she dismissed; the ones delivered right to her doorstep, she dismissed; the ones that weren’t quite to her liking, she dismissed too.

Take someone like Mr. Polo Shirt — even though both of them were only in it for looks, she deliberately didn’t give him what he wanted, stringing him along unhurriedly for months, watching his reactions to amuse herself.

Mr. Polo Shirt only had good looks on the surface — bite down and it was all greasy filler. But Zhou Zheng was different — at least he was clean and crisp, and probably had some real chew to him.

Chew was more interesting than brute force.

Lin Shuang spent a few days at home over the New Year, then went to open the milk tea shop. Nana and Kevin were both still on their holiday break, so she alone minded the shop.

Fortunately, with school out of session, business at the shop wasn’t great, and she could handle it alone — half slow, half busy. She’d open around midday and close up early each night.

But there was Zhou Zheng.

The senior class had, unusually, gotten a rare ten-day winter break this year, so the school didn’t need him for much extra duty, and he stayed in the city with Lin Shuang the whole time.

In matters between men and women, it’s hard to draw a clear line between a man’s flattering attentiveness and his down-to-earth good intentions, but Zhou Zheng at least handled things cleanly, and Lin Shuang hadn’t felt any distaste toward him from the very start.

“There’s a new restaurant nearby — want to try it together for lunch?”

“I still need to watch the shop — a supplier’s dropping off a delivery later.” She lowered her head, doing the accounts. “Aren’t you good at cooking, Teacher Zhou? I wonder if I’d have the honor of tasting your cooking?”

She’d seen him buying quite a lot of groceries at the supermarket that day — more than enough for one person.

When he heard her say this, his dark eyes suddenly seemed to light up, his expression carrying a touch of bashfulness: “Of course. Then once it’s ready… should I bring it over to you?”

“No need — there’s not much foot traffic in the shop at midday anyway.” She looked up at him, smiling. “You cook it, then call me, and I’ll come over to you — no need for you to run back and forth.”

Since Lin Shuang had made the request, Zhou Zheng really did roll up his sleeves and go home to cook. When she went over, she could smell the aroma of food in the stairwell; the old iron door was left ajar, and she could hear the faint splash of water from the kitchen.

The apartment was bright inside, and at the very least, everything that should have been tidied away was neatly put away, with none of the mess typically found in a single man’s home.

Three dishes and a soup sat on the table, freshly out of the pan, colors pleasing to the eye.

Zhou Zheng came out of the kitchen carrying bowls and chopsticks, not wearing some fussy apron, just a light gray knit sweater, a few water droplets splashed on the hem, leaving darker damp marks.

This was the first time Lin Shuang was truly eating a meal he’d cooked, and it tasted different from the lunchboxes he’d brought her before — the cafeteria rice was always soft, the vegetables always carrying a slightly sour tang from being stewed too long, whereas this meal had the genuine, homey warmth of a stove just taken off the flame.

It was also different from the way Fu Min cooked — her mother liked spicy food, sometimes over-seasoned, while Zhou Zheng’s cooking was lighter.

In today’s society’s definition of men, a man’s charm in cooking pales in comparison to the charm of being able to afford a professional chef — but in reality, a man willing to wash his hands and cook a meal for you is as rare as an endangered species.

For this meal, Lin Shuang, unusually, didn’t touch her phone at all; the two of them sat properly at the table and ate.

She asked him: “When did you learn to cook, Teacher Zhou? Who taught you?”

“I’ve known how since I was little — no one really taught me, I just watched a lot and gradually picked it up.”

Country kids tend to have stronger hands-on skills — as a child, burying a fire pit in the field and roasting sweet potatoes and soybeans was already an early lesson in cooking, not to mention catching fish and digging out bird eggs, all in the name of satisfying a craving.

“That’s nice.”

He kept his head down, eating, then suddenly asked her, out of nowhere: “So going forward… will you still want the cafeteria lunchboxes?”

Lin Shuang glanced sideways at him, looking down into her bowl of soup: “No need, I think.”

She cupped her cheeks in her hands, smiling brightly: “If I need to, wouldn’t it be even better if I just came here to eat?”

“That works too.” He nodded seriously, smiling at her.

His smile was very bright and open, with a hidden pointed canine tooth, giving off the flavor of an ocean-salt soda on a summer day — clean and refreshing.

Strange — he clearly wasn’t the outgoing, lively type of personality.

Lin Shuang looked away.

After the meal, Zhou Zheng went to the kitchen to wash the dishes, while Lin Shuang wandered out to the balcony to smoke and check on the few pots of cactus.

The old-style balcony was quite spacious, the floor tiles a pale blue terrazzo from decades past, with a somewhat retro, faded tone. The cactus was potted in an old-fashioned enamel basin, the rim chipped with red paint peeling to reveal the rusted ring beneath; the plant’s leaves were thick and glossy, looking like they’d been there for quite a few years.

“Left behind by the previous tenant, who asked me to look after it,” he said, coming over once he’d finished the dishes. “Have you ever seen a cactus bloom?”

She thought carefully. “No — does it bloom?”

“It bloomed once a couple years back — white flowers, very pretty. Not sure if it’ll bloom again this year.”

“Really? Then I’ll look forward to it — hope it blooms some pretty flowers again this year too.”

“Cacti bloom in summer. When it flowers, come by and take a look.” He turned to face her, speaking earnestly.

“Sure.” She replied lightly.

The balcony had plenty of light. Zhou Zheng took a damp cloth and, bit by bit, wiped down the cactus’s leaves, polishing them until they gleamed, green and vivid, looking like translucent pieces of jade under the sunlight.

She leaned against the balcony window, bathed entirely in the abundant light, her skin flawless, faintly pink over white, her whole body languid and soft, her gaze melting too, silently watching his meticulous movements.

Once Zhou Zheng finished wiping the cactus leaves, he set down the cloth and went to wash his hands at the sink, then turned to look at the quiet Lin Shuang — caught off guard by the sight of her, her cheeks flushed like flower petals, her languid, sultry gaze like half-melted candy sticking to him.

Their eyes met in the air, like a “crack” of static electricity, sparking a small flash.

He seemed to be stung, and, having been in the sun, felt his face flush a little too.

“Zhou Zheng, I’m a bit thirsty — could you pour me a glass of water?” She threaded her fingers through her hair, tossing it lazily.

“Sure.” Zhou Zheng nodded and turned toward the kitchen.

The weather forecast said today’s high would be twenty-two degrees, suitable for a Spring Festival outing, thin clothing, and guarding against catching a cold from the day-night temperature swing.

Lin Shuang, sweating under the midday sun, felt a bit cooler once she walked into the bedroom.

He came out carrying a glass of water; she naturally reached out to take it, standing right in front of him.

An ordinary clear glass cup, the water at just the right temperature, soothing her dry throat. Lin Shuang lowered her eyes to drink, her lips left moist and vivid.

Zhou Zheng pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling his own mouth go dry.

Lin Shuang handed the empty glass back to him; he reached out to take it, but grasped at nothing.

She’d swung the glass around him, setting it down on the desk behind him, and her hand, withdrawing, landed on his bare forearm where his sleeve was rolled up, sliding gently over his skin.

The man’s arm was firm, with a thin layer of muscle — not too soft, not too rough either.

Lin Shuang’s body leaned in to follow, playfully and clingingly pressing against his shoulder, her lips still carrying a faint coolness of moisture as they brushed lightly, dragonfly-light, against his dry lips. Her gaze was misty as she asked him softly: “Zhou Zheng, are you thirsty too?”

Zhou Zheng looked at her, so close now, vivid and intoxicating as a poppy flower steeped in strong wine, blatantly teasing him; his lashes trembled, his throat bobbing twice, and he gave a hoarse, low hum.

She laughed softly, affectionately looping her arm through his, and pushed him down to sit on the bed. Zhou Zheng’s body swayed; she straddled him unrestrainedly, her bright eyes staring at him openly.

Her eyes were beautiful, almond-shaped, with a soft curve, thick long lashes.

The ten-second rule of a man and woman locking eyes — either you embrace and kiss, or you smile and let the fantasy dissolve.

Zhou Zheng couldn’t escape it.

As if bewitched, he cupped her face in both hands; her cheeks were warm from the sun, his hands slightly cool, the touch pleasantly chilly against her skin.

Lin Shuang narrowed her eyes.

He swallowed something down: “Shuangshuang, let me kiss you.”

Along with his trembling whisper came his shaky kiss, falling light as a feather, pecking again and again at her lips, awkward and nervous, lingering and turning.

It was the first time Zhou Zheng had kissed her on his own initiative.

Lin Shuang lowered her eyes and responded, deepening the heat of the kiss.

The room was bright, the atmosphere charged and ambiguous, like a tango for two immersed in a lonely world of their own.

The kiss ebbed and flowed, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes light, sometimes lingering, like a fish swimming, drifting through clear stream water.

Their positions shifted from sitting to lying flat, Lin Shuang pressed on top of him, the temperature climbing steadily; neither of them wore much, their bodies pressed together, hot and vigorous, soft as water in some places, tense and hard in others.

Both bodies could feel it.

Zhou Zheng unconsciously tightened his grip around her waist, his embrace drawing tighter and tighter. Lin Shuang’s hand quietly slipped under the hem of his sweater; beneath the knit was a white cotton undershirt, the feel of his skin very good.

Her hand lingered, drifting lower.

At some point Zhou Zheng suddenly came back to himself, precisely catching her hand; opening his eyes again, they were red, his pupils dark as if dripping wet, and he lifted her off of him, breathing hard: “I’ve got something to take care of — I need to go to the school.”

Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Lin Shuang arched an eyebrow, smiling with a hint of cunning malice, grinding her teeth, then suddenly caught his lip between her teeth and bit down hard, as if venting frustration.

The man’s lips were soft and smooth; biting into them felt springy, and she pierced the flesh of his lip without mercy.

He winced in pain, his breath suddenly ragged, a sharp, barely bearable ache; the pain traveled through his nerves and turned into something faintly pleasurable too. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and back, flipped them over, pinning Lin Shuang down, and parted his lips to pry open her tightly closed teeth.

This kiss was urgent and scorching, licking, biting, sucking, turning over and over, a faint metallic tang of blood passing between their tongues, finally dissolving into a tangle of tongues, licking and biting.

The more mischief Lin Shuang stirred up, the harder he held on. Zhou Zheng caught her hands and pinned them above her head, nailing her whole body down.

Tossed about like this by him, her cheeks flushed like she was drunk, breathing hard, she stared straight at him.

The arrow was nocked, drawn to the string — but at the last moment, Zhou Zheng stopped, his sweat-beaded forehead resting against her dark hair, his voice long and hoarse: “Shuangshuang, this is too fast… can we slow down a bit?”

He kissed her forehead: “Please don’t do this to me…”

Zhou Zheng climbed off the bed, his back hunched, his whole body drained of energy.

Lin Shuang’s heart, which had been dangling in midair, dropped with a thud, and she cursed under her breath.

She wanted to smash his stupid head in.

She smiled, silently grinding her teeth: “Great. Just great.”