Once Lin Shuang let it go, her whole outlook opened up at once.

At least during those three months, the two of them had been well matched in bed. Lin Shuang liked that clean, grounded resilience of Zhou Zheng’s, and he’d genuinely surprised her too.

After the shower, Lin Shuang showed not the slightest inclination to lift a finger for herself.

The two of them had an unspoken understanding — one glance from her, and Zhou Zheng got the message, helping her dress, drying her hair, changing the ointment patches on her shoulder.

He naturally had his own bodily instincts, but Zhou Zheng quickly settled himself down — he hadn’t lost his mind to the point of harboring impure thoughts about an injured Lin Shuang.

Even if he had, the timing would have been far too inappropriate.

But Zhou Zheng could feel it — her attitude had suddenly gone a bit “slack.” She lounged lazily against the chair back, having him help apply a face mask, eating grapes he’d handed to her, enjoying the hair-drying service he provided.

“This spot still really hurts. Didn’t you buy that ointment? Rub some on for me.”

Lin Shuang surveyed her own leg, a sorry sight, touching it with a fingertip and hissing softly through her teeth, brows knit.

Her skin was delicate, and in that fall her leg had hit the shower threshold — from calf to thigh, connecting to the knee, a spreading swath of deep purple-black bruising.

Zhou Zheng saw it too — her skin was pale and smooth, flawless, and these large patches of bruising were genuinely startling to look at.

“Not going to help?” Lin Shuang glanced at him, her tone even. “Just give me the ointment, I’ll rub it on myself.”

Zhou Zheng’s brows knit slightly. He went to find the bruise ointment he’d bought, stuffed two throw pillows behind her, and said evenly, “I’ll do it.”

Lin Shuang, perfectly at ease, laid her entire leg out in front of him without hesitation.

He twisted open the ointment, a sharp, medicinal scent bursting out. Zhou Zheng scooped some out, rubbed it between his palms, and touched her leg.

Both of them, without meaning to, thought of before — that old-fashioned bed, him exploring her with restraint, stroking her skin bit by bit, his arm curved around her leg, lingering there, pressure firm and deep, two different textures of skin brushing and rubbing against each other, an indescribable tenderness and affection.

Not the fast-food kind of passion, the recreational, tension-releasing sort common among people these days.

Lin Shuang’s long lashes fluttered lightly; her leg shifted.

“Does it hurt? I’ll go lighter.” He kept his head down, his gaze focused on the purple-black bruising, easing the movement of his hand.

The medicinal scent was heavy and pungent. The ointment in his palm had a slippery, viscous texture; he steadied her faintly trembling leg, sensing she might be a little afraid of pain, and grew even gentler, his palm rubbing across her skin, working it in bit by bit, letting the ointment soak into her skin.

The pressure was very light, causing Lin Shuang no real pain, but she still felt as though she were enduring something, watching his movements in silence.

By the time Zhou Zheng had finished the whole routine, both of them seemed to let out a breath of relief.

He carried her to bed to rest, and she reached out with her good arm, quietly wrapping it around his neck.

Zhou Zheng instinctively held her more securely.

She lay on the bed, her eyes very calm, watching him arrange her phone and the AC remote for her, bring over a water cup, calcium tablets, medication, and a snack to satisfy any cravings — all within her easy reach.

Honestly, out of all the men — whether boyfriends or dating prospects — in terms of thoughtfulness and patience, probably no one could compare to Zhou Zheng. Of course other men had their own strengths — handsome, wealthy, witty and lively, well-read, and so on — but thoughtfulness and attentiveness seemed like such a minor virtue by comparison.

“When are you coming by next?” Lin Shuang asked him.

Zhou Zheng studied her expression, unable to quite read it — did she not want him to come, or did she want him to?

“When do you need me to come?” he asked. “School starts up again these next few days, classes begin. I have a meeting tomorrow, and evening study hall.”

Lin Shuang said nothing, then changed tack. “If you get the chance, buy a clay pot and bring it over. All we have here is a stir-fry pan — the housekeeper said we should get a clay pot for making soup.”

She’d stayed shut in these past days recovering, the housekeeper coming by for three hours every noon, cooking lunch and tidying the apartment. Lin Shuang ate simply — milk and eggs in the morning, the amount the housekeeper cooked at noon sufficient for two meals — no need for Zhou Zheng to lend much of a hand.

The only thing she still needed help with was personal matters like bathing and dressing.

Lin Shuang thought it over, then added, “Never mind, don’t trouble yourself, I’ll just order one online.”

“I’ll bring over the clay pot from my place. No use for it there anymore.” He happened to have one at home — the one he’d prepared for her before. “No classes tomorrow afternoon, I’ll bring it by.”

Lin Shuang nodded. “Okay.”

She thought of school. “You’re not a homeroom teacher this year?”

“Right, wanted to free up some time this year, learn something new.”

She marveled at his drive to improve himself.

Though he wasn’t a homeroom teacher this year, Zhou Zheng still taught math to two science-track classes, plus a daily lunchtime tutoring session for the math competition class, on top of some miscellaneous departmental duties — not exactly idle, but at least freed from early morning study hall and evening dorm checks, no longer stuck stationed at school for long stretches.

Zhou Zheng thought of something else too. “That little brother of yours — he’s a senior this year too, isn’t he?”

Little brother?

Lin Shuang registered it — he meant Qi Ling. “Yeah.”

“That… Uncle Qi reached out to me a while back, asking about summer tutoring.” Zhou Zheng said. “That kid’s grades might not be great — I checked, and it might be a bit touch-and-go.”

“Uncle Qi asked you for a favor?” Lin Shuang raised an eyebrow.

“Not exactly, just said hello, asked about some school situations.” Zhou Zheng’s expression stayed easy.

After all, on the surface, they really weren’t that close. But Zhou Zheng’s teaching reputation was well known, and Qi Xiong genuinely did want to ask Zhou Zheng for help — though Lin Shuang, as the go-between, had never been willing to bridge that connection.

To Zhou Zheng, this was about the only advantage his profession offered — helping out really wasn’t unreasonable.

Lin Shuang glanced at him, tone indifferent. “If his grades are bad, they’re bad. He doesn’t even mind himself, and I’ve got nothing to do with him — no need for me to manage him.”

He seemed about to say something, but in the end held back.

Since she had no interest in the matter, Zhou Zheng naturally couldn’t push any further.

When Zhou Zheng brought the clay pot over, Lin Shuang’s place was fairly lively — the housekeeper was collecting laundry on the balcony, and Miao Cai had her own mother stew a pot of chicken soup and sent it over to nourish Lin Shuang.

The situation was rather amusing — the housekeeper had always assumed Zhou Zheng was Lin Shuang’s boyfriend. “Mr. Zhou, there are only two eggs left in the fridge, and the beef and shrimp are gone too.”

The housekeeper only handled small produce purchases from the shop downstairs; most of the household grocery arrangements were still handled by Zhou Zheng.

“Got it.”

He nodded at Miao Cai, exchanged a few pleasantries, and turned to head downstairs.

Miao Cai clicked her tongue, winking at Lin Shuang. “What exactly is going on with you two? Did you get back together?”

“No.”

Getting back together was simply not possible.

“Then what’s this about? This meticulous care and attentiveness…”

“Just humanitarian concern, that’s all.”

Miao Cai burst out laughing. “Humanitarian concern?”

Lin Shuang corrected her. “Not meticulous at all — he comes once every day or two, never stays long, and I’ve been paying him anyway, running-errand fees included.”

She’d transferred Zhou Zheng money for daily grocery expenses, and Zhou Zheng had accepted it too.

Both of them understood — at the very least, the money side needed to stay clear-cut.

Miao Cai found it thoroughly entertaining, propping her chin in her hand. “Well, I’ll be watching closely to see how far this humanitarian spirit evolves. Might be looking at a harmonious society right around the corner.”

Lin Shuang laughed too. A harmonious society?

Cooped up at home for nearly ten days now, Lin Shuang had improved a great deal — her arm didn’t hurt as badly, could move a little now too, and at night she could take off the sling to sleep, though her sleep was still restless, a dull ache lingering throughout her body.

Fu Min called her every week as usual, and Lin Shuang brushed her off each time, never mentioning the injury at all. She didn’t have many close friends to begin with — most of her female friends found her a bit distant, never especially close. With men, she kept her boundaries firm — never entertaining ones she didn’t want to talk to, and for now, there wasn’t anyone she particularly wanted to talk to either.

Zhang Fan, Nana, and Kevin, though, would drop by from time to time to chat and help pass the time.

Zhou Zheng took her for a follow-up at the hospital, got an X-ray done — the callus hadn’t formed yet, but it was healing slowly. The doctor said to keep the sling on another two or three weeks, and this time didn’t even prescribe medication, just taught her a few passive exercises before sending Lin Shuang home.

In truth, Lin Shuang could have gone out and about perfectly well, but she found herself unsightly with the sling on and didn’t want to draw attention going out — she hadn’t even been to the bubble tea shop, spending every day cooped up at home playing games and watching movies, at most sunbathing to pass the time.

Zhou Zheng noticed this too, and one day, as he was leaving, asked her, “Want to go out for a walk?”

Lin Shuang was standing by the window looking at the street below, and after thinking it over, said in a casual tone, “Sure, I haven’t been out in a while.”

Pants weren’t practical, so Lin Shuang picked out a vivid long dress, draped a light cardigan over her shoulders to hide her arm underneath, and put on makeup and jewelry too, rising radiant and striking from her vanity mirror.

By the time this carefully chosen outfit was assembled, night had already fallen. A light spritz of perfume, and she twirled her skirt hem, seemingly in good spirits, and asked the man waiting outside the door with a bright smile, “Look good?”

Zhou Zheng paused for a moment, didn’t respond right away, his expression a little odd.

That midnight phone call had been like flipping a switch — once pressed, he found himself unconsciously being led along by her. He knew this current dynamic between them was strange, especially whenever there was physical contact, but he couldn’t resist this earnest sort of strangeness either, and couldn’t think of any way to be around her that wasn’t strange.

But it should end sooner or later, he figured — whenever her injury healed, whenever she no longer needed him around to help.

Lin Shuang picked up her handbag too, changed into a pair of red-soled heels, full of enthusiasm. “Let’s go get coffee at the fountain plaza.”

She hadn’t been out in so long — seeing the busy traffic on the road, the neon lights lit up, her eyes suddenly brightened, and the urge to shop stirred in her. She browsed happily, buying things along the way, and finally got a coffee at the café, even ordering a slice of cream cake, sitting on the fountain steps to enjoy city life leisurely.

Zhou Zheng’s hand stopped her. “The doctor said to eat less sweets — too much sugar isn’t good for healing.”

“I’ll just have a little.” She held the small cake, her eyes glinting with allure, poked out the tip of her tongue, pink and moist, licked the layer of cream on top, savored it slowly, then held the cake out in front of him, asking with a playful smile, “Want some?”

Zhou Zheng shifted his hips, putting some distance between them, turning his head aside, ears faintly reddening. “No thanks.”

“It’s really sweet, you know.”

Zhou Zheng got up and went to watch the musical fountain rising and falling, only turning back once she’d finished the cake. “It’s getting late, let’s head back.”

Lin Shuang’s lips curved up, her skirt fluttering as she walked into the warm evening breeze.

Her injured right arm, so long as she didn’t strain it, could now move slowly and slightly on its own — she no longer needed Zhou Zheng following her step by step.

Zhou Zheng removed her jewelry for her, walked her to the bathroom, and waited outside the door.

Zhou Zheng knew he needed to keep his distance from the bathroom.

When she came out from her shower, she stood dripping and flushed pink on the bath mat, carefully bracing herself against the wall, waiting for him to wrap her tightly in a towel. He draped the soft, large towel over her head, wrapping the rosy-cheeked girl up.

With any other man, who knows what desperate, ravenous thing might have happened — but Zhou Zheng’s self-restraint clearly exceeded Lin Shuang’s expectations.

The weather was already hot, and as he dried her hair, Lin Shuang endured it patiently, letting Zhou Zheng go about his work, until finally she couldn’t stand the heat any longer, pushed aside her half-damp, tangled hair, squinted her eyes against the hot air blowing over her head, and tilted her head, resting against his shoulder.

The pose was like a little bird accidentally caught in a net.

Zhou Zheng switched off the hairdryer, and just then lowered his long-lashed gaze to look at her, right as Lin Shuang happened to glance up at him too. At such close range, their gazes tangled together.

It was hard to describe how the other person appeared in one’s own eyes, but surely each was a different presence entirely.

Neither of them spoke, holding this odd position.

Lin Shuang’s starry eyes flickered, and lifting her lovely head, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek — a beautiful, smiling curve to her lips, her eyes brimming with light, more dazzling than a sea of stars.

He lowered his gaze to look at her, his eyes carrying an emotion both deep and heavy, yet suddenly bright too, gleaming with a lustrous glow.

She truly smiled — a wholly happy smile, a little tender, a little coy, a little exhilarated, gripping his T-shirt, planting kisses one after another along his cheek, his face, finally wandering to the corner of his mouth, pecking lightly on his lips.

Something stirred in Zhou Zheng’s chest, his throat bobbing along with it, his entire body scorched by this moist, warm kiss.

Just as her lips were about to pull away, uncertain where to retreat to, he lowered his head and chased after her, kissing her without restraint.

A man who’s tasted the flavor once knows well the taste of these petal-soft cherry lips.

Lin Shuang nestled into his embrace, gladly accepting his kiss.

The kiss started out light and comfortable, gentle and testing, lips meeting and brushing softly — then turned turbulent and intense, drawing in the pursuit and tangling of tongues.

Her whole body, delicate and exquisite, cool and pleasant, nestled into his arms; the man’s kiss was scorching hot, the fabric of his clothes somewhat rough against her skin. Her entire body pressed against him, like softened rice cake, shapeless and yielding, and for an instant she felt like the Princess and the Pea, tossing restlessly, gripping him and pulling toward the bed.

It wasn’t only him — she too had gone without for a long while.

He kissed her tender red lips, held the person in his arms, carefully protecting her injured shoulder.

When the passionate kiss ended, both of them were breathless, cheeks flushed hot.

She looked at him, tugging at his clothes, tilting her head back to catch her breath, her lips flushed and vivid, her eyes moist. “Zhou Zheng, want to develop something?”

Zhou Zheng froze. “What… develop?”

She was soft and sweet, pulling at his clothes, a bright smile blooming on her face. “How about we become fuck buddies?”

Zhou Zheng’s expression went rigid at once, his dark pupils suddenly contracting, staring fixedly at the person before him.

She figured Zhou Zheng wouldn’t object.

How could he possibly object? She was so beautiful, and he liked her too.

“You…” His voice came out rough, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “This is what you’re thinking?”

“This way is fair. We each get what we need, don’t interfere with each other.”

Enjoy the body, but without investing feelings — free to come and go, no burden or pressure on either side.

Zhou Zheng frowned, took a step back, holding her at arm’s length, leaving her standing there.

His expression crumbled, jaw clenched tight. He turned to leave, gritting his teeth. “What do you take me for?”

“Fuck buddies? I. Don’t. Want. That.”

“Zhou Zheng, don’t play dumb — every single time, I’ve seen how you react to me.” Her brows arched sharply, her face flushed crimson. “You really think you’re some paragon of virtue?”

He turned back, brows drawn tight, glaring at her fiercely, his gaze deep and dark.

“Zhou Zheng!”

Even a great beauty could feel unsatisfied, furious, at her wit’s end.

Zhou Zheng’s face went ashen, and he walked away without a backward glance.

Last time, she’d only wanted to fool around.

This time —

She just wanted to treat him as a fuck buddy, no feelings involved!