The return to Chongli seemed urgent. That afternoon, they packed their snowboards and sent them via SF Express to Zhangjiakou. Wei Zhi checked out of the hotel, hurriedly preparing to go home.

Mainly because when she informed her family about going to Zhangjiakou, she was scolded. It wasn’t too severe, just her mother asking if the ground in Nancheng was too hot for her feet, or if her home sofa was biting her butt.

Wei Zhi emphasized that both trips to Guangzhou and Chongli were for work, but it was like the boy who cried wolf – they didn’t believe her at all.

But what could she do? It was for work.

The trip from Nancheng to Guangzhou was a spur-of-the-moment decision, coaxed by the man. When she left, she hadn’t even had time to water her houseplants. Her procrastination meant the snow gear she brought back from Xinjiang hadn’t been washed yet…

Everything was in chaos.

There was no way she could pack that suitcase immediately.

The thought gave Wei Zhi a headache.

At this point, her audacious laziness kicked in. She sat on the sofa, slowly inching towards the man, tugging at his sleeve with a dubious suggestion: “Why don’t you check out too and come see Nancheng?”

At that moment, Shan Chong was looking at his phone, preparing to use an app to call a car for Wei Zhi back to Nancheng, so he could monitor her entire journey.

Such a frugal person didn’t hesitate much, canceling all the usual taxi and carpool options and selecting the most expensive private car service.

With the young woman tugging at his sleeve, he raised an eyebrow: “What would I do there?”

Help me wash clothes and tidy up the room.

Of course, Wei Zhi wouldn’t be that honest. Only a fool would go with her if she said that.

Her eyes darted around, and she said, “Come to my place, just sit.”

Shan Chong shifted his gaze from his phone, meeting the young woman’s eyes for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”

Wei Zhi: “Just what I said.”

The man scoffed: “Don’t tell me all those quick-dry clothes, snow socks, and snow gear you brought back from Xinjiang are still on your sofa, in the laundry basket, or anywhere else other than clean, dried, and in the closet.”

Wei Zhi: “Well, not exactly.”

Wei Zhi: “…”

Wei Zhi: “They’re still in the suitcase.”

Shan Chong: “…”

Shan Chong had long known that this young woman, at most, kept herself clean and fragrant, doing a good job on the surface, but was uncompromisingly lazy when it came to other things.

However, even with this mental preparation, her answer still shocked him.

“So what does that mean,” he asked bewilderedly, “are you inviting me to harvest the mushrooms growing in your suitcase?”

She pouted, unhappy with his comment: “It’s not that dirty!”

Shan Chong couldn’t be bothered to be polite: “You’re truly slovenly—”

She tugged at his sleeve: “So are you coming or not?”

The man reclaimed his sleeve: “If I go back with you, I’d have to book a hotel in Nancheng. It’s too much trouble.”

His attitude was ambiguous. On one hand, he didn’t want to indulge her bad habit of being too lazy to pack her suitcase. On the other hand, he wasn’t entirely firm on this matter, mainly because he couldn’t resist her coquettish behavior…

His suitcase was always neat – clean clothes on one side, dirty ones on the other. To pack, he just needed to fold the quick-dry clothes hanging in the closet and put them in. He could leave if he wanted to.

So he said this matter-of-factly, not thinking of anything else. Unexpectedly, after he finished speaking, the young woman fell silent, looking at him with a conflicted expression, seemingly considering something—

It was clear she had misunderstood.

In the past, Shan Chong might have asked what impure thoughts were running through her little head.

Now he couldn’t be bothered to ask.

After all, her mind was full of these messy, impure thoughts.

He watched coldly as she bit her lower lip, reluctantly saying, “My sofa is quite spacious…”

Before he could respond, she timidly added, “Or I could sleep on the sofa if you prefer.”

Shan Chong just laughed.

He raised his hand, pinching her cheek, half-seriously saying, “We can sleep together on the bed. I’ll just hold you, promise I won’t do anything.”

Wei Zhi: “…”

Bei Ci, who had been standing by like a statue the whole time, finally couldn’t bear it anymore: “Little junior sister, if you believe that, I’ll lose all respect for you.”

Wei Zhi gave him a listless glance, meaning, who doesn’t know that? These days, even pink manga doesn’t use this line as a prelude to things heating up—

But as the saying goes, when something is so outdated it becomes trendy again.

She didn’t know if he was joking or serious.

If you have a question, just ask.

Wei Zhi: “Really?”

Shan Chong: “Really.”

Bei Ci: “Tch.”

…

Shan Chong had been to Wei Zhi’s small apartment once before, at the entrance of her building.

That day was best left unmentioned, the memories too painful to recall.

This time, he finally got to enter her home openly and aboveboard… To be honest, the situation was a little better than he had imagined. Although there were many things, they weren’t arranged too chaotically. The blanket on the sofa had fallen to the ground and just needed to be picked up. The suitcase was open on one side.

Inside, the clothes were piled up in layers forming a small mountain, with a hole dug out in the middle. What was originally in that hole?

Wei Zhi’s toiletry bag and makeup bag.

Shan Chong knew this because these two items had been emptied, the empty bags thrown beside the suitcase.

Feeling his gaze, Wei Zhi quickly rushed over, flipped the suitcase over, and closed it with a “pop,” sitting on top of it and looking up at him. He gave her a cold smile: “What are you hiding? You’ll have to take everything out to wash anyway… Besides, I’ve already seen it all.”

As the man spoke, he turned his head towards the balcony. On the rack specifically for hanging underwear to dry, there were two pairs of panties, one black and one white, each just a handful of fabric—

As his gaze moved over, he heard her let out a scream, jumping up from the suitcase to take down those two pieces of fabric…

Completely ignoring her flustered reaction, Shan Chong lazily withdrew his gaze, not feeling that these things he had seen, touched, and even used (?) before were at all stimulating just by looking at them.

“You know those two things need to be washed again, right?”

He bent down, lifting the suitcase lid that had just been closed. Hmm, no mushrooms had grown… He pulled out a piece of snow gear and tossed it aside.

“They’ve been sitting there for so many days, dust has settled on them again—”

As he turned around, he saw the young woman bending over to open the washing machine, about to throw the two pieces of fabric in her hand into it.

Shan Chong: “?”

Shan Chong: “Wei Zhi?”

Wei Zhi: “Huh?”

Shan Chong: “How have you managed to survive this long?”

As he grabbed her by the back of the neck and stuffed her into the bathroom to properly hand-wash her intimate apparel, Wei Zhi’s phone rang. Unable to bear the man’s cold mockery and questioning, she hastily hung the items in her hand in the bathroom, gesturing for him to be quiet, and turned to answer the phone.

It was her mother.

The other end immediately started gossiping, very directly.

“I heard that Nanfeng also found a boyfriend outside, quite young, and he came directly to her office building. Is that true?” Mrs. Yang asked on the phone. “I mean, you’re one thing, but how could Nanfeng, who seemed so smart, do such a foolish thing—”

“What do you mean I’m one thing?” Wei Zhi held the phone, walking back to the living room, watching the man pull out clothes from her suitcase one by one, separating those that might bleed color and stuffing the rest into the washing machine…

“Your news travels so fast? Lao Yan — oh, that’s Jiang Nanfeng’s young boyfriend — was just sent back to Guangzhou by her, looking devastated. I don’t think Nanfeng is necessarily feeling great either. Please, you adults should stay out of it.”

“I’m just concerned and asking!”

“What are you worried about? To be honest, although he’s a college student, his income from teaching during winter break in Chongli isn’t low. He’s not after Jiang Nanfeng’s Maserati… Ah, they broke up for other reasons.”

“What reasons?”

“I told you not to interfere! Why are you so interested in young people’s gossip?”

“Oh, what gossip! You make it sound like I have nothing better to do. I just hope you’ll learn from this, right? Don’t lose your head when dating and tell someone everything about your work, and family situation, and address, them all at once. If there’s any conflict later, they’ll show up at your door—”

“…”

Wei Zhi silently looked at the man not far away, whom she had cordially invited “to her door.” He was now supporting himself with one hand on the washing machine, bending over to figure out how to use it—

His waist was arched, the drawstring of his hoodie swaying in the air.

In the sunset, his profile was unbeatable.

Wei Zhi stared fascinated for a while before slowly coming back to her senses: “You’re too late with this advice. Didn’t you meet my boyfriend downstairs last time?”

The other end was probably shocked by the words “my boyfriend” and fell silent for a few seconds before responding: “He’s not from Nancheng. How could he remember in those few seconds of dropping someone off?”

That wasn’t true at all.

His memory was excellent.

When they entered the compound earlier, he held her hand and walked in front the whole time, not asking a single question until they reached her building. He only asked which floor she lived on when they were going up.

Of course, Wei Zhi wouldn’t tell her mother this and cause her anxiety. She hemmed and hawed for a while, vaguely trying to end the call, but the other end wasn’t ready to let her go: “Did you even listen to what I said? I’m not joking with you. Society is so complicated now, Nanfeng’s mother is almost worried to death—”

“I know, I know.”

“What do you know? Wei Zhi, when will you ever understand things? Where are you now? Are you home?”

“I am,” Wei Zhi sat on the edge of the sofa, lazily hooking the suitcase with her foot while saying, “I’m doing laundry now, and later I need to pack for Chongli. I’m very busy.”

On the balcony, hearing the young woman shamelessly take credit for the housework he had just done, the man simply closed the washing machine door with a “pop” and returned to the living room.

He hooked her soft chin with one hand.

Seeing her eyes narrow slightly like a cat, raising her chin for him to scratch, he silently laughed coldly, supporting himself on the sofa with one hand, and leaning down to bite the young woman’s lip who was sitting on the sofa backrest—

She shrank back a bit at the bite, her feet that had been swinging back and forth stiffened. She raised her hand to gently pat his back, signaling him not to mess around, as the call wasn’t over yet.

Shan Chong gave her lower lip a warning bite, and just then, suddenly, the sound of someone entering the passcode on the electronic lock at the door came—

Both of them, in the middle of their playfulness, were startled.

Wei Zhi’s hair practically stood on end.

“Mrs. Yang?” Wei Zhi called into the phone, “Mom?”

The final syllable of “Mom” changed pitch as the front door opened.

So when Mrs. Yang opened the door, she saw her daughter sitting improperly on the back of the sofa, both arms around the man’s neck, shoulder, and cheek wedged against the phone.

In front of her, the man had one hand on the sofa, slightly bent at the waist, his other hand lightly supporting the young woman’s waist to keep her from falling.

The two of them turned their heads simultaneously. Six eyes met.

Holding fresh vegetables, Ms. Yang, who moments ago had been lecturing her daughter on the phone about protecting her privacy and not bringing men home, fell silent. The scene was deathly quiet, save for the “thump-thump” of the washing machine.

Wei Zhi felt the large hand leave her waist as the man calmly lifted her off himself. He straightened up and greeted Ms. Yang politely in a steady voice.

Half an hour later, Wei Zhi’s small dining table was quite full.

Mr. Wei Jiaguo cradled his hot tea, watching the leaves swirl as he calmly said, “Don’t stare at me. I was just finishing work when I was called over… I had a client appointment originally.”

As he spoke, he occasionally glanced at Ms. Yang bustling in the kitchen, then at Wei Zhi, who sat hunched at the table like a quail. He sighed, “The first time you bring a boyfriend home, and it’s to help you do laundry. You’re making us proud.”

Wei Zhi remained silent, stealing a glance at Shan Chong, thinking he didn’t seem to mind.

At this moment, Wei Zhi was quite annoyed. This impromptu meet-the-parents session had caught her off guard. She’d considered it before, but given Shan Chong’s complicated family situation, they’d agreed to wait until things were resolved before formally meeting the parents.

After all, how would it look for a man in debt to eagerly meet his girlfriend’s parents? Especially when her family was well-off.

This was why Shan Chong had suggested postponing the meeting, and why he’d quickly left after a brief greeting when they’d bumped into each other downstairs last time.

However, plans changed, and this accidental encounter occurred. Then Ms. Yang, not content with the current situation, had called Wei Zhi’s father over, leading to the present scenario.

The culprit behind all this was now in the kitchen, leaving Mr. Wei Jiaguo to “chat” with them. The clanging of pots and pans and the aroma of food wafted into the room. Wei Zhi should have felt hungry, but her stomach was churning.

She listened to her father’s slow, deliberate questions over his teacup. This “chat” felt more like an interrogation of Shan Chong, covering everything from his past to his present occupation. Wei Zhi was nearly driven mad with embarrassment. “Why don’t you ask about his career plans for the next decade while you’re at it?” she finally blurted out.

Mr. Wei coughed. Shan Chong glanced at her, and she stared right back, her look saying, “What are you looking at? I’m defending you.”

Sensing his daughter’s reluctance, Mr. Wei tried to send her to the kitchen, but she remained glued to her seat, her face set, clearly prepared to “die” before leaving Shan Chong alone with her father.

Ah, understandable.

Mr. Wei was a man of taste. Although his middle-aged perspective on “handsome” might differ from younger people’s, it didn’t change the fact that his daughter’s boyfriend had a face that anyone with eyes would recognize as attractive.

Moreover, the young man was polite. He sat there neither fidgeting nervously nor boasting loudly. To have made it to the national team in his sport must have required great skill, yet he mentioned it with a calm, neither humble nor proud demeanor.

He was indeed likable.

So, faced with Wei Zhi’s uncooperativeness, Mr. Wei let out an “Oh my!” and good-naturedly smiled at Shan Chong. “Look, she won’t even let me ask questions.”

Shan Chong smiled back, sharing what he could. He was usually a man of few words, accustomed to being above his peers and even those older in the snow sports circle. But in front of Wei Zhi’s parents, he was exceptionally polite—and naturally so, making one wonder if his usual inhuman aggressiveness was deliberate.

He engaged easily with Mr. Wei, even discussing the bitter, astringent, and lingering taste of the tea before them. Wei Zhi could only watch in amazement as he seemed to hit it off with her father.

After nearly an hour of forced conversation, it was finally time to eat. Despite the variety of dishes—all her favorites—Wei Zhi found herself unable to eat much. She’d barely had a chance to breathe when her mother, while serving rice, casually asked about Shan Chong’s family situation.

Wei Zhi’s soup spoon clattered loudly into her bowl, silencing the table for a few seconds. Mortified, she gripped the table edge and asked in a low, almost growling voice, “Can’t we just eat in peace?”

Her parents exchanged surprised glances. They knew their daughter well—she was spoiled and usually quick to voice her displeasure rather than silently stewing. Like when she’d flipped the table and stormed off during a dinner with Han Yiming’s family, abandoning everyone.

But now she sat quietly at the table, seemingly using all her strength to hold back, only speaking when she could bear it no longer… and even then, in neutral terms.

The atmosphere at the table grew tense. Sitting beside her, Shan Chong calmly placed his soup spoon next to her hand. He used his chopsticks to remove her soup-splattered spoon from the bowl, wiped it with a napkin, and set it aside.

Then, amid Wei Zhi’s silence, he unhurriedly explained his family situation:

His parents were ordinary elementary and middle school teachers. He had a younger sister, seven years his junior, who had just turned twenty. She was a former provincial figure skating team member but had to retire after a training accident resulted in amputation. She was now at home, maintaining her physical therapy while waiting for a custom prosthetic limb.

This situation led his family to hope he would retire from the national team, which he did. He now worked on promoting winter sports to the public and participated in some club activities. In his spare time, he taught at Sunac resorts or ski areas. The income was decent, but with his sister’s expensive prosthetic, he was still saving money.

Shan Chong shared all this without any filters—the unvarnished truth.

As he finished speaking, Wei Zhi saw her parents exchange another glance, clearly surprised by the complexity of his family situation. Her heart sank.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur. Wei Zhi wished she could disappear—if she’d known it would be like this, she would have washed her clothes ten times over or packed twenty suitcases rather than coaxing and tricking Shan Chong into coming home with her.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should he sit here, enduring questions from virtual strangers, calmly recounting the chaos of his life?

The thought made Wei Zhi miserable. She kept her head down, mechanically eating whatever Shan Chong put on her plate. When there were no more side dishes, she ate plain rice, barely tasting anything.

Under the table, her leg unconsciously moved towards him. When it finally touched his, feeling his warmth through two layers of fabric, the tightness in her chest eased slightly.

She felt Shan Chong turn and glance at her briefly. Under the table, he didn’t move his leg away.