When did you start liking me?

Whatever her age, a woman always seems to circle back to this question.

From Nan Chu’s recollection, he’d had a girlfriend when she was sixteen — he couldn’t possibly have liked her then. And when they met again after that, he hadn’t seemed particularly surprised to see her. In fact, he’d made a point of seeming like he found her rather irritating. Could it have been during the television shoot? She turned the question over quietly, studying the tall figure at the counter.

Lin Luxiao calmly turned the spatula in the pan, unhurried — spooned in a pinch of salt — as though he hadn’t heard a word. He waited until the egg was fried golden brown and lifted out, smoothed flat on the plate, then turned to take a bunch of noodles from the refrigerator. Back still to her, he said: “What practical purpose does that question serve?”

Men and women really were different in this way.

Men care about outcomes; women care about the journey.

For Lin Luxiao, there were only two states for any given thing: done well, or not yet done. When it came to Nan Chu — whether it had been at sixteen, an impulse he hadn’t examined closely, or some unnamed feeling — he only knew that right now, the person he liked was this girl. He wanted to marry her. He wanted his father Lin to accept her. He wanted to introduce her to Shen Mu and the others. He wanted to hear Da Liu call her “sister-in-law.” He also wanted the warm hollow of blankets to hold her, and no one else, on the night after every completed mission.

Of course these were only flashes of thought, and given his nature, none of them would ever be said aloud. Growing up, he and Lin Qingyuan had rarely talked; he’d fallen into the habit of pressing things down. And then at the unit, the instructors had drilled it into him: soldiers don’t waste words, and on the battlefield what counts is how many you take down.

Over the years, that habit of silence had settled in.

The occasional playful streak would slip out, opening the door to a harmless joke — but sweet words, truly, he didn’t know how to say. Just as, back then, a fellow soldier who’d been with his girlfriend for ten years had proposed, and said an entire speech that — by Lin Luxiao’s estimation — was enough to produce goosebumps that fell straight off the floor. But he respected it.

Nan Chu also knew there was no point expecting anything coherent from his mouth on this subject. She gave a knowing shrug and let it go.

Lin Luxiao stood at the counter waiting for the water to boil, dropped a bundle of noodles in, covered the pot, then leaned his hands on the counter edge and turned to look at her. A wide white T-shirt, black trousers — making his frame look even taller.

Nan Chu was leaning against the counter watching him too, finding him more and more handsome by the moment.

She’d always thought he was very masculine. Looking at him now, she noticed how fine his features actually were — especially the thick brows and those upward-tilted peach-blossom eyes.

Probably because she’d just finished filming that drama.

She kept feeling that Lin Luxiao was exactly the righteous general in Liu Yingying’s story — there was something in the set of his brow, that ever-ready air, that she found particularly striking.

The girl was wearing his shirt, her entire legs on display — porcelain-pale, smooth and long. A slight tilt of the head gave him a glimpse of the black underwear hem beneath the shirt’s hem.

Forbidden. Intoxicating.

Lin Luxiao pulled her toward him, pressed her against the counter, and lowered his head to kiss her, gently biting and sucking at her soft lips.

His approach was sudden and unrestrained; he left no room for resistance. Nan Chu went weak all over from his kiss, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

She managed to inch sideways and let out a small sound.

He grinned against her ear. “Running from what? Hm? Dressed like that — what are you after?”

She inched away as she spoke in faint, breathless gasps. “Nothing—”

Lin Luxiao’s grin grew more wicked, voice loaded with meaning, deliberately: “Nothing? Then what’s going on here?”

Nan Chu’s whole body went taut—

Nan Chu’s fingers were in his hair, slowly finding her way back to reason. “I’ve barely ever seen you in a white button-up.”

Lin Luxiao picked her up and sat her on the edge of the sink, kissed her — when he’d had his fill, the girl’s eyes were clouded with a fine mist. He straightened her, tucked her hair back, and finally explained the shirt’s origins: “Da Hua got married two years ago. Wore it once.”

Nan Chu’s voice had gone unsteady, all breathless. “Best man?”

“Mm.” Low and quiet.

Nan Chu couldn’t help picturing it — him in a button-up shirt and dress trousers. She said with conviction: “You must’ve looked incredibly handsome.”

Lin Luxiao bit the curve of her ear, voice blurred: “Passable.”

He’d been looking at himself his whole life; he was immune to himself. He thought he looked best in uniform.

He lifted Nan Chu down from the sink and turned her around, letting her brace her hands on the counter.

· · ·

Steam rose from the kitchen. The noodles in the pot had just come to the boil, the lid jumping with quick little bouncing sounds.

Accompanied by soft, quiet sighs, Nan Chu felt she might come apart entirely — and managed to worry out loud: “The noodles… they’re going to burn…”

Lin Luxiao pressed down on the small of her back, frowning slightly with mild impatience, and simply reached over and turned off the heat. “Done.”

· · ·

Quiet.

But steam billowed, drifting heat in all directions.

Nan Chu had stopped moving too — just lying flat against the counter with a low hum.

· · ·

Finally over.

Finally over.

Finally over.

That was the thought running through Nan Chu’s head as she lay back against the headboard watching Lin Luxiao come out of the shower and get dressed.

Lin Luxiao, dressed, walked toward her side of the bed.

Nan Chu instinctively pulled the covers up and wrapped herself in them, and her alarmed expression was caught in full — Lin Luxiao propped himself on one elbow and leaned across the bed toward her. He hadn’t put on trousers; below the waist only dark-colored boxer shorts.

In the middle, a noticeable—

Nan Chu shifted sideways. Lin Luxiao gave a low laugh, reached out and ruffled her hair. “Truly not touching you anymore.”

That had already been four times today. Nan Chu’s stamina was genuinely spent — her whole lower half felt like it no longer belonged to her. Only once he promised did she finally let him hold her properly.

Lin Luxiao settled back against the headboard, propped one knee up, gathered the girl and the cup she was holding together into his arms, tilted his head to pinch her cheek, and laughed: “Really scared now? All that bravado earlier — what was that about?”

As though she’d been some seasoned expert.

Nan Chu thought about it and told him anyway: “This was my first time. With a man.”

· · ·

Three seconds of silence.

Perhaps he’d never even considered the question until now.

He had no particular attachment to the concept of a woman’s “first time.”

Nan Chu had chosen him. That made her his. He would do his best to protect her.

First time — he loved her.

Not first time — he still loved her.

That was what the barracks had taught him.

For a man, there is no greater honor than to hold firm the ground beneath his feet, and the woman within his arms.

Lin Luxiao tightened the arm that held her, bowed his head and pressed his cheek tenderly to the top of her head, and said nothing.

Nan Chu nuzzled upward against him, found a comfortable position in his arms, and let her hand trail along his arm — until her fingers ran across something not quite smooth. A raised patch of muscle, rough to the touch. At first she assumed it was a childhood vaccine scar.

When she ran her fingers over it more carefully, she found it was larger than that. She lifted her head and looked — and realized it was a scar.

In truth, there were many places on his body with scars. If you looked carefully, you could probably find several more.

How had he gotten them?

Lin Luxiao glanced over — he honestly couldn’t remember which one that was. There were too many scars on his body. Some he remembered; others he’d only noticed had already scabbed over when he finally looked down, with no memory of how they’d got there.

The girl was curious to the bone and wanted a full accounting — she clearly expected him to have some heroic story behind it.

Lin Luxiao reached for a cigarette on the nightstand, lit it, and smoked slowly. “Probably from getting into fights with Da Liu and the others when I was a kid.”

“Nonsense.”

Nan Chu: “I don’t believe that.”

Lin Luxiao, cigarette between his fingers, turned his head and glanced at her, smiling. “What do you think, then?”

The girl tilted her chin. “Isn’t it from work?”

“Work too, yes.” He took a drag.

“Which one?”

Lin Luxiao didn’t love talking about these things. Some of them weren’t pretty, and if he said too much, she might spend the rest of her days worrying every time he went out on a call.

But the girl was relentless in her pestering, so he raised an eyebrow and picked one that wasn’t too harrowing to mention.

“Should be the apartment fire on the Ring Road, a few years back.”

“I remember that — it was quite a large fire.”

She listened with full attention, wearing an expression as though she wanted to take notes and inscribe him into the annals of heroism.

Lin Luxiao gave her nose a light flick and told it slowly: “Not as dramatic as you’re imagining. Should have been when we were rescuing an old woman who had dementia. When our people went up to check the apartment, they found she was living there alone — impossibly stubborn, no matter how anyone reasoned with her, she refused to leave. She’d deadbolted all the doors and said she was waiting for her grandson to come collect her. You spent time at the fire station so you know — fire rescue is all about timing. Leave it too long and the gas canisters in the building could explode any second. So we broke down the door, went in, and carried her out. That’s when a roof beam came down, and I blocked it with my arm. That unit was close to the fire’s source — the temperature was high — and it burned this area directly.”

He circled the scar with his finger.

Nan Chu had a moment of realization. “Otherwise the old woman would have died?”

He laughed and patted her head. “You’re overthinking it. Otherwise it would have hit the back of my skull.”

“…”

Done with the “heroic account,” Lin Luxiao got out of bed to cook her noodles again. “Rest a while longer — I’ll make you something to eat.”

Nan Chu didn’t believe that was the end of it, and trailed after him. “There must be more — cases where you got hurt saving someone else.”

Lin Luxiao came to the kitchen, opened the fridge, picked out two eggs, cracked them on the rim of a bowl, and peeled the shells open one-handed, the pale and yolk falling into the porcelain bowl in a yellow-clear stream. He tossed the shells away, picked up a pair of chopsticks, and gave a small smile. “What’s the point of you researching all that?”

Nan Chu stood behind him watching his practiced egg-cracking with admiration, feeling inexplicably hungry. She pressed her lips together.

After a long moment, she said quietly: “I just want you to be a little more ‘selfish’ from now on. To think of me a little more often.”

The crisp sound of the egg being beaten went quiet.

Lin Luxiao’s eyes held something unnamed — suppressed and murky.

The room fell still for a beat.

Then, suddenly, from the front door — loud, insistent knocking.

Thud-thud-thud — steady and hard.

The two of them stood there as though they hadn’t heard it.

Lin Luxiao set down the bowl and let out a slow breath. “I’ve submitted a transfer application. If it goes through, I won’t have to be on the front line anymore.”

“Is it because of me?” The girl’s voice was quiet.

“Half and half.”

Nan Chu’s heart ached a little for him. He must be regretful about it.

With that thought, she reached around and gave his back a gentle, comforting rub.

Lin Luxiao drew her into his arms. This girl — how could she be so clingy? He smiled in spite of himself, lowered his head and kissed her forehead, squeezed her face. “Go put some trousers on. I’ll go open the door.”

· · ·

The door swung open.

Da Liu’s round head popped in, a girl trailing behind him.

This girl Nan Chu recognized.

Xu Zhiyi — one of the girl group members, currently quite popular on livestreams.

Xu Zhiyi was evidently surprised to see Nan Chu too, but she kept her composure, following quietly behind Da Liu without a word.

Da Liu looked at Lin Luxiao like a man reuniting with his long-lost father, barely stopping himself from hurling his body at him, and bellowed: “Xiao Ye!!!”

Lin Luxiao, arms crossed: “Something wrong with you?”

Da Liu, knowing his temper, ignored that, and turned his head — and then clocked Nan Chu in Lin Luxiao’s button-up and trousers, and let out another bellow: “Sister-in-law!!!”