Zhu Wenshu genuinely began to suspect that her mother’s generation had some kind of secret intelligence network.

In just one night, seemingly every aunt and cousin in the extended family knew she was dating a celebrity. Some of them didn’t even know whether Ling Chen was a singer or an actor before showing up asking Zhu Wenshu for his autograph.

The frenzy reached its peak on the fourth day of the new year, when Zhu Wenshu and her parents went to her great-aunt’s birthday banquet — someone actually insisted she call her boyfriend right then and there, embarrassing her so badly she nearly faked fainting on the spot.

Fortunately, the relatives’ curiosity followed something close to a normal distribution, and after Zhu Wenshu firmly pushed back a few times, the enthusiasm gradually died down.

But Zhu Wenshu decided she couldn’t stay in Huiyang any longer, and moved her planned return date up from the tenth to the seventh.

The day before she was set to leave, Zhu Wenshu had just finished dinner at home and was about to settle in to watch some TV when her mother suddenly put down what she was doing and came over to sit beside her.

Here we go again.

Zhu Wenshu kept her eyes fixed on the screen, pretending not to notice.

“Hey.”

Her mother tugged at her sleeve. “Tell me more, come on. Zhou Sisi told me that Little Silkworm is you — is that true or what? Weren’t you the one who said you two weren’t close in high school?”

Her mother tugged her sleeve again. “How did you two end up back together after all these years? Does he know a lot of celebrities? Which celebrities have you met with him? What’s on his WeChat? Can you see his Moments?”

“……”

Zhu Wenshu stood up. “I’m going to go pack.”

“It’s not even that late yet, what’s the rush?”

Her mother followed her into the room, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, still chattering away. “You’ve got two sweaters you barely wore — take them back to Jiang City with you.”

“I won’t need them.”

Zhu Wenshu opened her suitcase. “It’ll start warming up next month anyway.”

She really hadn’t brought much back with her this trip, so it only took a few minutes to more or less finish packing.

Seeing her daughter standing there with empty hands, unwilling to just sit still, her mother found it a little amusing, poking around here and there.

“If you’ve got nothing to do, go clean out your bookshelf.”

Her mother tilted her chin. “Your dad says you barely come home anymore, he wants to claim it for himself.”

“Oh, sure, he can have it.”

Zhu Wenshu walked over to her desk and scanned it — there wasn’t really anything useful left, just old textbooks and workbooks from middle and high school, plus a few extracurricular readers.

She’d never been able to bring herself to throw them out before, but looking at them now, they really did take up a lot of space.

“I’ll find you a box, and have your dad take it out to sell as scrap later.”

Her mother walked a couple steps, then turned back. “Your dad’s getting up there in age too, he shouldn’t be doing this kind of heavy lifting all the time.”

Zhu Wenshu privately thought that her father, who’d been out doing a full set of shadowboxing that very morning, hardly looked like someone who couldn’t carry a box of scrap paper.

But before she could say so, her mother added, “So when are you bringing your boyfriend around?”

Zhu Wenshu: “……”

Good thing she hadn’t told her mother that Ling Chen was coming to pick her up tomorrow — otherwise neither of them would ever be able to leave.

By the time her mother came back in with the box, Zhu Wenshu had already sorted through her old books.

She noticed the drawer was full of old pens and other odds and ends that had long since stopped being usable, and decided to toss those out too.

“What’s this?”

Her mother rifled through the pile Zhu Wenshu had discarded, picking up a chain with a round object hanging from it. “Oh, a pocket watch.”

She opened it and glanced at it. “It’s still running, isn’t it? Are you really throwing this out?”

Zhu Wenshu’s gaze followed the swinging watch for a moment, then she reached out and took it.

It was a pocket watch in an ancient Roman style, weightless in her palm, the outer coating dulled and faded with age.

Zhu Wenshu went quiet for a moment, then suddenly pulled the watch close. “No, don’t throw it out.”

During her three years of high school, Zhu Wenshu had received anonymous gifts seven or eight times. Teenage boys weren’t usually great at keeping secrets, so with a little digging she’d always been able to track down the sender and return the gifts.

Only this pocket watch — which she’d received on the day of her high school graduation — had she never managed to trace back to anyone, no matter how much digging she did. And since the material didn’t seem particularly valuable, she’d just kept it.

Over the following years, she’d sometimes come across it while rummaging through the drawer, turning it over in her palm.

She never did understand why that person had given her this particular gift, but she thought that in this digital age, a small, old-fashioned pocket watch had a certain charm to it.

But once she started graduate school and then began working, her visits home grew less and less frequent, and gradually the watch slipped from her mind entirely.

If she hadn’t stumbled across it while cleaning out her bookshelf today, she would have nearly forgotten it existed.

“This thing looks like it’s got some age on it.”

Her mother suddenly asked. “When did you buy this?”

Zhu Wenshu shook her head. “I didn’t buy it.”

Knowing full well how popular her daughter had always been, her mother immediately caught on. “Oh, who gave it to you?”

Zhu Wenshu stared at the watch in her hand without answering.

She’d wondered plenty of times before who had sent it, but now, the answer seemed to be right on the tip of her mind.

Just then, her mother’s phone rang.

Something inside Zhu Wenshu, previously still, was suddenly jolted, and her eyes fixed intently on her mother’s phone.

That ringtone — wasn’t that Ling Chen’s song, “The Heartbeat You Can’t Hear”?

“Why’d you change your ringtone to that?”

Her mother glanced at the caller ID — a telemarketing call — and hung up directly.

“I’m supporting my son-in-law.” Her mother said. “Pretty good, right? Zhou Sisi set it up for me.”

“……”

Zhu Wenshu said nothing more, looking back down at the pocket watch in her hand.

Moments later, she pulled out her phone and found Ling Chen’s chat window, meaning to ask if he was the one who’d given it to her.

Just as she was about to hit send, something occurred to her, and she deleted the whole message, the corner of her mouth curving up.

She wiped down the pocket watch with a tissue and tucked it into her coat pocket—

The next afternoon, Zhu Wenshu turned down her parents’ eager offer to drive her, insisting on making her own way to the station.

Her parents, with their mahjong game on their minds anyway, didn’t press the point.

The moment she stepped out the door, Zhu Wenshu called Ling Chen and told him to pick her up at a certain intersection.

Ling Chen, who was already driving, confirmed the location without further comment, only mentioning that traffic was heavy today and he might be a little late.

So Zhu Wenshu set off on foot toward the meeting point, dragging her small suitcase along behind her.

It was the last day of the Spring Festival holiday, and plenty of other pedestrians on the road were dragging suitcases too, so Zhu Wenshu didn’t stand out at all.

Once she reached the spot, she found a bench and sat down, hands resting on the handle of her suitcase, watching the intersection expectantly.

There was no sign of Ling Chen’s car yet, but she did spot a familiar face.

A middle-aged woman in a khaki down jacket was leading a three- or four-year-old girl by the hand, buying balloons by the roadside.

Zhu Wenshu watched the two of them for a moment, and couldn’t help but smile.

Once they got closer, she spoke up. “Teacher Zhang.”

The middle-aged woman turned around, still holding the child’s hand, and looked Zhu Wenshu up and down, her face lighting up with delight.

“Zhu Wenshu? Heading back to Jiang City?”

“Yes, leaving in a bit.”

Teacher Zhang used to be strict and rarely smiled, and everyone in class had been afraid of her.

But from what Zhu Wenshu had heard from classmates who’d stayed in Huiyang, the past couple of years — ever since she’d become a grandmother — she’d seemed like a completely different person, smiling at everyone she met.

Zhu Wenshu could tell her classmates hadn’t exaggerated — for instance, right now, Teacher Zhang came and sat down beside her, granddaughter in her arms.

“How’s it going lately? Teaching’s not easy, is it?”

“It’s good.”

Zhu Wenshu smiled. “Just that the kids can be a handful sometimes.”

After chatting a bit about the trials of teaching, Teacher Zhang suddenly thought of something and asked, “You and Ling Chen are together now, aren’t you?”

“Mm.”

Zhu Wenshu wasn’t surprised that Teacher Zhang knew about this. After all, plenty of former classmates still kept in touch with their teachers.

“Ah, I really didn’t see that coming.”

Teacher Zhang looked down, patting her granddaughter’s arm, sighing wistfully. “Back then I always thought you two would never happen, especially with Yin Yueze in the picture.”

Zhu Wenshu blinked, asking hesitantly, “You… know about that?”

“Of course I know! That whole thing was a huge deal back then!”

Teacher Zhang laughed. “And Ling Chen, honestly, he never made a peep about it usually, but then senior year he went and got into a fight with the guys from the sports class over you, nearly got expelled — if it weren’t for me—”

Before she could finish, she noticed the stunned look on Zhu Wenshu’s face and said, in disbelief, “You didn’t know?”

Every year, the highway traffic on the Spring Festival return trip was especially brutal. Ling Chen arrived nearly twenty minutes later than expected.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road, rolled down the window, and waved at Zhu Wenshu on the bench.

But she was staring down at the ground, completely oblivious to him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Ling Chen got out of the car, not even bothering with a mask, and walked right up to stand in front of Zhu Wenshu, reaching out to tilt her chin up. “Don’t want to leave home?”

Zhu Wenshu still said nothing, looking up at the man in front of her, something shifting in the depths of her eyes.

The New Year streets were full of festive cheer, several shops playing celebratory music at once.

But amid all this atmosphere, there wasn’t a trace of joy on Zhu Wenshu’s face. Her eyelashes seemed veiled in a thin mist, her lips slightly pursed, as if she might burst into tears the next moment.

Seeing her like this, Ling Chen’s expression turned serious at once, and he crouched down in front of her.

“What’s wrong? Did something upset you?”

Zhu Wenshu pressed her lips together and shook her head, taking a few deep breaths before saying, “No.”

Seeing the crowds of people passing by, and worried someone might recognize Ling Chen, she stood up before he could say anything else. “Let’s go, back to Jiang City first.”

Ling Chen’s gaze followed her figure as she walked, until she stopped again in front of the passenger door.

“Why did you drive here yourself?”

“One of my drivers is on leave, and the other one has a different assignment.”

Ling Chen took the suitcase from her hand and walked around to the trunk, loading it in while asking, “Why do you ask?”

Zhu Wenshu looked at him for a couple seconds, then suddenly walked around to the driver’s side.

“I’ll drive.”

“You?”

There was a flicker of surprise in Ling Chen’s eyes. “You have a license?”

“Of course I do.”

Zhu Wenshu was already settling into the driver’s seat as she spoke. “I drove my dad around just a few days ago.”

Once he’d finished loading the suitcase, Ling Chen went ahead and got into the passenger seat.

He closed the door but didn’t bother putting on his seatbelt right away, instead watching as Zhu Wenshu confidently familiarized herself with the dashboard and lights.

“You’re really driving?”

“Mm.”

Zhu Wenshu nodded earnestly. “Didn’t you just get back to Jiang City this morning? You can sleep in the car — I drive really smoothly.”

Hearing this, Ling Chen still didn’t put on his seatbelt, just looking at Zhu Wenshu steadily.

“What’s actually going on with you?”

“Rest first, we’ll talk when we get back, it’s nothing big.”

Zhu Wenshu turned to look at Ling Chen, then suddenly leaned over to buckle his seatbelt for him. “I told you to sleep, so sleep. Why so many questions.”

Ling Chen could see that although Zhu Wenshu didn’t seem in high spirits, she also didn’t seem to have run into anything genuinely bad. It was just that with her height, leaning over the center console to reach his seatbelt was clearly a bit of a stretch.

“That’s enough.” He caught her hand. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Okay.”

Zhu Wenshu didn’t push the issue either. Once her hand was free, she suddenly rested her face against Ling Chen’s shoulder, nuzzling against his neck.

Then, close to his ear, she murmured softly, “I love you so much, Ling Chen.”

For the whole ride, Ling Chen slept soundly and without worry.

When he opened his eyes again, the car had already parked in the underground garage.

“Awake?”

Zhu Wenshu had just turned off the engine when she saw Ling Chen stir. She let out a small huff. “And here you said you weren’t tired — you didn’t wake up once the entire way.”

Ling Chen said nothing, undid his seatbelt, and got out of the car directly.

By the time he’d walked around to open her door, Zhu Wenshu had just picked up the keys before he pulled her out.

His steps were faster than usual, as if he were hurrying home for some reason.

Zhu Wenshu said nothing either, letting him lead her briskly into the elevator.

This residential complex had only one unit per floor, so there was little chance of running into anyone else. But even alone in the elevator, the two of them still said nothing, Zhu Wenshu looking down at the floor while Ling Chen’s palm grew warm, gripping her hand tightly, his thumb occasionally brushing over the back of her hand.

The elevator ride seemed unusually long, the enclosed space nearly overflowing with the emotion between them.

A soft ding sounded — they’d reached the floor.

Before the doors had even fully opened, Ling Chen was already striding out, pulling Zhu Wenshu along, his pace even faster than it had been in the garage.

A moment later.

The door shut behind them. Before Zhu Wenshu could even reach for the lock, Ling Chen had already pressed her against it, one arm around her waist.

He braced one hand against her forehead and kept the other arm around her waist.

Their breaths tangled together without warning; he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, and asked with a smile, “How much do you love me?”

Zhu Wenshu said nothing, so he tilted his head, his nose trailing slowly down the side of her face, pressing a light kiss to her earlobe.

“Say something.”

Instead of a reply, what Ling Chen heard was a sound close to a sob.

His gaze sharpened; he leaned back slightly to get a better look at her expression, only to see her suddenly reach out, wrap her arms around his waist, and bury her face against his chest.

Ling Chen reached up to gently stroke her back, his voice softening.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“No.”

Zhu Wenshu’s voice came out muffled, her throat tight, all the words she’d been holding back since the elevator now refusing to come out.

A moment later, her hands slipped beneath the hem of his hoodie, reaching around to his waist.

The warm, gentle touch of her fingers left a trail of electric tingling wherever it passed; Ling Chen’s entire body went rigid, and an involuntary, low groan escaped him near her ear.

The next second, Zhu Wenshu’s fingertips came to rest on the scar at his waist.

Ling Chen seemed to realize what she meant, and his whole body tensed.

“Does it still hurt?”

Zhu Wenshu asked, leaning against his chest.

It was a long while before Ling Chen answered.

“It stopped hurting a long time ago.”

The apartment was dark, the lack of light making touch and sound feel unusually heightened.

Zhu Wenshu felt Zhu Wenshu — no, felt herself — gently tracing his scar with her fingertips, as if trying to smooth away the raised ridge of skin.

“Don’t do that again.” Zhu Wenshu’s voice carried the faintest hint of tears. “If something happened to you, I would—”

She choked up, unable to finish the sentence, and instead rose up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t regret it.”

Ling Chen bent down to meet her kiss.

Tonight, the wind howled outside, scattering the thick clouds.

Inside, the warmth in the apartment gathered and rose in the darkness.

Ling Chen held Zhu Wenshu by the waist, their kiss unbroken as they stumbled together toward the bedroom, their clothes falling away along the path.

[The remainder of this scene has been omitted.]

Steam curled through the bathroom, damp footprints trailing from the vanity all the way to the bed.

Zhu Wenshu was still wearing Ling Chen’s shirt, droplets of water still clinging to the ends of her hair.

She leaned against Ling Chen’s knee, her own legs curled weakly beneath her.

“Who told you?”

Ling Chen’s voice was a little hoarse now, his fingers winding through her damp hair. “Teacher Zhang?”

Zhu Wenshu didn’t answer, pushing herself up instead, gazing for a moment at the scar on his waist before leaning down to press a kiss to it.

By now, she’d already kissed this spot more times than she could count tonight, and Ling Chen still found it unbearable.

He leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed, throat tilted back, his Adam’s apple working ceaselessly.

Suddenly, he felt a cool sensation against his chest.

Opening his eyes again, he saw an old, worn pocket watch hanging against his chest.

Zhu Wenshu leaned back down against him, her ear pressed to the watch, listening intently to the sound of its ticking hands.

“Ling Chen.” She said. “I can hear it.”