Luan Mingrui was quite angered by Liang Chengmin.

Doctor? Teacher? Worker? Keep dreaming! Just resign yourself to being a small-business owner’s wife for the rest of your life!

He returned home with a stern face. Seeing his expression, Luan Mingcheng approached him: “Brother, did you go to change your dressing?”

“Mm.”

“Did you see that scary female doctor?”

“Who are you calling scary? If you hadn’t been making such a fuss at the hospital, would she have gotten upset with you?” Luan Mingrui wouldn’t allow his brother to criticize her, even though he hadn’t married her yet.

“No, what I meant to say is, guess what? That female doctor is my classmate’s cousin. Her name is Liang Chengmin.”

Luan Mingcheng knocked his head, muttering to himself: “Liang Chengmin? Wasn’t there someone introduced to you recently, also called Liang Chengmin? Wasn’t she also a doctor?”

Luan Mingrui interrupted him: “Get to the point.”

“Oh, right. They say that the female doctor is twenty-seven and unmarried. She fell in love with a male classmate during college. Later, that classmate left.”

Liang Chengmin? Had you been in a relationship with someone?

With her naive appearance, she hadn’t experienced love before. Who could she have been with?

Luan Mingrui laughed at Liang Chengmin’s inexperience in love, as if he had any. At twenty-nine, he hadn’t dated anyone. That was considered quite abnormal at that time. Heaven had been kind to him, giving him a handsome face. If an unattractive man in his thirties remained unmarried, he was called a bachelor; someone like him who didn’t marry was just considered picky.

He was set on marrying Liang Chengmin, and he kept all her nonsense in mind, planning to settle accounts with her later. The top priority now was to marry her. He didn’t want some fool to come along and cause trouble.

The next day, he went to see her again just as she was about to get off work. He asked a nurse, and she was still seeing patients, so he registered for her consultation again. Pushing the door open, he saw her inserting acupuncture needles into her hand. Luan Mingrui hadn’t had much contact with doctors before and didn’t know that many doctors and nurses practiced their skills this way. To him, Liang Chengmin sticking needles into her hand seemed bizarre, as if her mind had been corrupted by too much studying.

Seeing him enter, Liang Chengmin removed the needle from the Hegu acupoint and gave him a sidelong glance: “Why are you here?”

“To change my dressing.”

“You don’t need to change it every day. Please leave.”

“I think the wound is festering.”

“Nonsense!” Liang Chengmin had confidence in her medical skills. How could a wound she had dressed possibly fester? She stood up to cut his bandage, her cool fingertips touching his arm. He teased, “Doctor, you’re not wearing gloves? Is that standard procedure?”

…

Liang Chengmin was ready to send him away when he grabbed her wrist: “Can’t take a joke.”

Liang Chengmin shook off his hand: “Why are you touching me? Are we that familiar that you can joke with me?”

“After coming and going a few times, won’t we become familiar?”

“Who’s coming and going with you?”

“Exchanging glances, perhaps?”

When someone like Luan Mingrui said such things, it didn’t sound like flirting at all—it was argumentative. Liang Chengmin was exasperated with him. She opened the bandage: “Is it festering? Where is it festering?”

“If it’s not festering, that’s good. Please bandage it up for me.”

Liang Chengmin nodded: “Mm, I’ll bandage it.” While wrapping the bandage, she deliberately used more force. Luan Mingrui let out a grunt from his throat, lowering his head, his neck reddening from the pain.

Liang Chengmin suddenly smiled.

When she smiled, she was especially beautiful.

She was already a delicate young woman, though she usually appeared somewhat rigid due to her profession. With this smile, she was like a lonely small flower blooming in the cracks of southern bluestone pavement, evoking tenderness.

Luan Mingrui watched her smile, his gaze deep, with an intensity that seemed to want to devour her.

Liang Chengmin caught his gaze, blushing as she scolded him: “What are you looking at?!”

She blushed; he found it amusing and teased her: “Doctor Liang, would you like to marry me? After marriage, you can yell at me however you want, I won’t get upset. With your terrible temper, no one else would dare marry you. You might as well make do with me.”

“Who would make do with you? I’d rather never marry than marry you.” Liang Chengmin disliked Luan Mingrui’s demeanor—his usual stern face as if everyone owed him money, his harsh way of speaking that turned even normal words into mockery. Even when discussing marriage, he spoke as if it were a joke, with no hint of sincerity.

Her face grew redder with anger.

Luan Mingrui looked at her and smiled. He rarely smiled, and when he did, there was a hint of gentleness.

Luan Mingrui came every day. After his arm healed, he waited for her at the hospital entrance. Liang Chengmin avoided him, asking a young nurse to check each day before leaving work if “that pest” was there. The nurse would look—yes, he was. So Liang Chengmin would leave through the back door.

One day, just as she exited the back door, she saw Luan Mingrui standing there: “You’re avoiding me?”

“Your constant presence at the hospital creates a bad impression,” Liang Chengmin said.

“What bad impression? I’m unmarried, you’re unmarried. What’s wrong with me waiting for you?”

“You like me, but I don’t like you. It creates a bad impression for me.” Liang Chengmin argued with him, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Fine.” Luan Mingrui dropped this word and left. Liang Chengmin kept avoiding him; they were like a cat chasing a mouse—one pursuing, one fleeing. After some time, it became tiresome. Regarding courtship, Luan Mingrui suddenly realized it was only interesting when there was give and take.

The next day, he truly didn’t come.

Liang Chengmin couldn’t quite describe her feelings for Luan Mingrui. Seeing him made her want to quarrel, but when he didn’t come, she felt empty inside.

After several days without seeing Luan Mingrui, her colleagues teased her: “The young master isn’t coming anymore?”

Liang Chengmin blushed: “What does it matter to me whether he comes or not?”

She rode her Flying Pigeon bicycle, swaying left and right, back home. During dinner, her mother asked: “Today in the late afternoon, Neighbor Granny Wang said she saw you talking with a young man at the hospital entrance a few days ago. Who was it?”

“A patient.”

“Which patient?”

“…I don’t remember.” Liang Chengmin knew exactly whom Granny Wang was referring to—wasn’t it that young master? But she didn’t want to tell her mother, fearing she would make too much of it.

“Oh, I see.”

Later, she went on several more blind dates.

For her, blind dates were like political tasks—she had to go; not going would be showing insufficient ideological awareness. Afraid of her mother’s nagging, she would go.

One day, her blind date was at the state-run restaurant. As soon as she entered, she saw Luan Mingrui sitting by the window, fiddling with a button from somewhere. She considered avoiding him to prevent awkwardness, but her eyes met Luan Mingrui’s. He glanced at her coolly, pretending not to know her.

After a while, his blind date arrived. She heard him ask the girl: “What do you like to eat? Order whatever you want.” The girl was very pretty, with delicate features, speaking softly—a typical southern girl.

“Anything is fine with me.” The girl wasn’t as open as Liang Chengmin, ordering only stir-fried vegetables. Luan Mingrui, however, ordered shrimp and crab. He said: “No need to save money. You can’t take it with you when you’re gone.”

While Luan Mingrui was talking to the girl, his ears were tuned to Liang Chengmin’s table. When he heard the young man across from her mention that he was a teacher, he tilted his head to look. The young man was dressed neatly and had a refined appearance.

“Teachers are wonderful,” Liang Chengmin nodded seriously. “Educating people, having students all over the world—very noble.”

“Doctors save lives and heal the wounded—also noble.”

They were praising each other.

“So do you often travel to other places?” the girl asked Luan Mingrui.

“Yes.”

“The matchmaker said you’re looking for someone who can take care of the home.” The girl’s face reddened slightly. She had known about Luan Mingrui before, having glimpsed him from afar a few times. How many girls in the small town liked him? “Do you think I’m suitable?”

The girl was direct, wanting an answer from Luan Mingrui: “I will tell the matchmaker when I get back.” Luan Mingrui pointed to the shrimp and crab on the table: “Eat more, don’t be reserved.”

“Do you go on blind dates often?” the girl suddenly asked him. “Have you been on many blind dates and already have someone you like?”

“I’ve been on one blind date, with a doctor. She was very full of herself. I didn’t like her.”

When Liang Chengmin heard the phrase “full of herself, I didn’t like her,” she felt as if something struck her heart, though she couldn’t explain why.

The girl felt self-conscious, finding it uncomfortable to peel shrimp in front of Luan Mingrui—unlike Liang Chengmin, who would hold her fingers like an orchid, looking at the shrimp and crab with determination.

After dining with the male teacher, as Liang Chengmin was about to leave, he asked her: “Would you like to go to the library together sometime?”

“Sure.”

Hearing this “sure,” Luan Mingrui finally raised his head and looked at her seriously. He had waited for her at the hospital entrance every day, and she would act as if she’d seen a ghost when she saw him. Yet when someone else invited her to the library, she said, “Sure.”

Very well.

Luan Mingrui stood up to walk the girl home. Her home was in the same direction as Liang Chengmin’s—continuing straight along that road, her house was by the roadside. He was in a bad mood and barely spoke to the girl at the door. Turning back, he saw Liang Chengmin walking with the male teacher. Liang Chengmin didn’t run off like she did when she saw him; this time, she seemed composed.

Luan Mingrui thought to himself, You can marry whoever you want! What does it matter to me? He passed by her expressionlessly.

Liang Chengmin suddenly felt angry—he would acknowledge her when he wanted to, and pretend not to know her when he didn’t. She called out loudly: “Luan Mingrui!”

Luan Mingrui turned to look at her: “What is it, Doctor Liang?”

“Didn’t you see me?”

“I didn’t. My eyesight is poor. I wear glasses.”

With that, he left, leaving Liang Chengmin with words stuck in her throat, her face red with anger. Somehow, tears welled up in her eyes, and she ran off. The male teacher stood behind, stunned, unsure whether to chase after her or leave.

A few days later, on her rare day off, during lunch, her mother arranged another blind date: “This afternoon, try your best with this one. Do you remember Luan Mingrui from your previous blind date? The matchmaker says he’s engaged.”

“Who’s engaged?”

“Luan Mingrui. They say the two families are preparing to meet.”

Liang Chengmin had a lump of food stuck in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. It was at this moment that she realized that the man who had asked if she wanted to marry him had just been toying with her.

After lunch, she returned to her room and lay on the bed, feeling somewhat deflated. She didn’t know what was wrong—perhaps it was her mother’s question during lunch that made her think of Luan Mingrui. Whatever she did, she lacked energy, flipping through a couple of pages before setting the book aside. She stared blankly at the osmanthus flower inserted in the vase by the window. A while later, she slumped on the bed and fell asleep, sleeping until it was completely dark. Her mother, seeing her sleeping so soundly and knowing how hard she worked daily, didn’t have the heart to wake her.

Plink! A small pebble hit her window. She lay there motionless, thinking it was just children being mischievous. After a while, another pebble came, with similar force. A child’s hand couldn’t be that steady. She sat up and opened the window, seeing Luan Mingrui standing on the bluestone path. The moonlight enveloped him, washing him clean.

Her face suddenly flushed red. She quickly closed the window and sat alone by the window, breathing heavily, her heart racing inexplicably fast.

Another sound—Luan Mingrui had thrown another pebble.

She opened the window and asked quietly: “Why are you throwing rocks at my window?” Her voice was like a tiny mosquito, her eyes alert.

“Come out,” Luan Mingrui called to her softly.

“It’s bedtime!”

“Come out.”

“I won’t come out!”

She slammed the window shut again.

Luan Mingrui threw another pebble, annoying Liang Chengmin. She picked up a pebble, opened the window, and threw it forcefully. She heard a muffled groan and opened the window to see Luan Mingrui covering his glasses.

“Did I hit you?” she asked.

Luan Mingrui didn’t speak. Liang Chengmin could now see he was angry.

“Wait for me.” Liang Chengmin hastily put on an autumn shirt and tiptoed out, carefully closing the door, walking to Luan Mingrui.

“Let me see your eye.”

Luan Mingrui remained silent, tossing his glasses into her hand before turning to leave. Liang Chengmin saw a piece missing from the lens and chased after him, following him into an alley. The alley was long and deserted, with only occasional stray cats, their paws tapping against the stone slabs. Liang Chengmin quickened her pace, reaching forward to grab his wrist: “Stop! Let me see your eye!”

Luan Mingrui finally stopped and stood there.

He was tall, and she couldn’t see, so she stood on tiptoe but still couldn’t see. Growing anxious: “Can you lower your head?”

Luan Mingrui lowered his head, his breath falling on her forehead as Liang Chengmin looked up at him, unusually docile. There was a slight blood mark on his eyelid, likely cut by a piece of the glasses.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

She stepped away from him and asked: “Why did you come?”

“To bring you wedding candy.” Luan Mingrui, as if performing a magic trick, pulled out a liqueur-filled chocolate from his pocket. Such things were rare then. Liang Chengmin had eaten them once or twice and liked them. But today she didn’t want to eat it.

“Why are you bringing me wedding candy? Are you showing off? Are you trying to say that even if I don’t marry you, plenty of others will?”

“Do you ask every girl you meet if she wants to marry you? Or does it depend on your mood?”

“Are you so proud of getting married that you have to flaunt it in front of me?!”

“Who wants your stupid wedding candy!” As Liang Chengmin spoke, she grew agitated, and her eyes reddened. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt a bit wronged and somewhat regretful.

Seeing a tear roll down Liang Chengmin’s cheek, Luan Mingrui finally couldn’t bear to tease her anymore: “It’s my cousin’s wedding candy.”

…

If there had been a hole in the ground, Liang Chengmin would have crawled into it. She pressed her lips together, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Want to eat it?” Luan Mingrui asked her again.

“Yes.” Liang Chengmin wiped away her tears and opened her palm. Luan Mingrui placed the chocolate in her hand. She tore off the foil and put it in her mouth, reluctant to bite it, just holding it there.

“Is the chocolate good?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

“Yes, it’s good.”

“Let me taste it.”

He suddenly lowered his head and kissed her lips, his tongue licking at the corner of her mouth. Liang Chengmin’s mind exploded, and she stood there stunned.

When Luan Mingrui’s lips came again, she was like a fool.

Luan Mingrui wasn’t foolish. He may not have had experience, but he was determined to taste the chocolate. He held her head, his tongue exploring, and this exploration was consequential—the young woman’s sweet lips and tongue, with a faint hint of alcohol, made his thirty-year-old iron tree suddenly bloom. His tongue entwined with hers, thoroughly sucking the chocolate from her tongue, along with her tongue itself. His hands cupping Liang Chengmin’s face showed a sense of instinct. Feeling they were too far apart, he abruptly pulled her into his arms.

Liang Chengmin collided with his body. What pressed against her frightened her, and she struggled in his embrace: “Let me go!”

“No!”

“I’ll scream for help!”

“Go ahead!”

Luan Mingrui trapped her between himself and the wall. The two were in a contest, breathing heavily. “Not going to scream?” Luan Mingrui asked her, seeing her pitiful eyes, and kissed her again. This time was even more urgent than before, teeth colliding with teeth. He didn’t care, tilting his head to finally find the right position.

Liang Chengmin couldn’t stand steady. He lifted her, his body entwining with hers, serving as her handle and support.

Recently, he had thought of her every day but couldn’t put aside his pride. Today, seeing others marry, he suddenly felt envious. What was dignity and face compared to bringing Liang Chengmin home as his wife?

Of course, nothing!

Wouldn’t it be better to marry her first and then slowly deal with her? Why was he competing with her now?

Finally separating, Luan Mingrui’s heart was full as he asked her: “Liang Chengmin, will you marry me?”