Zhou Ya rarely got drunk, but tonight he did.

He’d first gone to drink a few rounds at Ren Jianbai’s table, and once other customers noticed, they’d wanted him to come drink with them too.

Zhou Ya, uncharacteristically, hadn’t refused, raising a glass at every table.

But he never let himself get truly drunk—he was just quieter than usual, sitting at an empty table under the arcade, staring blankly at the street.

A’Feng suggested: “Boss, you and the little ancestor should head home—we can handle the rest of the cleanup.”

Business had been so good today that by midnight, all the prepared ingredients were already sold out, forcing them to close early.

Fang Long stacked the plastic chairs: “If we’re heading back, I’ll call a taxi.”

Zhou Ya shook his head, slowly: “I’m not drunk.”

His skin was dark enough that it was hard to tell how flushed his face was, but the moment he opened his mouth, the smell of alcohol was unmistakable.

Fang Long put one hand on her hip: “No drinking and driving.”

“Mine’s a motorcycle.”

“And what comes after ‘motor’ in that word?”

Zhou Ya thought seriously for three full seconds before answering: “Cycle.”

Fang Long said, exaggerating each word: “Come on, repeat after me—mo-tor-cy-cle—”

Zhou Ya obediently repeated: “Motorcycle.”

A’Feng watched from the side, thoroughly entertained, thinking that right now their roles seemed to have swapped—Zhou Ya was the little ancestor being indulged by Fang Long.

Zhou Ya didn’t want to take a taxi, but he didn’t insist on driving his own motorcycle either.

He wanted Fang Long to give him a ride.

Fang Long rode a small women’s scooter; Zhou Ya alone took up most of the seat cushion, leaving Fang Long only about half a seat’s worth of room.

“Get drunk once and you turn into a little kid…” Riding into the night wind, Fang Long headed toward home, muttering under her breath, “Zhou Ya, you’re so heavy! Don’t lean on my back like that!”

Zhou Ya normally held his liquor very well and had strong self-control, rarely letting himself get drunk. In all the years Fang Long had lived with the Zhou family, she’d only seen him drunk once before.

That had been right when she’d just started her second year of high school—her uncle had died unexpectedly, and her big aunt had been hospitalized for a long stretch due to heart surgery. Zhou Ya had been swamped with work on top of everything else, coming and going at all hours, yet even so, he never forgot to have meals prepared for her in advance.

Fang Long’s schedule and his rarely overlapped—in the mornings when she left for school, Zhou Ya had already gone out; in the evenings when she went to the hospital to sit with her aunt, Zhou Ya had already left for the food stall; by the time she fell asleep, who knew how much later he came home. Living under the same roof, the two of them could go days without crossing paths.

One night, Fang Long had been asleep when a noise outside woke her. She got up to look and found Ren Jianbai hauling a drunk Zhou Ya home on his shoulder.

Zhou Ya had just kept grinning foolishly the whole time, looking at her, flashing a wide, white-toothed smile, calling her “little sister” over and over.

Fang Long had never taken care of a drunk person before, so she could only follow what she’d seen in romance novels and TV dramas, making Zhou Ya a cup of honey water. Ren Jianbai got Zhou Ya settled into his room to lie down, and by the time Fang Long carried the cup in, Zhou Ya was already asleep.

Fang Long had asked Ren Jianbai if something had happened to Zhou Ya; Ren Jianbai hemmed and hawed before finally saying, “Kids wouldn’t understand.”

Some time later, Fang Long learned that Zhou Ya and Sister Keyun had broken up.

Back then, she’d even treated it as Zhou Ya’s “weak spot,” bringing it up to needle him whenever they argued, saying she never expected he had it in him to be such a “hopeless romantic.”

…

“Mm, I’m cold,” Zhou Ya mumbled, seemingly half-conscious.

The scooter was small, so he had to hunch forward, chin resting on Fang Long’s shoulder, chest pressed against her back, arms circling her waist.

If he kept his feet on the rear footrests, his long legs had to stay bent the whole time—uncomfortable—so he simply stretched them out and planted his feet on the front footboard instead.

Given the difference in their sizes, though it was technically Fang Long giving him a ride, it looked more like he was the one holding Fang Long as he rode.

Fang Long laughed: “Cold, my ass—there’s no such word as ‘cold’ in your dictionary. You take cold showers in the dead of winter.”

Zhou Ya pulled her closer into his embrace, saying unhurriedly: “There’s a reason I take cold showers.”

Fang Long didn’t catch on for a moment: “What reason?”

Zhou Ya didn’t answer, just nuzzled the tip of his nose against the warm side of her neck.

Fang Long made an “oh” sound: “I get it now. Tsk, tsk, Zhou Ya, you’re not being honest.”

Zhou Ya obediently admitted it again: “Mm-hm, not being honest.”

His hands started misbehaving too, creeping upward a few inches, brushing against her here and there.

“Zhou Ya, are you insane!” Fang Long yelped quietly. “I’m driving here!!”

“Mm…” Zhou Ya murmured hoarsely, “So big… what did you eat to get this big…”

“You’re out of your mind! Wait—wait, we’re going to crash!” Fang Long’s face burned hot.

Never mind that this was the first time they’d done something this intimate while riding, Fang Long had also never heard such blunt, explicit words come out of Zhou Ya’s mouth before.

What did she eat… what did she eat…

Hadn’t she been eating his cooking all these years?!

Zhou Ya kept murmuring his “mm-hm”s, but still gave her a couple more squeezes before finally pulling his hand back to her waist.

Fang Long, left thoroughly worked up and unsatisfied, gritted her teeth in frustration and freed one hand to pinch his thigh.

This time Zhou Ya let her pinch him, but he seemed to sober up a little, reminding her quietly: “Don’t drive with one hand.”

“Hmph…”

Fang Long reached back to find his ear, gave it a twist, then withdrew her hand to grip the handlebar again.

Perhaps because of the extra passenger, the little scooter struggled a bit tonight; Fang Long gripped the handlebars tightly, terrified of “capsizing.”

Just one more intersection and they’d be home. Fang Long stopped at a red light.

The man behind her still had his chin resting on her shoulder, his breathing even, his breath hot against her skin.

Fang Long coughed deliberately, twice. After a long pause, Zhou Ya finally responded: “Let it go.”

“Let go, my ass!” Fang Long reached back and pinched his ear hard again. “That thing… did you buy it or not?”

“What thing?”

“You know—that thing!”

“I’m drunk, can’t understand you…”

“Bullshit!” Fang Long laughed in exasperation, shaking the bike’s frame. “Fine, if you can’t understand, then I never asked.”

She really didn’t hold back or lower her voice—her words echoed up and down the empty street, and if some nosy busybody had overheard, they’d have wagged a finger at her for a shameless young girl.

Zhou Ya planted his long legs on the ground to steady the bike for her, laughing low in defeat: “I really give up on you… What, do you really want it that badly?”

Fang Long’s cheeks were already burning, but she kept up the front: “Heh, I was just asking…”

Zhou Ya opened his eyes.

The girl’s earlobe was faintly red, tinted by the streetlight along the road, looking almost translucent like amber.

His lips brushed against her neck, and he honestly confessed: “Bought it. Bought a few new pairs of underwear too, put them all over at the new place. Whenever you’re free these next few days, come with me to take a look—see what else we need, and we’ll go to the supermarket together.”

The light turned green, but Fang Long didn’t move.

She turned to look at Zhou Ya: “The new place? That one next to the town government?”

“Mm.”

When Zhou Ya had bought the apartment and later had it renovated, Fang Long had gone along with Ma Huimin to see it once or twice.

But that apartment…

“Isn’t that your wedding home?” Fang Long’s voice came out very small.

The arm around her waist suddenly tightened, and Fang Long sucked in a sharp breath.

Then, a hoarse voice came from behind her: “It is the wedding home. Which is exactly why I can’t decide everything alone, understand?”

Like a reflex, the tip of her nose prickled.

Fang Long blinked rapidly, trying to disperse the moisture quickly gathering there, and played dumb: “I don’t get it. Oh no, did I breathe in your alcohol fumes and get drunk too?”

Zhou Ya’s posture stayed the same, but all the playfulness had drained from his voice, replaced by real seriousness.

“Fang Long, I want to give you a home.”

Zhou Ya hadn’t said “will.”

Not “I will give you a home,” but “I want to give you a home.”

It was certain. It was sure. It was inevitable.

Her heart became a small hot water bottle, filled to the brim with warmth.

Fang Long let go of the handlebar, leaning her body back into Zhou Ya’s embrace.

She kissed his slightly prickly temple and his burning-hot ear, murmuring softly: “But I already have a home.”

There was a tall bed, a soft pillow, hot soup, a full meal.

There was noise and clashing, nagging and laughter.

There was a big aunt who’d start worrying about her safety whenever she came home a little late.

There was Zhou Ya, who always said he wouldn’t look after her anymore, yet always went and brought her back home the next time regardless.

What had once been an empty shell of a “home” had, bit by bit, been filled to overflowing.

Window after window now stood clear and bright, letting in light that warmed the heart.

The bathroom door was locked, steam thick in the shower, a couple pressed together front to back, the sound of running water drowning out their hurried or slowing breaths.

Zhou Ya’s chest pressed against Fang Long’s back, his lips kissing her pale, rounded shoulder, continuing what they hadn’t been able to finish out on the road earlier.

He found himself unable to stop touching her.

Fang Long’s voice was as light as the white mist filling the glass shower stall: “Zhou Ya…”

Zhou Ya knew what she wanted, but they’d already been in the bathroom for quite a while.

“Alright, finish washing up and go back to your room. Keep this up and you’ll wake your aunt.”

He pulled Fang Long, who had just crouched down, back up, pinched her cheek, and laughed against her ear, “Once we’re at the new place, you can carry on however you like.”

Fang Long puffed out her cheeks, and suddenly her mood dipped: “Why does dating you feel like sneaking around in some illicit affair…”

Zhou Ya’s heart sank; he quickly took her hand: “No, that’s not what I meant—I’m just worried your aunt won’t be able to accept it right away, and that might cause more trouble instead. But if you think this isn’t right, I’ll find a chance to talk to her properly about us soon—”

Fang Long burst out laughing: “I was just saying it offhand, don’t get so tense.”

She squeezed Zhou Ya’s knuckles. “Besides, you don’t need to overthink it so much—we’re not blood related, being together isn’t illegal.”

“But you know, other people don’t care whether we’re blood related or not—they know us as ‘siblings,’ and that alone is enough to start rumors.” Zhou Ya sighed softly, voicing the worry weighing on him. “I don’t care for myself, but Fang Long, I don’t want you to be the one people gossip about.”

Fang Long understood Zhou Ya’s concern.

Other people’s mouths belonged to them, and rumors could spiral out of control the moment anyone stopped paying attention.

“But I’m Fang Long, you know.”

Fang Long straightened up, chin lifted, eyes shining. “I only care what Big Auntie thinks. Everyone else—honestly, I really don’t care.

“And I believe if we talk to Big Auntie properly, she’ll understand.

“Being together is something the two of us share, Zhou Ya. Don’t always try to shoulder it alone.”

Her eyes were still wet, dark and glistening, but reflected within them was a flickering flame that could light up every dim corner in Zhou Ya’s heart.

He thought, no matter when, he would always be willing to bow his head for her, to yield to her completely.

Zhou Ya pressed a reverent kiss to her forehead, the sound of the water unable to mask the smile in his voice: “Mm, you really are something else, aren’t you—quite the little ancestor.”

The two of them didn’t linger in the bathroom any longer. Fang Long dried off first and changed into her pajamas: “Come to my room in a bit and help me dry my hair?”

Zhou Ya said: “Mm, you go ahead, I’ll be there soon.”

Fang Long grinned mischievously: “Then hurry up.”

She opened the door and stepped out, but had only taken two steps when the living room light suddenly flicked on.

Her big aunt had woken up.