Zheng Yun paused with his drink, his dark eyes steady as they regarded Bai Jin. “Why would you think that?”

“And you don’t trust the judgment of an expert in love?” Bai Jin leaned in impishly, blinking those narrow, handsome eyes. “If Ling’ai had no feelings for you, would she have thrown herself in front of that blow without a second thought? That hit landed on her face — if it had landed on her head, she might have been killed on the spot. You and I are close brothers. I would throw myself in front of a blow for you in that situation too — but what is she to you? Some things come from instinct, and they come from the heart. She has you in her heart.”

The words “she has you in her heart” struck Zheng Yun deeply. He set down his cup without realizing it and stared into the liquid in a daze.

“Old Zheng, what’s the harm in giving it a try? Just because her father is Hui Cun, you don’t dare? Don’t be a coward. You’re not pursuing her father.”

Zheng Yun gave him a helpless look, picked up his cup, and lightly clinked it against Bai Jin’s. He said nothing either way.

Two days later, as Ling’ai walked out of the school, she spotted a familiar figure standing in the distance. Thinking she had imagined it, she instinctively rubbed her eyes.

By the time she lowered her hand, the figure had already begun walking toward her.

He was not in uniform — just wearing a simple, casual set of clothes — yet his tall, lean frame cut a striking silhouette.

“What brings you here?” The surprise in Ling’ai’s eyes was unmistakable. Afraid her delight was too obvious, she quickly redirected her gaze toward a large pagoda tree nearby.

“Today is when you need to go change your dressing. I was worried you’d forget.” Zheng Yun glanced at his watch. “I’ll take you.”

“I could manage it myself…”

“Let’s go.” Zheng Yun set off first, and after a brief pause, Ling’ai hurried to follow.

There was a streetcar stop right outside the school that went to the hospital. They hadn’t waited long before the car came rattling along.

A fair number of people boarded. Zheng Yun let Ling’ai board first and blocked the press of the crowd with his body behind her.

At this hour, the car was packed with workers coming off their shifts and students just let out of school. It was densely crowded — people were nearly pressed against each other, foot to foot.

Zheng Yun found a spot by the window for Ling’ai to hold onto, then stood behind her, one hand gripping the railing.

Ling’ai had often taken this streetcar, and every time she had been jostled and pushed. Now with Zheng Yun shielding her, she was spared all of that.

And because of the crowd, Zheng Yun’s chest was almost against her back. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. That warmth filled her with a deep sense of security.

Thinking about it, Ling’ai’s ears went red. She was a little annoyed at herself for letting her imagination wander.

For the entire journey, Zheng Yun stood unmoved as a mountain, keeping her securely sheltered in that small space. All the way until they got off the car, Ling’ai had not been jostled even once.

At the hospital, Director Liu changed Ling’ai’s dressing. “Good. The healing is coming along nicely. In a few more days you can come in to have the sutures removed.”

Though Director Liu said this, Zheng Yun still noticed that the wound was red and swollen — it must have been painful these past two days.

At the thought, his fist tightened at his side. The surging emotions inside his chest were forcibly suppressed.

After the dressing was changed, the two walked out of the hospital together. The sky was dimming now, the last light of the setting sun casting a hazy glow over the earth. A streetcar happened to rumble past the entrance, its familiar clattering rhythm fading into the distance.

“Do you need to be home for dinner tonight?” Zheng Yun suddenly turned and looked at her.

Ling’ai stood in the fading sunlight, her fair face touched by its soft warmth. Her eyes seemed to hold the glow of the evening sky — bright and radiant.

Those beautiful eyes blinked twice. “Father has a dinner engagement tonight. It’s fine if I don’t go home to eat.”

Ling’ai could have slapped herself the moment the words left her mouth. What was she implying — that since she wasn’t going home, she’d be eating with Zheng Yun?

“I don’t feel like cooking tonight either. Shall we eat together?” Zheng Yun suggested sincerely.

A thousand voices inside Ling’ai were already crying out “yes, yes, yes!” But afraid of appearing too eager and unladylike, she hesitated for a moment before nodding. “All right then.”

“Is there anything you’d like to eat?”

“I’m not particular. Anything is fine.” Ling’ai thought to herself: as long as I’m with Zheng Yun, I’d be happy to drink the northwest wind.

Zheng Yun heard this and suddenly turned to look at her. Ling’ai hadn’t expected him to turn so abruptly, and her smile hadn’t had time to fade — she walked straight into his gaze, fully exposed.

Zheng Yun appeared to smile, the corner of his mouth curving into the faintest upward arc. “I know a place. Do you want to go?”

“I’ll go wherever you want to take me.” Ling’ai was utterly caught in that smile. She was completely under its spell, and the words came out purely on instinct.

Zheng Yun led Ling’ai to a night street food market.

The market was lively and bustling. When dusk gave way to evening lights, the lanes on both sides filled with stalls of every kind. Even while still some distance away, the aromas had already drifted into their noses, stirring their appetites.

Ling’ai had never been to this kind of market before. She had so few friends that naturally no one had brought her to enjoy the lively atmosphere.

So everything was fresh and new to her, and her curiosity showed in every direction she looked.

Zheng Yun chose a relatively quiet stall for Ling’ai to sit at. “Bai Jin and I come here often. There’s plenty of variety and it’s not expensive — and most importantly, everything is delicious.”

He pointed to the wooden menu board hanging from the food cart. “This stall makes especially good wontons. Which filling would you like?”

“Mushroom, I think.” Ling’ai scanned the board. “And you?”

“Then I’ll have mushroom too.”

Zheng Yun went over and ordered two bowls of wontons, then added two small side dishes and paid.

Ling’ai watched him take out his wallet — the gesture was so natural and unhesitating. She felt he looked particularly admirable in that moment. It occurred to her that no man had ever so easily paid for something for her, even if it was just a bowl of wontons.

When she was with Zheng Yun, she never had to do anything. He would naturally take care of everything. That feeling made her feel deeply settled.

By the time Zheng Yun returned to the table, the owner had already brought the side dishes over — a plate of cool bitter melon dressed simply, and a plate of tripe in chili oil. The serving dishes were nothing special, but the colors were vivid and appealing.

Zheng Yun picked up a pair of chopsticks and handed them to Ling’ai. “The wontons here are exceptional, and so are the sides. Try them.”

Ling’ai picked up a piece of tripe and tasted it. It wasn’t particularly spicy — the chili oil was fragrant, but not so strong as to mask the fresh flavor of the tripe itself. The tripe was cooked just right: not too soft, with a firm, satisfying chew.

“It’s wonderful,” Ling’ai said sincerely.

“The bitter melon is good too. It cools you down.”

Ling’ai had never been fond of bitter melon. The bitterness put her off. But this cold bitter melon dish had been prepared in some way she couldn’t identify that removed the bitterness entirely, leaving only a light sweetness.

By the time the wontons arrived, they had already eaten most of both side dishes.

Zheng Yun took a small bowl, scooped out a few wontons to let them cool, then pushed the bowl toward Ling’ai. “The broth is still quite hot. Be careful when you eat.”

Seeing how thoughtful Zheng Yun was, Ling’ai felt moved, and her smile grew. “Thank you.”

She hadn’t expected to eat such delicious food at this kind of roadside stall. Truly, the finest food comes from the most humble corners of ordinary life.

After finishing the wontons, Zheng Yun bought a bowl of red-bean shaved ice for Ling’ai. She carried the little bowl in her hands and ate as they walked.

Rounding the corner past the street food stalls, there was also a small miscellaneous goods market, with stalls selling all kinds of trinkets and novelties.

Ling’ai looked over here, peered over there, her curiosity impossible to conceal.

Zheng Yun showed not the slightest impatience, standing not far away and shielding her from the passing foot traffic the whole time.

The two browsed for quite a while before leaving the market. By then, a light breeze was blowing. The autumn night was cool, and the Liao He river shimmered with rippling light.

The night was quiet and serene.

“I’ll walk you home.” Zheng Yun looked at Ling’ai, whose face was full of contentment.

“Zheng Yun, thank you for tonight.” Ling’ai clasped her hands behind her back, tilted her head, and gave him a sweet smile. “This is the first time I’ve ever eaten at a roadside stall.”

“Any time you want to come, I’ll bring you.”

“Really?” She blinked at him, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“Really.” Zheng Yun turned away. “Let’s go.”

Watching his tall, broad back, Ling’ai couldn’t help breaking into a wide, beaming smile. When he was far enough ahead, she hopped and skipped to catch up.

At the gate of Ling’ai’s home, Zheng Yun hesitated a moment before speaking. “The division gave out two cinema tickets — for a newly released film. Would you like to see it?”

Ling’ai was already saying yes inside, but immediately put on a composed air. She couldn’t agree the second someone invited her — she didn’t want to seem too easy and leave him with the wrong impression.

“What film is it?”

“I’m not entirely sure. The tickets haven’t been distributed yet.”

“Well… all right then. What day is it?”

“The day after tomorrow — my day off.”

Ling’ai murmured her agreement. “The day after tomorrow happens to be my holiday as well.”

Seeing her agree, Zheng Yun curved his lips slightly. “Then the day after tomorrow, seven in the evening — meet me at the entrance to the Jinbu Cinema.”

“All right.”

“Go inside now. Rest well. And remember — the wound still can’t get wet.”

“I will.” Ling’ai nodded obediently.

Only after Ling’ai passed through the gate and waved to him did Zheng Yun turn and leave.

But the moment he was gone, a figure emerged from the shadows, watching the direction in which he had departed. Within those deep, unfathomable eyes, dark clouds gathered and stirred.

It seemed his suspicion had been correct. Ling’ai had truly taken a liking to someone.

He would absolutely not allow Ling’ai to fall for someone else. Even if Ling’ai was not his to have, she was a vital piece on the board he controlled. That piece could only be moved according to his will. No one else had any right to interfere.

Anyone who stood in his way, he would uproot them — each and every one.