Lu Yicheng’s cooking was genuinely impressive.

After an hour of work, three dishes and a soup came off the stove, fresh and hot. There was Lu Siyan’s favorite sweet-and-sour spareribs, a steamed sea bass dotted with shreds of red and green, the chilled sugar-glazed tomatoes that were a staple of summer home-cooking, and a seaweed egg-drop flower soup.

There was meat and vegetables both, and the colors together were beautiful.

Since returning to Jing Shi, Jiang Ruoqiao had been surviving almost entirely on takeout. She almost never cooked for herself — at most, when she’d grown tired of delivery food, she might throw together a simple vegetable salad. You could get any cuisine imaginable through a delivery app, but two days of takeout in a row and her stomach started filing protests. Coming across a home-cooked meal like this out of nowhere, Jiang Ruoqiao’s appetite surged immediately.

The three dishes and soup were, in every sense of the phrase, pleasing to the eye, nose, and palate.

After a couple of bites, she offered her praise without the slightest reservation. “Lu Yicheng, I had no idea you were such a good cook.”

Lu Siyan was gnawing on a rib with oil all over his mouth and had absolutely no time for conversation.

Daddy made delicious food, but Daddy didn’t make sweet-and-sour spareribs every single day!

The three of them gathered around the small dining table. Lu Yicheng, with his long arms and long legs, occupied what seemed like more than his fair share of the space. He ate with quiet composure, and at her compliment, only said modestly: “It’s nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” Jiang Ruoqiao said. “I think it’s wonderful. I certainly couldn’t do it.”

Lu Siyan raised his hand high. “I can testify! Mommy’s cooking is really bad!”

So at home, Mommy rarely cooked. It was usually Daddy who made the meals, and when Daddy didn’t have time, Mommy would take him out to eat.

On rare occasions, Mommy would get into the mood to cook.

Lu Siyan preferred not to recall those occasions.

Although — every time Mommy made something, Daddy would come home and eat every last bite. Daddy was to be pitied. No matter how bad it tasted, he always managed to look as though he were savoring something extraordinary.

Jiang Ruoqiao: “Hey!”

Did she have no dignity?

Lu Siyan quickly ducked his head and shoveled in a mouthful of rice. “I’m only stating facts.”

A smile spread across Lu Yicheng’s face. He couldn’t remember exactly when he had started cooking — probably primary school. Back then his grandmother was working all hours to support him and often came home very late, so he had gotten used to making himself something to eat. He hadn’t known how to cook at first, but he had figured it out over the years. He was grateful for this skill now — no matter what circumstances he found himself in, he would never go hungry again.

Jiang Ruoqiao said sincerely: “Siyan is so much better off with you than with me.”

When she thought about it — if Siyan were with her, he’d probably be eating takeout every day and possibly skipping meals. Siyan had just confirmed it himself: that future version of her hadn’t unlocked the cooking skill either……

When it came to caring for a child, Lu Yicheng was simply much better than she was.

Lu Yicheng looked at her. Their eyes met, and Jiang Ruoqiao paused, then added: “Ah — I’m not trying to shirk my responsibilities, I’m just giving you a compliment. I’ll do what I’m able to do.”

The words didn’t carry a great deal of weight, even to her own ears.

When she thought about it, it had been Lu Yicheng doing the child-rearing this whole time. She herself had done little more than supervise a few afternoon naps. Nothing else. The household registration — Lu Yicheng had sorted it. The kindergarten research — Lu Yicheng had gathered all the materials……

Lu Yicheng looked over at Lu Siyan, who had returned to industriously gnawing his spareribs. “I know.” He spoke to Jiang Ruoqiao, his gaze calm and steady. “But for a child, a mother who scores seventy is still better than a father who scores ninety — at least for Siyan, that’s how it is. So don’t sell yourself short.”

He meant every word. The fact that Siyan preferred his mother over his father was undeniable.

Jiang Ruoqiao blinked, then tilted her head, studying him with an amused gleam. “So, Lu Yicheng — you’re giving yourself ninety points and only giving me seventy?”

She never played by expected rules.

Now it was Lu Yicheng’s turn to be left completely speechless, with no idea how to respond.

An expression like this was a rare sight on his face.

It seemed she had actually caught him off guard.

How was he supposed to answer that — he had only meant it as an analogy.

Jiang Ruoqiao watched the look on his face, and for once, her smile was genuinely warm. She plucked a piece of tomato from the plate — sweet, cool, and refreshing.

Every summer during her childhood, her grandmother had made this dish nearly every day.

She would slice the tomatoes, layer them with a generous amount of sugar, and put them in the refrigerator. That sweet-and-sour chill had cut across her childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood — the taste in her memory that meant warmth and home.

Lu Yicheng gripped his chopsticks and said quietly: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Had he unconsciously felt, deep down, that she wasn’t doing as well as he was?

But how could he think that? How could he allow himself to think something like that?

She had already been doing very well — and in terms of psychological resilience, perhaps she was stronger than he was.

So yes, he did owe her an apology.

Jiang Ruoqiao was laughing so hard she could barely hold it together. *What an earnest, guileless person,* she thought. “Somehow, I still think that was exactly what you meant.”

Lu Yicheng didn’t know what to do with himself.

Jiang Ruoqiao shook her head, drawing out her words in a teasing tone. “Giving yourself ninety points is a little arrogant, don’t you think.”

Lu Yicheng: “……”

He said nothing more, focusing intently on the sea bass in front of him.

Lu Siyan had no idea what his parents were talking about. He watched them with wide, round eyes — first Lu Yicheng, then Jiang Ruoqiao — and when he saw that Mommy’s face had no sign of unhappiness and that her eyes still held laughter, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. From a very young age, Lu Siyan had known one thing: Mommy’s mood was the household’s weather forecast.

After dinner, Lu Yicheng cleared the dishes with quick, efficient movements. Jiang Ruoqiao had been about to offer to help out of courtesy, but he didn’t even give her the chance — he’d already scooped everything up and headed into the kitchen. Old apartments didn’t have dishwashers. Lu Yicheng washed the bowls and scrubbed the pots with practiced ease. Watching him, Jiang Ruoqiao suddenly thought: all those articles online about the ideal “domestic man” — this was exactly what they meant.

Truthfully, if Lu Yicheng weren’t Lu Siyan’s father — if Lu Siyan had never arrived — seeing so many of Lu Yicheng’s shining qualities, Jiang Ruoqiao might actually have wanted to pursue something with him. After all, she had never dated a man quite like this before.

But he was Lu Yicheng. He was Lu Siyan’s father.

And so she had to be careful. If the two of them got involved, it wouldn’t be a relationship they could simply walk away from.

Too many complications. And she hated complications above all things.

Once Lu Yicheng had finished, Lu Siyan absolutely insisted on walking Jiang Ruoqiao to the metro station entrance — children were mostly well-behaved, but every now and then they wanted to be indulged, and this wasn’t an unreasonable request, so of course they agreed. At half past seven, the sun had already set. The summer evening sky was breathtaking, towering and vivid, and a distant blaze of crimson clouds lit up the horizon.

The whole way, Lu Yicheng said almost nothing.

This reminded Jiang Ruoqiao of last semester, when she had seen him a few times as Jiang Yan’s girlfriend — sharing a table in the cafeteria, or when their dormitory had treated everyone to a meal. As an outsider looking in at the dynamics of their male dormitory, Jiang Ruoqiao had seen things with perfect clarity. Lu Yicheng was, without question, the central figure in that dormitory. If the other three roommates were asked to choose, Lu Yicheng would be the one they trusted most — as a friend, as a roommate.

He lived up to his nickname of “the gentle herbivore” in every way.

No aggression. Warm and easy with everyone.

Looking at him now, Jiang Ruoqiao almost had the strange sensation that she was the one bullying him.

And yet, in a relationship like theirs, the negative emotions that Lu Yicheng — moral compass that he was — had to carry were surely far greater than hers. She herself didn’t particularly care. There was no undercurrent of betrayal in how she felt toward Jiang Yan, no guilt whatsoever. That was just how relationships worked — you could date someone today and break up tomorrow, without any legal binding. If she and Jiang Yan had been married, she might have felt some faint sense of uncertainty or remorse.

But he was only a boyfriend.

Not worth more than that from her.

But what about Lu Yicheng? Right now, she was still his good friend’s girlfriend.

Reciprocating what he had given — that was only fair. Over this period of time, Lu Yicheng had come through in every possible way, especially in handling Lu Siyan’s household registration. He had demonstrated a man’s full sense of responsibility in every dimension. Jiang Ruoqiao was the type who usually made her own decisions quietly and said nothing until things were done. But this time, she decided to make an exception.

After sorting through her thoughts, she glanced sideways at Lu Yicheng.

Was she taking advantage of a good-natured person?

“Lu Yicheng.” Having made up her mind, Jiang Ruoqiao suddenly called out to him.

Lu Yicheng was still lost in his own world.

There was a lot weighing on him lately. On one hand, the start of the new semester was drawing closer and closer. He’d decided not to live in the dormitory anymore, but Jiang Yan was still his friend and classmate — they’d inevitably see each other every day. He honestly had no idea how to face that. On the other hand, raising Siyan was a massive financial undertaking. He had some modest savings, but without finding ways to increase his income, he was heading straight toward a deficit — spending more than he earned. If this went on, what would happen?

Then, out of nowhere, he heard Jiang Ruoqiao call his name, and he stopped walking.

The streetlamps on both sides of the road had come on, casting light onto the trees beside them, dappling their shadows. He was wearing a loose white T-shirt that carried all the easy freshness of summer. Usually his expression was gentle and composed, but right now — probably because his mind had been elsewhere — his brows were knitted, and he looked quite serious.

He was tall. Jiang Ruoqiao barely reached his chin.

Lu Siyan was running and jumping some distance ahead, perfectly content just to stomp on his own shadow — an activity that could keep him happily occupied indefinitely. He had completely forgotten about the two adults following behind him.

“What is it?” Lu Yicheng asked.

Jiang Ruoqiao kicked a pebble out of her path with her foot, her expression conflicted. “When Jiang Yan gets back — I’m going to break up with him.”

Something pressed down on the brake inside Lu Yicheng’s body. He stopped abruptly and looked at her.

—