Cheng Wanyue was momentarily dazed by the faint smile on Qing Hang’s lips. Though they had been reunited for some time now, this was the first time she had seen him smile.

He rarely smiled in the past, either.

She stared at the ceiling, muttering softly, “No improvement, at least there shouldn’t be regression… right…”

Her final syllables became indistinct due to labored breathing, soft moans mixed with disorderly panting, broken and intermittent.

Qing Hang’s hand, covering her chest, not only didn’t withdraw but became even more audacious.

Years of handling surgical knives, practicing countless times, even the simplest wound suturing, had left a layer of calluses on his fingertips. When they brushed across her nipple, that almost-painful tickling sensation shot through her brain like an electric current. Cheng Wanyue instinctively arched her body, but the next second, she was pressed into the mattress. She tried to counterattack, but her hands were pinned down by him.

He was always disobedient in bed.

Knowing full well what she liked, he deliberately did the opposite.

Her tongue was entwined with his, drawn in. What should have been a tender, intimate kiss became predatory, as if he was not satisfied with draining all her moisture but wanted to tear away her flesh and bones bit by bit, chewing and swallowing them.

She had only struggled slightly before being subdued by him. It was as if he wanted to prove something, or perhaps it was revenge for being mocked about his poor kissing skills. His aroused lower body pressed against her with only a thin layer of clothing between them, gaining hidden pleasure from their physical friction. He even wished she would struggle with greater force.

The headboard made creaking sounds, and the ambiguous tension sealed in the room silently surged.

If the second alarm hadn’t rung, his hand would have slipped beneath the edge of her underwear—the only remaining piece of fabric on her body.

No one paid attention to the phone screen lighting up again. The alarm sound grew louder and louder. What little rationality remained forcibly pulled Qing Hang from his surging desire. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Cheng Wanyue’s neck, panting, as the grip on her wrists gradually loosened.

“Although you’re putting in effort, it’s not particularly good,” Cheng Wanyue, still pinned down and unable to move, always lost in terms of physical strength, but was determined to have the upper hand verbally. “You still need to try harder.”

Qing Hang rolled over to lie beside her and turned off the alarm. “Who should I try harder with?”

His voice was nasal. “With you?”

Cheng Wanyue considered it seriously for a few seconds. “Well… that depends on my mood. If I’m happy, I might lend myself to your efforts. If I’m not, don’t even think about it.”

He smiled again.

It was different from his smile five minutes ago. That one had carried a hint of melancholy and self-mockery. This one seemed a bit… sensual.

His throat was hoarse, his breathing still somewhat rapid. The curve in his light gray sweatpants was quite obvious. His left hand was still intertwined with hers, the moist heat in his palm undiminished.

Cheng Wanyue shifted slightly to lie on her side and noticed one of her hairs that had fallen on the pillow now wrapped around Qing Hang’s finger.

The day she came to get the keys, when they awkwardly ran into each other, years of absence had created such estrangement that even sitting together, they could only remain silent. At that time, she had been wondering about the mole that had mysteriously appeared on the inside of her right wrist, and whether the one on his left wrist was still there. But that day, he had maintained his distance from her, so she couldn’t see. Later, when she fell and landed herself in the hospital, she forgot about it.

Now… she could see it. It was still there.

They can appear, but they don’t disappear.

Cheng Wanyue gently closed her fingers, pressing the skin of his wrist against hers.

“Qing Hang, I have one too.”

“What?”

“I’m not telling you,” she knew he had to go to work, but they still had ten minutes to waste. “Help me put on my clothes.”

When Qing Hang moved away from her, he pulled up the comforter to cover her, but she felt empty underneath.

“If I help you dress, I’m bound to touch you.”

“As if you didn’t touch enough just now?” She gave a light snort. “The only reason you didn’t get slapped is because I have double standards. If you think you can kiss me, touch me, and then just get out of bed and leave, try it and see.”

Qing Hang sat up, his short hair disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from his recent aggression.

He picked up the white T-shirt that had fallen to the floor. Cheng Wanyue had washed her underwear the night before and dried it with a hair dryer, but her bra was still hanging on the balcony. He found the remote to turn off the air conditioner, then went to the balcony to bring her dried bra back to the room.

Cheng Wanyue was still lying under the covers, waiting for Qing Hang to pull her up from the bed.

He had undressed her many times before, and helped her dress just as many times.

The first time he helped her dress, he didn’t know whether he should fasten the back clasp first or slip the straps over her arms. Watching his awkwardness, she had held back her laughter as she taught him once, then took it off and made him dress her again.

That day, his ears had turned red as if they might bleed, and even when explaining problems to her, he barely looked at her.

Qing Hang stood beside the bed. “Are you going out?”

“If I’m not going out, you won’t help me put on my bra?” Cheng Wanyue covered herself with one hand, but it couldn’t hide the red marks on her chest.

He said, “Your body shouldn’t wear one at home.”

Zhou Heng would be away for a week, and no one else would come.

Cheng Wanyue wasn’t in a rush to go to work; she had plenty of time. “I need to go out, so I need to wear it. If you don’t hurry up, don’t blame me if you’re late.”

As it turned out, after a long period of not doing something, even the smartest person can become rusty.

Qing Hang saw the various marks on her body, light and heavy. Physical contact was unavoidable.

He pulled the T-shirt over her head, then helped her arms through the sleeves. Only after she was fully dressed did he go to take a shower.

Cheng Wanyue went to the kitchen first to boil water. His room was simple—apart from the bed, there was only a wardrobe and a desk with a drawer on each side. She opened both, looking for fever medication.

In the left drawer was a wooden box, about the size of a book, neither new nor particularly old. She looked at it for a moment, then remembered seeing it before—it was the jewelry box Qing Hang’s grandmother had used. The lid was carved with patterns that, upon close inspection, were quite beautiful. Qing Hang’s grandfather had been a carpenter who could make all the family’s everyday furniture until he injured his hand and could no longer work.

The sound of water in the bathroom stopped. Cheng Wanyue came back to her senses, closed that drawer, and checked the right one. After finding the fever medication, she went to pour water.

Qing Hang didn’t have time for breakfast, so she had only boiled water.

Cheng Wanyue prepared a glass of lukewarm water. “Take your medicine.”

Although he was the one who had climbed into bed in the middle of the night, she had monopolized the bed and blanket.

“I don’t mean anything else by it, just think of it as thanks for taking me in temporarily,” she explained briefly before changing the subject. “Have you seen the Korean film ‘Hope’? I was really scared last night.”

Qing Hang walked toward her while drying his hair with a towel. “You’re thanking me with my own medicine and my water?”

Cheng Wanyue hummed softly, “Well, didn’t you kiss me?”

…

Qing Hang hadn’t been at the hospital long and was still junior in rank. Apart from patients, there were many miscellaneous tasks. By the time he finished the urgent matters, it was already afternoon. Before the end of his shift, he found time to visit the director’s office.

Director Li discussed work with Qing Hang for over half an hour.

After discussing the surgery, Qing Hang brought up his matter. “Director Li, would it be possible for me not to be scheduled for night shift on the 18th? I can make up for it with extra night shifts next month.”

Director Li asked, “The 18th of this month?”

Since starting work, Qing Hang had never once requested leave. “Yes, in July.”

“No problem, I’ll arrange it right away.”

“Thank you, Director.”

“You’re welcome. We’re all ordinary people; we can adjust work schedules with some flexibility.”

Director Li received a phone call, so Qing Hang left.

Qing Hang needed to visit the medical records room. Between the inpatient department buildings, there were wide, bright corridors where the sound of high heels on the floor created crisp echoes.

Li Yu approached from the opposite direction, greeting him with a smile.

“Qing Hang, long time no see.”

She was Director Li’s daughter and also Qing Hang’s senior from the same academic lineage, two grades above him. Compared to clinical work, Li Yu was better suited for research, which she loved. After graduation, she stayed at the university to teach.

Qing Hang nodded politely. “Senior Sister.”

Li Yu noticed his exhausted expression. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

“No, I slept fine. Are you here to see Director Li?”

“Yes. You go ahead with your work. I need to discuss something with my father. I’ll come find you later.”

Only after Qing Hang had walked away did Li Yu withdraw her gaze and head toward her father’s office.

Li Yu knocked and entered. Director Li was still on the phone, so she sat on the sofa to wait.

The person on the other end of the call was Director Li’s younger sister, who had recently been busy finding a match for her daughter. After listening, Director Li thought of Qing Hang.

“Online matchmaking isn’t reliable; it’s easy to get deceived. I do have someone suitable here, about the same age as Xin Xin.”

“What are his qualifications?”

“His parents died early, and his grandparents are also deceased. He hardly has any contact with distant relatives, so there’s no family burden. He’s highly educated, has good character, and a clean, proper appearance. Although he’s not a local, his abilities are impressive. He’s ambitious and hardworking. The young man has limitless potential; I think very highly of him. His personality is a bit cold, though. He doesn’t use flowery tactics or sweet talk to make people happy. Girls might find him uninteresting when they first meet him. Being a bit dull in a relationship doesn’t matter much, but for marriage, you want someone reliable like him.”

“Anyone praised so highly by my big brother can’t be bad. Let’s have a meal together sometime so I can meet him first.”

“Don’t rush. Let me find an opportunity to ask him about it.”

“…”