This sleep lasted until the sun set in the west.

When Shen Qianzhan woke up, the bedside was already empty.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the setting sun was fading, with clouds on the horizon carrying golden thunder as they hurried toward the horizon to retreat.

When Shen Qianzhan first awoke, her body was still in a lazy, tired state.

She stared blankly out the window for a while. When her consciousness returned, she was shocked to realize that time had passed and it was nearly dusk.

She got up while complaining about Ji Qinghe.

It was one thing for him to be gone when she woke up, but how could he let her sleep until just now?

Usually it wouldn’t matter, but they had arranged early to visit the Ji family’s old residence to pay respects to old Mr. Ji. Now she didn’t know if they’d make it in time.

She went to the dressing room to change clothes, putting on her watch while checking the time—5:20.

Right at every city’s rush hour.

Xi’an’s traffic wasn’t good, especially around the Drum Tower area, a famous tourist attraction.

When Shen Qianzhan first came to Xi’an, she stayed at a hotel near the Drum Tower and Muslim Street, knowing well that those roads saw endless streams of people and vehicles during morning and evening rush hours.

Four main arteries centered on the Drum Tower were packed tight.

Though Ji Qinghe’s villa district was nestled quietly in the heart of the old city center with convenient transportation, the traffic problem was also the most deadly.

Even if Shen Qianzhan went out immediately without makeup, looking plain and simple, she couldn’t reach the Ji family’s old residence on the Lingshan side before dark.

She was annoyed at oversleeping and delaying matters, but since it had happened, there was no point in brooding.

Given Ji Qinghe’s thorough nature, not waking her should mean he’d already greeted old Mr. Ji in advance. Her missing the appointment wouldn’t constitute breaking faith.

With this thought, she looked up at the sunset gradually sinking into the clouds and settled back into bed.

——

Without the time pressure, Shen Qianzhan carefully groomed herself.

She’d had good complexion these past days—even without makeup, her skin was translucent as snow, flawless. With the mindset of adding finishing touches, she applied Armani bare-face cream and carefully drew eye makeup and eyeliner.

Her features were three-dimensional and exquisite, her forehead full, her nose bridge naturally straight and perky without needing contouring. Her lips were naturally red and gorgeous without rouge—just a touch of saturated moisture could perfectly outline her lip shape like red plum blossoms blooming in proud snow, budding and ready to bloom.

Shen Qianzhan sat before the mirror, examining herself from left and right. Her gaze inadvertently fell on the black lace nightgown she’d just changed out of, pausing slightly. She raised her finger to press down the collar, looking at the strawberry field freshly planted on her chest.

Her period had ended yesterday.

Ji Qinghe had been restless, not without testing her boundaries. When they shared a bed this morning, he’d tugged at her underwear several times, but seeing her extremely tired, he didn’t force it.

Shen Qianzhan didn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep. Her deepest impression before sleep was the kiss that dog of a man had left between her thighs.

She felt both ashamed and completely natural—at the time, she hadn’t found anything unacceptable about it.

But now that she was clear-headed, those images came flooding back with undeniable impact.

Given Ji Qinghe’s current degree of opportunism, Shen Qianzhan felt… she would soon be surrendering in matters of the bedchamber.

She withdrew her gaze from her mirror reflection, straightened her collar, and got up to leave.

——

When Shen Qianzhan came downstairs, lights were already on in the first-floor living room and corridor, brightly illuminated.

She gripped the stair railing as she descended. Reaching the entrance hall, she faintly heard conversation from the kitchen. Walking closer, she saw Aunt Xie teaching Ji Qinghe to make soup.

“Can’t add salt too early—if cooked too long, the meat won’t be tender. The heat should be like this, simmering slowly. Soup’s nutrition isn’t about how long you cook it—moderation is key. It’s about right now.” As she spoke, Aunt Xie ladled soup into a white porcelain bowl and handed it to him: “Mr. Ji, try this.”

Ji Qinghe took it and tasted: “Saltiness is just right. We can turn off the heat.”

He casually set down the bowl, watching Aunt Xie turn off the heat and clean up, saying: “I’ll check if she’s awake. Keep the food warm for now.”

As he spoke, he also saw Shen Qianzhan standing behind them both, his tone slightly surprised: “You’re awake?”

Hearing his voice, Aunt Xie turned around, smiling before speaking: “Miss Shen, are you hungry? Should we eat now or wait a bit longer?”

Shen Qianzhan glanced at Ji Qinghe and smiled too: “Let’s eat now. I want to go out for a walk tonight.”

Ji Qinghe was washing his hands. Though he’d wanted to cook, he was still not quite adapted to the kitchen environment. After washing his hands and going to the dining room with Shen Qianzhan to wait for dinner, he suddenly curved his lips: “I’ve discovered my shortcoming.”

This statement was quite irritating, but Shen Qianzhan couldn’t resist her curiosity.

She held back for a few seconds. Seeing Ji Qinghe had no intention of volunteering the information, she glanced at him and asked: “What shortcoming?”

“Don’t like cooking.” He sat beside Shen Qianzhan, handing her chopsticks: “But this shortcoming is easy to remedy—I’ll earn more money to ensure I can afford housekeepers for life.”

“You won’t need to cook or handle housework.”

Aunt Xie was just bringing out the duck soup when she made eye contact with Shen Qianzhan. Not wanting to interrupt the master’s conversation, she smiled at Shen Qianzhan—a smile both ambiguous and envious.

Shen Qianzhan had been particularly thin-skinned lately. Aunt Xie’s look and smile made her ears burn. She simply didn’t respond to Ji Qinghe’s words, instead asking about the soup: “Aunt Xie, what soup is this? I smelled the aroma upstairs.”

Aunt Xie secretly glanced at Ji Qinghe, using a soup ladle to divide the dried lychee duck soup into two bowls, placing them before both: “Mr. Ji said you’ve been working too hard lately. This dried lychee duck soup refreshes and relieves fatigue—very nourishing.”

“I think the soup’s nutritional value is secondary—it’s mainly the intention.” She smiled, hinting to Shen Qianzhan with her eyes: “Mr. Ji made this soup. Miss Shen, try it quickly.”

Shen Qianzhan was somewhat surprised.

She’d thought Ji Qinghe was just interested in learning to make soup and had Aunt Xie guide him. She hadn’t expected this soup to be personally made by him.

She tasted the soup.

Seeing Ji Qinghe watching her, waiting for feedback, she deliberately kept him in suspense.

The soup’s taste was naturally excellent—fresh ingredients, slow simmering, with the duck’s freshness and dried lychee’s sweetness perfectly balanced.

She used chopsticks to pick up some duck meat. The meat was neither too old nor too tender, fragrant and delicious.

Whether from hunger or because it was truly delicious, she drank the bowl until only broth remained, then served herself another bowl.

Seeing this, Ji Qinghe no longer needed her review. He chuckled softly and lowered his head to taste his soup.

When all dishes were served, Shen Qianzhan finally found an opportunity to ask: “Why didn’t you wake me this afternoon?”

“Couldn’t wake you.” Ji Qinghe leisurely picked at his food: “Called for half an hour.”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t believe it.

She was a light sleeper—the slightest disturbance could wake her. Even in deepest sleep, calling her name twice could immediately restore consciousness. How could there be a situation where Ji Qinghe called for half an hour without waking her?

Seeing her disbelief, Ji Qinghe smiled without explaining further.

After a while, Shen Qianzhan pressed: “What about old Mr. Ji? If we don’t go today, won’t he think I’m unreliable?”

“No.”

Ji Qinghe said: “I called him this afternoon, saying something came up at the company and I couldn’t bring you over in time.”

Shen Qianzhan felt relieved immediately.

This excuse was much classier than “Shen Qianzhan is having trouble adjusting to the climate and isn’t feeling well, still sleeping.”

“It’s just Ji Lin.” Ji Qinghe paused: “He’s somewhat disappointed.”

“Grandfather said he baked a jar of cookies with the family’s housekeeper to give you, to welcome you.”

Shen Qianzhan’s chopsticks stopped.

She found Ji Lin’s gesture of goodwill even more surprising than Ji Qinghe making soup for her: “Ji Lin didn’t really like me before.”

“Didn’t really like” was still a euphemistic way to put it. During their previous meeting, Ji Lin’s disgust toward her was almost as if she wanted to steal away old Mr. Ji—he practically wanted her to disappear on the spot.

“Little cubs have strong territorial instincts.” Ji Qinghe explained: “His life has always been half incomplete, so he’s particularly nervous about people around him, afraid they’ll be taken away.”

He placed several meat slices in Shen Qianzhan’s bowl: “His nature is purely kind, not willful. After knowing you’re family, he lost his hostility and even wanted to see you quickly to apologize in person.”

Wait?

Family was one thing…

“When did he classify me as family?” Shen Qianzhan asked.

Ji Qinghe glanced at her and said leisurely: “If you want to know, ask him yourself tomorrow.”

Shen Qianzhan: “…”

She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but she felt like after coming to Xi’an, someone’s arrogance had suddenly skyrocketed, his presence overwhelming.

——

After dinner, Aunt Xie cut fruit and brewed red date tea for Shen Qianzhan. Considering she might want a late-night snack, she specially made cold noodles and left them on the small stove.

Unable to refuse such hospitality, Shen Qianzhan sat cross-legged on the sofa, dutifully drinking tea for health.

Ji Qinghe went to his study to handle business after dinner.

At eight o’clock, hearing the door close, he stopped his pen and pushed back his chair to get water.

Shen Qianzhan was about to go upstairs when she heard the sound and looked up.

Ji Qinghe stood at the second-floor stair landing, asking: “Aunt Xie went home?”

She held her teacup and nodded.

Ji Qinghe tilted his head slightly, indicating she should come up: “Want to see the storage room?”

Shen Qianzhan’s eyes lit up like gold and silver treasures were right before her, sparkling.

She gripped the stair railing going upstairs and followed him into the study.

Ji Qinghe’s study wasn’t large. Two surrounding walls of bookcases were filled with books. A gilded inlaid Chinese chandelier hung from the ceiling, with a rosewood desk in the center.

Minimal furnishings, extremely simple and elegant.

He pushed open the hidden door behind the bookcase. Interior sensor lights came on, spreading light across the floor.

He entered first and turned on the lights.

When Shen Qianzhan entered, he stood with hands behind his back by the door, asking: “Is there a difference from the storage room you imagined?”

There was.

In Shen Qianzhan’s mind, Ji Qinghe’s storage room should be a grand collection space like a museum. This storage room before her obviously didn’t reach that level.

But in comparison, rather than the vulgarity of dazzling jewels, this room that was more like Ji Qinghe’s personal space was actually more stunning to her.

All four walls of the storage room were display shelves, categorically organized without interference.

Each area concentrated on displaying the same type of objects—for instance, clocks, or repair tools he’d used.

Besides clock-related items, there were various antique ornaments, from small paper kites to large paintings and calligraphy—a wide variety.

Shen Qianzhan looked with fresh eyes, as if stepping into his world, with unexpected emotion and tenderness filling her limbs.

“This is the flowerpot from when I first grew a cactus.” Ji Qinghe reached up to take down a palm-sized pot from the highest display shelf: “Unremarkable in appearance, but it’s a Ming Dynasty antique.”

He recalled: “When I used it to grow a cactus, old Mr. Ji nearly disowned me.”

Using a Ming Dynasty flowerpot to grow cactus—forget old Mr. Ji, she wanted to hit someone too.

“This kite was made by old Mr. Ji—crude workmanship.” He smiled slightly: “But I flew it for two years.”

“This watch was the first one I successfully repaired.”

“In my first year working at the Beijing clock museum, I bought this camera. It was to photograph the Forbidden City’s snow scenes and red-corner tree plums, but…” He paused without continuing, instead taking the camera from the display shelf and installing batteries.

“The camera broke once last year—the display screen couldn’t show anything, but the photos were still there.” He handed her the powered-on camera, indicating she should look closely.

Shen Qianzhan took it.

In the viewfinder, as he’d said, were all scenic photos of the Forbidden City.

There were vermillion palace walls with glazed green tiles, palace lanterns, corridors, bronze vessels and stone columns, welcoming spring blossoms and proud red plums, and also… herself, sitting foolishly on a wooden chair in heavy snow?