In this little home, Lin Yiran was responsible for before meals, and Qiu Xing was responsible for after meals.

After each meal, Lin Yiran no longer needed to enter the kitchen. Qiu Xing would handle all household chores from washing dishes to the end of the day.

Lin Yiran applied hand cream, sitting on the coffee table, waiting for Qiu Xing. On the table was a plate of fruit she had cut in advance and stored in the refrigerator in the afternoon.

When Qiu Xing walked behind her carrying a mop, Lin Yiran tilted her head back and asked, “Need any help?”

“You’ve already applied hand cream and you’re still asking?” Qiu Xing said.

“I can apply more,” Lin Yiran said with a smile.

“Not necessary,” Qiu Xing glanced at her. “Just sit there.”

Usually while waiting for him, Lin Yiran would either work on her computer or read for a while.

Outside, snowflakes were sparsely falling, tiny particles that disappeared before reaching the ground. The streetlights in the community glowed quietly, with snow particles scattering under their halos, making the yellow light inside the room feel even warmer. Lin Yiran wore Qiu Xing’s clothes, sitting barefoot on the edge of the sofa with her legs folded. The rose white tea scented hand cream made her entire body fragrant.

After Qiu Xing finished mopping the floor, he went downstairs. Lin Yiran was so absorbed in her book that she only noticed when Qiu Xing closed the door and left. She looked up and glanced around, knowing Qiu Xing wouldn’t just leave like that, so she didn’t ask anything.

After a while, Qiu Xing returned, changed his shoes, and with one hand carried a case of mineral water to the kitchen.

Lin Yiran didn’t move, only her gaze followed him as he moved halfway around her field of vision, her eyes curved with a smile.

Qiu Xing then took a screwdriver from the drawer and returned to the doorway. He knelt on one knee, half-squatting there, using the screwdriver to adjust the door lock.

Lin Yiran stopped reading, resting her cheek on her knees as she watched him.

Qiu Xing took out two newly purchased batteries from his pants pocket, tore open the packaging, and replaced the original ones in the door lock. He wore a somewhat thick crewneck T-shirt and jeans, with a long neck and sleeves, his jawbone and Adam’s apple visible.

A mature man who inspired a sense of security.

Lin Yiran watched quietly for a moment before asking, “Did the batteries die?”

“Didn’t you hear the alert?” Qiu Xing asked in return.

“Last time I was here, it did say the batteries were almost dead, but then it stopped saying it, so I forgot,” Lin Yiran said with a smile.

“You wouldn’t be smiling if you got locked outside,” Qiu Xing said.

Lin Yiran didn’t mind his words, just smiled again and continued reading her book.

What Qiu Xing said and what he did never quite matched up. His mouth couldn’t speak soft words, yet his actions were always gentle. Another lesson Lin Yiran had learned in their relationship was to use her eyes more and her ears less when dealing with Qiu Xing.

By the time she finished her book, Qiu Xing had just come out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to his shoulders and back, wearing only a pair of pants.

Lin Yiran remained in the same position, the finished book now closed on her knees. She seemed to still be immersed in the story she had just read, her brow slightly furrowed.

Qiu Xing walked over and placed both hands on the sofa beside her, trapping her between himself and the sofa.

Qiu Xing looked at her and asked, “What’s that expression?”

He still had moisture on his body from the shower, his hair was wet, and the towel had made it messy, giving him a disheveled handsomeness.

Lin Yiran pressed her lips together with a hint of a smile, looking into Qiu Xing’s eyes at such close distance.

“I don’t like the ending of this book,” Lin Yiran said.

Qiu Xing glanced down, casually picked up the book and tossed it aside, then trapped her again, saying, “Stop reading.”

Bending his body like this, the muscles on Qiu Xing’s shoulders and arms tensed up, his collarbones creating two hollow spaces at his shoulders. When he leaned forward, staring at her like this, Lin Yiran felt he was like a leopard or a lion. And she was like prey, yet she wasn’t afraid.

“Okay,” Lin Yiran obediently agreed, her voice becoming small as she looked at Qiu Xing and asked, “…what shall we do then?”

Qiu Xing pecked at her lips and said in a deep voice, “Something else.”

Lin Yiran nodded, raising her hands to encircle Qiu Xing’s shoulders, offering no resistance.

Her entire body carried the scent of her hand cream, the soft fragrance of rose white tea gently enveloping Qiu Xing. Qiu Xing kissed her neck, and Lin Yiran leaned against the sofa back, tilting her neck slightly, exposing a section of her beautiful, fair neck. Hidden beneath Qiu Xing’s oversized clothes, she began to tremble subtly after being kissed for a while.

Later, Qiu Xing simply picked her up like this. She folded into a small bundle as he carried her to the bed.

In certain moments, Qiu Xing was always fiercer than usual, his movements rough, his gaze direct. The typically quiet and obedient Lin Yiran often couldn’t withstand him.

But Lin Yiran didn’t like to cry in bed, nor did she make much sound—her upbringing and naturally introverted personality were ingrained in her bones. Only on those few occasions when Qiu Xing went on for too long did Lin Yiran, in her disheveled state, have tears streaming down her face as she softly begged him.

Tonight was no different.

Lin Yiran’s muffled pleas were ineffective, and even her tearful begging didn’t work.

Qiu Xing wiped away her tears and even took a tissue to wipe her nose, but he wouldn’t let her off.

“Qiu Xing…” Lin Yiran looked at him pitifully, saying helplessly, “I really can’t take it anymore, Qiu Xing.”

Qiu Xing ignored her, and Lin Yiran added, “It hurts.”

Qiu Xing asked her, “Where does it hurt?”

Lin Yiran couldn’t answer, and when Qiu Xing asked again, Lin Yiran could say nothing beyond her tears.

Qiu Xing hadn’t seen her for a while; this interval was longer than usual.

The more obedient Lin Yiran was, the more Qiu Xing bullied her. She always unknowingly provoked the baser instincts in men, and then never got angry, no matter how Qiu Xing treated her—at most, she would only cry.

But in such moments, crying was the least effective way to make Qiu Xing spare her.

Lin Yiran was covered in sweat, damp and disheveled.

Later, she hugged Qiu Xing, kissed his ear, and softly called him by a term, saying, “Please spare me.”

Not counting their childhood, since Lin Yiran met Qiu Xing again at nineteen, she had always only called him “Qiu Xing,” just this one form of address. For Lin Yiran, the two words “Qiu Xing” represented so much—it was the closest way to address him.

And calling him this way today was Lin Yiran’s desperate measure when she truly had no other option. Her heart was pounding, her eyes tightly closed, not daring to look at Qiu Xing.

And indeed, because of this soft, low utterance, Qiu Xing spared her early.

Qiu Xing pinched her chin with such force that Lin Yiran’s skin immediately reddened.

Lin Yiran’s eyelashes trembled rapidly, not daring to meet his gaze.

Qiu Xing fiercely bit her lips, kissing her deeply.

Afterward, Lin Yiran was carried to the shower, and then carried back, all while avoiding Qiu Xing’s eyes.

Qiu Xing never mentioned it again. He tucked her back into the blanket, turned off the light, and held her from behind, kissing her neck.

The light snow continued to fall outside. Occasionally, snow particles blown against the window would make tiny sounds. Lin Yiran had her back to Qiu Xing, feeling his breathing and heartbeat, feeling secure and happy in this moment.

*

That Spring Festival, Lin Yiran and Qiu Xing returned to Aunt Fang’s home to spend the holiday with her.

Aunt Fang had only recently accepted Qiu Xing again, no longer becoming alarmed at the sight of him. The past two years were blurry for her—neither completely forgotten nor fully remembered. She didn’t remember her rejection of Qiu Xing, but she remembered most things from her everyday life.

As soon as Qiu Xing arrived home, she stood before him and asked in confusion, “How did you get so much darker?”

“You startled me,” Qiu Xing said. “I thought you were going to say how grown-up I’ve become.”

Aunt Fang didn’t understand. Lin Yiran, changing her shoes nearby, laughed softly and nudged Qiu Xing’s elbow.

“Don’t speak nonsense,” Lin Yiran whispered to him.

Qiu Xing nodded to show he understood.

While watching the Spring Festival Gala on New Year’s Eve, Aunt Fang remarked that one of the hosts had aged.

“In my mind, he’s still a child. How did he become like this?” she asked in confusion. “How did time pass so quickly?”

Qiu Xing, who had been peeling an orange, paused at her words.

“What’s wrong?” Aunt Fang asked him.

Qiu Xing put a segment of orange in his mouth and said, “I’m twenty-eight now.”

“Huh?” She blinked, looking at Qiu Xing.

Lin Yiran’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly nudged him.

“I’m not eighteen, Mom,” Qiu Xing said.

Aunt Fang looked quite calm and nodded. “I know, I know that.”

“You startled me,” Qiu Xing turned to Lin Yiran and said softly.

“Don’t be so abrupt!” Lin Yiran whispered to him. “You’re the one who startled me.”

Qiu Xing said, “I was afraid that during the New Year celebrations, I’d be thrown out.”

Lin Yiran laughed, but also felt a bit sad. During the previous two Spring Festivals, Qiu Xing had spent them away from home. Aunt Fang couldn’t see him, so Lin Yiran would stay with her until after the New Year countdown and then sneak out. Qiu Xing didn’t want her to go to such trouble, but Lin Yiran just wanted to be with him.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to do that this year. Qiu Xing had finally returned home.

Life was gradually getting better, and time flowed peacefully and long. It took away pain, took away the past, took away youth, but it also made people more composed, more steady, willing to let go of many things and face their hearts honestly.

Under time’s polishing, both Lin Yiran and Qiu Xing had become better people, capable of shouldering their futures as adults.

And in Lin Yiran’s envisioned future, Qiu Xing was present in every scene.

Whether it was the Qiu Xing who led her out of difficulties at nineteen, or the Qiu Xing who repaid his debts, or the current Qiu Xing who could mop the floor and go buy batteries to replace those in the door lock.

For her, he was always the best Qiu Xing.