Time slipped by as the warm breeze filled the courtyard. Sunlight and shadows from the trees dappled the ground, weaving patches of light.
Yang Xueyan and Zhuang Dongping sat in the small parlor sipping tea, making idle conversation—but both knew their minds were elsewhere. All their focus remained in the studio.
“At Aiyun’s pace, she should be done by now, right?” After countless cups of tea, Yang Xueyan could no longer sit still. Her fingers rubbed the rim of her cup restlessly, betraying her agitation.
Hearing this, Zhuang Dongping gave a soft “mm” of acknowledgment.
Taking that as encouragement, Yang Xueyan rose from her seat, barely containing her eagerness. “I’ll go take a look.”
She strode quickly toward the studio—and just as she’d guessed, Lin Aiyun had already finished the remaining portion and was mulling over whether to add more details. Catching sight of Yang Xueyan hovering outside the door, Lin Aiyun smiled and called out, “Auntie.”
“Ah, you’re finished?” Yang Xueyan stepped in, a little sheepish.
Lin Aiyun nodded, stepping aside to make room for Yang Xueyan to take a closer look, and voiced her dilemma: “I feel like this area is too bare. I’m debating whether to add a small butterfly.”
Yang Xueyan moved closer, following Lin Aiyun’s finger to the blank corner in the upper right. She studied the fully embroidered peony again and again before finally shaking her head, offering her opinion:
“Too much can spoil it. Sometimes leaving a little space is better. The rest of the piece is already richly detailed—adding more would make it feel crowded.”
After turning it over in her mind, Lin Aiyun’s eyes lit up with understanding, her brows arching as she said, “You’re absolutely right, Auntie! That makes so much sense. A professional’s eye really is different—I still have so much to learn.”
She slipped in some flattery, making Yang Xueyan beam with delight.
“If you ever have questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I may not have many talents, but embroidery is one thing I know a thing or two about.” Yang Xueyan tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze warm on Lin Aiyun.
Truthfully, she genuinely adored this girl. She was bright and pretty, sweet-mouthed and polite—and on top of that, her embroidery skills were nothing short of masterful. Yet she remained humble, without a trace of arrogance.
What was even rarer was her ability to sit in the studio for an entire day without losing focus. It was clear she embroidered out of genuine passion—otherwise, she couldn’t have stayed so absorbed.
This brought her back to her earlier thought: if Aiyun was willing…
She opened her mouth, then held back. Better to test the waters first, she decided. If things didn’t work out, she’d only end up disappointing the girl.
Resolving this, Yang Xueyan carefully removed the embroidery from the wooden frame, found a bag from the cabinet, and tucked it away neatly. Just as she was about to lock it up, she remembered Zhuang Dongping—the girl had been waiting with her, surely eager to see the finished piece.
But when Yang Xueyan and Lin Aiyun arrived at the small parlor carrying the bag, it was empty. Zhuang Dongping was nowhere to be found; only her tea cup remained on the table.
The gatekeeper told them she had left just moments ago.
“That girl—if she had something urgent, she could have at least said something.” Yang Xueyan muttered under her breath, but didn’t dwell on it. She turned to Lin Aiyun: “What would you like for dinner? Auntie will make you something you love.”
“I love ribs, hehe. Let me help you—I’m pretty good in the kitchen.” Lin Aiyun didn’t hold back, letting a hint of girlish charm and reliance show to bridge the gap between them.
Yang Xueyan had no daughters—only two lively boys, who had grown up and gone their separate ways, leaving her feeling a little distant. She always had a soft spot for sweet, well-behaved young girls. Seeing Lin Aiyun like this, her smile grew even warmer.
“Alright, then ribs it is. And you cook too? I’ll have to sample your skills.”
“I know a few things. When it’s done, you’ll be the first to try it.”
They locked up the studio together and headed to the kitchen. With the help of the cook, the three of them quickly prepared a full table of dishes.
As dinner time approached, Yang Xueyan was about to head to the lake to call Zhang Boli—but before she could leave, she spotted him walking in with Xiao Cheng, chatting and laughing. Asking around, she learned they had run into each other on the road, and Xiao Cheng had given him a ride.
“Wash up and eat—Aiyun and I cooked this meal together.” Yang Xueyan urged the two to go wash their hands, noticing Zhang Boli was carrying two bottles of wine that looked like foreign imports.
“Where did you get these?”
Zhang Boli rubbed the back of his head and tilted his chin toward Xiao Cheng. “This kid brought them as a gift for me. Says it’s French wine—never had it before. You’ll have to keep me company for a couple of glasses later.”
“You spoil him too much!” Yang Xueyan shot Xiao Cheng a playful glare, though she was secretly pleased. It showed the boy still held them in his thoughts.
Over the years, knowing Zhang Boli’s fondness for a good drink, Xiao Cheng had sent him specialty wines from all over the country. Now that he’d exhausted the domestic options, he was branching out internationally.
“As long as Uncle Zhang likes it. I’ll drink with you, but don’t overdo it!” Xiao Cheng said with a smile. By then, his steps had somehow carried him to Lin Aiyun’s side. He leaned in and asked softly, “How was your day?”
“Really good.” Lin Aiyun blinked, her eyes bright as spring. Her lashes trembled when she smiled—she looked lovely.
Whether from spending too long in the kitchen or the warmth, her delicate face was flushed, pink peeking through the fair skin. Her full lips, like peach petals, parted as she spoke, revealing a hint of pearly teeth.
Watching her, Xiao Cheng’s hand itched, and he couldn’t resist reaching out to ruffle her hair. “That’s good.”
“Auntie wouldn’t bully your wife, would she?” Yang Xueyan caught the whole scene and smiled with satisfaction at their obvious affection, teasing them lightly.
“Didn’t say that.” Xiao Cheng let his hand slide naturally to Lin Aiyun’s shoulder, his broad palm covering the whole curve. The contrast of her fair skin against his tan made for an indescribably tender picture.
Hearing this, Yang Xueyan rolled her eyes at him in mock exasperation, then called everyone to the table to eat.
“I wouldn’t dream of bullying her—I adore her too much! Aiyun is truly impressive—her embroidery skills rival those of seasoned craftswomen. I love her style and technique. In a couple of days, I’ll introduce her to the president of the embroidery association.” Yang Xueyan’s brows lifted with pride, as if she were praising her own daughter.
“Oh?” Though it was expected, Xiao Cheng feigned surprise. “Really? You’re not just saying that to humor me, are you?”
From the sink where she was washing her hands, Lin Aiyun overheard and held up a fist in his direction, signaling him to tone it down.
Xiao Cheng wiped the water splashed onto his face. Leveraging his height, long limbs, and broad frame to block the view, he squeezed closer to Lin Aiyun until she was half-enclosed in his arms.
Afraid of being seen, Lin Aiyun jabbed him in the side with her elbow, but he didn’t budge—and she only ended up with pink, chafed skin on her arms. How were his muscles so hard? Was he made of iron?
Just then, Yang Xueyan’s voice came from the dining room: “Do I look like I have nothing better to do than make things up?”
“Aiyun’s piece is truly excellent—the color selection, the stitching technique… but you’re a layman, so I won’t bore you with details. Either way, you’ve struck gold this time, bringing such a wonderful wife home.”
“Your parents would be overjoyed if they knew. Have you taken Aiyun to pay respects to them yet? You should offer incense and let them put a face to the name, so they know.”
Seeing the couple still dawdling by the sink, Yang Xueyan peered in with a bowl in hand. “Not done yet?”
“Coming!” Xiao Cheng called back, his voice a little muffled, as if he had something in his mouth.
Yang Xueyan frowned and was about to go over when Xiao Cheng’s tall frame shifted. He turned around, looking cheerful and pleased.
“I’m planning to take Aiyun the day after tomorrow—it’s a good date.”
“Good to hear you’ve thought it through.” Yang Xueyan studied Xiao Cheng for a moment, finding nothing amiss. Then she called out, “Aiyun, come on—you said earlier you wanted a bowl of chicken soup, right? I’ve already ladled it for you.”
“She got water in her eye. I’m helping her rinse it out—we’ll be out in a minute.” Xiao Cheng answered quickly, turning back and rubbing Lin Aiyun’s eye with his hand. She took the chance to pinch his side, hard.
“Water in her eye? Here, use this clean handkerchief to wipe it.” Alarmed, Yang Xueyan pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and hurried over to hand it to Lin Aiyun.
Lin Aiyun took the handkerchief, dabbed at her eyes and the water marks Xiao Cheng had left on her face, and said softly, “Thank you, Auntie.”
“All better now?”
“Yes, all better.”
She folded the handkerchief and returned it to Yang Xueyan, then shot Xiao Cheng a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her apricot eyes were slightly reddened, but her pupils were dark and bright, stirring a faint ripple in his heart. He couldn’t help lowering his voice and weakly defending himself: “Wife, it was just a kiss. Tell you what—you can kiss me back later to make up for it.”
Just a kiss?!
Who kisses someone and then bites and holds on like that? Who kisses and then licks and nibbles and sticks their tongue in?
And she was supposed to kiss him back? As if!
With that thought, Lin Aiyun stomped on his foot hard, deciding to settle the score with him later. Thank goodness Yang Xueyan and Zhang Boli hadn’t seen—otherwise, she’d lose all face today.
Xiao Cheng might not care about dignity, but she sure did.
Knowing his wife was upset, Xiao Cheng scratched his nose sheepishly and tried to appease her: “We haven’t seen each other all day—you have no idea how much I missed you.”
Unmoved, Lin Aiyun pushed his face away and stepped forward to help Yang Xueyan arrange the bowls and chopsticks.
“These dishes were all made by Aiyun—southern-style cooking. Old Zhang, you have to try them.” Yang Xueyan had noticed the little tiff between the couple, but she had no intention of intervening. In fact, she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, secretly enjoying the show.
Fancy that—Xiao Cheng actually getting the short end of the stick. How rare!
“How could you let her cook on her first visit?” Zhang Boli shook his head in disapproval—but his chopsticks went straight for the dishes Yang Xueyan had pointed out, without a moment’s hesitation.
Yang Xueyan rolled her eyes inwardly. Then don’t eat them, she thought.
Seeing this, Lin Aiyun pulled her attention away from Xiao Cheng and said with a smile, “It’s just cooking—anyone can do it. No big deal. Uncle Zhang, how do you like it? Does it suit your taste?”
Hearing her speak so sensibly, Zhang Boli beamed. He popped the piece of meat from his chopsticks into his mouth, chewed twice, and his eyes lit up. He nodded enthusiastically. “Delicious!”
The sweet-sour tang of tomato blended perfectly with the savory chewiness of the pork, layering the flavors beautifully. The red and dark brown colors paired well together—visually appetizing too.
“I didn’t expect little Lin to be so capable at such a young age. Xiao Cheng, you’re in for some good eating!” Zhang Boli teased while going back for seconds of the other dishes, unable to stop.
“Exactly.” Xiao Cheng smiled, his smugness practically dripping from the curve of his lips.
A little embarrassed, Lin Aiyun kept her head down and ate, but her bowl was never empty—he kept adding her favorite dishes, and her cup stayed full.
When she looked up again, she was met with Yang Xueyan and Zhang Boli’s knowing, fond smiles. In later terms, they were shipping them—shipping a real-life couple!
“Oh, how sweet! Youth is wonderful.” Yang Xueyan cast a meaningful glance at Zhang Boli, her words loaded.
Zhang Boli, who was drinking soup, quickly set down his bowl and picked out a piece of fish for her. “Here—I caught this one myself. Your favorite. Eat up.”
“…” He can’t even pick out the bones. How frustrating.
She shot him a disdainful look but didn’t say anything more. Still, when he passed her another bowl of soup, the corners of her mouth lifted just a little.
After dinner, Lin Aiyun and Xiao Cheng offered to help clean up the kitchen, but Yang Xueyan shooed them away. “No need for you to tidy up—just leave it. The housekeeper will handle it tomorrow.”
“Alright, then. You two get some rest. Aiyun and I will head back.” Xiao Cheng was holding a bag of pears that Yang Xueyan had given them. He waved at the door.
“Be careful on the road—it’s dark. Watch your step.”
“Got it. Goodbye.”
Xiao Cheng had driven over. Though the two houses weren’t far apart, he didn’t want to leave the car there and have to come back for it in the morning, so he decided to drive back. But Lin Aiyun, still miffed about his earlier antics in the kitchen, stubbornly insisted on walking home alone.
She’d barely made it two steps before he scooped her up by the waist.
“Xiao Cheng!”
Thankfully, it was dark and no one was around, or they’d have caused a scene.
“There’s a car, but you want to walk? Are you crazy?” Xiao Cheng deliberately gave her a little bounce—though she knew he wouldn’t drop her, it still made her instinctively wrap her arms around his neck for fear of falling.
“Put me down!”
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