Unable to sleep, she pulled out a notebook and started sketching and writing. Most of it was lesson prep for the calligraphy classes, but there were also, in moments of distraction, seduction plans she’d jotted down—one new idea after another, each crossed out again.
By the time she remembered she needed to sleep, it was already quite late.
She always had to use the bathroom before bed—it was a habit. But thinking of Xiao Cheng’s poor sleep and how he’d throw a fit if disturbed, she opened the door carefully, making as little noise as possible. Going to the toilet felt like sneaking around.
Thankfully, nothing unexpected happened along the way, and she was back in bed soon enough.
Even though she’d gone to bed late, she still woke up early the next morning. She braided her hair into a single plait. With nothing much to wear, she put on a white blouse with lace trim and black trousers—simple and elegant.
But though she’d risen early, someone else was up even earlier. The cook had already started bustling about in the kitchen, and the aroma of porridge filled the air. Zhou Jin stood in the living room like a guardian deity. From him, she learned that Xiao Cheng had gone out for a morning run a while ago and would probably be back soon.
Morning run? Lin Aiyun’s eyes flickered. She set aside her thoughts for now and repeated to Zhou Jin what Xiao Cheng had told her the night before.
“Teach me calligraphy?” Zhou Jin, usually expressionless, frowned deeply now, as if unable to believe Xiao Cheng would give such an order. But Lin Aiyun had no reason to lie about it. After a moment’s hesitation, he said: “I’ll ask Brother Cheng when he gets back, then go buy the things you mentioned.”
Brush, ink, paper—how could such scholarly items possibly be found in this place?
“Alright. If there’s no issue, I’d like to start the lessons as soon as possible. What do you think?” Lin Aiyun clasped her hands behind her back, her eyes curving with amusement at Zhou Jin’s look of mortal dread.
Before Zhou Jin could respond, a deep, husky voice interrupted from the doorway.
“What are you two chatting about? Laughing so happily—care to share?” The voice still carried the rough breath of exertion after exercise. Xiao Cheng stood at the entrance, dressed in black, his features sharp and defined. Thanks to a good night’s sleep, his complexion was healthy and his energy abundant.
His sharp gaze landed squarely on them—especially lingering on her upturned lips for a moment.
The moment he arrived, the atmosphere in the room grew noticeably heavier.
“Miss Lin said you arranged calligraphy lessons for me.” Zhou Jin answered honestly, his tone tinged with uncertainty.
Xiao Cheng pulled the towel from around his neck and wiped the sweat from his forehead. As he raised his arm, his shirt rode up, revealing a large expanse of skin—a defined set of abdominal muscles, sexy and untamed.
After wiping, he tossed the towel casually onto the sofa and nodded slowly: “Mm, that’s right.”
“Understood.” Zhou Jin never questioned Xiao Cheng’s orders.
“Have some water.” At some point, Lin Aiyun had gone to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.
Xiao Cheng’s eyelids drooped slightly as he looked at the hand extended toward him—small, looking soft and pliable. He wondered if it would be nice to squeeze. His gaze traveled upward to those moist, almond-shaped eyes, fixed on him without blinking, as she said softly: “You must be tired, right?”
She’d looked at Zhou Jin with that same expression just now. Tch—did she look at everyone that way?
“Miss Lin is so thoughtful.” Xiao Cheng’s usually calm eyes seemed to flicker. He raised an eyebrow with a light chuckle, his tone trailing upward. It was meant to be a compliment, but with that delivery, it suddenly carried an ambiguous edge.
Lin Aiyun blinked and opened her mouth to speak, but the glass was taken from her hand. He drained it in one go, handed it back, and turned to head upstairs.
Watching his retreating figure, Lin Aiyun turned back to the kitchen and helped the cook prepare breakfast.
The cook, Mrs. Wang, had initially assumed Lin Aiyun was the lady of the house and hadn’t dared let her help. When she learned Lin Aiyun was also an employee—and a fellow local—she opened up.
Mrs. Wang was from Lanxi County, just over fifty, and lived not too far away. She’d been hired by Zhou Jin specially to clean and cook. Her skills were good, and she could make all kinds of dishes.
Usually, when Xiao Cheng was home, she’d be called in to cook and clean—but not very often. Yet she was paid well. Such an easy, well-paying job was hard to come by. In Mrs. Wang’s words, Xiao Cheng was practically the God of Wealth reincarnated—she sang his praises to the skies.
From the sound of it, Xiao Cheng really was as busy as he claimed—though she had no idea what he was busy with.
Just as she was thinking this, the man appeared at the table like a ghost after washing up, holding a folder Zhou Jin had just handed him. His hand, gripping the white paper, was strikingly beautiful—knuckles like jade, long and powerful.
His white shirt was undone at two or three buttons, hanging loosely, revealing his collarbones. He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, legs crossed. His eyes were slightly lowered, lashes thick and long, nose high and straight. A thin smile curved his lips as if he’d read something amusing.
He was the picture of aristocratic ease.
He ate quickly but not crudely, and after finishing, he left with Zhou Jin. Soon after, Mrs. Wang finished cleaning and left too, leaving Lin Aiyun alone in the house.
She washed the dirty clothes she’d changed out of the night before, then folded the clothes Xiao Cheng had lent her, ready to return them in the evening.
With nothing else to do, she holed up in her room and continued working on the unfinished embroidery.
The window was half-open, revealing a view of the flowers and plants in the courtyard. A gentle breeze rustled through—everything was peaceful.
It was nearly nine in the evening when Xiao Cheng returned, carrying the smell of alcohol. Lin Aiyun came out of her room to meet him. “Mr. Xiao.”
“Mm.” He acknowledged her with a grunt and walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water. As he tilted his head back to drink, the veins on his neck stood out, engorged. His damp hair partially covered his closed eyes, and his thin lips were moist, gleaming with a faint, glossy red.
Sensing something, he turned his head toward the kitchen doorway. There stood Lin Aiyun, holding a damp towel, having just rushed over. She was clearly already in her sleepwear, ready for bed.
Only two warm yellow lamps were on in the living room, their light spilling across her face, lending her an indescribable softness.
Xiao Cheng, who had been in a foul mood from the drinking session earlier, found himself calming down. He reached out and took the towel from her hand. Their fingertips brushed past each other, carrying the warmth of their shared presence.
She must have used quite a bit of soap—the air was filled with a sweet, pleasant fragrance.
“It’s late—why aren’t you asleep yet?” Xiao Cheng wiped his face with the damp towel, the soft fabric sliding across his cheeks, sharpening his senses.
“I was about to go to bed. I heard noise outside and came to check.” Lin Aiyun leaned against the doorframe, then added: “Wait for me.”
With that, she turned and jogged away, her hem tracing an elegant arc through the air.
Xiao Cheng set down the empty glass, towel still in hand, and followed behind her. By the time he reached the living room, she had emerged from her room carrying a neatly folded pile of clothes.
His gaze landed on them, and he guessed what she was up to.
“Thank you for lending me these clothes, Mr. Xiao. I’ve washed and dried them—here they are.” Lin Aiyun’s pursed lips broke into a full smile, revealing her white teeth. Her eyes curved brightly, her whole face lighting up.
“Mr. Xiao?”
Her second call snapped Xiao Cheng back to the present—and he was alarmed to realize he’d been smiling too.
It must be the alcohol kicking in. Otherwise, this would be too strange.
But his gaze remained glued to her face. The past two nights of good sleep had already confirmed his suspicion was correct: as long as she was around, he slept perfectly.
He didn’t know why, but Lin Aiyun was an important, special presence to him.
She could only stay here. Stay by his side.
At that thought, Xiao Cheng’s eyes deepened. He took the clothes she handed him and said with a smile: “You’re welcome.”
Lin Aiyun was surprised by his sudden shift in mood. She returned the smile, a little dazed: “Get some rest. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Watching him head upstairs, she saw him stop halfway and turn back to look at her. His voice was deep and mellow: “Good night.”
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun’s smile widened. She waved cheerfully at him.
Xiao Cheng stared at her for a moment, unable to name the feeling in his chest. All he’d said was good night—why was she so happy?
Back in his room, Xiao Cheng moved to toss the clothes in the trash. But after loosening two fingers, he pulled them back, walked to the wardrobe instead, and hung them up on a hanger.
—
For two weeks, the days followed much the same routine. Zhou Jin had been sent off somewhere by Xiao Cheng and was nowhere to be seen. So the promised calligraphy lessons never even started—the tools were never bought either.
Since her employer hadn’t said anything, she, as someone drawing a salary, couldn’t very well bring it up. She was content to enjoy the leisure.
But she hadn’t forgotten the more important matter. Ever since learning that Xiao Cheng had a habit of running nearby in the mornings, she’d been planning to create an “accidental” encounter. However, to avoid arousing suspicion—and because her injuries hadn’t fully healed—she hadn’t acted immediately. Only today did she finally put her plan into motion.
The area around the villa was surrounded by green hills and clear waters—small lakes, small forests. Though not as neat and manicured as the professionally maintained green spaces of later times, it had the advantage of being purely natural.
Lin Aiyun purposely woke up early and watched from her room to see which direction Xiao Cheng ran. After waiting a while, she set out after him—but with his long legs, he was long gone by then.
It was only the first day. She didn’t expect things to progress so quickly. These things needed to be gradual—doing it too fast could easily backfire.
She jogged all the way to the lake, stopping to catch her breath by a laurel tree at the roadside. Bent over, she rested for a while before continuing along the path. She didn’t dare get too close to the water—it was a wild lake, and who knew what lurked in the reeds? There might even be snakes.
Early morning, there was hardly anyone around. Along the way, she’d only seen two or three elderly people out for a walk. At the lake, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Standing on tiptoe to peer ahead and seeing no sign of Xiao Cheng, she was about to turn back when a voice suddenly came from above.
“Looking for me?”
Speak of the devil. Startled, Lin Aiyun stepped back two paces. The next second, a strong hand gripped her forearm. She looked up into his deep, unfathomable eyes. “Still not watching where you’re going? Fall into the lake and no one’s fishing you out—you’ll just turn into a female water ghost.”
“…”
Lin Aiyun deliberately turned to look. She’d been three or four steps away from the water’s edge—far enough that there was no way she’d fall in. Did he really have to scare her like that?
After a moment of silence, she spoke first: “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just kind-hearted—would anyone else bother with you?” Xiao Cheng raised an eyebrow, accepting her thanks without hesitation.
“…” How had she never noticed before that Xiao Cheng was this shameless?
And besides…
Lin Aiyun glanced at his hand, which was still holding hers. She let the corner of her mouth lift slightly. He didn’t let go, so she pretended not to notice, tilting her head to change the subject: “What are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? Why are you sneaking around following me?” Xiao Cheng narrowed his eyes, suddenly withdrawing his hand. He wiped the light sweat from his forehead with the towel around his neck. Today he wore a military-green tank top—when he lifted his arm, the muscles in his shoulders bulged, the lines impossibly alluring.
“Who’s following you? I couldn’t sleep, so I came out for a walk—to run, get some exercise.” Lin Aiyun conveniently ignored the word “sneaking” and defended herself stubbornly: “Who knew we’d run into each other by such coincidence?”
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