Dusk deepened. Moonlight flowed like a calm river, winding through the dense shadows of trees. A gentle breeze rustled through, carrying a soft whisper.
Xiao Cheng closed the car door but didn’t let go of her hand. His fingers shifted, interlacing with hers.
Noticing this, Lin Aiyun’s lips curved upward. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her mood light: “What do you want to eat?”
“Anything.” Xiao Cheng led her toward the house, then added: “Everything you make is good.”
There was no flattery in his words—only genuine praise. He’d always been picky, but whenever he tasted Lin Aiyun’s cooking, he couldn’t help reaching for more.
“That’s the same as not answering at all.” Lin Aiyun pouted, but her smile deepened.
Forget it. Expecting a dinner menu out of Xiao Cheng was a lost cause—she might as well decide herself.
Though they’d been away for days, Auntie Wang had clearly been coming by daily to clean and restock. The kitchen had the usual staples, and Lin Aiyun planned to make a simple three dishes and a soup.
“You don’t even know how to cook. What are you standing there for?” She tied her apron strings, amused to see Xiao Cheng leaning against the doorway.
“I’ll help.” With just the two of them, how could he let her do all the work while he sat around like a lord waiting to be fed?
She didn’t hold back: “Sure.”
Cooking wasn’t easy. Xiao Cheng knew his limits—he steered clear of the more complex steps. Instead, he picked up the cabbage and scallions she’d set out, planning to wash them first before moving on to something else.
“Wait a minute. Put on an apron first—you’ll get your clothes dirty.” Lin Aiyun stopped him just as he reached for the faucet. He froze, looking up at her.
There were clean aprons in the cupboard. Lin Aiyun pulled one out and beckoned him over, signaling him to lower his head. When he hesitated, she stretched up and hooked her arm around his neck, pulling him closer, and successfully slipped the apron over his head.
The ticklish sensation on his neck made Xiao Cheng lean in a little more. The distance between them shrank, breath mingling. His gaze dropped to her still-swollen lips—and the memory of their taste…
Inevitably, his mind began to wander.
His fingers twitched, ready to pull her close—but she stepped back, her tone matter-of-fact: “All set. You can start washing now. Oh, and peel each leaf separately—clean every nook and cranny. There might be bugs in the crevices, so be thorough.”
With that, she turned and headed to the other side of the kitchen.
Xiao Cheng looked down at the bright red apron he was wearing and laughed, rubbing his forehead.
They divided the work clearly, each doing their own tasks. Lin Aiyun would occasionally come over to guide him. Seeing how quickly he learned—even figuring things out on his own—she felt comfortable leaving him to it while she handled the stir-frying.
Zhou Jin had disappeared somewhere, but the two of them chatted and laughed through a pleasant evening together.
“Not bad.” Xiao Cheng looked at the freshly cooked minced pork with eggplant, raising an eyebrow. Though he hadn’t stir-fried it, he’d washed the ingredients—so he’d contributed half.
“Want a taste?” Lin Aiyun produced a pair of chopsticks like a magician and was about to hand them over when she saw Xiao Cheng slouch against the cabinet, the bright red apron making him stand out. It was both absurd and oddly fitting.
“My arms are too tired. Feed me.”
“…” Washing two vegetables really wore out the great Master Xiao.
Lin Aiyun rolled her eyes inwardly. She knew he was putting on an act, but considering it was his first time in the kitchen and he’d done a decent job, she’d indulge him just this once.
She picked up a piece of eggplant, cupping her hand underneath, and brought it to his lips: “It’s hot—blow on it.”
“My mouth’s too tired too.” Xiao Cheng delivered the nonsense with a perfectly straight face, then lowered his gaze to her. In just a few seconds, a scattering of tiny lights had gathered in his eyes.
Hearing that, Lin Aiyun smiled—clearly done indulging him: “Then you can try it after it cools.”
Just as she was about to pull the chopsticks back, Xiao Cheng straightened up, bent down, and blew on the eggplant. Once the steam had faded, he took it into his mouth, his voice carrying a helpless laugh: “Delicious.”
That’s more like it.
She withdrew the chopsticks and turned away, her eyes curving into a smile.
After they finished eating and were tidying up the kitchen, Zhou Jin—who must have slipped out at some point—brought in the luggage from the car, both hands full.
“Brother Cheng, where should I put these?”
“All in her room.”
“Yes.”
But Zhou Jin didn’t move. The room’s owner wasn’t there, and as an outsider—and a man—he didn’t feel right walking into her space. He’d wait until she was done and hand them over directly.
“All in my room? Isn’t that unsafe?” Among those things were several boxes of expensive jewelry. She lived on the first floor—if a thief came, her room would be the first target.
Xiao Cheng frowned, obviously considering the same point. But his concern was for her personal safety, not the boxes of pretty stones. Money could be earned again—but if something happened to her, nothing else mattered.
Though the villa was guarded by his men, absolute safety wasn’t guaranteed—the recent assassination attempt had been a wake-up call.
After a moment’s thought, Xiao Cheng spoke again: “Put everything in the room on the left upstairs.”
Zhou Jin nodded and carried the items upstairs. Seeing him leave, Lin Aiyun turned to wash the dishes—but no sooner had her hand touched the faucet than a hand gripped the soft flesh at the back of her neck. She turned to find a pair of warm eyes looking at her.
“Don’t wash them. Someone will do it tomorrow.” His voice was lazy and unhurried.
“It’s fine—just a few bowls, it’ll be quick…” Before she could finish, she was nudged out of the kitchen.
His voice was crisp and clear, like a mountain stream. Beneath his dark lashes, his eyes were deep and dark: “Come on. Be good.”
His tone drew out at the end, laced with persuasion. Lin Aiyun fell silent and let herself be guided forward. Halfway there, she realized they were passing through the dining room, crossing the living room, heading straight for the stairs. “What are we doing?”
On her first day here, Zhou Jin had said the second floor was off-limits. She’d never even touched a step. Seeing her foot about to land on one, she couldn’t help asking.
“You’re sleeping upstairs tonight.” Xiao Cheng’s explanation was brief.
But it hit her like a thunderbolt. She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but no words came out. After climbing a couple of steps, she gripped the handrails on both sides and stopped dead in her tracks.
“Xiao Cheng, we’re not there yet. No—we can’t…”
Though they’d done it countless times in her past life, this life was different. She wasn’t mentally prepared—and they’d only been together a few days. What would it look like to jump into bed so soon?
Xiao Cheng’s hand on her neck paused. After a long moment, one corner of his mouth curved up. He repeated in a low, teasing voice: “We can’t?”
He pulled her closer, his arm shifting to drape over her shoulder, leaning down to meet her flustered gaze. “Can’t what? Can’t do what?”
He deliberately teased her, drawing out each word slowly, clearly.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Her face burned red. She tried to flee downstairs, but he scooped her up by the waist. She instinctively struggled—but no matter how she squirmed, he climbed the stairs steadily, his breathing unchanged.
Just as they reached the second floor, they ran straight into Zhou Jin emerging from the room.
Their eyes met. Lin Aiyun wished she could find a crack to disappear into—why did he always have to walk in on these moments?
She wasn’t the only one thinking it. Zhou Jin wondered the same thing.
“All put away?” Xiao Cheng, the instigator, acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, even holding her while making casual conversation.
“Yes—in the cabinet against the wall.” Zhou Jin nodded, equally expressionless, as if utterly oblivious to the intimate scene.
He was about to leave when Xiao Cheng called him back.
“What’s the rush?” At that, both Zhou Jin and Lin Aiyun froze.
If he wasn’t leaving, was Xiao Cheng inviting him to join?
Lin Aiyun seized the chance and pinched the flesh at Xiao Cheng’s waist—but all she felt was hard muscle. It didn’t hurt him, and it only drew their attention.
Xiao Cheng’s brows curved downward in a knowing smile. “I thought you said nothing was allowed?”
“…” Just forget she existed.
“What are you thinking? Your head’s full of all kinds of improper things.” After saying that, he set her down. The moment she was free, Lin Aiyun scrambled back two steps, pressing herself against the railing. She couldn’t help retorting: “You’re the one—”
“Guess you caught me.” Xiao Cheng admitted it without shame, watching her flustered expression with barely concealed amusement.
“Xiao Cheng, you’re shameless.” With that, she tried to brush past him and head downstairs.
He reached out, his hand finding her head, fingers threading through her hair. “Alright, alright—I wasn’t going to do anything. I just wanted you to move up here. Why so resistant?”
“Huh?” She looked up.
“You let your imagination run wild.” Xiao Cheng stated the fact, conveniently ignoring how he’d deliberately steered her thoughts there.
Lin Aiyun straightened up, letting out a dry laugh to cover her embarrassment. “I’m fine on the first floor. I don’t need to move.”
“Then who’s going to guard all your things? They’re yours now—what if they get stolen?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his voice soft and low, impossibly gentle.
“If you’re on the second floor, who would dare steal from you?”
Xiao Cheng dropped his smile. That wasn’t wrong, but…
“Zhou Jin, go make the bed.”
Zhou Jin, who had been acting invisible, nodded as if pardoned, slipped back into the room, and considerately closed the door behind him.
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