This year's Spring Festival arrived later than usual.
On an evening close to New Year's Eve, Wen Yifan had made plans in advance to have dinner with Zhong Siqiao. Zhong Siqiao had already started her holiday and happened to be in Shang’an today, so she took the opportunity to meet up with her.
After work, Wen Yifan met Zhong Siqiao downstairs.
By then, it had been nearly two months since they last saw each other.
Having gone through a good portion of winter, Zhong Siqiao’s complexion was fairer than before. She had cut her hair short, with the ends slightly curled, and seemed to be in high spirits.
The two chose a hotpot restaurant nearby.
As Wen Yifan rinsed the dishes with hot water, her thoughts drifted.
She gradually recalled the meal they had shared when Xiang Lang first returned from abroad. At the time, Zhong Siqiao had casually mentioned that Wen Yifan always ended up burning herself while rinsing dishes with hot water, so they never dared to let her handle it.
Sang Yan seemed to have taken that remark to heart.
Just then, Zhong Siqiao brought up, "By the way, does Sang Yan ever bring up how you rejected him back in high school?"
Wen Yifan snapped out of her thoughts. "He hasn’t mentioned it."
"So he doesn’t mind anymore?"
"..." Wen Yifan shook her head. "I don’t know."
"He probably isn’t that petty. I’m kind of curious—after you got together with Sang Yan, is he still the same as before?" Zhong Siqiao asked. "You know, that perpetually grumpy, arrogant look he always had."
Grumpy? Not really.
Arrogant—yes, that was still there, but he seemed a little gentler now.
Wen Yifan gave a neutral answer. "Pretty much the same."
"Really?" Zhong Siqiao was surprised. "Then you should talk to him and rein in that temper of his. It might be fine at first, but won’t it get annoying over time?"
"That’s just how he is," Wen Yifan said, not really wanting him to change. "But he treats me very well."
Zhong Siqiao sighed in relief. "That’s good then."
"It’s just… what he says and what he does don’t always match." Wen Yifan thought back to various moments, speaking slowly. "Before, I never dared to think too much about it, so I just took his actions at face value—whatever he said, I believed."
"I never read into it," Wen Yifan continued. "So being with him has actually been really easy for me."
She had never met anyone who treated her so well.
Every gesture was filled with patience.
Never overstepping.
As if he wanted to avoid making her uncomfortable in any way.
Even after all this time, he had never once made her feel pressured.
Yet somehow, he had quietly seeped into every corner of her life.
"Hey," Zhong Siqiao said. "Actually, back in high school, I always thought you treated him differently. I mean, quite a few guys were chasing you back then, but with everyone else, you had the same indifferent attitude."
Wen Yifan looked up.
Zhong Siqiao added, "But you’d get mad at Sang Yan."
Get mad.
Wen Yifan immediately recalled the phone call she had with Sang Yan after being caught in an early romance for the second time by her parents.
Her expression stiffened slightly.
"Well, maybe not exactly mad, but your tone would carry a bit more emotion," Zhong Siqiao clarified. "Once, when I went to your class to find you, I saw Sang Yan sitting behind you. It was the first time I’d seen you act like that around another guy—I don’t think you even behaved that way with Xiang Lang."
Wen Yifan asked softly, "How did I act?"
Zhong Siqiao thought back to that afternoon in their first year of high school.
Sang Yan was sitting behind Wen Yifan.The young man leaned back in his chair, casually flipping through a book in his hands. His eyes were lowered, and his long legs stretched forward, resting beneath Wen Yifan’s chair. Every now and then, he would sway them slightly, as if childishly seeking attention.
After a few seconds, Wen Yifan turned her head and said calmly, “Sang Yan, I’m doing my homework.”
Sang Yan paused his movements and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
She stared at him and suddenly said, “If you keep this up, I’m going to move seats.”
“…”
Not long after, the young man slowly closed his book and retracted his legs.
“Got it.”
Their eyes met.
Sang Yan suddenly scratched his head and blurted out, “Don’t be mad, okay.”
…
Based on Zhong Siqiao’s understanding of Wen Yifan.
If anyone else had done something like this, she would have silently picked up her things and temporarily moved to another seat, only returning when class started.
She wouldn’t have specifically turned around to speak to that person with emotion.
Thinking about it this way, Zhong Siqiao found their dynamic quite endearing: “Now that you get mad at Sang Yan, does he still let you have your way?”
Wen Yifan answered honestly, “I’ve never gotten mad at him.”
“…” Zhong Siqiao found this hard to believe. “Even after getting together, you’ve lived together for almost a year now. You’ve never gotten mad at him?”
Wen Yifan nodded.
Zhong Siqiao was somewhat impressed, feeling as though Wen Yifan was like a bodhisattva, capable of tolerating anything. “Is Sang Yan actually a very gentle person when you’re alone together?”
“No, there’s just nothing that makes me angry.” Wen Yifan smiled softly and whispered, “Besides, I just want to let him have his way in everything and be good to him.”
Zhong Siqiao hadn’t expected Wen Yifan to be like this in a relationship.
She didn’t press further and instead cheerfully changed the subject. “By the way, Dian Dian, you’re pretty trendy.”
“Huh?”
“Moving in together right after getting into a relationship.”
“…”
When Wen Yifan got home, Sang Yan hadn’t returned yet.
Lately, his company seemed to have taken on some major project, and the entire team had been working overtime for several days in a row. Sometimes they even pulled all-nighters before coming back to sleep.
Wen Yifan didn’t dare disturb him too much.
After finishing her nightly routine and preparing to sleep, Sang Yan still hadn’t returned.
He had only sent her a message: [Go to bed early.]
Wen Yifan yawned sleepily and replied: [When are you getting off work?]
Sang Yan: [Around two or three.]
Wen Yifan had intended to wait for him, but she ended up falling asleep while playing with her phone.
The next thing she knew, she was woken up by a phone call. Her morning grumpiness flared up instantly, but when she groggily glanced at the caller ID, her expression stiffened, and her irritation vanished completely.
Qian Weihua’s deep voice came through the phone, concise and commanding.
“Three minutes. Get downstairs.”
…
After getting ready in record time, Wen Yifan left her room. Just as she was about to head to the entryway to put on her shoes, she noticed Sang Yan had already returned and was sitting on the sofa, drinking a bottle of ice-cold water.
Seeing her, Sang Yan looked over and stood up. “Overtime again?”
“Yeah, how long have you been back?” Wen Yifan didn’t have time to chat and hurriedly instructed while putting on her shoes, “Stop drinking ice water all the time—it’s bad for your stomach. I’m leaving now. Get some rest.”
Sang Yan walked over to her and handed her an umbrella. “It’s raining outside. Be careful.”Wen Yifan gave a soft acknowledgment, took it, and walked straight out the door.
By now, Qian Weihua was already waiting downstairs at her apartment.
It was just past three in the morning, and at some point, a fine, dense rain had begun to fall—so cold it felt like it carried shards of ice. Not bothering with an umbrella for such a short distance, Wen Yifan got into the passenger seat with a faint layer of dampness clinging to her.
She greeted him briefly.
Without further words, they drove to the scene.
It was a minor drunk driving incident with no casualties.
Whether due to inattention or some other reason, the driver had crashed into a guardrail, leaving half the car stuck in a pit at a construction site. By the time they arrived, the driver had just been rescued from the vehicle by the police.
Qian Weihua recorded the surrounding situation.
As Wen Yifan was about to approach the traffic officers for an interview, she suddenly noticed the driver’s appearance.
Her expression stiffened slightly, her gaze freezing in place.
It was Che Xingde.
She hadn’t seen him in years—the last time had been a distant glimpse at Beiyu Municipal Hospital. They hadn’t even crossed paths then, and she hadn’t given the matter a second thought.
Che Xingde was clearly heavily intoxicated, his face flushed red from the alcohol. He swayed unsteadily, leaning on a traffic officer’s shoulder while slurring, “I didn’t drink,” his mind completely muddled.
The officer, visibly impatient, restrained him and shoved him into the police car.
As he was being pushed, Che Xingde’s eyes swept the area and landed on Wen Yifan.
Their gazes met briefly.
His eyes, initially clouded, cleared slightly. A flicker of recognition lit up his face, as if he wanted to call out to her, but the next moment, he was hauled into the car.
Wen Yifan averted her eyes, gripping her slightly trembling fingers.
Though she had guessed from Zheng Kejia’s earlier remarks that Che Xingde had likely followed her uncle’s family to Nanwu, actually seeing him in person was an entirely different matter.
Perhaps due to lack of sleep and the fact that her dinner had long since digested, Wen Yifan felt a wave of nausea.
She pressed her lips together tightly, forcing the emotions aside, and turned to Qian Weihua. “Teacher, the driver doesn’t seem coherent. Should we coordinate with the traffic officers now?”
Unaware of her unease, Qian Weihua nodded. “Sure, we’re about done here. After this, we can head back to the station.”
Wen Yifan replied, “Okay.”
Back at the station, Wen Yifan edited the news segment and submitted it for review before the morning broadcast. By then, the sky was already half-lit. Exhausted and drowsy, with nothing else to do, she decided to head straight home.
Qian Weihua was also returning and offered her a ride.
Not wanting to disturb Sang Yan, Wen Yifan opened the door quietly. An unusual chill seeped into her bones, and as she considered pouring herself a glass of warm water, she noticed movement in the kitchen.
Pausing, she walked over.
Sang Yan stood by the counter, washing his hands, his expression weary. On the induction stove beside him, a pot of century egg and lean pork porridge bubbled gently, its rich aroma filling the air.
Bewildered, Wen Yifan asked, “Why aren’t you asleep? Isn’t it Saturday today?”
“Going to sleep now,” Sang Yan replied, his voice slightly hoarse from consecutive late nights, his eyelids drooping. “Have some porridge before you sleep.”
“…”Sang Yan pulled out a tissue to dry his hands, all the while observing Wen Yifan's expression. He bent slightly to meet her eye level. "What's wrong? Did something bad happen?"
Wen Yifan didn't speak, just kept staring at him.
Running into Che Xingde in Nanwu had pushed Wen Yifan's emotions to their lowest point, making it impossible for her to hold back. Even though nothing had actually happened, she couldn't shake a terrible premonition.
It was as if the long-buried hostility was about to resurface.
Sang Yan didn't press further.
He reached out and ruffled her hair, his touch as heavy as ever but filled with unmistakable comfort.
In that instant.
Wen Yifan snapped back to reality, feeling as though the thick chill clinging to her had dissipated. She pressed her lips together tightly before suddenly leaning forward to wrap her arms around him.
Sang Yan paused mid-motion. "What's wrong?"
"Tired," Wen Yifan murmured. "Don't want to move."
"..." Sang Yan lifted his arms to embrace her in return. With one hand, he turned off the induction stove, speaking lazily, "And this will make you less tired?"
Wen Yifan inhaled his familiar scent and gave a soft hum.
She wanted to be close to him.
Wanted to hold him.
Wanted to spend every day with him.
That way, life would feel like it had purpose.
She didn't want to see those people from the past ever again.
Not a single one.
Her grip around him tightened slightly as Zhong Siqiao's words suddenly echoed in her mind.
—"You'll lose your temper with Sang Yan."
Memories of the hurt she'd inflicted on him in the past surfaced, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out.
It was something she'd never dared bring up again.
She didn't believe he could possibly be unaffected by it.
She was afraid he still held onto it.
Afraid that his affection for her would gradually fade because of it.
"Finish the porridge first, or it'll get cold," Sang Yan suddenly said, his tone light but teasing. "You can hug me however you want later—I'll even let you cling to me while you sleep."
Wen Yifan looked up at him. "Sang Yan."
Sang Yan: "Hm?"
I won't be like before again.
I won't.
I'll treat you well.
I won't bring you harm anymore.
So can we stay like this forever?
Can you stay with me always?
Sang Yan waited patiently, showing no impatience when she remained silent. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he was exhausted. "Just calling my name?"
Wen Yifan stared at him, her gaze fixed on his lips. "No."
Sang Yan started, "Then—"
Before he could finish, Wen Yifan suddenly grabbed his clothes and pulled him toward her. Caught off guard, Sang Yan leaned forward without resistance.
Their eyes locked.
Wen Yifan swallowed, mustering her courage calmly. "I want to kiss you."
"..."
Without waiting for a response, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Her grip on his clothes tightened.
She pulled back almost immediately.
They stared at each other for a few more seconds.
Wen Yifan held her breath, clearing her throat. "I'll go out first—"
Sang Yan's eyes darkened as he abruptly caught her wrist and yanked her back. He leaned in until their noses nearly touched, breaths mingling, stopping just short of closing the distance completely.
"Call that a kiss?"Wen Yifan looked up, her mind completely blank.
He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his tall frame seemingly capable of overpowering her entirely, enveloping her in his familiar and pleasant scent. The kitchen was utterly silent, the faint sound of drizzle outside barely audible.
"Wen Shuangjiang," Sang Yan asked softly, "this isn't the first time we've kissed."
"..."
Sang Yan chuckled. "So, I can't be accused of being frivolous anymore."
Wen Yifan didn’t understand his words. "Huh?"
"What kind of fate is this? First thing in the morning, you’re here kissing and hugging me." Sang Yan raised his hand, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek. "And then, when you kiss, you don’t even do it properly."
"..."
"Wen Shuangjiang, if you want to flirt with me," Sang Yan suddenly laughed, "could you at least take it seriously?"
Wen Yifan felt a little embarrassed, thinking she had done quite well already. "What counts as serious?"
Hearing this, Sang Yan lowered his head, patiently teaching her step by step how to flawlessly ensnare him. "Look at me properly."
Wen Yifan obediently fixed her gaze on his eyes.
Sang Yan’s voice was soft. "Get closer when you talk to me."
As if bewitched, Wen Yifan leaned in a little more.
"...And then?"
"And then?"
"..."
Sang Yan’s breathing grew heavier as he cupped her chin, his possessiveness almost crushing. The next moment, his kiss landed heavily, his voice low and hoarse, mingling with indistinct words.
"—Didn’t I just take the bait?"
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