First Frost

His tone sounded like a question, but it carried the weight of a statement.

Wen Yifan tilted her head, staring at his noble and arrogant demeanor, the remnants of her earlier panic gradually dissipating. She gripped his fingers tightly, her lips curving into a smile. "Sure, that's fine."

Sang Yan glanced at her. "What?"

"But," Wen Yifan suppressed a laugh, "didn't you owe me an old man?"

"..."

After a few seconds of silence.

Sang Yan calmly averted his gaze, his voice slow and unhurried. "Then let's keep it on hold for now."

Wen Yifan: "Hmm?"

The hospital corridor was quiet and brightly lit.

The man's arm was bandaged, and his black T-shirt was slightly dusty, yet he didn’t look the least bit disheveled. Tall and lean, with sharp, cold features, he seemed to soften slightly in her presence.

"I’ll pay you back in fifty years."

...

The two went downstairs to collect the medication.

Wen Yifan took the various receipts from Sang Yan and examined them carefully. Pausing at one, she suddenly asked, "You were hurt on your waist too?"

"Ah." Sang Yan seemed to remember. "Just a scratch. Didn’t need stitches."

"..."

Wen Yifan’s gaze fixed on him, staring straight ahead, inexplicably annoyed again. "Did you even listen to the doctor’s instructions?"

Sang Yan replied casually, "Come back in a week to change the dressing, stitches out in two weeks."

Wen Yifan: "Any dietary restrictions?"

"None. Eat as usual." Sang Yan remained entirely detached, as if the one who had lost so much blood earlier wasn’t him. "Such a minor injury doesn’t need this much fuss."

"..." Wen Yifan pressed her lips together tightly and looked away. "I’ll just look it up myself."

Hearing her tone, Sang Yan paused, then said meaningfully, "Wen Shuangjiang, you’re being quite sharp with me now."

Wen Yifan didn’t glance at him. She took the medication from the pharmacist, confirmed the dosage, then finally turned to him. "Oh, sharp?"

Sang Yan lowered his eyes.

Wen Yifan grabbed his wrist and started walking forward. "I was afraid you wouldn’t notice."

"..."

Sang Yan found her demeanor rather novel and let her drag him along. "No temper? Why are you so fierce today?"

Wen Yifan said stiffly, "I told you I’d get angry."

The implication was clear.

She had warned him. If he still messed up, he’d have to deal with her sharpness.

"But you already scolded me earlier," Sang Yan said, as if trying to paint himself as the victim, though his tone was utterly shameless. "Didn’t we make up? Why are you bringing it up again now?"

Wen Yifan switched quickly. "We didn’t make up."

Sang Yan followed behind her, silent for a few seconds before suddenly chuckling lowly.

His laughter was like adding fuel to the fire. Wen Yifan’s lips pressed into an even tighter line. He clearly didn’t grasp the severity of the situation, and she didn’t want to say another word to him.

Once outside the hospital, Wen Yifan hailed a cab and directed the driver back to Shang’an.

During the ride.

Wen Yifan busied herself on her phone, searching for post-stitch care for knife wounds. Her sharp features, combined with her expressionless silence, made her appear even colder.

Sang Yan leaned beside her, watching her actions. "Then what will it take for us to make up?"

Wen Yifan didn’t look up. "When your injuries heal.""..." Sang Yan nearly choked, doubting his own ears. "No, Wen Shuangjiang. When you were injured, didn't I treat you like royalty? How come when it's me, this is the treatment I get?"

Hearing this, Wen Yifan glanced at him: "You never treated me like royalty."

He always had that stern face to scare people off.

"Didn't I? Fine." Sang Yan curled his lips, starting to play weak. "Then you treat me like royalty now."

Wen Yifan ignored him.

Sang Yan chuckled again, teasingly saying, "I'm in so much pain."

"..."

Wen Yifan showed no sympathy and continued searching for ways to remove the scar from the stitches.

Noticing the content on her screen, Sang Yan was genuinely puzzled. He reached over to take her phone: "What's with removing the scar? Stop searching. What's wrong with a guy like me having a scar?"

Wen Yifan's hand was left empty.

Following his action, she looked at Sang Yan again. Staring at his carefree demeanor, she resisted the urge to pinch his face and deliberately provoked him: "With a scar, you'd be ugly."

"..."

"Then you'd have to step down." Worried he didn't understand, Wen Yifan reminded him, "Top performer."

Sang Yan's brow twitched slightly: "My face is still fine, isn't it?"

Wen Yifan: "It still affects things."

"Isn't this fine too?" Sang Yan raised an eyebrow, lazily saying, "I have a family now, time to go straight."

"No." Wen Yifan feared he wouldn't take this seriously and might get severely injured again in the future. "If you retire and are no longer the 'Sign of Fallen Street,' then I'd lose face."

"..."

The car drove back to the alley near Nanwu Broadcasting Station.

The two got out of the car. Wen Yifan took the car keys, walked back to Sang Yan's car, and got into the driver's seat. Worried Sang Yan might aggravate his wound, she leaned over to fasten his seatbelt first.

Sang Yan sat quietly, watching her still tense face, and curved his lips.

Wen Yifan rarely got angry. In others' eyes, she always seemed good-tempered, indifferent to most things. Occasionally annoyed by his words, her mood would quickly return to normal.

As if nothing could truly affect her emotions.

So now, Sang Yan felt as if he'd developed a masochistic tendency.

Seeing her angry because of his injury, acting unrestrained in front of him, no longer as cautious as before, he actually felt quite pleased.

After fastening the seatbelt, Wen Yifan didn't hurry to move back. Gently, she began lifting his shirt.

"..." Sang Yan froze. "What are you doing?"

Wen Yifan didn't stop until she saw the bandage around his waist and the slight bloodstain on it. She stared for a few seconds before letting go and sitting back properly.

Silently, she began fastening her own seatbelt.

"Done?" Sang Yan said playfully. "Don't want to touch it?"

Wen Yifan didn't joke with him, but she also stopped sulking. After sitting silently for a while, she murmured almost inaudibly, "We'll talk when we get back."

"..."

By the time they got home, it was nearly eleven.

Sang Yan habitually sat on the sofa. Soon after, Wen Yifan sat beside him and began lifting his shirt again, as if checking for other injuries.

He slumped lazily against the backrest, letting her do as she pleased.

After a while, Wen Yifan finally stopped and handed him a glass of water: "Did you have dinner?"

Sang Yan took a few sips: "Yeah."Wen Yifan asked again, "Are you hungry?"

"Not hungry."

She fired off a string of questions, and Sang Yan watched her, responding to each one. By the end, Wen Yifan felt she had run out of things to say but then remembered something else. "Oh, right. Your phone was in my bag—someone found it and returned it."

Sang Yan gave a noncommittal hum.

As she spoke, Wen Yifan half-rose to pull her bag over, rummaged through it, and placed the phone on the table. "The screen's cracked, but it still works. Call your boss first and ask for a few days off to rest."

Sang Yan replied, "Got it. Aren’t you tired? Go to sleep first."

Wen Yifan shook her head.

Sang Yan glanced at the time. "I’m going to take a shower first."

Wen Yifan frowned. "You can’t get your wounds wet."

"I know." Sang Yan stood up and ruffled her hair roughly. "I’ll just wipe myself down."

"Oh."

As soon as Sang Yan reached the bedroom door, he noticed Wen Yifan following him. He opened the door and walked in, and she trailed behind. He went to the wardrobe, and she followed.

Wherever he went, she followed.

Like he’d grown a tail.

Sang Yan rummaged through the wardrobe, then turned and left the room, heading toward the balcony. Behind him, he could still hear Wen Yifan’s footsteps. He turned back and called her, "Wen Shuangjiang."

Wen Yifan responded, "Hmm?"

Sang Yan found it amusing. "How long are you planning to stick to me like this?"

"I just wanted to see," Wen Yifan said, though her main intention was indeed to stay close to him. She blinked, her voice soft and gentle. "If there’s anything I can help you with."

Sang Yan stopped walking, his fingers sliding up her arm, his tone teasing.

"Didn’t I just tell you I was going to take a shower?"

"..."

He lowered his voice, the implication unmistakable. "So, what exactly are you offering to help me with?"

Silence.

Wen Yifan kept her expression neutral, staring at him.

Help him with what.

Oh.

A shower.

"..."

A shower!!

Fine.

It’s just a shower!!!

Otherwise, what if he got his wounds wet?!

After a long pause, Wen Yifan steeled herself and slowly murmured, "That’s fine too."

"..."

Sang Yan was utterly speechless, now genuinely convinced Che Xingde would find a way to stab him again. He withdrew his hand, studied her for a moment, then ruthlessly averted his gaze. "Who said it’s fine? Go to sleep already."

With that, he didn’t engage further, grabbing his clothes from the balcony before heading into the bathroom.

Careful of his injuries, Sang Yan took off his shirt and tossed it into a nearby bucket. Then, he unbuckled his belt.

At that moment, the bathroom doorknob turned from the outside.

Sang Yan froze.

Since they had started living together, they’d used separate bathrooms. Wen Yifan had always used the master bedroom’s ensuite and had never entered this one. Because of that, Sang Yan had never developed the habit of locking the door when showering or doing anything else.

The next second, the door swung open.

Wen Yifan walked in calmly, closing the door behind her. "I’m going to help you shower."

"..."

Sang Yan laughed in exasperation.

This time, it was a declarative statement.

Not "I’d like to."

But "I’m going to."

Sang Yan pulled off his belt and hung it to the side, then made no further moves. He leaned against the sink, his expression lazy yet challenging. "Alright, go ahead."

"..."

This was the first time Wen Yifan had stepped into this bathroom since Sang Yan had moved in.At this moment, Sang Yan was bare-chested, with small bandages wrapped around his waist and left arm. His jet-black hair contrasted sharply with his unusually pale complexion, lending him a sickly and restrained aura.

Wen Yifan hesitantly picked up a nearby towel, turned on the faucet, and adjusted it to warm water.

She stole a glance at Sang Yan, suddenly realizing he couldn’t possibly wash himself properly in this state—his back would be out of reach, and he might even aggravate his wounds in the process.

That would be counterproductive.

Wen Yifan rinsed the towel, wrung it out, and began carefully wiping him down, starting from his Adam’s apple, moving to his chest, then his abdomen. She tried her best to focus solely on the task, treating the man before her as nothing more than a wall.

The bathroom was eerily silent.

Neither of them spoke.

As she wiped him down for the second time, Wen Yifan noticed his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

Then, Sang Yan called out lazily, "First Frost."

Wen Yifan looked up. "Huh?"

Sang Yan’s eyes were dark, filled with unmistakable desire.

"I’m hard."

"..."

Wen Yifan licked her lips, pretending not to hear, and lowered her head again, speeding up her movements this time. After finishing his upper body, she rinsed the towel and said softly, "Then you can rinse—"

Noticing that part of him, she inexplicably couldn’t bring herself to say "lower body," so she calmly amended, "—your legs, and then get ready for bed?"

Sang Yan remained leaning against the same spot, the heat in his eyes undiminished.

"That’s it? Bedtime?"

"Huh?" For some reason, Wen Yifan felt a twinge of guilt. "What’s wrong?"

"First Frost," Sang Yan said, his entire body having been touched by her, yet the contact had been fleeting—like prolonged torture. "You think just because my waist is injured, I’m useless now?"

Wen Yifan blurted out, "Isn’t that the case?"

"..."

The cramped bathroom fell silent again.

After several seconds, Sang Yan looked at her, not angry but amused. "But I still have you, don’t I?"

"..."

Sang Yan continued slowly, shamelessly finishing his thought.

"Come here and let me kiss you."