Chapter 2: The Contract is Sealed  

Yu Ling stared at the location marked “Cloud Top Manor” on her phone, her eye twitching uncontrollably.  

This place? A prime location in the city center, rumored to have security tighter than FBI headquarters! And a “regular office worker with a mortgage” was renting here?!  

“Driver, are you sure the navigation isn’t wrong?” She leaned against the car window, staring at the imposing beige building, her heart pounding.  

“Miss, the navigation’s spot on. Cloud Top Manor, Building A—this is it!” The driver gave her a look that said, “Don’t mess with me.”  

Yu Ling took a deep breath, grabbed her canvas bag (containing the burning-hot contract and her laptop), and stepped out of the car. The moment she steadied herself, before she could even open WeChat, the building’s entrance door clicked open—as if timed perfectly.  

Zhao Chen stood inside, dressed in a dark gray thin sweater layered under a navy-blue wool coat, looking every bit the gentleman, his smile warm as if greeting an old friend.  

“Right on time,” he said, stepping aside. “Elevator’s this way.”  

The hallway was polished so clean it could double as a mirror, the air faintly scented with something expensive. The drumbeat in Yu Ling’s chest grew louder.  

“The location’s decent, amenities are complete,” Zhao Chen pressed the button for the 16th floor, his tone carrying the resignation of a corporate drone. “Just the rent bites—takes a huge chunk out of my paycheck.” His expression was perfectly natural.  

Yu Ling nodded stiffly. “Yeah… I get it.” Get it? More like the rent was probably eating half his soul!  

*Ding.* The 16th floor had only two units. Zhao Chen pulled out an ordinary silver cross-shaped key and unlocked the dark brown solid wood door.  

“Come in.”  

The moment Yu Ling stepped inside, she froze in shock!  

Warm air, sunlight, the scent of clean cotton, and crisp cedar hit her all at once.  

*Holy crap?!*  

The floor-to-ceiling windows stole all the city’s sunlight! The beige sofa looked as soft as a cloud, draped with an obviously expensive gray-blue throw blanket.  

On the white round coffee table, a glass vase held fresh white tulips, dewy and vibrant!  

An entire wall was lined with bookshelves—though there were few books, the decor pieces screamed, “I’m expensive but understated.”  

And there was a fireplace! A linen floor lamp! Was this a rental?! More like the cover of a home decor magazine!  

“You… rented this?” Yu Ling’s voice cracked.  

Zhao Chen’s movements as he changed his shoes paused almost imperceptibly. He bent down, pulled out a brand-new pair of light gray women’s plush slippers—tags still on—and placed them at her feet.  

“Yeah, the landlord has good taste. The place came fully furnished—just move in and live.”  

His tone was as casual as if he were talking about renting a bike-sharing spot. “I just added a few small things—the throw blanket, the vase. The slippers are new. Try them?”  

Yu Ling slipped them on, warmth enveloping her toes. Her gaze swept over the kitchen island—*whoa!* A compact white professional coffee machine sat there, next to an open can of coffee beans exuding sinful richness.  

“You grind your own coffee?” she blurted out.  

“Yeah, force of habit. Can’t stand instant,” Zhao Chen walked over to the island, picking up a bone-china cup so thin it was almost translucent. “What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Fresh-squeezed orange juice is always stocked.”  

“Just water, thanks!” Yu Ling waved her hands quickly, half-expecting him to pull out a Michelin-starred chef next.  

“No trouble.” He opened the cabinet smoothly, poured water, and handed it to her. “So, what do you think? Livable?” He leaned against the island, his gaze resting on her face—questioning, but with something deeper in his eyes, like he was evaluating… well, a new piece of furniture?  

“It’s… way too livable!” Yu Ling admitted honestly. “It’s so good it doesn’t feel real!”

“Is that so?” Zhao Chen chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck with just the right amount of sheepishness.  

“Maybe the landlord has high standards. I just wanted somewhere clean and spacious. It’s pricey, but I figured coming home after work should feel like a breath of fresh air.” The explanation was perfectly reasonable, and paired with his disarmingly sincere face, the alarm bells in Yu Ling’s mind quieted slightly.  

She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, the city sprawling beneath her feet.  

“The view is incredible.”  

“Yeah, I gritted my teeth and rented this place for exactly that—the ‘air’ it gives.” Zhao Chen stepped beside her, standing shoulder to shoulder. Sunlight gilded the edge of his profile. “When you’re exhausted, just looking into the distance helps clear your mind.” The atmosphere relaxed inexplicably.  

“Did you bring the agreement?” Zhao Chen smoothly shifted to the main topic, his tone mild. “Shall we discuss it in the study? It’s quieter there.”  

The study was just as sleek and tasteful. The dark hardwood desk was absurdly wide. Yu Ling’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a document on the table—something about “project risks” in the header? Her pulse quickened.  

But Zhao Chen had already gathered all the papers with practiced ease, sliding them into a drawer with a swift motion.  

“A bit messy,” he remarked, pulling out the chair opposite for her. “Have a seat.”  

Yu Ling sat down, producing the agreement and a pen. Zhao Chen retrieved a fresh copy of the agreement and a pen from the drawer—a heavy, undoubtedly exorbitantly expensive fountain pen!  

“Your revisions?” He slid his copy toward her.  

Yu Ling handed over hers, clearly marked with red annotations. Zhao Chen took it, scrutinizing every word with intense focus.  

His slender fingers turned the pages steadily, nails immaculately clean. The only sound in the study was the soft rustling of paper. His concentration was so absolute that it strangely dissolved the last remnants of Yu Ling’s unease.  

“Your revisions are very reasonable,” he said after a few minutes, looking up with genuine approval.  

“Maintaining appearances is the core, and the details about chore rotations and mutual non-interference are well-refined. The reminder for post-term communication is thoughtful!” He picked up that luxurious fountain pen and meticulously transcribed Yu Ling’s changes onto his own copy, his handwriting elegant and bold.  

“About living expenses,” he said as he wrote, his tone consultative, “how about setting up a joint account? We each deposit a fixed amount monthly to cover rent, utilities, groceries, and basics. I’ll cover two-thirds of the rent, you cover one-third? After all, I’m the one who chose this place—it’s pricey.” He met her gaze, his expression open.  

Yu Ling did the mental math. One-third? Ouch. But still cheaper than renting alone. His offer was already generous.  

“Deal.”  

“Personal expenses stay separate?”  

“Deal.”  

Zhao Chen swiftly finished transcribing both copies and pushed them toward Yu Ling. “Double-check? Anything missing?”  

Yu Ling read every word carefully. Clear responsibilities, fair terms. A one-year duration. She took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto the signature line.  

“Pen.”  

Zhao Chen handed over his expensive pen. The weight of it in her hand was another reminder of its extravagance. She uncapped it and signed firmly under “Party B”: Yu Ling.  

As the final stroke of her name settled, Zhao Chen’s lips curved upward almost imperceptibly—so fleeting it might have been a trick of the light. The look… was it the satisfaction of a hunter watching prey finally step into a trap? The next moment, he signed smoothly: Zhao Chen.  

Done and dusted.  

Zhao Chen handed one copy to Yu Ling. “Keep this one safe.” The other was casually tucked into his desk drawer.  

“Well then,” he stood, his face seamlessly shifting back to that harmless, amiable smile as he extended his hand. “Miss Yu? Roommate? Or… business partner? Welcome to your new home. Let’s make this collaboration a success.”

Yu Ling looked at his outstretched hand—knuckles distinct, steady and strong. She stood up, hesitated for half a second, then lightly grasped it. His palm was warm and dry, exuding an undeniable sense of control.  

“Happy cooperation,” she murmured, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. She was officially aboard the pirate ship!  

“Need help moving?” Zhao Chen withdrew his hand, instantly switching to “helpful roommate” mode. “Free labor this afternoon, self-supplied mineral water included.”  

“No!” Yu Ling waved her hands frantically as if scalded. “I barely have anything—just a quick trip with a moving van! Give me the unit number, and I’ll roll over—I mean, move in—once I’m packed!” Private territory, no spectators allowed!  

“Fair enough.” Zhao Chen nodded understandingly. “1601. Keypad lock, default code is six eights—change it when you arrive.” He walked to the entryway panel. “You can register your fingerprint later. Here’s a spare key.”  

He pulled open a drawer and handed her a brand-new, weighty silver cross-shaped key. The metal was cold and rough against her skin.  

“Th-thanks.” Yu Ling accepted it as if it were a ticking time bomb.  

“Want me to call you a ride?”  

“No! I’ll hail one myself!” She grabbed her canvas tote. “I’ll go pack first. Probably… I’ll roll in by tonight?”  

“Whenever.” Zhao Chen opened the door with a polite smile. “Just call if you need muscle. Oh, by the way—” He paused as if just remembering.  

“The fridge is stocked. What do you want for dinner? Braised beef with tomatoes? Steamed fish? Or should I just whip up some poison—I mean, noodles?” His tone was as casual as asking, “What’s for dinner?”  

Yu Ling was dazed by this “dinner order,” warmth and absurdity colliding in her skull.  

“Wh-whatever, as long as it’s not lethal!” She practically marched stiff-legged toward the elevator.  

6 p.m.  

A blue moving van parked downstairs, unloading Yu Ling’s meager belongings:  

Two suitcases, three cardboard boxes, and a canvas bag holding a pothos plant and some books. The apartment building looked even more upscale in the twilight. Staring at her shabby pile, she was hit with a wave of social embarrassment.  

Her phone screen lit up as she debated whether to “ping” Zhao Chen—when the unit door clicked open again!  

Zhao Chen stepped out. Light gray athletic wear, a deep blue cardigan, and soft slippers. The effortlessly stylish home look was unfairly handsome.  

“You’re here?” His gaze swept over her luggage, laced with light amusement. “Even more minimalist than I expected.”  

“Decluttering expert, got it?” Yu Ling lifted her chin defensively.  

“Good.” He bent down and effortlessly hoisted the heaviest book box. “I’ve got this. Elevator’s this way.” His movements were as efficient as a professional mover.  

Yu Ling dragged her suitcases while the driver handled the boxes. The elevator ascended.  

“Thanks for the trouble.” She noticed the faint sweat at his temple.  

“No sweat.” His eyes landed on the canvas bag. “Pothos looks lively. Easy to care for.”  

“Yeah, just like me.” She cradled it carefully.  

The elevator doors opened, and Zhao Chen unlocked the apartment. A rich, mouthwatering aroma instantly assaulted her senses—savory tomato and meat infused with herbs! Yu Ling’s stomach let out a thunderous growl, loud enough to echo in the silence. She wished she could vanish into the floor.  

Zhao Chen pretended not to hear. “Come in. Leave your stuff in the entryway—we’ll sort it after dinner.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “The braised beef’s simmering, almost done. Hungry?”  

Yu Ling mumbled an affirmative, clutching her pothos and a small box as she scurried inside. Slippers were already laid out. The moment she changed into them, the aroma attacked even more fiercely. She couldn’t resist stealing a glance toward the kitchen.

On the stove, a white enamel cast-iron pot was bubbling away with enthusiasm. The counter was lined with emerald-green scallions, tender yellow ginger strips, and fresh basil leaves. A glass salad bowl shimmered with vibrant colors. The rice cooker glowed with the tempting light of “Keep Warm.”

Zhao Chen stood with his back to her in front of the stove. He was wearing a dark blue apron printed with a white cartoon Little Whale! The ties were knotted neatly around his lean waist.

Slightly hunched, he held a professional chef’s knife in his hand—its blade so sharp and thin it could double as a mirror! With precise, almost ruthless elegance, he diced a block of soft tofu into paper-thin, uniformly sized cubes! The speed, the steadiness—it was absolutely Michelin three-star chef level!

Athletic wear + Little Whale Apron + top-tier lethal weapon + god-tier knife skills = ???

Yu Ling’s eyes nearly popped out of her head! Was this really just an “ordinary office worker”? More like the honorary dean of the New Oriental Culinary School!

As if sensing her gaze, Zhao Chen turned around. The warm yellow lighting cast a soft glow over him. Seeing Yu Ling frozen in shock, the corners of his lips curled into a gentle (?) smile. He raised the knife—which could easily pass as a murder weapon—and said casually:

“Starving, right? Pockmarked Grandmother’s Tofu, three minutes. Go wash up for dinner?” His eyes were clear and innocent, as if wielding a top-tier chef’s knife to slice tofu was just another everyday skill for your average corporate drone.

Yu Ling’s gaze remained glued to his fingers gripping the knife handle. His knuckles were well-defined, steady as a rock, precise and controlled. Just how many vegetables had those hands chopped? How many things had they—

The tiny spark of “Who the hell is he?” in her heart suddenly erupted into a raging wildfire!

“O-okay! Right away!” she replied dazedly, clutching her Pothos as she awkwardly shuffled toward the floor-to-ceiling window bathed in sunset light. There seemed to be an empty spot there, waiting just for this little splash of living green—the only thing that truly belonged to her.

Her new life had officially begun—amid the deadly aroma filling the room, the jarring contrast between the Little Whale Apron and the murderous knife, and the deafening internal chorus of “What the hell?!” roaring through her mind.