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In the bedroom, only a small lamp emitting a soft glow remained lit, its light like a thin gauze curtain, enveloping the entire room in a warm and peaceful atmosphere.
On the bed, Zhou Tingyun held the girl who was sprawled asleep on top of him, quietly telling her a bedtime story.
The girl, her face delicate and sweet, had her eyes closed, her long lashes casting faint shadows under the light.
She seemed to be listening intently, but in reality, her mind was still lingering on the scene she had witnessed earlier.
According to Zhou Tingyun’s explanation, he had hidden the document because he was afraid she would be upset seeing him work during their vacation.
But Ming Zhao’s heart still felt a little uneasy.
The next second, the familiar words of Walden reached her ears.
Gradually, the words he read began to jumble together in a nonsensical tangle, and his deep voice grew more and more distant.
Just before losing consciousness, she was still thinking that next time, Walden absolutely needed to be removed from their bedtime story list.
The sky was pitch black, with only a few scattered remnants of stars hanging at the horizon.
In the middle of the night, Ming Zhao was roused from her sleep by a wave of thirst, her consciousness still lingering between dream and wakefulness.
Half-asleep, she habitually lifted her foot, intending to nudge Zhou Tingyun to get her a glass of water.
But her foot met only empty space.
“Where is he?” Ming Zhao mumbled, her voice tinged with the lazy hoarseness of just waking up, along with a hint of confusion.
Squinting her eyes, she slowly sat up, letting her vision adjust to the darkness for a moment.
Before long, she spotted the cup placed on the nightstand. Reaching out, she picked it up, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip.
The cool water slid down her throat, immediately soothing the dryness and bringing a wave of comfort.
She was about to call out for him.
But suddenly, the image of the document Zhou Tingyun had hidden earlier flashed through her mind.
The remnants of drowsiness were instantly swept away.
Ming Zhao slipped on her slippers and tiptoed quietly out of the room.
The moonlight poured softly into the corridor, like a river of silver, gently illuminating a path before her, guiding her toward the living room.
As she drew closer, the familiar sound of the man’s voice grew clearer, filtering into her ears.
Inside the living room, he stood with his back to her.
Ming Zhao saw him holding his phone, engaged in a conversation with someone.
—
The next day.
On the stone steps of the rocky path, a variety of colorful seashells were scattered about, along with a few pink crystals, smoothed and rounded by the passage of time.
Beneath the eaves of the old house, the wind would stir the hanging wind chimes, making them tinkle melodiously—a sound Ming Zhao had long cherished.
Everything was perfect—until a boundary-less seagull swooped past and snatched the ice cream right out of her hand.
“……”
Ming Zhao stood there speechless, watching the bird’s retreating figure. It finally settled atop the signal tower, wagging its tail feathers triumphantly.
The empty expanse around her was unusually quiet, the sun’s glare bouncing off the ground in sharp, blinding flashes, the air shimmering faintly with heat.
It suddenly struck her that it had been a very long time since any maintenance workers had come by.
“Zhao Zhao.”
Immersed in her thoughts, Ming Zhao turned her head and saw Zhou Tingyun approaching her.
He bent down and carefully gathered the seashells into a bag, then picked it up.
His other clean hand reached out toward her.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s go home and eat.”
Ming Zhao slipped her hand into his, just as she always had before, following him home.
Trusting him, relying on him.
Testing him.
“Have you seen my phone?”
At the dining table, the clam and winter melon soup was steaming hot, and the squid cakes were piled golden and fragrant on a porcelain-white plate.
She couldn’t even remember when it had started—checking her phone countless times a day, then once every two days, and now once every three days.
Had it really been that long since she last touched it??
Zhou Tingyun, his expression composed, asked her in a mild tone.
“Not even a month, and you’re already finding it boring to be with me?”
“I am not,” Ming Zhao immediately denied, her voice crisp and clear. “I just wanted to see how the signal is.”
Her eyes blinked innocently, looking so pure that it was impossible to say no to her.
The man handed her the phone.
Ming Zhao took it and glanced at the top right corner.
No signal bars. A glaring red cross stood out conspicuously.
Then how did he make that phone call?
Ming Zhao pursed her lips slightly and tugged at his shirt. “I… I still have a game to finish on my phone.”
Zhou Tingyun’s expression remained unchanged as he picked her up and carried her upstairs to the bedroom, opening the drawer.
“Why did you put it here?” Ming Zhao asked curiously.
“You’re always forgetting things. You toss your phone aside and don’t bother with it, so I helped you put it away, in case you can’t find it later.”
A perfectly reasonable excuse.
Her gaze drifted to the top right corner, the familiar red cross indicating no signal.
Had she been so tired yesterday that she couldn’t tell the difference between dream and reality?
Zhou Tingyun looked at her. “Can you eat properly now?”
“…” Ming Zhao immediately obediently laid her head on his shoulder.
The rich, fragrant soup slid down her throat, and the squid cakes were soft, chewy, and delightful.
After dinner, Ming Zhao’s gaze shifted to the kitchen. Her eyes darted around, and she grabbed his arm, coaxing him into making her some watermelon slush.
Her period hadn’t arrived yet, so Zhou Tingyun thought for a moment before agreeing to let her have a little.
“I knew you were the best.” Her voice was sweet and clear, and with practiced ease, she planted a kiss on his cheek.
After lingering and chatting with him for a while, Ming Zhao slipped away and headed upstairs.
One door after another opened as she carefully searched for hidden power outlets.
Five minutes, ten minutes.
Ming Zhao found nothing. She glanced at the time and headed back to the kitchen.
On the counter, small bowls were laid out, and Zhou Tingyun, knowing she would want a few pieces ahead of time, had already cut them up and placed them inside, spearing them with toothpicks.
The ice shaving machine had already started working. Ming Zhao bit into the watermelon, the sweet juice filling her mouth, and her thoughts drifted to the signal blockers used during high school monthly exams.
They were like walls of steel.
The ice slush was served, piled into a small mound.
Taking a bite, a cold sensation spread down her throat.
Ming Zhao shivered from the chill, but then heard laughter near her ear. She looked up at him.
The displeasure in her accusing gaze was clearly visible.
With a smile still in his eyes, Zhou Tingyun lightly pinched her chin and leaned in slightly.
He kissed her lips with a gentle touch, slowly transferring his warmth to her cold lips.
Their lips parted, and the mix of cool and warmth intertwined between them.