Just moments ago, Fang Jingcheng had seemed like an erupting volcano—fierce and imposing. His sturdy frame could easily make people shrink back in instinctive fear of the violence he seemed capable of. Yet, standing in the center of his storm, Xia Fu couldn’t ignore the sense of helplessness embedded in his accusations, every word sounding more like a plea: “Notice me, see me.” This fierce longing stirred an indescribable tenderness in Xia Fu, leaving her with no place to put her sympathy.

Especially now, standing face-to-face, she noticed how much taller he was. She could easily see his reddened eyes, with long lashes holding small, glistening teardrops under the dim glow of the streetlights.

“For me?”

She heard him ask again, his deep voice carrying a hint of a nasal buzz, like a soft animal pawing curiously at a traveler’s bag.

Xia Fu reached out to stroke his cheek, her touch as gentle as a child reaching up on a rainy day to catch a drop of water off the eaves, storing it carefully away with their treasured marbles.

“Mm-hmm.”

Fang Jingcheng’s breath hitched, as if suddenly realizing his momentary vulnerability. He clenched his fingers, wrapping the candy he held in his palm, then bent down, burying his handsome face into the crook of her neck.

“They say terrible things about me, but… but you still stand by my side?”

His embrace tightened, like a winter quilt soaked in the warm glow of the setting sun, pressing heavily on her shoulders. Xia Fu had to wiggle her arm out, slipping it around his firm waist to soothingly pat his back.

His spine felt hard and prominent against her palm, the pulse of his blood and flesh so vivid and alive—more real than anything she had ever experienced. Holding him, she replied seriously, “You’re the first person I got to know here. I’d rather believe the words you tell me.”

“Really?”

Under his questioning gaze, Xia Fu felt her face heat up. Repeatedly admitting her bias for him was somehow even more embarrassing than standing before him in complete honesty. She balled her hand into a fist and gave a light, playful punch to his back.

“Really, but if you keep asking, I might get too shy to say it again.”

Sadly, this little “punishment” didn’t have much effect on him.

As soon as her voice fell, Xia Fu felt the grip on her tighten. He was so warm, his long fingers pressing into the small of her back, the embrace now completely sealed around her. His breath pressed against her, his voice rolling through his chest, vibrating through her thin shirt and sinking right into her skin.

“Alright, alright… I might’ve been a bit loud just now. How about we head back to the car to talk?”

“Okay, we can sit in the back seat for a bit.”

Fang Jingcheng’s mood was clearly a bit off. It didn’t seem like he was in any state to drive, so Xia Fu led him to the parking lot. It was a short, silent walk, and she could feel his gaze on her, as if trailing behind by half a step. She had a feeling that if she turned around, she would see his bright, excited eyes gleaming.

Even without looking, she could sense it.

Heat flowed steadily from their joined hands, like a flame flickering in the quiet of the night, each crunch of fallen leaves sounding like the “crackling” of its fire.

“Do you feel a bit better now?”

She took the car keys from his pocket, opened the door, and settled beside him in the back seat. In the confined space, his slow breaths sounded louder than the air conditioning. She could see him leaning toward her, his well-built chest pressing into her shoulder, one hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I want to kiss you.”

His intent had been clear long before—through his body heat, his gaze.

Despite having held each other before, this moment felt especially heated. The lingering insecurities and shadows from his past seemed to dissipate under her comfort, leaving only the raw allure of a young man.

Xia Fu first glanced out the window, ensuring that the staff parking lot was mostly deserted and the dark-tinted windows still did their job. Only then did she give in, whispering, “Just a little, okay?” She closed her eyes, patiently waiting for his touch.

She heard him chuckle softly, “You’re so good to me.” With her consent, a slightly dazed smile spread across his face, like a man tasting the sweet thrill of being inebriated. Though he never actually got drunk, his eyes sparkled with desire, his lips curling as though they had been dipped in something intoxicatingly sweet. When he murmured her name against her skin, it was like raindrops softly hitting her, sending her temperature spiraling upward.

“I really, really like you.”

One hand pressed gently on her lower back, drawing her into his embrace like a butterfly caught in his palms. His other hand cradled her head as he brushed her eyelids with soft kisses, murmuring in a low voice.

“I love the way your fingers touch mine.”

“I love the way you listen with such patience.”

“I love the way you smile and say things that make me lose all control, sometimes I think you’ve hidden a piece of candy under your tongue.”

His warm breath, laced with sweet words, drifted against her cheek, yet the final kiss still lingered just out of reach. This tantalizing anticipation was almost unbearable, making Xia Fu mumble, “I really don’t.”

Her shy denial only made Fang Jingcheng smile more. He gently lifted her chin, brushing his thumb over her lips, coaxing her in a playful tone.

“Really? Then, open up, little Fu, let me see…”

She hesitated but parted her lips slightly, only to be swept up in his intoxicating kiss. His intent was clear—to explore her mouth as if searching for something nonexistent, pressing closer like a snake coiling around its prey, leaving her dizzy and weak, her fingers trembling at the sensation.

Though they were two separate beings, in that kiss, they seemed to melt together like chocolate warming from body heat—sticky, sweet, and inseparable. Dazed from his embrace, she finally remembered her original intent and gently reminded him.

“I told you, there’s nothing there. And your chocolate… isn’t it still uneaten? I’m worried it’ll melt by the time we get home.”

He gave a casual “ah,” his tone light. “Let it melt, we can always chill it in the fridge later. Besides, I don’t plan on eating it right away; I want to keep it, so I can look at it whenever I miss you.” It was hard to believe he had been so dramatic about it earlier.

Half-amused, half-embarrassed, Xia Fu poked his side, “Eat it already!”

“I won’t.”

Fang Jingcheng muttered, pulling her closer, and then smoothly changed the subject.

“It’s getting late, and it’s still hot outside. Let’s skip eating out and just go to the grocery store. I’ll make you some Korean cold noodles.”

After realizing Xia Fu wasn’t too fond of Western-style dishes, Fang Jingcheng had dived into learning traditional recipes. Though his hands were graceful and nimble, when it came to using a knife, his skill was just average. He could manage slicing vegetables into rough chunks, but fine shredding was nerve-wracking—Xia Fu often worried that one wrong move could result in an injury.

“Relax, relax, I won’t let you see me mess up.” He would painstakingly adjust the angle of his knife, ensuring each slice was even, but by the time he was done, the veggies had already oxidized and changed color.

After a long sigh, he switched tactics, disappearing into the store’s kitchenware aisle and returning with a vegetable grater for their apartment.

“I may not be able to master knife skills in a day, but I have this! Behold, the triumph of human ingenuity!”

“Doesn’t it look much better now? There’s still some leftover, but I’ll just eat it myself.”

He’d enthusiastically embraced tech in the kitchen, even coming home with a guillotine-shaped bagel slicer. When he sliced a bagel perfectly in half, he’d decorate it with blueberries, smear on some cream cheese, and wrap it in rabbit-print wax paper.

Unlike the meticulous Xia Fu, Fang Jingcheng found joy in every little moment, and she would sometimes sit at the kitchen counter, curious to see what culinary “magic trick” he’d pull off next.

Tonight, he proudly presented a manual citrus juicer.

“The noodles need some time to cook, but the ice is ready. Would you like some refreshing grapefruit juice, my lady?”

Not peeling off the bitter pith, the juice would naturally carry a slight bitterness. The restaurant they frequented prepared it by hand, placing halved fruits on cone-shaped juicers and pressing down to extract the juice. His strong arms tensed as he squeezed, filling her cup with juice.

With the carbonated water and juice dancing in her glass, Xia Fu sipped, happily sighing, “There’s so much! It’s delicious.”

Fang Jingcheng leaned on the counter, watching her satisfied expression, commenting, “Do you know why there’s so much?”

Admiring his muscular forearm, she played along, “Why?”

He tilted his head proudly, “It’s the chef’s love, of course. When you cook yourself, you know if the ingredients are really fresh. Alright, try this bite—”

Raising his arm, he fed her a cold noodle straight from the bowl, topped with crispy kimchi. Before she could wipe her lips, he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Perfect, the taste is just right. Let’s eat.”

With his hands on her waist, he nuzzled her ear, breathing in deeply as if savoring this peaceful moment. Just when Xia Fu thought he was going to say something romantic, he muttered awkwardly, “I’ve made up my mind. You can invite Fang Siyu out for bubble tea… just bring me along.”

She looked up in surprise, studying his face. She tried to figure out if this was a test of love.

But he looked calm, his gaze resting on the cup of grapefruit juice he’d made, replying, “I did think about forbidding it, but after meeting you, I’ve been trying things I never considered before. Some things just have to be faced. Besides, maybe it’s not as bad as I thought.”