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For the entire four years she was abroad, Ming Zhao never received a phone call from Zhou Tingyun.
It wasn’t until her graduation day that a long-buried chat box finally popped up with a message, asking what time her flight would land.
She didn’t reply instead, she immediately left for an international vacation.
Snapping back to reality, everything that had just happened felt like an illusion, and the ringtone resumed its normal pace.
Ming Zhao picked up her phone and sat on the sofa, hugging a pillow to her chest in a way that gave her a sense of security before swiping right to answer the call that hadn’t been hung up.
“Hello? What’s up?”
Her gaze was lowered, and her tone was entirely natural, though her fingers subconsciously fidgeted with the edge of the pillow.
The shimmering wine-red cat-eye manicure on her nails was stunning—far prettier than the ones Zhou Tingyun used to paint for her.
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
A calm, slightly indifferent voice, accompanied by a faint electric hum came through the line.
“Where are you?”
Ming Zhao’s fingers froze mid-motion, but she quickly recovered, keeping her expression unchanged as she replied steadily, “Of course, I’m at a hotel. Why?”
At least, she had been seven days ago.
Her whirlwind global adventure, designed to delay her return home, had its final stop on a small island in the South Pacific. As per the time difference, she should still be at the hotel.
Thinking of this, Ming Zhao even exaggerated a yawn for show.
“I’m so tired. If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up now. Bye.”
By the island counter, Lin Zhiwei watched with amusement appreciating her masterful, but entirely ineffective performance with Zhou Tingyun. She opened a bottle of wine, ready to toast the return of her peaceful, normal life.
The wine flowed smoothly into the glass, its surface shimmering as the ice cubes reflected a brilliant sheen. The fragrance was rich and intoxicating.
Whatever was said on the other end of the call, it left the girl fuming as she angrily hung up.
The next second, Ming Zhao’s eyes shot over, filled with accusation for Lin Zhiwei’s betrayal.
“A… blind date?”
“This is what you meant by a blind date?!”
Ming Zhao wanted to strangle Lin Zhiwei on the spot. Even a fool would know she had been deceived.
“It’s not my fault.” Lin Zhiwei raised an innocent eyebrow and toasted her with a glass. “I didn’t reveal anything, I swear.”
She had only been forced by her family to go to a dinner. Throughout the entire ordeal, she had simply watched as her father fawned over the guest, while the other party responded with polite, cultured remarks.
Just as the dinner was finally ending and Lin Zhiwei was breathing a sigh of relief, ready to make her escape, a single sentence froze her in place.
“Sorry for troubling you these past few days, Miss Lin. I’ll come pick Ming Zhao up tonight and take her home.”
The man’s tone was gentlemanly and gentle, yet carried an undeniable firmness.
It was only then that Lin Zhiwei realized why he had bothered to attend such a dinner. Any attempt to argue on behalf of someone else was pointless.
Her recollection ended there, and Lin Zhiwei holding her wine glass, leaned lazily against the doorframe.
She glanced at the chaotic mess of Ming Zhao’s suitcase in front of her, her lips twitched.
A Hermès bag had been carelessly tossed inside, and a long string of Australian pearls was tangled in a disorganized heap.
Only the antiques from the auction seemed to receive any special care.
“With these life skills of yours, how did you survive abroad?”
Ming Zhao, head down and busy packing looked up at her, confused by the question. “I had a housekeeper, of course.”
Lin Zhiwei: … She pretended she hadn’t asked.
Time passed minute by minute, yet Ming Zhao remained stuck in the same spot, half-heartedly rummaging through her clothes. Watching her sluggish movements, Lin Zhiwei finally began to sense that something was off.
She suddenly spoke up, “Did you have a fight with your brother?”
Ming Zhao’s expression froze for a moment.
Lin Zhiwei instantly understood.
No wonder. Normally so picky, yet she’d endured staying in this tiny place for seven days without wanting to leave.
Clicking her tongue, Lin Zhiwei shook her head. “You two actually fight?”
Ming Zhao silently sped up her packing, though her tone remained stubborn. “No.”
Lin Zhiwei smirked. “Oh, right. You left the country after a fight.”
Ming Zhao: “…”
This is exactly why she couldn’t stand with Lin Zhiwei.
………..
As autumn approached, the capital’s temperature had dropped considerably. The sky resembled damp cloth gradually freezing into a brittle, cold gray-blue, with only a sliver of moon hanging forlornly at the tip of the branches.
Ming Zhao looked down at the crunchy leaves beneath her feet, the crisp air filling her lungs with a biting chill.
It reminded her of when she was a child, huffing, and puffing as she climbed into a supermarket freezer, burying half her body inside and taking a deep, icy breath.
Back then, she had almost fallen completely into the freezer, but Zhou Tingyun had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.
The result? A rather uncomfortably light scolding.
As for how he had scolded her… better left unsaid. Regardless, that ‘innocent memory’ wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, and it certainly didn’t improve her mood.
She kicked a small stone in front of her, imagining it as Zhou Tingyun, before lifting her eyes and spotting a familiar figure not far ahead.
It had been four years, and the man’s aura seemed even more restrained and profound, his black coat blending almost seamlessly into the evening darkness.
It was unclear how long he had been standing by the car, but the cold air seemed to have seeped into him, as if tinting his calm expression with a chill, giving him the appearance of translucent, pale jade.
Ming Zhao inexplicably felt a twinge of guilt. She tightened her grip on the suitcase handle, quickened her pace, the sharp sound of her high heels clicking against the ground.
She decided to take the initiative.
“You—”
Before she could finish her sentence, her suitcase was lifted from her hands.
Ming Zhao froze, standing there in confusion, staring at the man in front of her.
Walking that fast… must be nice to have long legs.
“What’s wrong?”
Zhou Tingyun tilted his head slightly, his gaze questioning.
His dark, almost-black eyes seemed especially focused when looking at her, the faint shadow of his brows and eyes resembling the deep outline of a waning moon.
Her heart felt a little weightless, her empty palm curling into a fist. The brief, unconscious touch of their fingertips felt like a snowflake slowly melting against her skin.
His hand was so cold.
Ming Zhao furrowed her brow, rubbing her fingertips together as if trying to wipe off some lingering moisture.
She couldn’t help but complain, “Who told you to wait outside?”
“Deserved it.”
His response was blunt, but it didn’t seem to faze Zhou Tingyun. He was used to his little sister, who had been pampered since childhood, acting out in her occasional rebellious moments.
“Let’s go.”
The heavy suitcase which had felt cumbersome to Ming Zhao, now appeared light and delicate in the man’s hands. Ming Zhao feeling a bit deflated, clenched her fists and followed behind him with a pout.
Zhou Tingyun opened the car door for her, his gaze briefly flicking down to her bare calves beneath her coat.
He spoke in a soft voice.
“Go inside and cover yourself with the blanket.”
He hadn’t cared for four years, and now he was pretending to be the good guy.
Ming Zhao didn’t even acknowledge him, slamming the car door shut with a bang.
In the front seat, Uncle Wang withdrew his gaze from the hand Zhou Tingyun had placed protectively over her head, offering a warm, reassuring smile as he greeted her. “Miss.”
“Uncle Wang!”
Ming Zhao’s eyes lit up as she recognized the familiar driver. Her mood brightened instantly.
“How’s your health lately? Is your back still hurting?”
Uncle Wang chuckled cheerfully. “No pain, much better. Thank you for your concern, Miss.”
“Alas,” Ming Zhao propped her chin up, deliberately sighing deeply. “My brother is really something. So late, and he still makes you drive for him.”
Her sweet voice was laced with sarcasm. “So— with such a big Zhou family, is there really no one else?”
Uncle Wang laughed helplessly and shook his head. “Young Master was worried you’d feel uncomfortable meeting the Zhou family, so he specially asked me to come.”
Ming Zhao fell silent.
After a long pause, she gave a light hum. “You always speak up for him.”
As she complained, the car door on her left was suddenly opened, allowing a few cold gusts of wind to drift in, carrying the familiar scent of wood.
The top note was cedarwood, with a base of agarwood.
It was the C brand’s scented body wash she had given Zhou Tingyun for his 22nd birthday.
Back then, she had tugged on his sleeve, enthusiastically recommending it, saying that this fragrance would linger more naturally and pleasantly, insisting that he must use it.
Since then, no other scent had ever replaced it on him.