The living room light was dim. Only the standing floor lamp beside the sofa gave off a clear, pale glow. The kitchen light was still on, and through the simple soft partition of lines, it lit up more than half of the shadows on the other end of the living room.

His breath was close at hand. The warmth of it swirled like mist along the soft sofa cushions, wrapping around her. It seemed to carry a searing heat, making one instinctively want to shrink back.

Even the air was hot.

Tao Zhi felt that the heating in Jiang Qihuai’s new home was far too much compared to that old apartment building before.

Her fingertips pinched the lace edge of the pillow corner, her chin pressed into it, eyes fixed on his lashes that were right before her.

His eyelashes should not be longer than hers, yet they were thick and dense. Back in their school days, she would often find herself itching to tug a few strands off to examine them.

Tao Zhi stared for a while before hurriedly turning her gaze away. He lowered his head, his mouth following, speaking softly, “You’re really not very sincere.”

Jiang Qihuai gently kneaded the pad of the finger caught in his hand, humbly asking for guidance, “Then what counts as sincerity?”

The light pressure rubbed and rolled against her fingertip. Tao Zhi felt her whole body go numb, and the words she was about to say were instantly cleared out of her head.

Jiang Qihuai, as if unaware, spoke with patience: “It’s fine if you can’t accept it yet. I’ll wait however long it takes.”

As he spoke, he rolled her fingertip between his fingers, unhurriedly.

A girl’s hand was not like a man’s—though it looked slender and all bones, the moment it was held, it felt soft like dough, making one reluctant to let go.

Just like her whole person.

Jiang Qihuai couldn’t help but think of long ago, the warmth when he had held her in his arms.

Soft and warm. Just holding her—no, even just looking at her—was enough to fill the dark, hollow part inside his chest completely.

Tao Zhi finally couldn’t help but tug her hand back. She licked her lips and pulled the pillow higher, covering most of her face, leaving only her eyes visible as she looked at him. “Don’t wait.”

Jiang Qihuai paused and looked at her.

Tao Zhi blinked once, her voice muffled behind the pillow. “There’s nothing worth waiting for anyway.”

Jiang Qihuai’s breathing stalled.

He didn’t move for a long time, seemingly a little stunned, still slowly digesting the meaning of her words. It took him quite a while before he finally spoke. “I thought I’d have to chase you for years.”

Tao Zhi had long since run out of patience for his blockheadedness. She nodded seriously and said, “If you want to chase for a few more years, I can cooperate.”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his eyes and let out a quiet laugh. “Too late.”

Then he suddenly reached out, yanking away the pillow that had been an obstacle between them for so long and tossed it to the floor, pulling her other hand back toward him.

Tao Zhi’s arm was pulled, and half her body leaned forward with it. Her forehead hit his collarbone, and before she could straighten up, his hand gently cupped the back of her neck, lifting her head slightly.

His fingers brushed upward from the nape of her neck, the fingertips gliding across the delicate skin there, sliding through her hair to clasp the back of her head. Tao Zhi tilted her head slightly back, eyes wide, barely managing to blink before she saw his lowered lashes coming closer.

Her lips were lightly bitten. His tongue pressed against the seam, licking with soft, delicate patience—like a patient wolf tapping again and again at the wooden door, waiting for the white rabbit inside to open it.

It was completely different from the light, tentative touch of their first time—this was a deep and lingering kiss.

Tao Zhi parted her lips obediently. The man’s palm pressed heavily against the back of her head, pulling her closer as he entered with bold, sweeping force.

He clasped her hand, fingers interlocked, his palm burning hot, fingertips gripping the soft back of her hand tightly.

Tao Zhi couldn’t control it—a soft whimper slipped from her throat.

That sound, like a catalyst, kept tugging at the taut thread of reason in Jiang Qihuai’s mind, straining it to the point of snapping.

He bent one long leg, his knee pressing into the sofa cushion as his body leaned down, lowering toward her, pressing her completely into the sofa.

The hand entwined with her fingers lifted and pressed against the top of her head, pinning it against the soft sofa.

He used too much strength. Tao Zhi’s fingers slipped out from between his, and she couldn’t help struggling a little.

Jiang Qihuai felt it. His movements stopped, and he carefully withdrew from the territory he had just invaded, raising his head.

He worried that what he had just done was too abrupt, that she might not like it.

The tip of his tongue still held the faint ache of being tugged and rolled by that soft warmth just now. His breath was hot, burning, right beside her. Tao Zhi’s ears were red from tip to root. She swallowed unconsciously, lying flat on the sofa, looking up at him from below, and asked seriously, “You really don’t have a fever, right? It’s contagious, you know.”

Her voice was soft and breathy, slightly hoarse.

Jiang Qihuai lowered his head again, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, letting out a muffled laugh.

Tao Zhi steadied her breath, fingers tugging at the fabric on his back, and complained, dissatisfied, “What are you laughing at?”

He didn’t answer. The breath brushing against her ear slowly calmed.

He was a big man, pressing down on her. Though he didn’t look bulky, the weight of his frame was solid when it came down. Tao Zhi tugged at him, trying to pull him up a bit, muttering in a small voice, “Don’t press on me, you’re heavy.”

Jiang Qihuai rolled off her. The sofa was narrow to begin with, and two pillows behind them took up space. He reached out and grabbed the two pillows, tossing them all onto the floor, then turned sideways and pulled her back into his arms.

Tao Zhi was held like a doll, wriggling in his embrace. She lifted her hand, pinched his high nose, then poked at his lips.

Her cool fingertips pressed against the corner of his mouth. Jiang Qihuai tilted his head, caught her finger between his lips, and bit lightly. “Don’t move. Let me hold you for a while.”

Tao Zhi pouted. “Why do you suddenly want to hold me for a while?”

Why not keep kissing?

Just one kiss?

Just that little bit—was that enough?

As she was thinking distractedly like a little rascal, she heard Jiang Qihuai’s quiet voice. “To get familiar with you again.”

Tao Zhi froze, then lifted her head.

Jiang Qihuai held her with his eyes closed, his brows relaxed, finally looking at ease.

Even if she didn’t say it, and he didn’t either, there was still a long stretch of time and distance between them. Even blood relatives, after years apart, wouldn’t suddenly become close again—let alone anything else.

Tao Zhi braced her hands against his chest, putting a little space between them, eyes lowered. “Have I changed a lot?”

“Hmm?” Jiang Qihuai reached out to rub her head, then pressed her back into his arms. His Adam’s apple moved as he spoke, the vibration brushing against her skin and making her a little ticklish. His voice was low, carrying a rare, lazy ease. “No, still my Zhizhi.”

Tao Zhi blinked blankly, then the corners of her lips—pressed tight a moment ago—curved upward, just a little.

Even if they had both walked through long, lonely years alone, Jiang Qihuai was still Jiang Qihuai.

It was still him—the radiant youth who could make her heart race all over again at the very sight of him.

He was still that Jiang of hers, the one she once wanted to write down, stroke by stroke, onto the pages of her notebook.

Tao Zhi had always thought there was an irreparable regret between them, because what they had missed was each other’s best years.

But at this moment, she suddenly felt that “the best time” should never be defined by age.

The teenage years could be the best; the twenties could be too. If one only meets the most meaningful thing to do and the person they love most at thirty, then the best age is thirty.

It’s not ‘I met you in the best time of my life—but from the day I met you, every day of the rest of my life will be the best time of it’.

Jiang Qihuai did seem quite tired lately. Tao Zhi only sat dazed on the sofa for a while without speaking, and when she came back to her senses, his breathing beside her had already become even and steady.

Tao Zhi rubbed her head against his chest and softly called, “Jiang Qihuai?”

No response.

Tao Zhi carefully turned over in his arms, lay on her back for about ten minutes without falling asleep, and started to feel a little bored.

She hesitated whether to wake him. Tilting her head, she lifted her chin a little and slid downward slightly, about to get up.

But just as she was slowly shifting away, Jiang Qihuai’s breathing changed slightly—he opened his eyes.

He felt the empty space in his arms and looked down.

Tao Zhi was kneeling on the carpet, leaning over the edge of the sofa, looking at him. “You fell asleep too fast. Did I even stay quiet for five minutes?”

Jiang Qihuai’s gaze lowered; he looked at her for several seconds, as if confirming she was still there, before propping himself up against the sofa cushion and slowly sitting up.

He rested one arm on his knee and stretched out the other hand toward her.

His voice was hoarse, carrying the drowsiness of someone not fully awake. “Isn’t the floor cold?”

“You’ve gone stupid after ten minutes of sleep. There’s underfloor heating,” Tao Zhi patted the fluffy carpet, paused, and added, “It’s getting a bit late.”

Jiang Qihuai lifted his eyes and glanced at the wall clock above the bookshelf. “Mm.”

Tao Zhi glanced at him. “I’m going home now.”

Jiang Qihuai’s gaze dropped.

There was still a trace of sleepiness in his eyes, the corners of which drooped slightly. He seemed a little slow to react, staring at her for a while before asking in a low voice, “Do you still want the chicken wings?”

Tao Zhi looked at him in disbelief. “Why are you so obsessed with chicken wings?”

“Because you like them,” Jiang Qihuai said evenly.

At once, warmth surged through Tao Zhi’s chest. Her fingers twitched, and she almost wanted to stand up.

“And,” Jiang Qihuai continued, “I already took them out to thaw.”

“…”

Tao Zhi withdrew the hand she had just stretched toward him, plopped back down on the carpet, and said expressionlessly, “Freeze them again. I’m going home.”

Jiang Qihuai hummed in reply and stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”

While he went to the bedroom to change clothes, Tao Zhi stuffed two more strawberries into her mouth, then went to the kitchen and tossed the half-thawed bag of chicken wings back into the freezer compartment.

When Jiang Qihuai came out dressed, she happened to be standing at the entryway, reaching for her coat.

Tao Zhi put on her coat and opened the door first, standing at the entrance. She had rushed out earlier and hadn’t brought a scarf. Jiang Qihuai glanced at her, reached over to the rack by the door, and casually pulled one down.

He held one end of the scarf, looped it behind her neck, pressing down her long hair, then drew the other end forward. Tugging both ends toward him, he lowered his head and kissed her.

The security door was wide open. She was standing outside, and he did this blatantly, without hesitation or concealment.

Feeling self-conscious, Tao Zhi brushed her lips lightly with the back of her hand and whispered, “Can you stop already? What if there’s a camera?”

Jiang Qihuai nodded, tipping his chin toward a corner of the ceiling. “There is.”

Following his gaze, Tao Zhi instantly yanked the scarf up to cover her face, buried her head down, and hurried toward the elevator without lifting it again.

Jiang Qihuai’s home wasn’t exactly close to Tao Zhi’s, but at this hour, the roads were clear, so the drive back was much faster than the trip there.

She hadn’t driven her own car back—it was still parked at his place. Jiang Qihuai drove her home himself. He didn’t even turn on the navigation; he was so familiar with the route it was as if he were a taxi driver.

When the car stopped downstairs at her building, Tao Zhi hopped out, then saw him get out from the driver’s side, lock the car, and walk straight toward the residential gate. “Come on, I’ll walk you up.”

Tao Zhi followed close behind him, step for step.

The winter night wind was sharp, cold enough to pierce the bones. Tao Zhi kept her head down, almost pressing it against his back, sticking close to him like a shadow to block the wind.

Only when they entered the building did she finally lift her head. Jiang Qihuai turned and glanced at the scarf she had pulled down almost to her forehead. “Is it really that cold?”

“It wasn’t that cold at first,” Tao Zhi said as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the floor button. Her tone was matter-of-fact. “But according to scientific research, girls with boyfriends can’t handle the cold at all.”

Jiang Qihuai looked at her serious, straight-faced expression and gave a quiet laugh.

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Tao Zhi stepped out first and walked to her door. She turned around and pointed at it. “I’m going in?”

Jiang Qihuai looked at her. “Mm.”

Tao Zhi turned back, a little reluctant, and started entering the password. Having been outside for a while, her fingers were stiff, and it took her a while to key in four digits before the door suddenly swung open from inside.

Ji Fan stood there, casual and loud, his voice booming as he scolded, “Do you know what time it is? What time do you call this to come home? Have you no sense of time at all?” He frowned in confusion. “What were you doing out so late? I asked Fu Xiling, and she just stammered and wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Tao Zhi stared at him, startled by his voice, then confused. “What are you doing in my house in the middle of the night?”

Ji Fan’s expression froze for a moment. Then, looking a bit guilty, he turned his eyes away. “I was just… concerned about you. Haven’t seen you in a few days—”

Halfway through, his gaze drifted past her—and stopped abruptly.

His guilty look vanished, replaced by stunned fury.

Tao Zhi turned her head and saw that Jiang Qihuai hadn’t yet left. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, clearing her throat solemnly. “You probably haven’t met him yet—”

Ji Fan snapped out of his shock and anger, shouting to cut her off, “I don’t need to meet a damn thing!”

Tao Zhi remained completely calm and said leisurely, “This here is the person you’re seeing for the first time—your sister’s boyfriend.”

As she spoke, she gave Jiang Qihuai’s coat sleeve a firm tug.

Receiving her very clear cue, Jiang Qihuai sighed and cooperated, nodding politely toward Ji Fan. His tone was flat. “Nice to meet you.”

The perfect coordination between the two of them made Ji Fan explode with rage. All composure gone, he yelled, “Nice to meet your damn mother!”

Even though his behavior was utterly disgraceful, Tao Zhi remained unfazed. She raised her hand and smacked the back of his head. “Watch your mouth. Call him properly.”

“Call him what? Brother-in-law or brother?” Ji Fan glared at Jiang Qihuai, gave a cold laugh, then jabbed a finger at him.

“Dog bastard!”