When one is young, the greatest wish is no more than “I hope the person I like also likes me.”

After growing up, it often changes, perhaps helplessly, into “I hope the person I like can meet someone they like.”

Tao Zhi once thought her wish had changed from the former to the latter, and she kept brainwashing herself that it was fine, truly fine.

Life is like a tram—when it stops at a certain station, there will always be some people who have to get off.

She had never thought he would come back.

In fact, all these years, she hadn’t even dared to have such an expectation.

Because some thoughts—once they begin—will spiral out of control, endlessly surging outward.

The dim bedroom was lit only by a small starry night lamp on the bedside table. The faint white dots of light scattered across the ceiling and the walls. Tao Zhi propped her head against the pillow, watching the man beside the bed, and suddenly leaned forward.

She stretched out her arms, cupped his face with both hands and lifted it slightly, then closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.

Jiang Qihuai was still for a few seconds before coming to his senses. He casually set the honey water in his hand down on the floor beside him, his palm sliding to the back of her head as he took the lead, standing up, bending down, lowering his head.

His strength was heavy, yet his movements were long and slow.

Somehow, Tao Zhi, who had been leaning over the edge of the bed to take the initiative, ended up half-reclined against the headboard, her head tilted back, passively receiving his kiss.

Her waist went weak; her body burned hot.

When the tips of their tongues parted slightly, Tao Zhi breathed in large, shallow gasps, lifting her head to look at him, her gaze a little dazed.

His voice also carried the sound of his breath, low and hoarse: “Do you want to shower?”

Tao Zhi’s heart thudded heavily. She obediently nodded. “Yes.”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his head and brushed her lips lightly. “Go ahead.”

Tao Zhi came back to her senses a little. She licked her lips and stammered, “Then… after the shower, what will we do…”

Her words were a direct and obvious hint. Jiang Qihuai’s movement at her lips paused for a moment, then he laughed.

He laughed low and deep, even his eyes carried a hint of amusement. Looking at her, he said, “After the shower, we’ll sleep.”

Tao Zhi pressed her lips together, slowly slid off the bed, and walked into the master bathroom.

Her heartbeat was so fast it felt like it would leap out of her chest. Her ears buzzed as if she were on an airplane. She didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or her nerves, but her mind was dizzy, her body floating, not even sure what she should be doing.

She piled her hair up and quickly took a shower. When she came out barefoot, she knocked gently on the bathroom door.

“Bring me a pajama,” Tao Zhi said softly through the door, wondering why she still cared about whether or not she wore pajamas at a time like this.

But to go out just like that—it was still a bit hard.

“Where is it?” Jiang Qihuai asked.

Tao Zhi told him. After a while, the bathroom door was knocked on twice from the outside, then the handle turned. Jiang Qihuai didn’t come in. He just reached a hand through the small crack of the door, holding out a pink pajama.

She wore nothing. Between the two of them was only a door left ajar—she inside, he outside.

Tao Zhi’s head was boiling together with her cheeks and ears.

She didn’t have the mind to see what Jiang Qihuai had brought—she snatched it quickly and slammed the door shut with a “bang.”

Leaning against the door, she let out a long breath, took two deep ones in return, shook open the clothes, and pulled them over her head.

The pink-and-white nightdress covered her from head to toe—long sleeves, neckline showing only a small stretch of neck, everything else tightly and properly wrapped.

Tao Zhi: “……?”

The nervous heat and drunken impulse that had filled her chest were doused a little by confusion.

Tilting her head, she came out of the bathroom. Jiang Qihuai was sitting by the bed; hearing her come out, he lifted his head to look over.

He beckoned to her.

The impulse that had just been cooled a little flared up again.

She walked to the bed, climbed up slowly, lay down, and stared at him with wide, dark eyes, swallowing hard.

Jiang Qihuai pulled the quilt up and covered her, tucking her in all the way up to her neck. Then, through the soft blanket, he patted her lightly. “Sleep.”

Only her head was left outside the covers. “Ah?”

Jiang Qihuai: “Sleep.”

Tao Zhi: “……”

Tao Zhi didn’t even remember how she fell asleep.

At first, disbelief. Then, complicated emotions. And later, probably true exhaustion. 

Surrounded by his quiet breath, she suddenly felt an indescribable sense of peace. Her eyelids grew so heavy she couldn’t keep them open.

She slept until the sun was already high in the sky.

Before opening her eyes, a faint throbbing at her temples pulsed in the darkness. Lying on her stomach, head buried in the pillow, corner of the blanket over her mouth, she yawned.

Groggily, she opened her eyes. The curtains were half drawn. She squinted, raising the back of her hand to shade her eyes, slowly adjusting to the bright light. The events of last night began rewinding in her mind bit by bit.

From the barbecue restaurant to the car, from the car to home, from the doorway to the bedroom.

Tao Zhi rubbed at the corner of her eye and turned to look beside the bed.

He was gone. Jiang Qihuai must have left early—after all, he still had work today.

Still, she hadn’t expected that when he said “sleep,” he had meant it literally.

Suddenly, Tao Zhi felt that compared to the upright Jiang classmate, she was truly too indecent.

She tilted her head back, glanced again at the bedside table. The honey water was gone. In its place sat her small milliliter thermos cup beside the softly glowing night lamp.

She reached out and turned off the lamp, then picked up the thermos.

She unlatched the clasp and pressed open the lid. A wisp of gentle steam drifted up from the mouth of the cup. Tao Zhi tilted it slightly and brushed her lips carefully against the rim.

Warm—neither hot nor cold.

Propping herself up, she sat against the headboard, holding the cup and sipping slowly, little by little.

The dryness in her throat eased. Holding the thermos, she lifted the quilt and stepped barefoot onto the floor. Seeing the nightdress she was wearing, she paused slightly.

Being coaxed and tricked into taking a shower was one thing—but thinking all those things afterward…

Tao Zhi covered her eyes, groaning in embarrassment and frustration twice before she fastened the lid of the thermos cup, set it on the table, and went into the bathroom to wash up.

She had been lazy yesterday and hadn’t washed her hair, so she simply stepped into the shower again, all the while replaying the events of last night in her head.

Although some details made her feel like a shameless pervert, overall, the progress between her and Jiang Qihuai left her in an excellent mood. It felt as though a little deer inside her body was joyfully bounding across a meadow.

When she came out, still damp, Tao Zhi lowered her head and glanced at the nightdress Jiang Qihuai had picked out, sitting folded neatly on the nearby shelf.

She hadn’t worn that cotton nightdress in years—she’d bought it back in high school. Because the fabric was so comfortable, she had never thrown it away.

The long skirt reached her ankles, with puff sleeves and a doll collar; lace trimmed the neckline, cuffs, and hem—soft and frilly, like a medieval doll’s dress.

It looked pure and childlike.

She had told him which section of the wardrobe her pajamas were in, and that was the one he chose for her.

So Jiang Qihuai liked this kind of style?

Tao Zhi pinched the nightdress between her fingers and looked at it for a few seconds, feeling rather disdainful of Jiang’s taste. Loosening her grip, she tossed it back onto the shelf.

Wrapped in her bathrobe, she came out humming, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out some loungewear to change into. But as she was taking it out, her gaze swept sideways—and landed on a black nightdress beside it.

Her eyes paused, lingering on that mass of black fabric for two seconds, then she pulled it out.

A pure black lace lingerie slip—only a few small pieces of fabric covering the key areas, while the rest was sheer black gauze that concealed nothing, more for show than substance.

It looked like the newest, sexiest lingerie models wore on the Victoria’s Secret runway.

This nightdress had been a birthday gift from An Sese when she turned twenty. When Tao Zhi first received it, she had taken one glance and found it eye-burning—practically useless—so it had stayed in the closet, untouched.

As An Sese had said, “You’re twenty already, it’s about time you get to know the filthy adult world.”

Unfortunately, Tao Zhi had never managed to get “filthy.”

She hadn’t even succeeded in getting filthy last night, in that kind of atmosphere!

Was Jiang Qihuai not capable?!

Tilting her head, she held the so-called nightdress up against herself, remembering the childish doll-style robe he had picked for her, and instinctively felt that he probably wouldn’t like this kind of overtly adult-world style.

But maybe it was because of last night—some tiny curiosity inside her had been sparked. Tao Zhi thought it was… surprisingly fresh.

The house was quiet. Ten in the morning. Fu Xiling should have gone to work already. She was the only one home.

Tao Zhi suddenly couldn’t sit still.

She was eager to try.

Restless, even.

She tugged off her bathrobe, hooked her fingers through the black lace straps, studied the thing for a while to figure out how it was supposed to be worn, and finally struggled into it.

Once she was dressed, she ran into the bathroom, stood before the mirror, and looked.

In the mirror, the woman had a slim waist and long legs, her skin made even whiter by the black fabric—so pale it almost dazzled the eyes. The look was seductive, yet not vulgar, and her face was fresh and pretty.

The only flaw was the pink absorbent towel wrapped around her freshly washed hair—like the landlady in Kung Fu—which knocked several points off the whole picture.

Tao Zhi raised her hand, yanked off the thick towel on her head, and tossed it aside.

Her half-damp hair cascaded down her shoulders. She turned around in front of the mirror a few times, admiring her own perfect figure, then, standing on tiptoe, cheerfully skipped out of the bathroom.

She picked up her phone, opened a Victoria’s Secret runway playlist, turned the volume all the way up, and chose “Sexy Back.”

The moment she pressed play, the thunderous music filled the entire bedroom. The raspy, magnetic male voice mixed with beatboxing and the heavy, retro-style synth rhythm—sexy, intense, teasing the air and her eardrums alike.

In an instant, Tao Zhi felt possessed by the spirit of a top Victoria’s Secret supermodel. She was now standing under flashing lights, surrounded by a roaring crowd, the brightest star on the stage.

She flipped her damp hair, moving in time with the beat, strutting across the bedroom on tiptoe—from the window to the bedside—then turned gracefully and walked to the bathroom door.

She made the bathroom entrance her runway’s end point, rested one hand on the door frame, struck a few poses, tossed her long hair in a dramatic flourish, then looked at the air in front of her and blinked several times—throwing wink after wink, one after another, until she’d blown more than a dozen flirtatious looks.

By the time she’d finished her “walk,” the playlist had already moved on to the next song, yet Tao Zhi still felt unsatisfied.

Being barefoot, without heels, made it feel like something was missing.

She decided to go to the shoe cabinet and pick a pair of high heels.

She walked across the room toward the door, still bobbing her head and swaying her hips to the beat—until her eyes lifted and her gaze fell on the doorway.

And at that instant, she froze.

Her bedroom door had been opened a small crack at some unknown time. Jiang Qihuai stood there, leaning lazily against the door frame, watching her.

In his hands was the wooden tray Tao Zhi usually used for photo props; on it sat a glass of milk and a sandwich.

He hadn’t left.

He actually hadn’t left.

Why hadn’t he left.

Tao Zhi hadn’t heard a single sound—she didn’t know when he’d appeared there, or how long he’d been watching.

She only suddenly realized that even Jiang Qihuai, whose face was usually calm to the point of emotionless, could have a moment when expression slipped through.

For instance, right now—when he was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as the way one looks at a gorilla in a zoo.

Perhaps because the mix of shock, awkwardness, and despair on Tao Zhi’s face was so intense, Jiang Qihuai finally moved—very considerately taking the initiative to break the frozen silence.

He stepped into the room, set the tray down on the bedside table, swept his gaze over the bathrobe on the floor, the loungewear on the bed, and the phone by the pillow still blasting music.

Finally, his eyes fell on her—sliding from her damp hair, to her pale, soft chest, down her supple waist and long legs—before finally resting on her ashen, despairing face.

“Think of it this way,” Jiang Qihuai said after a moment’s thought, voice calm and unhurried.

“At least, compared to those long johns you wore in high school—this isn’t that embarrassing.”