Heavy curtains hung in front of the closed French windows, providing excellent soundproofing and light-blocking. The living room was bright yet extremely quiet, with almost no human sounds, only the occasional soft snore from the little dog.

High beams flashed past the gap in the curtains. A moment later, Silver, who had been pretending to be a cushion at Zhuang Mingqi's feet, suddenly perked up his ears. His round, grape-like eyes opened alertly. Then, like a large white dandelion suddenly sprouting from the ground, the Samoyed shook his fur, wagged his fluffy white tail, and trotted wobblily toward the door.

Zhuang Mingqi, who had been completely silent and barely moving while alone, slowly turned his head toward the main door, as if an exquisite doll sitting on the sofa had come to life. He blinked his slightly sore eyes, put down the tablet in his hands, and slowly stood up as well.

He was a little more reserved than Silver, strolling over unhurriedly. By the time he reached the entryway, he arrived just in time to hear the "beep—" of the smart lock successfully unlocking.

Being sick makes one weaker and more paranoid than usual. When Shen Zhengning was called away by Yuan Hang, Zhuang Mingqi was actually a little unhappy. He knew in his heart that Shen Zhengning wasn't his anything, yet he couldn't control the exclusive feelings he had toward others around Shen Zhengning. Realizing this added insult to injury for his fragile heart. During the few hours he was left alone at home, Zhuang Mingqi could barely focus for ten minutes without thinking that he shouldn't have returned to the country in the first place, then forgetting the middle part, but in short, he wouldn't have ended up in such a sad place.

Shen Zhengning, wrapped in the cold night air, pulled open the door. With a practiced move, he used one hand to nudge the whimpering and nudging Silver back into the house, while telling Zhuang Mingqi, who was pretending to just be passing by, "Don't stand by the door. Be careful not to catch a cold again from the draft."

The corners of Zhuang Mingqi's mouth, held straight and tight in a pretentious manner, were coaxed into a kitten's pout by his words. But if he just obediently walked away, it would seem a bit too meek. So, between a sorrowful sigh of "You're finally back" and an angry complaint of "So you do know how to come back," he chose a resentful sigh: "Abandonment is immoral..."

Shen Zhengning: ...Again?

This person's persecution complex was beyond cure. A couple of days ago, Shen Zhengning had gone home to get a change of clothes while he was napping. He discovered that the scallions and mint on the balcony had all died from lack of water. In the time it took to pull up the dead plants, Zhuang Mingqi somehow woke up suddenly. After searching the house and not finding him, he completely lost it. When he called Shen Zhengning, his voice was trembling faintly: "Where did you go?!"

Even if Shen Zhengning were the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes, he couldn't have discerned his mood through the airwaves, not to mention he was holding a handful of dead leaves and branches at the time. He could only hold the phone precariously with two fingers, so he answered concisely, "Went home."

The other end of the line fell silent. It was as if Zhuang Mingqi had stopped breathing.

Shen Zhengning waited for a long time without a response. Just as he was about to say, "Is there something? If not, I'm hanging up," Zhuang Mingqi, in a hoarse voice lighter than a strand of dog fur, summoned what was probably the only plea of his life, forcibly suppressing his trembling as he asked in a low voice, "Then... will you still come to see Silver?"

At that moment, no one knew the myriad of thoughts and feelings swirling in his heart, but this out-of-the-blue question finally made Shen Zhengning spare some attention for his mental state: "Did you do something to Silver that you're afraid I'll find out?"

Zhuang Mingqi: "..."

Zhuang Mingqi: "Huh?"

"What do you mean 'huh'? I should be the one saying 'huh', right?" Shen Zhengning asked suspiciously. "Did Silver wake you up, triggering your morning grumpiness, and then you two got into a fight? Did you lose?"

Zhuang Mingqi couldn't be bothered with the fact that he was being looked down upon. His hoarse voice gradually turned into a different kind of weakness: "N-no... He's fine. You, cough cough, when are you coming back?"

Shen Zhengning sighed and brushed the dirt off his hands. "Really now. Have I even been out for ten minutes? You two are already causing trouble... I'll be back after I clean up the balcony."

Zhuang Mingqi: "Oh."

After a two-second pause, he added worriedly, "Then be quick."

Shen Zhengning: "Got it— Young Master—"

After he hung up the phone, the more he thought about it, the more something felt off. He belatedly realized what was going on, thinking in astonishment, Zhuang Mingqi couldn't have misunderstood and thought I was ditching him and running away, could he? Then he immediately denied it to himself, thinking there couldn't possibly be such a naive fool in the world.

When he returned home and saw Silver happily wagging his tail and chewing on a slipper, as well as a certain someone's haggard, sickly face that couldn't hide his awkward guilt, Shen Zhengning knew that "a bird startled by the mere twang of a bow" was definitely not just an ancient legend.

He replayed Zhuang Mingqi's train of thought in shock and discovered that the guy thought he had decided to leave, and in his panic, the only reason he could think of to maintain contact was the innocent Silver. To say he was stupid, well, he knew that a child could tie down a mother. To say he was clever, well, his sense of security was thinner than the rice paper on a tanghulu, and the slightest disturbance could scare him out of his wits.

His psychological ailment was indeed pitiable, but he really was just scaring himself. Every time Shen Zhengning laughed, he felt his karmic merit decrease by one. He patiently coaxed him for a whole afternoon, and the result of his efforts was that whenever Zhuang Mingqi's mood finally eased a little, his own failed attempt to stifle a laugh would make him break down all over again.

Talking too much about these things was just a tangled mess; the more they were brought up, the more entwined they became, making it hard to distinguish one from the other. Shen Zhengning lowered his head to change into slippers and retorted out of habit, "You're so noble. You use moral blackmail instead of purchasing."

Zhuang Mingqi couldn't stand hearing that and immediately defended himself: "But you won't take my card."

Shen Zhengning asked him calmly, "Young Master, do you know that even the street vendors selling sugar-roasted chestnuts use WeChat Pay now?"

Zhuang Mingqi: "Oh."

He reached out and took the paper bag Shen Zhengning handed him, following him toward the living room. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and naturally. "You went to buy sugar-roasted chestnuts? They smell so good, and they're still warm."

Shen Zhengning gave him a speechless look, already too tired to comment on the mood swings of his particular breed.

"Don't eat too many, both you and Silver. Be careful not to burn your hands when you peel them." Shen Zhengning draped his coat over his arm, ready to go upstairs to his room to wash up. He habitually asked Zhuang Mingqi, who was trailing him even though there was no reason to, "Did you feel unwell during dinner? Did your stomach hurt?"

"No, I feel much better than yesterday."

"What about your cough?"

"A little, but it's not serious." Zhuang Mingqi's voice was noticeably hoarse, not just from the cold and cough, but also from a sore throat from vomiting. "What kind of urgent matter did Yuan Hang have that he had to keep you talking until now?"

"Let me take a shower and change, then I'll come out and tell you the details," Shen Zhengning said, glancing at his watch. "Drink more water, go take your medicine. It's about time for you to get ready for bed anyway."

Zhuang Mingqi was given a clear set of instructions and now appeared very obedient. Half an hour later, Shen Zhengning, having dried his hair and changed into loose, soft loungewear, found Zhuang Mingqi in the small living room on the second floor, peeling chestnuts for Silver.

He glanced at the chestnut meats in the small dish on the coffee table and the shells in the trash can, getting a rough idea of the situation. He sat down, took a chestnut from the paper bag, and said as he peeled it, "On the way back, someone was stir-frying them fresh in a wok. Several people were waiting for that batch. I pulled over for a bit and almost got a ticket from the traffic police."

Zhuang Mingqi laughed. "A violation is two hundred yuan. Is this bag of chestnuts even worth twenty?"

"A good guess, eighteen." Shen Zhengning handed him the peeled chestnut, asking with feigned casualness, "How is it? Is it good?"

Under the warm, yellowed light of the wall lamp, Zhuang Mingqi ate the chestnut seriously. The smile in his eyes was as soft as downy fluff, and his answer was simple and direct: "Mhm, it's very sweet and moist."

Shen Zhengning took a chestnut that the young master had personally peeled from the small dish. One bite confirmed it was soft, sticky, and sweet. But as he chewed, a faint sense of despair washed over him, as if he were eating his last meal.

This was because he had recently discovered that he had nurtured a habit in Zhuang Mingqi that was normal for cats and dogs, but decidedly not for humans: for all snacks, fruits, and certain foods in main meals that required some manual preparation before eating, Zhuang Mingqi would feed Silver and also peel them for him, but he himself would not open his mouth to eat them—only when Shen Zhengning actively fed him would he deign to have a taste. If Shen Zhengning didn't notice, no matter how delicious the food was, he would just glance at it and consider it eaten.

Shen Zhengning didn't even dare to imagine how someone on Xiaohongshu would sharply critique this scene. Aside from a heart full of helplessness, there was also an indescribable, tender ache. He felt that if this continued, let alone letting go, even controlling himself from surrendering too quickly would be difficult.

Silver quietly stretched his snout toward the porcelain dish. Zhuang Mingqi immediately blocked him with his hand. "No, Silver, NO— You've already had three."

Shen Zhengning quickly moved the dish in front of himself. "Be careful with your hand, don't touch the needle mark."

Zhuang Mingqi had been on an IV drip for five days in total. After the first day, his hand swelled into a lump half a centimeter high. The next day they switched to the other hand, and the swelling was even worse. Shen Zhengning applied potato slices to his hands in rotation every day, patching up one problem only to have another arise, and they finally managed to finish a full course of the IV treatment.

Hearing this, Zhuang Mingqi deliberately held out his hand in front of him, looking even a little proud. "Look, the swelling has gone down a lot. The potato slice method is great."

His hands were long and slender, with distinct but not thick knuckles, pleasing to the eye. They were just pale, which made any bruises or scars particularly conspicuous. Shen Zhengning placed a chestnut meat on the hollow formed by his bones and tendons. "Mhm, let it heal well. Don't let such a beautiful hand get scarred."

Generally speaking, people who have a deep fear and extreme aversion to something are also particularly hesitant to show others the scars that result from it. Shen Zhengning didn't know if Zhuang Mingqi's ability to calmly and proactively show him his hand was a sign of his sense of security—though it was also possible that because Shen Zhengning had seen him in a more wretched state, he had already given up psychologically. Or maybe the magical potato slices had conquered this inexperienced returnee, the novelty overriding the painful memories that were stirred up.

Zhuang Mingqi, having been inexplicably soothed by him, demurely pressed down the corners of his lips and asked curiously, "So, what did Yuan Hang talk to you about? Was there a new development in the case?"

"It was indeed about the case. He found out that Gao Qihui had deleted two WeChat messages and suspects that Gao Qihui and Ye Tongsheng met that night. Unfortunately, there's not enough evidence, and he hasn't gotten anything useful out of him for now." Shen Zhengning peeled another chestnut for him, then stopped, feeling he had fed him enough. He explained the situation in a few words. "On top of that, his superior's 'art of language' has made Officer Yuan a bit discouraged."

Zhuang Mingqi hugged a soft throw pillow and leaned back into the depths of the sofa, commenting sourly, "He's discouraged? He's practically become the Lestrade of Sheng'an City. Who's as lucky as him, having a detective personally deliver evidence to his door and even help him solve his workplace problems hand-in-hand? Why don't you just collect his salary for him too while you're at it."

This inexplicable jealousy was truly born from nowhere and ran deep. Shen Zhengning could only tighten his grip on the invisible reins, coaxing and persuading, "For a case like Ye Tongsheng's that has already been closed, no one would blame Yuan Hang even if he didn't pursue it seriously. Then the case would truly be buried. The fact that he hasn't given up on seeking the truth is already very admirable. So, we should help when we can. We can't just watch him hit a wall everywhere, right?"

When he said this, his eyes were calm, his expression peaceful and composed, as if he were merely saying that sugar-roasted chestnuts were eighteen yuan a bag. He didn't feel that his own intelligence surpassed the police's, nor did he show any pride or complacency from solving a difficult problem.

He didn't know that he was actually the rarest one, a stroke of luck that many people might not encounter even once in their lifetime. Because even if one couldn't have all of this person's deep affection, just having him stop for a moment, or even just receiving a single glance of his attention, was enough to smooth out many of life's wrinkles.

It felt like ten cotton candies were having a disco in his heart. His heart pounded restlessly, yet it was filled with a light sweetness. Zhuang Mingqi pressed his unsteady chest through the pillow and suddenly murmured, "I think I kind of understand what Ye Tongsheng was thinking..."

Shen Zhengning whipped his head around, almost scared to death by him. "What do you understand?"

Zhuang Mingqi tilted his head to look at him, his clear, translucent amber eyes almost glowing with a sense of innocence under the light. He gave an irrelevant answer: "No wonder I don't get along with Yuan Hang. He's so lucky it's blinding..."

If only I had met you sooner.

He thought silently to himself. If he had met Shen Zhengning before things had become irreversible, if he had been healthy and whole when he met him, he wouldn't be in a position where he couldn't even say this "if" out loud and openly.

Can a bamboo basket riddled with a thousand holes still scoop up the moon?

Shen Zhengning was quiet for a moment, then suddenly spoke: "I just went out for a meal. I didn't go to a cat cafe, I didn't run away, I didn't abandon you... none of that. So stop looking like you're facing a great enemy."

The winding, lingering sadness in Zhuang Mingqi's heart came to an abrupt halt, as if someone had suddenly cut off his BGM out of thin air.

"Meeting is something that involves two people," Shen Zhengning said with a slight smile, meeting his dazed gaze. His tone was calm and gentle. "I actually think it's not too late to meet now. I used to not even feed the stray cats downstairs from my dorm."

Zhuang Mingqi: 'Did someone just cat-ify me... no, did they just use mind-reading?!'