Accompanying you.

"Yes."

As Ye Mian’s voice trailed off, the distance between them closed once more. Just as Ye Mian felt his grip on her hands loosen, she thought Jiang Chen had lost his nerve and was about to boldly push her luck again.

But the very next second, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his hands firmly around her waist from behind. His scent, uniquely his, slowly enveloped her again.

Her eyes widened instantly. It felt like something she had been longing for was finally coming to pass, carrying a heavy, undeniable sense of destiny. She could almost guess what he was going to do next, yet her heart still missed a beat.

"If I’m not being conservative, is it like this?"

The man lowered his head, his lips brushing gently against hers in a kiss deeper than the one before. It was a kiss both tender and restrained, impeccably courteous.

Ye Mian froze, staring at him without blinking. She realized that initiating a kiss and being on the receiving end were two entirely different experiences. Initiating was filled with nervousness and unease, but being kissed... it was her first time for this, too.

A feeling like an electric shock coursed through her, her face heating up as her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst.

Jiang Chen was in no hurry. After meeting her gaze for a moment, he couldn't help but chuckle at the dazed expression on her face.

Ye Mian curled her fingers slightly, knowing she had lost her nerve, and muttered in a tone of surrender, "Stop laughing." The more he laughed, the more nervous she became.

To her surprise, Jiang Chen actually stopped. He released her waist, sat up straight, and the ambiguity in his eyes vanished, leaving him looking exceptionally serious.

Yes, he looked at her with such gravity, his cool voice laced with gentleness: "Alright, I won't laugh at you."

Ye Mian: "..."

How could this man... be so effortlessly composed?

Outside, the night deepened, and the moonlight turned the snow into pure silver. After breaking free from Jiang Chen’s embrace, Ye Mian looked toward the window, feeling unsettled. She hoped the snowy scenery might calm her inner restlessness, but when she caught her reflection in the glass, all she saw was her own beet-red face.

The crimson flush had spread all the way to her earlobes. She looked utterly, hopelessly bashful. She clenched her fists and took a quiet breath.

So... this was the look she had worn while teasing Jiang Chen for being conservative?

Oh my god! She had never been so embarrassed in her life!

Unable to sit still and terrified that he would keep looking at her like this, she jumped up, her face still burning, and blurted out, "I’m going to take a shower." With that, she hurried into the bathroom.

She turned the shower on at full blast, cupping the coldest water in her hands and splashing it onto her face, but it did nothing to soothe the heat radiating from her skin.

She thought to herself: She really, truly liked Jiang Chen. Liked him so much that a single kiss could trigger such a massive chain reaction.

...

The bathroom was filled with steam. After a hot shower, Ye Mian wrapped her damp, warm hair in a towel. She had set the water temperature quite high, and when she opened the door, a cloud of mist—as if from dry ice—billowed out into the living room. Her fair skin was flushed a rosy pink, making it impossible to tell if she was still blushing or not.

When she walked back into the living room, Jiang Chen was still sitting in the same spot, watching his computer screen. Although Ye Mian didn’t understand what it all meant, the upward trajectory of the curves suggested things were going very well.

Not wanting to disturb him, she sat quietly by his side to watch. Suddenly, Jiang Chen reached out, took a piece of chocolate from the table, peeled back the wrapper with slow, deliberate movements, and held it to her lips.

"Open up."

As if triggered by a switch, Ye Mian obediently opened her mouth. The chocolate melted silkily on her tongue, filling her senses with a rich, bittersweet flavor.

The living room was silent. The lingering sense of intimacy hadn't quite faded, and the only sounds were their steady breathing. The data on the screen continued to scroll, each line representing wealth, but Jiang Chen’s gaze was no longer on it. Instead, he was staring straight at Ye Mian.

It was just a piece of chocolate, yet his gentle, piercing, and direct gaze felt like the scorching heat of a summer wave, rushing in from all sides to drown her thoughts.

Was this just feeding her a treat? This was going to be the death of her!

With the chocolate still in her mouth, Ye Mian’s eyes darted around, not daring to meet his gaze. Finally, unable to bear the heavy silence, she sought out a topic.

"Why did you give me chocolate?"

Jiang Chen’s gentle eyes curved upward, his voice low and cool: "Weren't you unhappy?"

Ye Mian suddenly remembered the excuse she had used to ask for a hug. When she had heard that word—"murderer"—earlier, she had indeed experienced a trauma response. But now, looking at the gentle, breezy Jiang Chen, who was no longer distant but sitting right beside her, she felt that before that event happened, there was still enough time for her to grow stronger. She believed she had a chance to stop it all.

After a long while, Ye Mian turned to him and asked earnestly, "Jiang Chen, don't worry. I’ll always stay by your side."

A window had been cracked open, and a sliver of wind snuck through the gap. Jiang Chen lowered his eyes, unable to fathom the sudden declaration of affection. The girl had many such eccentric moments, and more than once, he had felt as if her eyes were... afraid of something. But if he thought about it too closely, the feeling vanished without a trace.

He reached out to touch her cheek, but for a fleeting second, he changed course, instead tucking a stray, playful lock of hair behind her ear.

He smiled faintly. "Okay."

Ye Mian tugged at his finger, playing with it as she said, "I'm not unhappy anymore. You should get back to your work."

Satisfied that the girl was truly in good spirits and no longer sad, Jiang Chen looked away. Yet, even as he lowered his eyes to the screen, a small, lingering smile remained at the corners of his mouth.

...

The sound of the girl playing on her phone reached his ears, but his heart was no longer in his work. The cold, white light of the room cast clear, sharp shadows across his face.

The girl's words—"I’ll always stay by your side"—kept tugging at his emotions.

The truth was, he had never believed such things. The day before his mother took her own life, she had said the exact same thing. Then, she had turned around and abandoned everything for a scoundrel.

The world had always been cruel. Words spoken by people held no weight.

Yet, when the girl said it, her eyes were so impossibly sincere.

Jiang Chen rested his chin on the back of his hand, tilted his head to look at her, and finally let out a silent, soft laugh. Beyond his usual detachment and distance, there was a rare, lingering warmth.

...

That night, Jiang Chen had a dream.

He dreamed of those dark, sunless days of his childhood. He dreamed of lying battered and bruised in the dampest, coldest room. He dreamed of every moment of that tragedy.

Finally, in a rare turn, he dreamed of his mother. In the dream, she was wearing her most gentle dress, a familiar, soft smile gracing her lips. But in the next second, her face was covered in tears.

"Chenchen, do you blame Mommy?"

"Mommy was wrong."

In the dream, Jiang Chen only smiled, offering no answer.

So many years had passed; the maternal love he knew had ended when he was only four or five. As for family, the only emotion he had left for them was exhaustion.

Soon, the dream dissolved into darkness.

Then, he dreamed of the girl. She wasn't wearing the thick cotton coat she had on today, but a light green dress, holding an oil-paper umbrella, walking toward him through the rain.