Lu Jin’an’s lips pressed against hers, the touch warm yet cool.
It was just a gentle press, devoid of any desire. He didn’t dare to grind or caress, as if he were kissing a fragile gem.
He was utterly careful, cherishing her beyond measure.
Lu Jin’an kept one hand clasped tightly around Gu Nianyi’s, while his other hand softly wiped away her tears.
The tears were warm and hot, soaking into his fingertips.
Unlike their first forceful kiss, today’s Lu Jin’an was exceptionally tender, so soft that the kiss was almost imperceptible.
Gu Nianyi’s tears fell like beads from a broken string, pattering endlessly downward.
Perhaps it was the pain from her wound, or perhaps the vulnerability of the night.
No matter how he wiped, they kept coming.
Lu Jin’an kissed her damp lashes again, then pressed his thin lips together.
“Cry if you need to. I’m right here.”
Crying too much after surgery wasn’t good for her body, but holding it in was even worse. Lacking experience in coaxing girls, Lu Jin’an could only manage that one sentence after a long pause.
When he’d first heard the news, he’d been furious—with her for not telling him, with how distant she still kept him.
But when he rushed to the operating room door and saw it shut tight, with her signed consent form already in place, all his anger and rage evaporated.
Nothing remained but heartache and self-reproach.
He had no idea what mindset she’d been in when she signed that form.
From the moment Lu Jin’an’s lips touched her eyes, Gu Nianyi’s heart fluttered like a disoriented little fish, skipping half a beat.
Unlike last time, she was fully awake now, every tiny sensation registering sharply.
She didn’t want to cry.
Gu Nianyi stifled her sobs, enduring the searing pain. She didn’t want to bare her fragility in front of Lu Jin’an.
She raised her left hand, trying to push him away.
But Lu Jin’an caught it, holding it gently in his palm. “Little Gu Nianyi, with me, you can cry when you want, laugh when you want. You don’t have to suffer alone in secret.”
Be his little one.
Lu Jin’an only dared to gather her close ever so lightly, with exquisite care, like cradling moonlight filtered through thin gauze.
He feared pressing too hard and hurting her.
Even his breathing was feather-light, brushing across Gu Nianyi’s cheek like a soft plume.
The night was pitch black, with hazy moonlight outlining the man’s sharp contours.
“Your tears are salty.”
His voice was soft, like spring water gurgling from a mountain stream.
He kissed away every one of her tears.
Gu Nianyi said, “Dr. Lu, it hurts a little.”
She didn’t even have the strength to pinch him, couldn’t distract from the pain. Lu Jin’an replied, “Then let me read you a story.”
Gu Nianyi said, “I want to hear jokes.”
Lu Jin’an flicked on the bedside lamp and searched for some groaners.
“Zhuge Liang says to the wind, ‘Blow west!’
The wind replies, ‘You look like a watermelon.'”
It was a terrible pun, utterly unfunny, but Lu Jin’an glanced sideways at her with his peripheral vision. The corner of her mouth curved up just a bit.
He kept going. “You can’t drink 90-degree water straight—’cause the right angle chokes your throat.”
Lu Jin’an read it deadpan, perfectly matching his demeanor and somehow making the groaner even groanier.
But that made it funnier.
“One mountain can’t hold two tigers. What about two mountains? They’d make six.”
Gu Nianyi drifted off to sleep amid his parade of bad jokes.
Lu Jin’an gave some instructions to the caregiver, then headed to a nearby maternity store to buy a straw cup.
He’d seen others use them in the ward—the kind designed for babies.
She could drink lying down without choking.
Everything was progressing well, but after surgery, trips to the bathroom required someone to support and watch her.
Gu Nianyi didn’t want Lu Jin’an holding her for that. She turned to Ming Yue.
But Lu Jin’an didn’t trust anyone else. The bathroom floor was tiled and slippery, and besides, Ming Yue was a woman without his strength.
“We’re husband and wife. This is perfectly normal,” Lu Jin’an said softly, trying to ease her concerns.
Gu Nianyi turned her face away. “No.”
Lu Jin’an crouched by the bed and patted her head. “It’s nothing. It’ll be over quick.”
“No. I want Ming Yue.” Gu Nianyi’s gaze lost its softness, revealing a hint of pitiful stubbornness.
The negotiation stalled, plunging the room into a tense silence.
Ming Yue tugged Lu Jin’an out of the room and grabbed his arm. “Dr. Lu, to you, all patients are the same—you’ve seen it all. But Yi Yi’s different. She doesn’t want you to see. You know where your relationship stands; it’s nowhere near that intimate yet. She just had surgery—spare her some dignity and embarrassment, okay?”
Their relationship was indeed at that stage, but it was too risky.
Seeing her sensitivity up close, Lu Jin’an finally relented with a sigh. “I’ll wait right outside.”
The moment Gu Nianyi emerged from the bathroom, he was there to steady her.
“Dr. Lu, don’t you have work?” She could manage some liquids now and had regained a bit of strength.
These days, she saw Lu Jin’an every time she opened her eyes or closed them.
“Not busy.”
He didn’t dare leave again, terrified of another accident or her sneaking out without him.
Upstairs in Cardiovascular Surgery, the Head Nurse came looking for Lu Jin’an. She pushed open the door to an empty office.
“Where’s Dr. Lu? Off training again?”
He was rarely absent except for that one training stint.
Zhou Ziyu pointed downward. “Down in OB-GYN, with his wife.”
The Head Nurse chuckled. “He’s really into it now. Miracles like that don’t come easy.”
Who could argue?
In his spare moments these past few days, Lu Jin’an had dashed to OB-GYN to check on Gu Nianyi, reading her the puns she liked.
He knew her sense of humor by now.
Gu Nianyi could get out of bed now, walking to the windowsill to bask in the sun.
Lu Jin’an never left her side, always supporting her.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket—a new email from Gu Nianyi.
Ming Yue, on leave but sticking around the hospital, got one too.
Gu Nianyi groaned. “You two, just delete them. Don’t read.”
Surgery always carried risks, so she’d prepped farewell letters—one for each.
She’d been so well cared for lately that she’d forgotten to cancel the timer.
Ming Yue refused outright. With Gu Nianyi looking healthier, it was prime time to settle scores.
“Gu Nianyi, hiding it from Dr. Lu was one thing, but you hid it from me too.”
She resented herself most—should’ve sensed something when Gu Nianyi said she couldn’t come back.
Gu Nianyi hung her head. “I won’t hide from you again.”
Ming Yue said, “Idiot, there won’t be a next time. We’ll tally it up once you’re better.”
She opened the email, noting the hundreds of megabytes in attachments. “You know what? Skip the attachments—don’t wanna burn my data.”
【Ming Yue, by the time you see this, I’ll be gone. The thing I regret least in this life is meeting you. My biggest regret is not growing old with you. Next life, let’s be best friends again. Don’t be sad, or I’ll haunt your dreams every night. Oh, right—Nian Gao’s yours now, and all my dolls too. Be happy always, live to a ripe old age. When we meet again, you’ll be a little old lady and I’ll still be young. Kinda looking forward to it. Ming Yue, goodbye. No crying!】
Ming Yue read it with tears and laughter, poking Gu Nianyi’s forehead. “Gu Yi Yi, writing your little essay, huh? So long! Nice try, but I’m gonna see you as a little old lady—hair gone white, teeth all gone, skin wrinkly as hell. It’ll be so ugly, I’ll make it into a sticker pack and spam it to everyone.”
Gu Nianyi leaned on her shoulder, laughing until her stomach hurt. “Hmph, I’ll delete you the second we’re home.”
Did Ming Yue have attachments too?
Talking about little old ladies, and another essay-length one.
Lu Jin’an opened his email, staring at it over and over. Just one sentence.
【Dr. Lu, sorry for the trouble—please give Nian Gao and the dolls to Ming Yue. Wishing you happiness.】
That was it. Simple. So simple.
She’d thought of her cat and dolls, worried about the cat’s future.
Found them a good home.
For him? Just those four words.
One short sentence to brush him off.
Ming Yue headed home to rest at Gu Nianyi’s insistence—she’d visited almost as often as Lu Jin’an.
The caregiver auntie stepped out for dinner.
The room held only Gu Nianyi and Lu Jin’an.
In the late afternoon, as the sun dipped westward, Gu Nianyi lounged in a chair, soaking up the rays.
She loved the feeling of sunlight bathing her.
Lu Jin’an pocketed his phone and walked to the window, offering her a cup of warm water.
“Just one sentence for me?”
A hint of grievance colored his usually cool voice.
Gu Nianyi turned her head. “Isn’t that enough?”
No one else even got that much—she hadn’t left words for her parents.
“Not enough.”
“Well, there isn’t more.” Gu Nianyi had no desire to relive that agony.
“Dr. Lu, there’s something I want to discuss.”
She set the cup on the table, lowering her gaze slightly.
The tumor was gone, but she was pondering something else involving her uterus. She didn’t mind, but others might.
Lu Jin’an saw right through her. “Kids don’t matter. We can go without them this lifetime.”
His tone was firm, resolute.
His dark eyes fixed on Gu Nianyi, a warmth shining through.
It came from the heart, not mere consolation.
Besides, there was no need for niceties between them.
Gu Nianyi sat up a little. “But we have no feelings for each other, you…”
Lu Jin’an cut her off instantly. “We do. We have feelings.”
She paused, stunned for a moment.
Gu Nianyi murmured softly, “Roommate affection counts as feelings too, huh?”
Lu Jin’an scooped her up and carried her back to the bed with practiced ease. “No, it’s the bond of a couple meant to journey through life together.”
Compared to before, he had added many an ambiguous qualifier.
After the autumn equinox, the days and nights grew cooler with greater temperature swings, and Gu Nianyi’s limbs often turned icy. Lu Jin’an hugged her frequently and naturally noticed.
Warming her hands had become a habit.
He enunciated each word deliberately: “Perhaps another phrase fits even better: hand in hand with my love, grow old together.”
The words matched his actions perfectly.
He was indeed holding her hand.
Meeting his sudden gentle gaze, Gu Nianyi felt a strange palpitation stir in her heart.
Her breath hitched slightly, just like the frantic rhythm right after her surgery.
A message from Ruan Zhixu interrupted their conversation.
【Yi Yi, if you run into trouble and don’t want to tell us, that’s on us. Mom hasn’t spent much time with you, so we’ve talked less. I’ll give Jin’an a scolding. From now on, don’t shoulder everything alone—we’re here for you, good girl.】
So this was what it felt like to be truly cared for.
Happiness and sweetness flooded her heart, as if it had been drenched in honey syrup, soaking straight to her core.
Gu Nianyi said enviously, “Lu Jin’an, you’re so lucky to have such a wonderful mom.”
Ruan Zhixu visited her every day, bringing fun little gifts.
She offered comfort and worked tirelessly to unravel the knots in Gu Nianyi’s heart.
“She’s your mom too,” Lu Jin’an replied.
A week later, Gu Nianyi met the criteria for discharge and was given permission to leave the hospital.
She insisted she could manage on her own.
Ming Yue pressed her firmly into the wheelchair. “Manage what? How? Give it up, Gu Yi Yi—sit still and behave.”
“Oh, alright.”
Gu Nianyi grew restless and tried to stand several times.
Each time, Lu Jin’an stopped her. “Be good, little Gu Nianyi.”
She ended up the only one with nothing to do.
It was no exaggeration to say that Gu Nianyi was escorted all the way back to Cypress View Pavilion.
The moment she stepped through the front door, she froze, stunned by the sight before her.
A banner hung on the wall directly opposite the entrance.
【Welcome home, little Gu Nianyi!】
The background was covered in cartoon images of Esther.
Nian Gao came bounding toward her with a gift bag clamped in her mouth.
Even Grandpa Gu and Grandma Gu had been fetched by Lu Jin’an.
The moment Grandma Gu saw Gu Nianyi, she pretended to be furious. “You silly girl—who taught you to share the good news but hide the bad? You scared me half to death.”
They had spent the entire journey on pins and needles, their hearts only easing a fraction when they saw their unharmed granddaughter.
Gu Nianyi threw her arms around her grandma, fighting back the sour sting in her nose. “It won’t happen again, Grandma.”
Grandma Gu tapped a few tears onto her forehead. “No more big disasters from now on—may my obedient granddaughter live safely and smoothly.”
They had prepared a whole discharge celebration for her, complete with gifts.
Every red envelope they gave her contained 666 yuan—for smooth sailing all the way.
Once she was out of the hospital, an even bigger challenge arose.
Washing her hair and bathing.
The doctor had said bathing was fine, but her body was still weak and she couldn’t stand for long.
Besides, the incisions from the laparoscopic surgery hadn’t fully healed.
No soaking in the tub, and nothing could touch her belly.
She thought she could handle it herself, but it turned out to be a hassle. It was all too easy to accidentally brush the wounds.
Through the frosted glass window, her slim figure was faintly visible. Lu Jin’an lingered outside the bathroom door the whole time, worried she might slip and fall.
Gu Nianyi gave her body a quick wipe and hurried out.
In those few short steps, Lu Jin’an swept her up into his arms.
Gu Nianyi looped her arms around his neck and hesitated for a long moment. “Dr. Lu, I’d like to hire an auntie to help. Do you think Aunt Liu could recommend someone?”
Her face flushed crimson, the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck.
Lu Jin’an looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s no good trying to wash myself.”
A stranger would mean less emotional baggage for her.
“Alright, I’ll take care of it.”
Lu Jin’an asked, “Do you want to wash your hair?”
“I do, but it’s tricky.” Gu Nianyi had looked it up—hair washing was allowed five to seven days post-op.
He carried her back into the bathroom. “I’ll help you.”
The temptation was too strong. Heaven knew how long she had endured her greasy hair. Gu Nianyi nodded vigorously without a second thought.
Lu Jin’an fetched a low stool and had her sit beside the bathtub. He adjusted the water temperature.
“Is the water okay?”
“Just right.”
His touch was gentle as he massaged her scalp, not missing a single spot.
“Dr. Lu, you’re so professional.”
It felt just like at a salon.
“A lifetime with only one client.”
After blow-drying her hair, Lu Jin’an scooped her up again.
Gu Nianyi tugged at his sleeve. “Dr. Lu, I need to go to the dressing room to apply my medicine—there’s a mirror there so I can see the wounds.”
He headed straight for the bed instead. “I’ll do it for you.”
“That’s… that’s not necessary, is it? Men and women should maintain distance—no improper intimacy.” Gu Nianyi dredged up an old poem from her memory to dissuade him.
Lu Jin’an let out a low chuckle. “We’ve kissed. I’m holding you right now. Those conditions don’t apply.”
Gu Nianyi’s face turned scarlet in an instant.
Protesting his innocence all the more, the man added, “Don’t worry—I’m a professional. I won’t look where I shouldn’t.”
Lu Jin’an gently laid Gu Nianyi on the bed and went to fetch the ointment.
She sat there, steeling herself with grim determination, and lifted the hem of her nightgown.
The three surgical incisions lay exposed before Lu Jin’an.
In the hospital, nurses or Ming Yue had handled the care. This was the first time he had seen them.
He was a surgeon—one who wielded the scalpel. He had performed hundreds of major operations and witnessed all manner of gruesome wounds.
Yet his hand trembled at the sight of these three tiny laparoscopic scars.
On her fair, flat belly sat three red marks.
The cotton swab shook uncontrollably in his grip. Lu Jin’an had to squeeze the tube several times before any ointment came out.
“Does it hurt?” He barely dared to apply it lightly, afraid of causing her pain.
“No.” Gu Nianyi truly didn’t feel much pain.
The real torment came from Lu Jin’an tending to her wounds.
Their first true moment of “bare honesty” with each other.
Gu Nianyi’s gaze darted everywhere. The man before her had his jaw clenched tight, his expression one of utter focus.
His brows were furrowed, his eyes shadowed with worry.
His eyelashes quivered faintly.
He seemed terribly tense.
At last, it was over—a significant ordeal for both of them.
Lu Jin’an went to wash his hands, and Gu Nianyi slipped under the covers as usual.
A silent chasm lingered down the middle of the bed.
The man shifted right beside her and pulled her into his arms.
He clasped her cold hands in his warm palms and tucked her feet between his calves, clamping them gently but firmly.
“I’m running hot. Help me cool off.”
The excuse was perfectly reasonable.