“Thanks.”
Gu Nianyi’s voice carried a thick nasal tone, soft and sticky like cotton candy.
She reached out to take the tissue, keeping her head bowed to deliberately avoid looking at Lu Jin’an.
Over these years, she had seldom cried in front of others.
Only Ming Yue had ever seen her shed tears.
Gu Nianyi sniffed, the tip of her nose and the rims of her eyes tinged red. “Sorry, I’ll pull myself together in a moment. You can get going—don’t let me hold you up.”
Considerate, sensible, gentle: those were the labels others had pinned on her.
And she had long since grown accustomed to them, performing the role to perfection.
Lu Jin’an rolled down the window and propped his elbow on the sill. “No rush. The surgery’s been postponed.”
Li Huiling’s expression had looked off when she’d called Gu Nianyi into the room. He spent his days in the hospital and had seen enough of life’s ups and downs to read between the lines.
Even though she’d kept her voice low, the door and walls offered little soundproofing.
A heavy atmosphere had seeped out from the room, and he hadn’t hesitated before knocking.
The surgery had just been a convenient excuse.
A moment later, Gu Nianyi crumpled the tissue in her hand and said softly, “All right, let’s go.”
The car eased onto the main road and merged into the endless stream of traffic.
Gu Nianyi tucked the passbook away, wrapping it layer by layer just as her grandmother used to do, then carefully slipping it into a hidden pocket in her bag. Her fingers gently stroked it through the plastic.
It was the most precious possession of her life.
The car fell quiet once more, filled only with the mechanical, emotionless voice of the GPS giving directions.
Gu Nianyi composed herself for the parting ahead. She hadn’t slept well the night before, her mind preoccupied with the visit back to her family home.
Now that her nerves had relaxed, she undid her updo, her head nodding forward as her upper and lower eyelids battled fiercely.
Lu Jin’an drove steadily, without a single jolt. Gu Nianyi fought it as long as she could but finally closed her eyes.
Her sleep was restless.
She hadn’t adjusted the seat, so the headrest pressed against the back of her skull, forcing her to sit ramrod straight. It was too uncomfortable; she tossed and turned, desperately seeking a better position.
In the end, she couldn’t find one and had to endure it as drowsiness overwhelmed her.
The highway was clear, and they reached South City in under two hours.
The car pulled up in front of Moon Gazing Bay, and Gu Nianyi stirred awake to a hazy blur before her eyes. On instinct, she asked, “Where are we?”
She twisted her neck and realized the seat had been reclined. A thin blanket draped over her body.
The seat certainly hadn’t been like that before she fell asleep—perhaps she’d adjusted it unconsciously.
But the blanket was another matter; it hadn’t been within reach when she dozed off.
Lu Jin’an replied evenly, “We’re at the complex.”
“Thanks. I’ll head in now—don’t let me keep you.” Gu Nianyi unlocked her phone. They were half an hour behind schedule.
She pushed open the car door and walked into the neighborhood.
Lu Jin’an was about to pull away when his gaze fell on the passenger seat. The blanket lay there, neatly folded into a perfect square, like the little tofu blocks sold at the supermarket.
The seat had been returned to its original position.
The sky, overcast all the way, finally unleashed its rain. Raindrops danced across the pavement.
For some reason, this autumn had brought more rain than usual.
A chill mingled with the downpour.
Lu Jin’an glanced toward the complex and saw Gu Nianyi quickening her pace, clutching her bag to her chest and letting herself get soaked instead.
Without a second thought, he grabbed the umbrella from the floorboard, flung open the door, and dashed after her into the neighborhood.
The rain grew heavier by the second. Gu Nianyi’s hair was soon drenched, and her qipao darkened to a soft lotus pink.
She could only protect one—the leather bag was a gift from Lady Ruan and couldn’t get wet.
All she heard was the patter of rain and the slap of her own footsteps as she hurried along.
Suddenly, a black umbrella appeared over her head, shielding her completely from the rain. Gu Nianyi turned and found herself facing a refined, noble-looking face.
As aloof and distant as ever, though his jet-black hair was dampened by the rain, softening his sharp edges. Her gaze drifted lower to the slender hand gripping the black umbrella.
He had an umbrella—why was he getting wet?
Lu Jin’an thrust the umbrella into Gu Nianyi’s hands. “Here, take it.”
Raindrops slid down the canopy, forming a curtain of white streaks. Gu Nianyi opened it. “Let’s share. It’s coming down pretty hard—what about your surgery?”
“Canceled.” Lu Jin’an towered over her by a head, so she had to strain to hold the umbrella high enough.
“Come on.” He took it back into his own hand.
The two walked side by side under the umbrella, their elbows brushing now and then. Neither made any effort to create distance.
After the past few days together, Gu Nianyi had grown used to Lu Jin’an’s presence. “Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”
After all that back-and-forth, Lu Jin’an finally returned to Cypress View Pavilion. It was fully dark by then, and the cardboard box on the back seat—forgotten by its owner—lay abandoned.
He dialed Gu Nianyi’s number for the first time. “It’s Lu Jin’an. You left something in the car. What now?”
Gu Nianyi lay on the sofa, touching her forehead. “Just keep it at your place for now. Cough cough cough.”
She’d been home less than ten minutes and already felt chilled to the bone, her head foggy. She’d snatched up the phone when she saw his name.
They’d exchanged numbers that day, and she’d saved his right away under his full name.
They weren’t close enough yet for nicknames or endearments like “hubby.”
Lu Jin’an tapped the steering wheel lightly. “Are you sick?”
Gu Nianyi denied it. “No, I just choked on some water.”
In a marriage without love, it was best not to get too entangled. She couldn’t afford to take the risk.
After hanging up, Lu Jin’an carried the box into the lobby. Its flimsy structure gave way, and the contents spilled across the floor. The Classmate Album fell open.
He crouched to gather them up, and the first thing that caught his eye was a line of writing:
【Across a calm distance.】
The handwriting was neat and vigorous—clearly a man’s.
His gut told him it wasn’t just any phrase, and a quick search confirmed it.
“I Will Love You From Afar, across the calm distance.”
Lu Jin’an flipped to the previous page. Name: Xu Wenyan. Gender: Male.
Her ex-boyfriend? Or a secret admirer?
Did she even know the full line?
He hadn’t meant to pry into Gu Nianyi’s privacy, but what was he doing right now? Lu Jin’an closed the album without a flicker of expression.
Thinking back to her earlier cough—hoarse and weak—the more he dwelled on it, the less it sounded like choking.
If he couldn’t tell a cough from water going down the wrong pipe after all these years of medical training, he’d have wasted his education.
Lu Jin’an carefully repacked Gu Nianyi’s things, grabbed his keys from the entryway, and headed out.
At Moon Gazing Bay, he spotted Gu Nianyi’s coworker—the young guy from the hospital. He said coolly, “How did you get in here?”
Chi Wenjing grinned lazily. “Walked right through the front gate, fair and square.”
As if he’d scaled the walls—what did he take him for?
Lu Jin’an thought to himself that the complex’s security was clearly lacking if it let in just anyone.
Chi Wenjing shot him a look. “And how did you get in?”
Lu Jin’an ignored the question and strode into the building. Chi Wenjing felt like he’d thrown a punch at cotton.
“Rude.”
Chi Wenjing only knew the name of Gu Nianyi’s complex, not the exact building. Marriage made all the difference—Lu Jin’an knew the floor and unit number.
His heart was shattered. He’d been hurt.
He trailed obediently after Lu Jin’an. There were ways to find out, but they weren’t exactly ethical.
He had morals, just not many.
The doorbell rang, and Gu Nianyi peered through the peephole to see Lu Jin’an. She opened the door and found another figure standing there like a guardian statue. “How did you two end up together?”
Chi Wenjing flashed a cheeky smile. “I was passing by and brought you some food—my friend bought it, but I’m not into cake.”
Then he added, “Yi Yi, you’re sick.”
Her fair oval face was flushed, her neck and ears tinged red. Her voice was feeble.
Gu Nianyi waved them off. “I’m fine, just a bit stuffy. Head home—it’s late.”
She didn’t have the energy to wonder why Lu Jin’an had come back.
Lu Jin’an gave Chi Wenjing a look that said he could leave now.
With a wave of his large hand, slam—the door shut. Chi Wenjing stared at the brown door in a daze.
He’d just been kicked out like that?
He had no grounds to complain—they were legally married, and he was nothing.
He was just a beat slow; unlike Lu Jin’an with his thick skin, barging in uninvited. Fine, he’d gotten inside, but then he’d shut Chi Wenjing out.
Gu Nianyi retreated to the bedroom and burrowed under the covers. “Why didn’t you go? Did you bring my stuff? Just set it down anywhere.”
Lu Jin’an stood outside the master bedroom and asked, “What’s your temperature?”
“Don’t know.”
She didn’t even own a thermometer. In the past, she’d always toughed out fevers on her own.
Lu Jin’an hesitated for two seconds before stepping into the master bedroom. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.
Burning hot.
From experience, it wasn’t a low-grade fever.
“Meow meow.”
A little cat on the bed bared her teeth and claws at him, glaring as if he were the enemy.
Lu Jin’an asked, “Besides the fever and cough, any other symptoms?”
Gu Nianyi scooped up Nian Gao and stroked her head. “Sore throat, no energy, headache, backache.”
“Have you eaten dinner?” Lu Jin’an pulled out his phone to order takeout while he questioned her.
Gu Nianyi answered honestly, “No.”
Living alone, she never ordered delivery and didn’t feel like cooking.
The fever left Gu Nianyi’s mind muddled and drowsy. Nian Gao gazed at her obediently but shot Lu Jin’an dirty looks from time to time.
Ever ready to defend her owner.
Lu Jin’an was no match for the cat and knew better than to linger in the bedroom. He retreated to the living room on his own.
The apartment was modest—a one-bedroom with living and dining areas and a bathroom—but it was tidy and well-kept.
The most jarring thing was the transparent box perched atop the living room TV cabinet, stuffed full of cat plushies.
Water cups, wall art, fridge magnets, throw pillows… everywhere her eyes landed, it was all merchandise from the same cartoon character.
How much must someone love that?
Before long, the medicine and dinner arrived together. Lu Jin’an unpacked the food and set it on the dining table. “Eat first.”
“I’ll eat later.” Gu Nianyi didn’t want to move. She just wanted to flop in bed.
His volume was three degrees softer than usual, but his tone carried a hint of something off—not as accommodating as normal.
Lu Jin’an said again, “You have to eat before you take the medicine.”
Gu Nianyi rolled over. “Just leave it there. I’ll eat in a bit.”
“Eat now.” Lu Jin’an’s clear voice took on a commanding edge.
That was his usual approach with disobedient patients, but Gu Nianyi wasn’t his patient.
“I don’t want to.”
The girl who was usually so easygoing turned downright childish when sick, her rebellious streak shooting through the roof.
If this were at the hospital, Lu Jin’an wouldn’t have an ounce of patience. He wouldn’t waste breath on someone who didn’t even care about their own body—why would anyone else?
But right now, Gu Nianyi wasn’t his patient. She was his wife, bound by law.
Lu Jin’an closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to reason with her. “This isn’t just a simple fever. It might be the flu.”
Gu Nianyi mumbled back, “Then hurry home. I don’t want to get you sick.”
She was still worrying about him. He didn’t know whether to call her thoughtful and understanding or something else.
Lu Jin’an paused for two seconds, then strode straight into the master bedroom. He scooped Gu Nianyi up from the bed in a bridal carry.
“What are you doing?”
“Eating. Medicine.”
His gaze was dark and sharp, his jaw clenched tight.
Pressed against Lu Jin’an’s chest, separated only by his shirt, Gu Nianyi could feel the coolness of his body—like a natural cooling pack.
It was the closest she’d ever been to a guy, and her heart pounded wildly. Psychology called it the bridge effect.
Nian Gao was startled by Lu Jin’an’s sudden move. She let out a “meow!” and leaped off the bed, glaring at him fiercely while chomping on his pant leg.
One in his arms, one clinging to his leg.
Every step felt like a weighted march.
Lu Jin’an set Gu Nianyi down in a chair and pulled out a thermometer, tucking it under her armpit before she could protest. “Be good.”
His tone was as stern as a school principal’s.
Gu Nianyi took small bites of the wontons. The wrappers were thin, the fillings generous—way better than plain congee.
Five minutes later, Lu Jin’an retrieved the mercury thermometer and glanced at it. “39.8 degrees. Almost 40.”
Gu Nianyi chewed her wonton. “Not bad.” It hadn’t hit 40 yet.
Not bad? Where did she get that idea? “Take the medicine.”
“Okay.”
Lu Jin’an had figured he’d have to argue, but she complied quietly this time.
Sated, Gu Nianyi turned into the perfect little angel—taking her medicine when told, heading to bed when instructed.
The fever reducer had a sedative in it. Gu Nianyi fought to stay awake. “Just lock the door on your way out.”
Her fever spiked and broke repeatedly, soaking her pajamas in sweat only for it to evaporate dry again. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning as if trapped in a nightmare.
“You’re the big sister. You’re the oldest. You have to yield to your little brother.”
“You’re the sister. Take care of your brother.”
“Little Brother likes chicken wings. Give them to him.”
“Little Brother’s small. The big apple goes to him.”
“Girls belong to someone else once they’re married.”
“The money’s for Little Brother’s house. Go ask your mother-in-law if you want some.”
Lu Jin’an had no idea what was wrong with her. He tucked her in and prepared to leave when her hand suddenly grabbed his.
“Don’t go, okay?”
Gu Nianyi clung to that sliver of coolness, gripping it tight in her palm.
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, dripping onto the back of his hand. Lu Jin’an crouched down. “Why are you crying?”
Of course, there was no answer.
By morning, Gu Nianyi’s fever had broken, and she felt much more comfortable. Last night’s memories flooded back into her mind.
She hadn’t blacked out. She must have been possessed—acting crazy one minute, obedient the next, even holding Lu Jin’an’s hand and begging him not to leave.
She remembered the dreams and the crying.
Gu Nianyi buried her head under the covers, hoping Lu Jin’an would leave on his own. She waited half the morning, but he didn’t budge. Instead, her phone rang.
It was the weekend, and Ruan Zhixu had dropped by Cypress View Pavilion for a surprise inspection. Finding the place empty set her off.
“Lu Jin’an, do you even have me as your mother anymore? Another all-nighter? Since when are you on so many night shifts? No wonder Yi Yi doesn’t want to come home either.”
The voice on the other end was loud enough for Gu Nianyi to hear crystal clear. Lu Jin’an had taken care of her all night; out of courtesy and fairness, she should help explain. She threw off the covers and snatched the phone.
“Mom, Jin’an’s here with me. I had something come up yesterday and had to come back. He stayed with me, so he didn’t go home.”
“You two carry on. I won’t disturb you.” Hearing Gu Nianyi’s hoarse voice, Ruan Zhixu hung up with gleeful speed.
“Mom, you misunderstood!” The call had already ended. Gu Nianyi turned to Lu Jin’an for help. “Mom misunderstood. Go explain.”
Lu Jin’an looked up. The girl’s face was flushed thin from holding her breath.
He averted his gaze. “Nothing to explain. It’s normal.”
How was it normal? Nothing had happened.
Explaining now would just make it look suspicious.
Nian Gao kept tugging at Lu Jin’an’s pant leg—nipping it, then pawing at it—having a grand old time.
The man leaned against the sofa, lowering his eyelids. “Move back in.”
He glanced down at his feet. “The cat too.”