So when he’d seen her angrily pointing fingers at Andrei—even using such harsh words as “unfit to be a father”—he’d been genuinely surprised.
Pei Zhi knew Andrei pretty well. The man could be hot-tempered at times, but he wasn’t a bad person at heart.
Mia was an excessively clever child. She knew exactly who was protecting her. Crying that loudly had been deliberate, designed to put Andrei in an awkward spot and make him the villain.
That was what had provoked him. But his shove at Song Yu had truly infuriated Pei Zhi. If he hadn’t reacted quickly, it would have been her crashing to the floor.
His shoulder wound throbbed faintly. Washing up had been inconvenient, and everything felt like a hassle. He was someone who hated trouble, yet somehow, it all felt worth it.
Song Yu fiddled with the drawstring of his hoodie hood, twisting it around her finger again and again, but she said nothing.
Her strong reaction didn’t have any special reason behind it.
It was just the lingering pain from past experiences.
Shen Shuzhi used to have social obligations every few days, always coming home dead drunk. She’d unload all her work frustrations and emotional pent-up anger onto Song Yu.
Back then, Shen Shuzhi still held out hope for Song Qiliang, so her resentment ran deep.
Seeing Song Yu’s face—so much like Song Qiliang’s—she couldn’t control herself and would hurl all sorts of vile insults.
Song Yu could never have imagined that the elegant, graceful woman in public could spew such ugly words at her own daughter, when she’d done nothing wrong.
She’d tried calling Song Qiliang, but it rarely connected. And when it did, someone else usually answered—always with that affected, coquettish tone.
That situation dragged on until she started boarding school in middle school. During junior and senior high, Song Yu hardly ever went home. She’d even chosen university in another city and skipped returning even for winter and summer breaks.
To this day, her impression of Shen Shuzhi was either excessively cold or wildly manic—nothing like how a mother should be.
That was why she envied Mia so much. At least her parents both loved her. Even their conflicts stemmed from care for the family, always aligned in purpose and direction.
Unlike her own family, which looked glamorous on the surface but was just three strangers forced together.
Song Yu had no desire to dredge up those stale old grudges. She’d rather let them fester and rot inside than drag them into the light.
Seeing her stay silent for so long, Pei Zhi made a soft sound. “Hm?”
Song Yu mumbled under her breath, “It’s nothing else. I got my period on the road, so I’m in a bad mood.”
Pei Zhi blinked, not having expected that. “Weren’t you fine this morning?”
“It came during the trip.” Song Yu fibbed.
Pei Zhi didn’t press. Instead, he moved his hand to her lower abdomen and gently rubbed in circles.
Through the thin fabric of her clothes, Song Yu felt the warmth radiating from his palm—hot and comforting.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling her nose against his skin. A faint cedar scent lingered in the air, soothing her.
Pei Zhi shifted his injured arm—nothing serious—and lifted his hand to the back of her head. His fingers threaded into her thick hair, stroking it gently, over and over.
Suddenly, he felt the slightly raised scar on the back of Song Yu’s head.
“How’d this happen? From the fall earlier?”
Song Yu’s back stiffened at the touch. She wasn’t used to anyone prodding there; it almost felt like the scar still hurt.
His fingertips were rough, but his movements were tender as he carefully traced the raised edges.
She relaxed soon after, letting him touch it.
As far back as she could remember, Song Yu had seen Shen Shuzhi only a handful of times.
The memory that stuck deepest was one weekend holiday. Shen Shuzhi had come home for once—a rare occurrence—but she was still buried in work.
Song Yu had been four or five, bouncing around the living room and making noise to get her mother’s attention.
In her carelessness, she’d tumbled off the sofa, smacking the back of her head on the sharp corner of the coffee table.
Song Yu remembered crying loudly, nonstop, figuring her mother had to come out eventually.
Instead, all she’d heard was the cold slam of a door.
Shen Shuzhi had found her too noisy.
In the end, it was the housekeeper who’d returned from grocery shopping, seen her, and rushed her to the hospital.
From a very young age, Song Yu had understood that there really were mothers in the world who didn’t love their children.
“It was a long time ago,” she said lightly. “I was a naughty kid and fell.”
Pei Zhi chuckled softly. “Yeah, you must’ve been a handful to get a gash like that.”
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
His voice by her ear was warm and mellow, like sweet spring water flowing over parched earth.
For some reason, Song Yu suddenly felt a wave of grievance wash over her. After all these years, it was the first time anyone had asked if her wound hurt.
Her arms clamped tightly around Pei Zhi’s waist, pulling them even closer. Two teardrops fell onto his clothes, quickly soaking into the fabric and vanishing.
Song Yu shook her head.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
The next day.
When Song Yu woke, the other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cold. She had no idea when Pei Zhi had gotten up.
After a quick wash-up in the guest room’s attached bathroom, she headed downstairs.
She hadn’t even reached the bottom when the aroma of toasted bread wafted from the kitchen, laced with caramel sweetness.
Alice emerged from the kitchen carrying a baking tray, a crust of toast clamped between her teeth. Spotting Song Yu, she couldn’t hide her surprise—even though Andrei had warned her ahead of time. She hadn’t expected the woman Pei Zhi had brought to be so stunning.
Song Yu wore a blue knit dress. The morning chill had her draped in a plain vest. With no makeup, her face still carried that sleepy daze, her upturned eyes both alluring and adorable.
“Good morning,” Alice greeted.
Song Yu rubbed her eyes, recognizing the lady of the house. She snapped alert and returned the greeting. “Good morning.”
“Sorry for imposing on you like this.” Staying in someone else’s home made Song Yu feel awkward.
“No worries,” Alice said with a friendly smile.
Song Yu still felt stiff, her gaze drifting involuntarily toward the living room, as if searching for something.
“They went for a morning run,” Alice explained, glancing up at the vintage wall clock. “They shouldn’t be back yet. Let’s have breakfast first.”
But no sooner had Alice spoken than the wind chimes by the door tinkled crisply as a gust blew in.
Andrei entered first, standing on the mat to stamp the snow off his shoes.
He wore no jacket—just a short-sleeved T-shirt and loose knee-length shorts that bared his calves. It looked freezing.
Pei Zhi followed close behind, dressed only a bit more warmly in a gray hoodie, hood pulled up and black hair flattened low, half-covering his face. It sharpened the clean lines of his profile.
“You’re back early?” Alice said. “Perfect, breakfast is ready.”
“Milk or coffee?” she asked.
Andrei, breathing heavily, tugged at his T-shirt collar as if still overheated. “Two coffees, thanks.”
Pei Zhi, by contrast, seemed perfectly composed, his breathing steady.
Song Yu recalled how disciplined he’d been with exercise on the icebreaker ship, no matter how busy work got—always squeezing in an hour and a half of running daily. Even out here for just a day or two, he hadn’t skipped. It was scary how self-disciplined he was.
After entering, Pei Zhi didn’t head straight to the dining room. Instead, he went upstairs to change. The shirt he’d washed yesterday had dried.
Breakfast was far more harmonious than the night before. All the scattered beer bottles had been cleared away.
Pei Zhi pulled out the empty chair beside Song Yu and sat.
She turned her head, unable to hide her confusion. “You’ve got an injury. How could you go running?” Won’t that reopen the wound?
Pei Zhi picked up a sandwich and leisurely spread peanut butter with a knife. “I shouldn’t have. I forgot.”
Song Yu: “…”
Andrei lifted the coffee pot from the table and refilled his cup.
“I didn’t notice either. He was even talking about running a half-marathon in some race. Then midway, I glanced back and saw his shoulder all red.”
Maybe it was from all that time Pei Zhi had spent in rainforests and wilderness—pain barely registered for him anymore. He could overlook something like this.
Song Yu frowned. “No more exercise for you this week.”
Pei Zhi lifted his gaze to her, lips curving in obedient amusement. “Alright.”
After breakfast, they had a plane to catch back to Ny-Ålesund, so they bid farewell to Andrei and his family.
Alice held Mia in her arms as Andrei walked them to the gate. “Come visit again sometime,” he said. “We’ll email you once we rent a place.”
Pei Zhi nodded and gave a casual wave. “We’re heading out—no need to see us off.”
Song Yu still felt a bit awkward after her unpleasant exchange with Andrei the day before.
But Andrei just smiled at her. “It was nice meeting you.”
The snow from the night before had turned the roads slick where cars had driven over them. A young milkman pedaled by on his bicycle and suddenly skidded out at the corner, tumbling bike and all.
The glass bottles of milk scattered across the ground.
Pei Zhi spotted it and strode over without a second thought. He helped the milkman to his feet and together they gathered up the bottles from the snow.
Song Yu stood in place, her gaze fixed on his back.
Andrei watched the same spot.
After a long moment, he spoke. “Pei is a good man.”
Song Yu didn’t look away.
“I know.”
Andrei turned to her. “So you must be a good person too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t like you so much.”
Song Yu blinked, a mix of delight and doubt rising in her. “How did you know he likes me that much?”
Andrei looked puzzled. “Can’t you feel it yourself?”
Song Yu pressed her lips together and said nothing.
In the distance, Pei Zhi finished saying goodbye to the milkman. The young man pressed a bottle of milk into his hands, hopped back on his bike, and pedaled off into the wind and snow to continue his route.
Pei Zhi returned with the milk and held it out to Song Yu. “Want some?”
Then he paused, thinking better of it, and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. “It’s still a little cold. I’ll warm it up for you first.”
Song Yu stared at him, transfixed.
Andrei’s words still echoed in her ears.
She could feel it.
But it was too warm—too warm to feel real, too warm to trust.