That afternoon, Cheng Zhirang moved into Mu Qiu’s little villa.

With two suitcases, he stood at the door waiting for directions.

It really felt like a foreigner boarding at the landlord’s apartment building.

Mu Qiu sat barefoot on a barstool, swirling around while swinging her legs and directing him.

"Except for clothes and toiletries, nothing else can go upstairs. Shoes can only be placed in the disinfecting shoe cabinet at the door."

"Okay."

He let go of one suitcase, leaving it on the ground, pushed down the handle of the suitcase on his left hand, and lifted it with one hand.

Mu Qiu thought he was about to go upstairs to put things away, but instead, he walked over to her and directly picked her up with his right hand.

She was startled and quickly wrapped her arms around him.

Cheng Zhirang had the mood to laugh: "Hold tight, both my hands are occupied, can’t protect you in time."

"...Then why are you carrying me?!"

She climbed up as she spoke, eventually almost leaning on his shoulder, his arm not using too much force.

"Holding tight? I’m heading upstairs."

Left hand carrying the suitcase, right hand holding her, the muscles on both his arms tensed, stretching the short sleeves of his white T-shirt.

A sense of security was overflowing.

Mu Qiu stared at his arm muscles without blinking, almost crossing her eyes, refusing to look away.

Damn, he could carry her with one hand, isn’t this the kind of treatment only kids get?

She swallowed her saliva, and by the time she snapped out of it, they had already reached the second floor. Cheng Zhirang put down the suitcase, gave it a kick, and it rolled to the door.

Then, he freed up his left hand, placed it against her back, and held her more firmly as they entered the master bedroom.

"We’ll be roommates from now on, looking forward to your guidance."

Mu Qiu: "... Sure, sure, sure, just put me down first."

"Okay."

Then she was placed on the bed, and because it was so soft, she bounced twice.

Startled, she quickly crawled back and shrank away.

"Just to say, in broad daylight, I don’t have that much desire."

Cheng Zhirang was about to discuss which side of the wardrobe he’d get: "... What?"

Got it, he didn’t mean anything by it.

Mu Qiu sat up cross-legged: "Never mind, you didn’t hear anything. Um, go ahead and place your things. Need any help?"

The things Cheng Zhirang brought weren’t actually much, and many were for her. So he really didn’t need her to help, nor would he let her run back and forth.

But...

"I do, could you help me hang up the suit?"

"Sure, and I’ll iron it a bit; it must be wrinkled from being folded in the suitcase."

"Alright, thank you so much." He said with a smile in his eyes.

The suitcase opened, he took out the suit he brought, and after getting permission, he placed it at the foot of the bed, entrusting it to Mu Qiu while he went to arrange the items for the bathroom.

Shaver, after-shave lotion, toothbrush and toothpaste... the dark-colored male items squeezed among a sea of pink hues.

He took a look around, then bent down and turned the hung black toothbrush.’s direction.

The brush head faced the white toothbrush.

After arranging everything neatly, he twisted a disposable towel to clean the suitcase and placed it in a suitable position.

Upon exiting the bathroom, he saw the girl in front of the wardrobe earnestly ironing his suit pants.

Dressed casually, her movements a bit lackadaisical, her ironing techniques not particularly professional, yet he was frozen, unable to take his eyes off her.

No matter in the plays he acted before, or the stories he heard from others, he never truly felt a man’s desire for a home.

Portraying others’ emotions always felt like looking through frosted glass, unable to truly experience and empathize genuinely. Even if occasionally deeply immersed in roles, it would never be because of such scenarios.

And now, he’s finally reached this step in his own story. The mixed emotions surged through his heart, no longer experiencing life’s emotions through frosted glass.

"Did you organize everything?" Mu Qiu saw him coming out but didn’t turn her head to look, just continued ironing the suit pants as she said, "Don’t move my things; it’ll be hard to find them later."

"I didn’t touch yours. Where should I put the suitcase?"

"Let me think," she paused, holding the steaming garment steamer, "place it in the side bedroom."

"Okay, I’ll just wipe it down first."

He crouched down to wipe away nearly invisible dust from the suitcase while Mu Qiu continued diligently ironing his suit.

Neither of them spoke again, quietly attending to their own tasks.

As Mu Qiu ironed the clothes, she absentmindedly pondered whether it was the right decision to let Cheng Zhirang move in.

She found a bunch of reasons why it was "wrong" and another bunch why it was "right," but the only thing surfacing in her mind was his taut muscles when he carried her upstairs single-handedly.

Ugh, captivated by beauty, it was almost all she could think about, making it hard to think clearly.

She turned off the steamer and lay on a white shirt beside her with a sigh.

Cheng Zhirang returned from the side bedroom, glanced at her, said nothing. After washing his hands in the bathroom, he found her still lying on his clothes, sighing.

"What’s wrong?"

Mu Qiu lethargically responded: "Nothing."

"Then why are you rubbing against my shirt?"

Mu Qiu: "..."

She immediately stood up straight.

"Don’t get it wrong; it’s just that your shirt happened to be here."

"You’ve been telling me not to imagine or misunderstand today," he took a few steps closer, "but I wasn’t really thinking much of anything."

The word "originally" was used brilliantly.

Mu Qiu was racking her brain for how to respond, but Cheng Zhirang got closer and closer, nearly brushing against her.

She put her hand up to stop his final step toward her, looked up innocently, and said, "I admit, sometimes my mind goes haywire. I assure you, I have no intention of flirting or... Brother Cheng?"

The sudden lift left her slightly dazed, the speech she had just organized stopped in her throat.

Cheng Zhirang lifted her, her legs parted and hung on him, relying fully on his hold. Her back pressed against the wardrobe door, forcing her to straighten her spine.

Their height difference was neutralized, allowing her to "properly" look into his eyes.

Then she heard him say, "You can have that thought now."

Mu Qiu: "..." Help, she thought she might just die here today.

Though inwardly feeling so dramatic, the saying goes that the braver the person, the bold. At a moment of thinking one might perish soon, reckless thoughts were even harder to control.

So she leaned in first, kissing his forehead.

The rush of adrenaline, like staying up two nights but unable to sleep excitement, was about to extinguish her last bit of rationality.

Unlike before, Cheng Zhirang didn’t gently respond to the kiss but released a hand, slipped under the hem of her back, snaked to the middle, and undid an item.

This process wasn’t quite the same, making Mu Qiu start to panic.