At eleven in the evening, Cheng Zhirang was still in the kitchen preparing dinner.

The person curled up on the sofa half-asleep was waiting for her share of the noodles.

Since she indulged him, Mu Qiu’s request that only two fried eggs be made and that both must belong to her was easily agreed upon.

Now in the kitchen, the sound of boiling water was bubbling, and the soup from the fried eggs carried a fresh and savory aroma, making Mu Qiu’s stomach rumble along.

"Is it ready?" she asked, mumbling.

"Not yet, wait a bit longer."

Disappointed, she lay back again, her eyelids drooping, dozing off for a while, then asked, "Is it ready now?"

"The noodles are in, it will be ready soon."

"Oh. Still not ready..." she squinted and lay back again.

The third time she asked, just as she opened her eyes, the noodle bowl was placed on the coffee table.

With two eggs nestled on top.

Cheng Zhirang placed the bowl and chopsticks softly, as if afraid to disturb her. After putting both bowls down, he circled to the front of the sofa and picked her up.

Mu Qiu was a little apprehensive about his gesture now, but helplessly, she had no strength, and could only curl into his arms like a drowsy cat with her tail tucked in.

Then two paws blocked his mouth.

"I don’t want a kiss."

"...I just wanted to give you some water."

Mu Qiu: "...Uh, sorry for misunderstanding you."

She drank some warm water, was placed on a high stool to sit, and began to enjoy her belated dinner.

His bowl was about half again the size of hers. But inside was just a bit of thick soup, a bit of noodles, oh, and a sprinkle of scallions, nothing else.

She took two bites of the fried egg, turned her head to peer into his bowl,

"Can you eat noodles at night? Aren’t you trying to control your figure lately?"

"More exercise will take care of it. Is it good?"

She nodded, thought for a moment, and said, "You made me this noodle today, how about I make you duck blood vermicelli in the morning?"

Cheng Zhirang took a sip of noodle soup: "We’ll see if you can get up in the morning."

"......"

Her expression stiffened noticeably, his motion to drink more soup paused, realizing his words just now had a bit of a double meaning, so he explained a bit.

"I mean, there’s nothing going on tomorrow, you can sleep in a bit."

Mu Qiu breathed a sigh of relief: "Yes, yes, you can sleep in a bit. So what do you want for breakfast?"

"We can buy it. Are you going to finish the eggs?"

She finished one, nudged the other aside, and was now picking at the noodles.

"No," she slurped two noodles, pressed the remaining fried egg down with chopsticks, "I’m saving it to eat last."

He chuckled silently, turned back to continue drinking the soup.

After finishing the noodles, placing the bowl and chopsticks in the dishwasher, it was already midnight.

Mu Qiu, wilting and sleepy, went upstairs and sat on a chair dozing off.

Cheng Zhirang felt it was odd: "Aren’t you sleepy? Why not sleep in bed?"

"Just ate, can’t sleep right away. I’ll nap here first."

Even though she said she couldn’t sleep, the second half of the sentence was about napping, her words contradicting each other, clearly very tired.

He lifted the quilt and carried her to bed.

"You can also sit on the bed, no need to move again once you’re ready to sleep."

Then he went up from the other side, let her lean against his shoulder, turned off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamp, and softly asked, "Is this okay?"

Mu Qiu nodded, limply leaning against him.

She closed her eyes, Cheng Zhirang lowered his head and kissed her on the corner of her forehead, then stroked her hair, turning his head to look out the window.

The night was as dark as ink; due to a dim bedside lamp, the window glass showed no outside scene, only their silhouettes leaning together.

One light, two people, it seemed more satisfying than gaining anything else.

...

The next morning, Mu Qiu slept until eleven before getting up.

The person next to her was already gone; she sat up groggily, as usual, doing a simple stretch, raising both hands over her head, pressing backward, expanding her chest and arching back with her head raised.

Then she got off the bed to weigh herself, after which she changed clothes, washed up, and went downstairs to prepare breakfast.

Just walking out of the bedroom door, she saw a man sitting on the expansive second-floor balcony, turned towards the light spilling in from the window, drinking coffee, holding a script in hand reading.

His profile against the light, the eyelashes, nose, and lips seemed sculpted by the light, like a haute couture BJD.

Mu Qiu was momentarily stupefied, the feeling of living together with someone became a bit more real.

"Brother Cheng?" she called lazily, taking a couple of steps over.

The man reading the script turned his head to look at her: "Awake..."

The rest of the words vanished at his lips.

His expression looked a bit dazed.

"...Aren’t you cold?"

She was wearing a dress, a very special dress. It looked like she had stolen a boy’s basketball jersey, loose and baggy, so loose the straps could fall off at any moment.

Nothing covered except her chest and waist, and leg roots, the rest left exposed in all its mottled evidence.

His incriminating evidence.

Mu Qiu didn’t feel anything amiss, nor did she feel cold.

"This dress is comfortable to wear. I’m so hungry."

Cheng Zhirang put down the script, didn’t ask much, took her hand and went downstairs.

"The breakfast was bought, steamed dumplings and soy milk, it includes your favorite lotus root corn filling."

"Is this breakfast or lunch? It’s already noon."

He didn’t think it was too late, saying, "If you get hungry in the afternoon, eat again. Want some warm water?"

"Yes. But let me add something first."

She took out a light yellow shallow cup, scooped honey with a ceramic spoon, then took a lemon from the fridge and sliced a piece; just as she was about to put it back, she glanced at Cheng Zhirang, and sliced another piece.

"Add cold water first, then hot water, so the temperature isn’t too hot. Do you want some? I’ll serve you a cup."

"Sure."

So he received a sky-blue cup, with a Totoro toy at the rim, and the spoon head was also a cute Totoro mug.

His demeanor didn’t quite match with the cup, Mu Qiu chuckled while sipping honey lemon water.

Cheng Zhirang indulged her teasing, relaxed, joining in the laughter.

The sunlight and her laughter were in the same flavor, just like the honey lemon water going down the throat.

He seldom picked up his nearly forgotten Weibo, for the second time without needing any prompting, he actively posted an original Weibo.

[Cheng Zhirang V: Basketball jersey plus honey lemon water]

The only picture attached was of the blue mug.

The honey lemon water was beautifully captured, refined with over a dozen filters by Mu Qiu.

This Weibo was only out for a few minutes when, refreshing it again, the likes already exceeded three hundred thousand.

It lagged, preventing him from seeing the comments.

Mu Qiu sat on one side, nibbling on steamed dumplings while leaning against the bar counter, scrolling through the comments under his Weibo, reading interesting ones out loud.

"Someone’s asking why you suddenly wanted to adopt a cute style, hahaha!"

"Everyone’s waiting for you to post a picture in the basketball jersey~"

"Jiang Lu said the three characters Cheng Zhirang don’t match with this cup, seems like you stole it, haha—"