His chin rested lightly on her forehead, his stubble faintly prickling her skin. His warm breath brushed against her, and his arms tightened around her as though she might vanish at any moment.
It felt like he was cradling a priceless treasure.
Finally, he broke the silence. “This morning, you didn’t look well. I was worried. When I called, your phone was off, so I waited outside your house for over two hours. I saw the lights come on… Are you okay now?”
His words were full of care and tenderness, but Shen Xi Fan didn’t know how to respond. She stayed silent. Should she feel happy that he cared enough to notice her? Should she smile? But some frozen corner of her heart refused to thaw, making it impossible to smile.
Should she cry out of gratitude? But she couldn’t cry either. The only word that came to mind was numb.
Suddenly, Yan Heng’s phone rang. Shen Xi Fan used the distraction to break free from his embrace. Avoiding his gaze, she crouched down to pick up the scattered papers.
She heard him answer the call. “Alright, I understand. I’ll head over now. The U.S.? No problem.”
Ending the call, he gave a helpless smile and bent down to help her gather the documents. “I’m sorry, Xiao Fan. I was too impulsive. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
As he placed the last sheet in her hands, he sighed. “I have to go. See you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
She lowered her gaze. “Thank you. Goodnight.”
Without looking back, she climbed the stairs, unlocked her door, and shut it behind her. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she glanced out the window and saw Yan Heng standing by his BMW, staring at her apartment. After a long moment, he got into the car and drove away.
Her heart was a tangled mess.
She forced herself to calm down and opened the documents to start translating. After two pages, she remembered her phone was dead. Retrieving her bag, she opened it—and froze.
Inside was a small bottle of medicine, resting neatly with a note attached. The handwriting was unmistakable:
“The month’s worth of medication is ready. I don’t know if you’re still suffering from insomnia since you’ve stopped visiting the doctor. If the symptoms persist, there’s no need for herbal medicine. This sour jujube seed powder can help. It soothes the spirit, aids digestion, nourishes the liver, regulates energy, moisturizes the lungs, and calms the nerves. Most importantly, it isn’t bitter and can be taken directly with water. But remember, consistency is key—don’t give up halfway.”
Shen Xi Fan carefully opened the bottle. The reddish-brown powder was so finely milled that a gentle breath could lift it into the air. Clearly, it had been meticulously prepared.
She scooped a small amount, mixed it with water, and took a sip. It was both sweet and tangy.
Perhaps this is what love tastes like—sweet and sour at the same time.
She remembered reading a novel that described love:
“The sourness of love is jealousy. Girls, when jealous, are endearingly clumsy, muddled, petty, and utterly charming. The sweetness of love is a boy buying a pomegranate for his girlfriend, sitting together on a park bench as they share it. The pomegranate’s translucent pink seeds, like red beans from the south, symbolize longing. They eat one seed at a time, talking and laughing, spending the whole afternoon together.”
She had once told Yan Heng, I hope my love will be like this—mutual support, quiet respect, as plain as water. I’ll find him in the passage of time, rely on him, and entrust him with my life. I’ll be his wife, the mother of his children, cooking for him, washing his clothes, sewing buttons onto his shirts. Then, as we grow old together, one of us will leave first for another world, to continue this bond in the next life. At that moment, we’ll still be able to say the simplest words: “I do.”
But she never knew who that person would be.
As all her defenses crumbled, loneliness surged in. Unable to hold it in any longer, she clutched the bottle tightly, tears streaming down her face like rain.
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