Three, Two, One

So hungry. She hadn't eaten a single bite since arriving at four o'clock.

Her stomach growled audibly. Unable to bear it any longer, she nibbled on Jiang Wenzhe's finger: "Squeak, squeak, squeak—"

"Hungry?" Jiang Wenzhe continued to massage her delicate neck, which had been manhandled by someone earlier.

"Squeak, squeak."

Jiang Wenzhe understood immediately. He glanced around the room, his gaze finally landing on a fruit platter. He picked up a blueberry with a fork and placed it between Lin Sangyu's two little paws.

Lin Sangyu caught it excitedly and, nestled in Jiang Wenzhe's broad palm, ate one piece of fruit after another as he fed her.

The proposal ceremony was mostly finished; now it was time for casual chatting and dining. The protagonist of the evening, Tang Lin, walked over to Jiang Wenzhe with a beaming smile: "Wenzhe, thanks a lot."

Aside from Lin Sangyu's sugar glider ring-delivery cameo, the floral design and staging of the entire event had also relied on Jiang Wenzhe's connections, securing an internationally renowned gardening master to personally oversee the execution.

"Don't mention it," Jiang Wenzhe said, glancing at the conspicuous men's ring on his hand. "If you really want to thank me, that piece of land in Yanqiu Yuan will do."

"..." Tang Lin smiled without sincerity. "Jiang Wenzhe, you'd better never need a favor from me in the future, or else... or else, hey, where's my little fish?"

Little fish referred to Lin Sangyu, of course. As for why Tang Lin insisted on calling her so affectionately—and who he was trying to get under the skin of—there was no need to explain.

Jiang Wenzhe produced the excuse he had prepared in advance: "She came down with an illness yesterday. She's still in the hospital now."

"Damn, is it serious? What kind of illness? I forgive you for being a bastard just now—you actually abandoned her because of me," Tang Lin said, making as if to wipe tears on Jiang Wenzhe's clothes. "Wah wah wah, you're such a true brother. I'm literally the happiest man in the world today."

"Not serious, just a minor illness," Jiang Wenzhe said, taking an imperceptible step back and ruthlessly calling him out. "Overacting."

"Hey, I'm not a professional actor. But I can learn some tricks from my wife in the future."

He had only just proposed, and already he was calling her his wife.

Jiang Wenzhe was immune to this kind of showing off. He gave Tang Lin a speechless look.

"Squeak, squeak." Lin Sangyu suddenly piped up from his palm.

Tang Lin's reaction finally caught up. He slapped his thigh: "Oh right, quick, let me see—did I pinch her just now? Is she hurt?"

Seeing Tang Lin's hand about to descend, Lin Sangyu, still rattled from earlier, scrambled into Jiang Wenzhe's sleeve, poking only her head out to bare her teeth at Tang Lin.

Tang Lin let out an awkward chuckle and withdrew his hand. "Pretty grudge-holding, huh."

"Well, well, if it isn't the dynamic duo."

A deep, steady voice came from behind. Tang Lin and Jiang Wenzhe turned around simultaneously.

It was Xie Weiting, Huang Jue's godfather and one of the few elders who had accompanied Tang Lin and Jiang Wenzhe through their younger years.

"Uncle Xie." The two greeted him in unison, respectfully.

Xie Weiting laughed, half self-deprecating, half delighted: "Never thought I'd live to see the day Tang Lin got married."

Xie Weiting was ninety-two years old now. Time had left deep marks on him: cloudy, aged eyes brimming with profound weariness; age spots densely scattered across his wrinkled face; sparse, gray-white hair as dry as withered grass.

"Uncle Xie, don't say that," Jiang Wenzhe said, clasping the hand that rested on his cane. "Didn't your checkup last month come back clean?"

Xie Weiting laughed heartily. He placed his left hand on Tang Lin's shoulder and patted it twice, heavy with unspoken thoughts. His cloudy eyes grew slightly moist. "Be happy, little Tang."

"I will, Uncle Xie." Tang Lin hugged him solemnly, curling into the embrace of the aging man like a child.

"And don't forget about little Jiang, either. Teach him a thing or two about chasing after girlfriends."

Tang Lin looked disgusted and straightened back up. "He already has a woman by his side."

What?!

Lin Sangyu, who had been happily munching in the sleeve, immediately poked her head out again, ears pricked, eyes darting among the three men.

Jiang Wenzhe saw her curious head. He scooped her out directly and, turning to one of the ladies chatting nearby, said politely, "Excuse me, would you mind looking after her for a moment?"

"Of course."

The lady took her at once, unable to resist pinching Lin Sangyu's fluffy little head the moment she had her in hand.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak—"

Lin Sangyu protested to Jiang Wenzhe indignantly.

But Jiang Wenzhe only glanced at her before quickly looking away and rejoining the conversation.

What could I possibly not be allowed to hear?

This Jiang Wenzhe was way too petty and stingy!

Fine, fine. If I can't listen, I won't listen.

Before anger could fully set in, the scent of a lovely lady washed over her. Lin Sangyu turned to look—her new caretaker was a beautiful woman with big, wavy curls and bright, sparkling eyes.

It took her exactly zero seconds to retract the teeth she had been baring at Jiang Wenzhe and show her soft belly, completely defenseless before the gentle beauty.

*

Huang Jue, a rising star in the film world, having her engagement to the Tang family announced—it instantly captured the attention of the entire internet.

That night, various clips from the proposal flooded every major online platform in spectacular fashion. Of course, this included the iconic scene of Lin Sangyu delivering the ring as a sugar glider.

Netizens flooded the comments:

[Just when I thought all proposal tricks had been done to death, someone always teaches me a new lesson.]

[Folks, I already have three dogs and five cats at home. Do you think I can add a sugar glider to the mix?]

[So intelligent, so adorable. Come here, let mama give you a kiss.]

[Is there a link for this sugar glider?]

As Lin Sangyu scrolled through the comments, she jiggled Jiang Wenzhe's arm beside her: "Ahhh, Jiang Wenzhe, I'm famous, I'm famous!"

"I know. You think I'd really let you be the ring bearer otherwise?" Jiang Wenzhe snatched the phone from Lin Sangyu's hands. "Alright, go shower now. No more playing—it's almost midnight."

They had gotten back from the proposal dinner at around eleven, and Jiang Wenzhe had already showered and wrapped up the last of his work, but Lin Sangyu was still dragging her feet.

Lin Sangyu scrambled up, reaching for the phone but missing. She silently prayed she'd have a second growth spurt at twenty-four, then retorted, "So you knew all along that I'd blow up."

Jiang Wenzhe shrugged. "What else did you expect?"

"You're amazing."

Lin Sangyu opened her arms to him. As always, Jiang Wenzhe scooped her up—left hand supporting her bottom, right arm circling her impossibly slim waist.

"I want to wear that yellow nightgown to bed tonight." Lin Sangyu wrapped her arms around his neck too, chin resting in the hollow of his shoulder, speaking in a muffled voice.

"I thought you liked the pink one?"

Enough that she'd made him buy five identical ones.

"It matches today's wedding theme," Lin Sangyu said, savoring the memory again. "So beautiful."

Jiang Wenzhe carefully set her on the vanity counter in the bathroom. Bracing his hands on either side of her, he raised his cool eyes to hers. "It's already late. Wash up quickly; don't go to bed too late."

"Got it." Lin Sangyu leaned forward and rubbed her forehead against his.

The tips of their noses inevitably brushed together, their breaths intertwining.

Outside the window, cicadas chirped. Jiang Wenzhe straightened up. "I'll go find your nightgown, then."

The feeling of having someone new in your life or your home tends to take root gradually, in hindsight.

Take the present moment, for instance. As Jiang Wenzhe walked into his walk-in closet, he realized that his once-monochrome, cool-toned wardrobe had, without his noticing, been filled and suffused with clothes of every color.

Or consider how, every so often at noon, his assistant would bring homemade cookies and bread from home, giving him a surprise-box experience each time and reminding him that there was someone clumsy and a little silly back home waiting for him.

More often, it was the "Jiang Wenzhe" that rang out from every corner of the house whenever he came home from work.

Each call of his name was different—in tone or pitch, changing every single day.

Some days, "Jiang Wenzhe" came out trembling, laced with a hint of grievance. That meant Lin Sangyu's lessons during the day had been too hard and she'd gotten discouraged.

In such cases, Jiang Wenzhe would, before bed, pull up the day's surveillance footage and watch Lin Sangyu's class bit by bit. Wherever he saw her frown or pout, he'd note it down and message the teacher, requesting that particular section be re-taught the next day.

Other days, "Jiang Wenzhe" sounded bright and cheerful, with a clingy sweetness—the tail of the word practically hooking onto the summer sun.

That could mean one of two things. The first: Lin Sangyu thought she'd done brilliantly and wanted praise. The second: Lin Sangyu was about to start acting cute and demanding cuddles.

And so on and so forth. By the time he came to his senses, he realized that Lin Sangyu had, in her childish, innocent, artless way, shattered the shell he had built up over the years and had already woven herself into the very fabric of his daily life.

Snapping back to the present, Jiang Wenzhe found the nightgown and undergarments and returned to the bathroom.

Matte gray marble covered the floors and walls, warm light strips embedded in the ceiling. The bathroom was divided into wet and dry zones, a frosted glass door separating the two of them.

"Your nightgown's here." Jiang Wenzhe hung it on the bathroom towel rack.

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Jiang Wenzhe." Lin Sangyu's syrupy voice, mixed with the patter of water, drifted into his ears.

Jiang Wenzhe leaned against the vanity and looked up.

The silhouette of a young woman's body—those distinctive curves—was shrouded in the white steam. The frosted glass door blocked most of the view, but the soft, blurred contours of her figure couldn't be fully concealed, all of it falling into Jiang Wenzhe's sight.

The moon had stolen the green from the earth, and the shadows of the trees seemed to sway restlessly within the bathroom as well.

Jiang Wenzhe slowly averted his gaze, looking down at his watch.

Three.

Two.

One.

Through the sound of water, the girl's voice came again:

"Jiang Wenzhe, why is there no body wash in the bathroom anymore?"