It was a little past seven o’clock when Gu Congli arrived at Shi Yin’s apartment building.

He locked the car and walked toward the entrance. Her residential complex wasn’t particularly new, and the security door was rarely closed before nightfall. Downstairs, many elderly residents gathered to play chess or chat, and quite a few of them already recognized him. As he approached, they greeted him warmly: “Back to see your girlfriend again?”

Gu Congli gave a faint “Mm” in acknowledgment and headed upstairs.

When he reached her floor and stood in front of her door, he paused, his gaze landing on a note stuck to the security door. Written in neat black marker letters were the words: Sorry, Editor-in-Chief. I’m so tired; I had to sleep. Please don’t ring the doorbell. See you on WeChat.

“…”

Gu Congli was silent for half a minute before a low, amused chuckle escaped him.

The soft laughter echoed faintly in the quiet hallway.

He had underestimated the influence this girl had on him. She was even more remarkable than he’d imagined.

In fact, she didn’t even need to be in front of him to affect him.

Gu Congli pulled out his phone and opened WeChat.

She had sent him several messages while he was driving, but he hadn’t noticed.

[Editor-in-Chief, when will you arrive? I’m so sleepy.]

[Are you here yet?]

[Boss Gu, how much longer will you take?]

[Editor-in-Chief!!!!!!!!!!]

[I’m so sleepy. I’ll rest for a bit. Call me when you arrive.]

[Actually, don’t call me. The spare key is under the doormat. Let yourself in.]

Gu Congli locked his phone screen, crouched down, retrieved the key from under the doormat, slipped it into his pocket, stood up, and pressed the doorbell.

He held it down for a long, drawn-out moment before releasing it.

To be fair, Gu Congli wasn’t the type who adhered to an early-to-bed, early-to-rise lifestyle. For him, pulling all-nighters was routine, and four hours of sleep was his daily norm.

But her chronic procrastination and erratic sleep schedule were unhealthy to an extreme.

After waiting about five minutes, the door finally opened.

Shi Yin hadn’t even changed out of her loungewear. Her hair was still tied up in a messy bun, likely due to sleeping, and her eyes were red as she looked at him.

Honestly, every time Gu Congli saw her like this—exhausted, disheveled, and exuding an air of tragic heroism—it struck him deeply.

Her expression was both mournful and defiant, profoundly moving, yet also pitiful, as if she dared not voice her grievances. It made his heart soften involuntarily, almost making him regret not letting her sleep.

And whenever she was like this, she became unexpectedly brave.

Take now, for instance.

The little girl glared at him, her rabbit-like red eyes blazing with anger. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her irritation. “I left a note on the door.”

Gu Congli blatantly lied. “I didn’t see it.”

“I also sent you several WeChat messages,” she said, her voice trembling with exhaustion, emphasizing each word. “Several.”

“Did you?”

Shi Yin laughed bitterly. “Yes.”

Being abruptly woken from deep sleep left her too drained to recall their last interaction. Even if she did, how could she possibly ask?

Editor-in-Chief, did you kiss me in the car earlier?

Shi Yin had already convinced herself it was just a springtime dream.

What she hadn’t expected was that after all these years, her obsession with Gu Congli ran so deep that she was now dreaming about him.

But none of that mattered.

Anyone who disturbed her peaceful slumber—even if they were her idealized white moonlight—would evoke an urge to grab them by the collar and toss them out.

Shi Yin exhaled deeply, stepped aside to let him in, and staggered over to the couch. She collapsed face-first onto it, her calves dangling off the armrest.

Grabbing a pillow, she buried her head in it and began groaning softly.

After a while, hearing no response, she felt the couch slightly dip near her head.

Shi Yin shifted slightly, lifting the edge of the pillow to peek out.

A pair of light brown eyes, unnervingly close, met hers.

Gu Congli sat above her head, propping his chin on his hand, leaning sideways to look at her.

The living room lights were off, casting the space in dim shadows. Shi Yin stared blankly, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

They locked eyes for several seconds before Gu Congli blinked. His long lashes fluttered, giving him an oddly innocent appearance.

Coming back to her senses, Shi Yin scrambled up, creating distance between them. Kneeling on the couch, fully awake now, she stammered, “Ed… Editor-in-Chief.”

The dim lighting concealed her flushed ears and unnatural expression.

Gu Congli remained seated, leaning casually with one hand supporting his head, looking up at her. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I had a glass of milk…”

He nodded, straightened up, and prepared to head to the kitchen.

The lighting was poor, but the distance between them was minimal.

In that moment, Shi Yin noticed something on the back of his hand.

Frowning slightly, she leaned forward on all fours, crawling two steps closer.

Gu Congli caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. When he realized her posture, he instinctively wanted to retreat.

But before he could, she was already beside him.

This time, she saw clearly: several blisters, one of which was large and had already burst, revealing raw, reddened flesh underneath.

Acting faster than thinking, she grabbed his wrist without hesitation, pulling it toward her to inspect closely.

His pale skin made the injury stand out vividly. Tiny threads of fresh blood seeped from the raw flesh, causing her heart to clench involuntarily.

Frowning, she looked up at him accusingly. “How did this happen? Why didn’t you treat it?”

“I forgot.”

“How could you forget something like this?”

“Mm,” he replied calmly. “I was in a hurry to come back.”

Shi Yin barely registered his words. By the time she finished speaking, she had already climbed onto the couch, standing taller than him. Pressing down on his shoulders, she forced him to sit back down.

Gu Congli obediently sank back into the couch, watching as she jumped off barefoot and ran to turn on the living room lights. Moments later, she emerged from her bedroom with a small first-aid kit.

Shi Yin placed the kit on the coffee table, dragged his hand over, and laid it flat on his lap like a diligent elementary school student preparing to treat a wound. She opened the kit.

The kit was something her mother had prepared for her, but Shi Yin rarely used it, at most taking painkillers during her period. Kneeling in front of him, she brushed aside a pile of miscellaneous medicine boxes, digging out a small bottle of alcohol from the bottom. Holding it hesitantly, she asked, “Do we use this directly? Won’t it hurt too much?”

Gu Congli: “….”

Shi Yin looked up at him blankly, seeking guidance. “Should I pour it directly on the wound, or should I dab it with a cotton swab?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never treated it before,” he said softly. “Just pour it. It’s easier.”

“What about the blisters? Should we pop them?”

“I don’t know.”

“And after disinfecting, what then? Just wrap it with gauze?”

“…”

The two of them—one sitting on the couch, the other kneeling in front of him—silently faced his elegant, injured hand.

Shi Yin gave up, pushing the kit aside and sitting on the floor. “Editor-in-Chief, let’s go to the hospital.”

Gu Congli chuckled. “It’s just a minor burn. No need to trouble ourselves.”

As he spoke, he grabbed a medical cotton swab, dipped the end in alcohol, and efficiently popped the unbroken blisters. He kicked the trash can over with his foot, picked up the small bottle of alcohol, and poured it directly onto the back of his hand.

The clear liquid trickled over the wound, dripping steadily from his fingertips into the trash can below.

Shi Yin winced, rubbing her own hand reflexively. She couldn’t help but glance at his expression.

The man didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor making it seem as though the hand didn’t belong to him.

Unable to resist, Shi Yin asked, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

He looked up at her. “It hurts.”

Her eyes crinkled together in sympathy. “Then be gentler with yourself, won’t you?”

Gu Congli smiled faintly, suddenly raising his damp hand to her face. “Blow on it, and it won’t hurt anymore.”

His voice was low, devoid of any discernible emotion, as if he weren’t flirting.

“…”

Shi Yin wasn’t sure if this man was joking.

But that didn’t stop her heart from skipping two beats.

Her heart melted at his words.

Forget blowing on it—if he asked her to do anything, she would comply.

Indeed, even the coldest moonlight could unleash devastating charm with a single soft sentence.

Hesitating for a few seconds, she licked her lips, grabbed his wrist, and gently blew on the burn.

The cool air wafted over the fiery wound, creating an odd sensation. Gu Congli felt an itch spreading from the back of his hand, traveling along his nerve endings, climbing up his spine to the base of his tailbone.

Gu Congli gazed down at her, his eyes dark and deep.

She looked up at him. “Like this?”

Gu Congli paused, quickly averting his gaze and withdrawing his hand.

On the wrist she had been holding, the lingering warmth and softness remained.

The girl knelt before him, looking up with clean, bright eyes.

He couldn’t stay any longer.

Gu Congli grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, wiped away the dripping alcohol, stood up abruptly, and walked toward the door.

Before Shi Yin could react, her gaze followed him to the entrance. “Editor-in-Chief?”

He bent down, placing his shoes neatly on the shoe rack. “I’ll go to the hospital to get it treated.”

Shi Yin let out a soft “Ah” and hurriedly stood up. “Should I come with you?”

“No,” he straightened up, turning his head slightly. His brown eyes appeared gentle under the dim yellow light of the foyer. “Don’t go straight to bed afterward. Remember to eat something.”

With the drowsiness gone, Shi Yin saw Gu Congli off. Returning to the living room, she carefully packed the alcohol and cotton swabs back into the first-aid kit.

Clicking the lid shut, she hugged the box and sat on the floor, staring blankly.

She suddenly felt a bit troubled.

This man, Gu Congli, was terrifying.

To her, he was like a magnet with opposite poles, irresistibly drawing her in. Despite mentally preparing herself and clearly delineating the boundaries of their relationship, the more time they spent together, the more her emotions began to waver.

The period around the manuscript deadline was always the busiest for the editorial department.

After that strange evening when Gu Congli had lingered briefly, he returned to his usual busy schedule, and Shi Yin’s life finally calmed down.

Several times, she considered sending him a WeChat message to check on his hand but ultimately refrained.

After some thought, she selected some online advice about burn care, took a screenshot, and sent it to him.

After resting for three or four days, Shi Yin received another message from Editor Yang.

He asked if she was free recently and wanted to invite her to dinner.

Shi Yin was a bit confused. She had assumed Yang was just being polite when they first met and hadn’t expected him to follow up.

Fang Shu’s interpretation of the situation was simple and crude: “He wants to seduce you.”

Shi Yin blushed. “I know I’m beautiful, a poetic masterpiece. From middle school to university, countless admirers have fallen at my feet. But I never realized I was this universally adored.”

“…” Fang Shu gave her an inscrutable look. “So, are you going or not?”

Shi Yin felt a bit reluctant.

But she didn’t know how to decline.

“Go,” Fang Shu decided for her. “Didn’t you say Editor Yang is handsome and well-mannered? Maybe you’ll develop a romantic relationship.”

“And,” she added, pointing out the key point, “didn’t you say Gu Congli keeps teasing you, making you restless and unable to control yourself? This could be the perfect opportunity to date someone else and cure your affliction.”

Shi Yin: “Why does it sound like you’re calling me a pervert?”

“Aren’t you? A sexually indifferent pervert obsessed only with Gu Congli.”

Shi Yin: “….”

To prove she wasn’t exclusively fixated on Gu Congli, Shi Yin agreed.

They arranged to meet the following evening. Yang chose the restaurant—a stylish Spanish place known for its handsome Spanish chef. The restaurant was small and difficult to book, requiring reservations far in advance.

Shi Yin hadn’t been there before and wasn’t sure how long it would take to get there. To avoid being late, she left early, only to find the journey shorter than expected. She arrived ahead of schedule, but Yang hadn’t yet arrived.

She called him, gave her name, and the waiter led her to a table by the window.

No sooner had she sat down than her phone rang.

It was Gu Congli.

Shi Yin froze, feeling hesitant and strangely guilty for some inexplicable reason.

After a moment, she answered.

On his end, it was quiet, with faint background music playing. It sounded familiar, though she couldn’t immediately place it. “Hello?” she said.

He asked, “Where are you?”

Shi Yin responded instantly: “At home.”

Gu Congli fell silent.

For some reason, Shi Yin felt uneasy.

Her guilt grew, and she instinctively lied.

There was no real reason to lie. She was just going out to eat, after all—not doing anything wrong.

On the other end of the line, the man remained silent. The background music flowed softly through the connection, carrying an exotic tone, evoking a sense of déjà vu.

After more than ten seconds, Gu Congli finally continued, his voice calm. “Is that so? I can cook Spanish dishes too. Better than this chef.”