Bai Jin’s pupils contracted slightly.
The last four words lacked a subject.
It should have been about the candy being sweet, but the implication seemed to go beyond that.
Because Lu Huan’s gaze held no innocence.
Bai Jin’s heart skipped half a beat in an instant, her breath catching.
She didn’t know why she felt so inexplicably tense—perhaps because of what she wanted to do next.
“. . . Mm.” It took her a long while to respond to Lu Huan’s previous remark.
But Lu Huan showed no intention of leaning in closer. She merely let a smile bloom on her lips.
“That’s good.”
After her breath had brushed against Bai Jin’s skin, she pulled back.
The surrounding temperature seemed to drop again in an instant, as if what had just happened was nothing more than an illusion.
Bai Jin’s tightly clenched hand loosened after a moment. She pretended nothing was amiss and gazed out the window, quietly soothing the turbulent emotions surging within her.
Lu Huan glanced at her before looking away, amusement flickering in her mind.
This woman’s ears really do turn red so easily—
She truly couldn’t handle the slightest teasing. A casual prod or two was enough to flush her ear tips pink.
No wonder she was so thin-skinned.
—
They soon arrived home.
During their time together, Lu Huan had been carefully observing Bai Jin at every turn. After several probes, she had a clear sense of her boundaries and navigated them with perfect precision.
Even when nervous, this woman’s face remained aloof and icy.
But no matter how meticulously composed the exterior, flaws always existed. And Lu Huan had long spotted hers.
For instance, normally she was like a flower atop a lofty peak—remote and pristine. Her “mm” came out faint, tinged with disdain.
But when her emotions ran high, her lips pressed into a tighter line, and her “mm” carried more weight.
These chinks in her armor gave Lu Huan perfect openings. She toed the line repeatedly, brushing against it without ever crossing, careful never to delve into the mysteries on the other side. Again and again.
The two entered the apartment.
Lu Huan showered first. When Bai Jin emerged from the bathroom in simple short-sleeved pajamas—shorts and long pants—she was still in the living room.
Lu Huan wore a plain black tank top paired with loose, drapey lounge pants.
She clearly had a fitness routine; the lines of her abs were visible, and her arms and back showed taut, defined muscle.
In front of her . . . she was dressing more and more revealingly.
Bai Jin averted her gaze.
“You worked hard today.” Lu Huan’s expression was calm as she beckoned her over. “Drink some hot milk and turn in early.”
A glass cup held warm, creamy milk, and the box beside it was a familiar old brand from their childhood.
Back when they were young and living at the Lu Family home, they had the habit of drinking milk before bed.
But young Lu Huan had hated that everything she had, Bai Jin had to have too. So whenever Mom wasn’t watching, she’d gulp down her own portion in noisy slurps and snatch Bai Jin’s to drink as well.
In short, she hadn’t wanted to share.
What Lu Huan didn’t know was that back then, Bai Jin would deliberately sip her milk as slowly as possible whenever that happened.
“Why are you standing there zoning out? If you don’t drink it, I will.”
Lu Huan finished hers and set down the cup, standing by as she waited.
Bai Jin walked over and took the glass. She cradled it in both hands, feeling the warmth, then lifted it to her lips and drank. The rich milky scent lingered between her teeth as the warm liquid slid into her stomach, bringing instant comfort.
Her throat bobbed as she drained it, then she set the empty cup down.
A hand reached out, fingertips hovering near her face.
Bai Jin went rigid for a moment before suddenly looking up to meet Lu Huan’s eyes.
Lu Huan’s fingertip gently wiped away a trace of milk from the corner of her lips, her gaze holding a helpless amusement. “You even got some on your face.”
Time stretched out endlessly, freezing in that instant. Her icy eyes softened, like a snowflake slowly melting.
Lu Huan curved her lips in a smile, then deliberately looked away. She picked up both cups and headed to the sink.
The sound of running water filled the air. Bai Jin stared at her back for a moment, said nothing, and retreated to her room.
But out of her sight, Lu Huan’s smile spread wide across her lips.
Your ears turn red so easily, Bai Jin.
—
With Hong Shuo’s position now vacant, the Planning Department underwent another round of personnel shifts, reassignments, and promotions.
While he’d held the role, Hong Shuo had dodged real work whenever possible, brushing most of it off. Now that he was gone, the problems surfaced. Lu Huan had spent the entire day sorting them out—she’d barely touched her lunch before hurrying to plug the gaps.
By the end of the afternoon shift, Lu Huan had messaged Bai Jin ahead of time: she would be working late tonight, so Bai Jin should head home alone.
After sending it off, she plunged into her tasks.
She needed to clear through the next few days’ work today if she wanted time to advance things with Bai Jin to the next stage.
If memory served, in a couple of days it would be Bai Jin’s mother’s death anniversary.
As a child, every July 21st her mother would take Bai Jin to the cemetery. Lu Huan had never joined them, but the date had stuck with her.
She didn’t remember Bai Jin’s mother all that well—just a few vague meetings from when she was very young. She recalled only that she had been Mom’s good friend, a very gentle woman.
Midway through, Zhong Ruo spammed her in the group chat and even tried two video calls, but Lu Huan ignored them all.
Unnoticed, night had fallen outside. The office was nearly deserted. As Lu Huan focused on her work, there was a knock on the frosted glass door. The woman who entered had curly hair and a blank expression—it was Bai Jin.
Lu Huan paused mid-page-turn. “You didn’t go home?”
A glance at the clock showed it was nearly seven in the evening.
Bai Jin stood in the doorway, hesitating a moment. “Is there anything I can help with?”
Lu Huan studied her for a beat, then arched a brow.
“Of course.”
She sorted some basic materials onto a USB drive, and Bai Jin sat across from her at the computer, filing documents and whipping up a few spreadsheets.
Bai Jin’s efficiency was impressive. When clarifying details, she zeroed in on the essentials with practiced ease—no trace of an intern’s greenness. Lu Huan noted it fleetingly but didn’t linger on the thought.
Time slipped away, the night outside deepening.
Once Bai Jin finished her share, she looked up at Lu Huan sitting opposite.
Her features were impeccable. When concentrating, her eyes tended to widen slightly, lending an air of intensity. The hands flying across the keyboard were strikingly attractive—slender, with prominent knuckles.
The moment Lu Huan hit the final key, she sensed someone’s gaze locked motionlessly on her hands.
Bai Jin looked up and found a heated stare fixed on her face—one that had apparently lingered for quite some time.
Her lips parted slightly. “Why are you staring at me?”
Lu Huan tilted her head. “You get to look at me, but I can’t look at you?”
Caught out, Bai Jin pressed her lips together.
Lu Huan chuckled softly and dropped the subject, clearing the desk instead. “If you’re tired, head home. I’ve still got a bit more to wrap up; won’t be back anytime soon.”
Remembering something, she added with a smile, “Thanks for coming to help me.”
Bai Jin paused as if recalling something. “Have you had dinner?”
Lu Huan considered it, then replied after a moment, “Not yet.”
Work often pushed meals back, but she was accustomed to it. Sometimes she simply wasn’t hungry.
Realizing Bai Jin probably hadn’t eaten either, she glanced up. “You haven’t either, have you? Go on home early—don’t starve yourself.”
Bai Jin neither refused nor confirmed. Instead, she pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen.
After placing the order, she resumed helping with the files. Some time later, she stepped out to answer a call.
When she returned, she carried two bags of takeout.
“Let’s take a break and eat.” She handed one to Lu Huan.
“You’re being awfully nice to me.” Amusement sparked in Lu Huan’s eyes. “Thanks.”
After glancing at the contents, she snapped the lid shut.
And swapped it with Bai Jin’s.
Seeing Bai Jin’s faintly surprised look, Lu Huan explained, “I remember you don’t eat spicy.”
Bai Jin looked away.
So . . . she remembered.
They cleared a space on the desk for their simple meal.
During the respite, Lu Huan asked, “How was the department today?”
“Pretty good. Sister Yun’s been showing me the ropes.” Bai Jin replied.
Lu Huan nodded. “Wen Jiyun’s highly efficient and talented, but that old bastard Hong Shuo kept her held back. Once this reshuffle settles, I’ll promote her.”
“You can ask her about anything you’re unsure of.”
Bai Jin: “Mm.”
Lu Huan pressed, “Any more loose-lipped colleagues?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Good. If anything comes up, make sure you tell me.” Lu Huan nodded and scooped up a bite of rice.
It made sense—after yesterday, anyone with eyes could read the room. Anyone causing her trouble now would be begging for it.
Casually, she added, “Saturday’s Auntie Bai’s death anniversary, right?”
At the words, Bai Jin’s chopsticks paused. Her eyes dimmed briefly before steadying. “Mm.”
“I’ll grind through these next couple of days to free up the weekend. I’ll drive you there.” Lu Huan kept her eyes on her food as she spoke.
Her tone was casual and natural, but Bai Jin latched onto the key point.
Unbidden, her heart trembled once more.
So this woman had stayed late, buried in work . . .
For . . .
Her?
