Sweet Oxygen - Extra 1

Chapter 71 – Extra 1

It was a typical rainy day. Raindrops pelted against the closed glass windows, leaving patchy wet marks that blurred the view of the old street outside.

The muddy streets of Yaonan Alley carried a fresh scent of grass and earth, permeating even through the window panes.

On the table by the window sat a plate of sliced watermelon, its sweet aroma mingling with the air.

The watermelon was exceptionally sweet and seedless—a new variety introduced by Luo Shijin this year.

Luo Shijin’s family had been repainting their house these past few days. As he put it, his father kept insisting he’d find a partner soon, fearing the house wouldn’t be clean and impressive enough for marriage. Thus, they were forced to scrape and paint the entire house during this sweltering summer.

Qin Han remembered how Luo Shijin had downed nearly half a cup of plum wine after saying this, then thrown his head back and sighed dramatically. “I wonder where my Liangti is… I’ll search high and low!”

The group didn’t immediately grasp Luo Shijin’s meaning, except for Zhang Yuqing, who offered a faint smile. “The word you’re looking for,” he corrected, “is ‘liangdi’—not ‘liangti’.”

Luo Shijin’s eyes widened. “Ah? Not the ‘ti’ from ‘snot’?”

Later, Zhang Yuqing, holding a glass of wine, gave Luo Shijin a lesson. He explained that if he ever called a girl “Liangdi,” she’d definitely reject him.

“Liangdi” was an ancient title for a prince’s concubine, ranking below a consort.

Luo Shijin patted his chest. “Holy shit, thanks for the warning, Qing-ge! I’d be fucking alone forever otherwise! Close call! I’m not some dog man who’d cheat on his wife anyway.”

At this thought, Qin Han let out a chuckle.

Zhang Yuqing and Li Nan had gone to help at Luo Shijin’s house, even taking Beibei with them. Only Qin Han and Dandan remained in the shop, left to kill time on this rainy day.

Qin Han had originally wanted to join them too, but Zhang Yuqing warned that Luo Shijin’s house was a disaster zone—tools scattered everywhere, no place to sit, and constant danger of injury.

Qin Han protested, “Am I that fragile?”

Zhang Yuqing leaned in to kiss her. “Little girl, behave. Stay here and watch the shop. I’ll be back soon.”

Dandan looked equally bored. She grabbed a piece of watermelon, bit into the pointed end, and sighed dramatically as the sweetness filled her mouth.

Qin Han rested her chin in her hand. “Dandan, would you like Qin Han-jiejie to play some music for you?”

Dandan was 15 years old, but her face still held a childlike appearance with its round cheeks and nose.

It’s said that all children with Down Syndrome worldwide share strikingly similar features. Qin Han had seen other Down Syndrome children in the US before, and they did indeed look remarkably alike—all equally endearing and innocent.

Hearing Qin Han’s words, Dandan set down the watermelon and cast her puzzled gaze toward her.

She began counting on her fingers, each digit as delicate as a miniature carrot. Muttering to herself, she said, “At school, it’s Little Seven. At home, it’s Sister-in-law… Dandan is at home now, so you’re Sister-in-law.”

Dandan still couldn’t pronounce “Qin” and “Seven” correctly.

After a moment’s consideration, Dandan shook her head in disagreement. Pointing at Qin Han, she declared with certainty, “When Dandan’s at home, you’re Sister-in-law, not Seven Han-jiejie.”

The term “Sister-in-law” had been taught by Zhang Yuqing.

Qin Han couldn’t recall exactly when this lesson occurred. But last week, upon entering the house, Dandan had gone through the same finger-counting ritual before suddenly looking up and addressing her with that sweet, sticky-sweet voice, “Sister-in-law.”

That day, Qin Han’s face had burned crimson, just as it did today.

At 24 years old, still blushing so easily? Isn’t that rather childish?

Qin Han touched her earlobe, struggling to maintain her composure as her gaze darted across the store’s displays like a dragonfly skimming water. “Dandan,” she asked, “do you know what ‘sister-in-law’ means?”

Dandan’s eyes glazed over for a moment, as if lost in thought. After a pause, she nodded firmly. “Brother said a sister-in-law is someone he loves very, very much.”

Someone he loves very, very much.

Qin Han couldn’t take it anymore. Her neck flushed with heat. She changed the subject, deliberately skipping over embarrassing topics. “Would you like to play the piano, Dandan?”

“Yes.”

With this answer, Qin Han finally escaped. She rose and headed upstairs.

The shop housed an electronic piano Zhang Yuqing had purchased the previous winter. During that time, Dandan had been unusually irritable, frequently throwing tantrums. Her teachers suggested music might soothe her, explaining that instrumental sounds could calm her down.

When Dandan was younger, Zhang Yuqing could distract her by strumming random chords on his guitar. But now she’d grown older—though still mentally immature—and had taken numerous music classes at school. His haphazard strumming no longer worked.

At that time, Zhang Yuqing wanted to buy a stereo system. Later, Qin Han suggested, “Let’s get an electronic keyboard instead. I’ll play music for Dandan.”

The human touch in playing music would carry more emotion than a stereo system, which is how this electronic keyboard came to be.

This is Dandan’s last relatively carefree summer vacation, Qin Han thought as she walked upstairs.

Over the past two years, Father Qin’s project in collaboration with Beijing Normal University for disabled children had been successfully launched.

Qin Han’s special education school, also partnered with the university, received trial operation status. Dandan’s teacher had approached Zhang Yuqing, asking if he would allow Dandan to participate.

Father Qin’s project provided vocational training for disabled children. It offered basic career guidance tailored to different types of children, then recruited them into specially designed workplaces, ensuring they could find employment after graduation.

Many intellectually disabled children couldn’t take the college entrance exam, attend university, or secure employment. A factory in another country trained them to fold boxes, paying them wages. Father Qin’s project was modeled after this approach.

Zhang Yuqing had asked Dandan, “Do you want to go, Dandan?”

Dandan had been well educated by Zhang Yuqing. She understood the concept of money and the concept of earning it.

Dandan nodded. “Dandan wants to!”

Zhang Yuqing told her it would be very hard and tiring, but Dandan still wanted to go, so he let her.

He said that if Dandan ever changed her mind, it was okay to back out at any time.

He was that kind of person. No matter how much pressure he faced in his own life, he would never make those he wanted to protect feel any urgency.

Qin Han thought that Zhang Yuqing wasn’t just her safe harbor, but also the safe harbor for her grandmother and Dandan.

The electronic keyboard was stored in the second-floor storage room. The Pilates bed was still there, and the electronic keyboard was covered in a protective case on the bed.

Qin Han remembered the first time she saw this bed, she thought Zhang Yuqing was a pervert.

At this thought, she laughed out loud.

When Qin Han took off the protective case from the electronic keyboard, she accidentally knocked over a stack of sketch paper nearby. Several sheets fell to the ground. She bent down to pick them up, thinking they were Zhang Yuqing’s sketches. He had many, many sketches, all very beautiful. Qin Han had seen many of his beautiful sketches before.

But this wasn’t a manuscript—it was a pencil sketch, and it depicted her.

Qin Han crouched down, picking up the drawing. For a moment, she couldn’t recall when she’d worn such a baby-doll collar.

Several more sketches followed, each of her: one covering her face in embarrassment, another smiling quietly, and surprisingly, one where she was crying.

On the back of one drawing, Zhang Yuqing had casually written the date in pencil. The elegant handwriting revealed these drawings were four years old.

Calculating the timeline, she realized he must have created them around the time she’d left for her exchange program abroad.

Qin Han suddenly remembered the tattooed beauty she’d met at the café. The woman had mentioned seeing Zhang Yuqing draw her portrait.

She have thought of him often while she was overseas too.

At least those unpleasant times are behind us now.

Qin Han carried her electronic keyboard downstairs to play Dandan’s favorite songs. The rain still fell outside, casting a soft, dim light through the windows.

After several pieces, Dandan yawned but still managed to flatter her, “Sister-in-law is amazing! Dandan loves Sister-in-law.”

Qin Han suspected Dandan had learned this particular skill from Zhang Yuqing.

This man had been acting peculiar lately, always flaunting her presence. Once, when a customer asked why the shop didn’t expand—seeming rather cramped—Qin Han thought Zhang Yuqing would offer some explanation. Instead, he smiled and replied, “Don’t let the small size fool you; this place still has a boss lady.”

His smile carried an almost imperceptible hint of pride—what some might call a subtle case of tsundere.

This embarrassed Qin Han so much she buried her face in his back, too mortified to show her face.

As the melody of Claude Debussy’s “Autumn Leaves” filled the air, a new customer entered the shop.

She was an elegantly dressed woman, slightly older than Qin Han, her large diamond earrings catching the light.

The woman closed her umbrella at the door and asked, “Might I wait here a moment to escape the rain?”

Outside, the downpour had intensified. Through the window, one could see Yaonan Alley’s uneven pavement splattered with muddy raindrops.

Qin Han smiled and gestured for her to come in.

The woman propped her umbrella against the wall and approached. Dandan, ever the considerate child, moved to sit beside Qin Han, leaving the seat opposite them for the newcomer.

Her gaze swept around the shop, and she exclaimed in surprise, “So this is a tattoo studio! Truly like finding a needle in a haystack.”

A profound sadness, like gathering storm clouds, lingered in her eyes. Soon, Qin Han’s music began to draw tears from her, like gentle streams flowing down.

Qin Han didn’t know how to comfort her. They were strangers, and it wasn’t appropriate to ask about her painful experiences.

She pushed a box of tissues across the table, got up to pour the woman a glass of water, then casually plucked the strings of her guitar, playing the melody of “YShoulder.”

Qin Han knew well that much of the kindness she showed in this world came from Zhang Yuqing. Perhaps when you love someone, you become more like them, even in the way you show tenderness.

The woman, perhaps feeling embarrassed, wiped away her tears and changed the subject. “Are you in charge of tattoos here? I want to get a sky lantern tattooed below my collarbone.”

“The tattoo artist will be back shortly. Can you wait for him?”

“That’s fine.”

After the conversation ended, Qin Han found herself lost in thought.

She recalled releasing sky lanterns in Yaonan Alley. She had held a marker, solemnly writing on the red paper, “May Yaonan Alley be demolished.”

At the time, she had desperately wished for Zhang Yuqing to find some relief.

Now, reflecting on it, she realized she was only 17 then—perhaps a bit too immature.

Unlike Zhang Yuqing, who had written “May Qin Han live without worries,” showing such maturity.

If she were to release another sky lantern, she would write “May Zhang Yuqing live without worries.”

After all, she now knew how incredibly strong Zhang Yuqing was. He didn’t need Yaonan Alley’s demolition; he could handle all the pressure himself and live well.

In her father’s study, there was a copy of Su Xun’s Book of Power. Qin Han had flipped through it before, but only remembered one line, “When Mount Tai collapses before you, your expression remains unchanged; when deer rise at your left, your gaze remains steady.”

Zhang Yuqing must be that kind of person, Qin Han thought.

As she pondered this, the woman sitting across from her suddenly spoke with a serious tone, “You missed a note.”

Qin Han looked up in surprise. She had indeed been distracted and couldn’t tell if she’d played incorrectly.

The woman fiddled with her earrings and smiled. “Sorry, it’s a habit. I’m a piano teacher.”

The rain continued unabated. Dandan went upstairs to sleep, leaving Qin Han to chat casually with the woman seeking shelter.

The woman introduced herself as Su Su, having just returned from abroad.

Qin Han carefully explained her name, “I’m Qin Han. The ‘Qin’ is from Qin Shi Huang’s Qin, and ‘Han’ is the character for ‘day’ with an additional ‘mouth’ radical, meaning ‘dawn breaking through the sky’.”

The persistent drizzle created the perfect atmosphere for reminiscing about past affairs.

Su Su mentioned she’d broken up with her boyfriend while studying piano overseas.

Her boyfriend had been a medical graduate student—a kind person, but too busy with studies to answer her calls. Being a favored student of his advisor, even his leisure time was consumed by academic pursuits.

During university, Su Su had always listened to her parents’ advice.

Her parents believed it would be ideal if she found a boyfriend who also studied music. They thought shared interests within the same field would foster deeper connections, much like their own relationship.

At the time, Su Su was just a senior in college. She didn’t realize that when her parents said things like “We’ve walked more paths than you’ve eaten salt,” they were simply indulging in middle-aged self-satisfaction.

How many paths had they really walked? They were merely older, having observed a few family dynamics and gained some marriage insights through their own experiences—nothing particularly profound beyond that.

They always sighed and said, “You’re young. You’ll understand eventually.”

But even with all their understanding, didn’t they still worry about life’s troubles?

Who can truly escape life’s turbulent waves?

Su Su’s parents were both musicians, and their marriage had been smooth. Naturally, they thought if she found a musician partner, her marriage would be equally harmonious.

Later, Su Su discovered that not all musician couples enjoyed smooth marriages.

But at the time, she didn’t understand this. She treated her parents’ words as absolute truth.

When her parents claimed she wouldn’t be happy with a medical student, Su Su suddenly felt uneasy about their relationship. Her mind churned with doubts, “Will we break up?” “Will he think I’m just a musician who doesn’t understand medicine?” “Is he secretly hoping to find someone in the medical field?”

Overcome by anxiety, Su Su called her boyfriend several times. He was probably in the lab, as none of the calls connected.

She knew he was busy with important matters. The argument that day had been fueled by a momentary impulse, and she’d blurted out, “Let’s break up!”

“He must have been angry too. He just said, ‘Do as you please,'” Su Su said, wiping her tears. Her eyes held a wistful longing.

She left for abroad soon after.

Her departure had been a petulant act, driven by youthful confidence that countless opportunities for reunion lay ahead.

“Later I heard he went on a blind date after I left. He’s probably married by now.”

Su Su sighed in the pouring rain, then offered a faint smile. “I thought about getting a tattoo in his name—a sky lantern design. Even overseas, I kept dreaming of releasing lanterns with him during the Lantern Festival.”

She pulled a sheet of sketch paper from the table and wrote her ex-boyfriend’s name.

Gu Xun.

Qin Han stared at the words, her gaze lingering. The name grew increasingly familiar.

Gu Xun…

Gu Xun?!

Her eyes widened. Wasn’t this the medical graduate her mother introduced her to during her graduation year? They’d shared meals and visited art exhibits together!

…And now, Qin Han was his WeChat friend, occasionally liking each other’s posts.

Could such coincidences exist in this world?

Qin Han was momentarily stunned before asking tentatively, “Su Su, do you like medieval oil paintings?”

Su Su smiled, her earrings swaying beside her face. “Yes, I do. How did you know?”

“…Just a random guess.”

Qin Han found an excuse to slip upstairs and called Gu Xun.

It had been over a year since she last spoke to Gu Xun. She didn’t even know if he’d changed his phone number.

The call connected, and Gu Xun’s voice came through, “Hello Qin Han. I’m busy right now. Can I call you back later?”

“Su Su is back in China!” Qin Han blurted out. “She’s with me! She wants a tattoo of your name and a Kongming Lantern!”

There was a pause on the other end before Gu Xun said, “Send me the address.”

“But aren’t you busy?”

“Never mind that. Send me the address.”

“……”

Qin Han gave Gu Xun her address before descending the stairs.

As she made her way down, Su Su asked, “May I use your piano?”

“Of course.”

Even on an electronic keyboard, Su Su’s professional piano teacher skills outshone Qin Han’s amateur playing.

Just as Su Su finished “The Blue Danube,” the shop door swung open. Gu Xun entered in his white lab coat, his hurried greeting to Qin Han consisting of a single glance.

He seized Su Su’s wrist without a preamble. “Come with me.”

Su Su found herself dragged outside in a daze. The two disappeared into the backseat of Gu Xun’s car.

The rain had ceased outside. Qin Han watched the vehicle with a smile, her cheek propped in her hand. Over ten minutes had passed since they’d entered. Though the black-tinted windows obscured the interior, the car occasionally jolted with sudden movements.

Those jolts couldn’t be a fight, could they?

Then they must have made up, right?

Twenty minutes later, Gu Xun emerged from the vehicle. His demeanor differed from their “blind date” two years prior—now he carried an unmistakable air of contentment.

Qin Han, convinced she’d orchestrated a happy ending, felt her own spirits lift.

She stood by the door chatting with Gu Xun. “Congratulations.”

“You have my thanks. I’ll treat you to a meal another day,” Gu Xun said.

Su Su leaned out of the car window, her lipstick long smudged. “But I still want a tattoo…”

Gu Xun turned to Qin Han. “Is the tattoo artist your boyfriend?”

Qin Han nodded.

Gu Xun teased Su Su, “Then don’t get one. Qin Han’s boyfriend is handsome like a knight from a medieval painting. I’m afraid you’ll change your mind after seeing him and break up with me.”

When Zhang Yuqing returned, he witnessed this scene.

The rain had passed, leaving a rainbow arcing across the sky. His little girl wore a blue tank dress, her delicate collarbone and slender shoulders visible through the fabric. Her hair cascaded softly around her shoulders.

She smiled, engaged in conversation with the man before her.

Zhang Yuqing raised an eyebrow and approached leisurely. The man had already driven away.

He teased, “Little girl, a secret rendezvous?”

Qin Han turned at the sound of his voice. Seeing Zhang Yuqing, she exclaimed excitedly, “Zhang Yuqing! I just did something good. Want to hear about it?”

Her joy fluttered like a white dove, passing through his heart.

He couldn’t deny that when the young girl flashed her radiant smile, waves of infatuation and desire would surge through him.

Thus, Zhang Yuqing teased her playfully, “Why don’t you tell me the man’s name?”

“You probably don’t know him. He’s Gu Xun, and he’s…”

The girl faltered, momentarily unable to find words to describe their relationship.

Zhang Yuqing felt certain he’d heard the name Gu Xun before. After a moment’s thought, it suddenly came to him.

Coincidentally, it had also been a torrential rainstorm when Qin Han sat in the passenger seat of his car—their first meeting after her return to China.

The girl had answered a call. Mother Qin mentioned Gu Xun and said, “Tomorrow, have dinner with him.”

The reason he remembered this name that appeared only once in his life was likely because he’d assumed Gu Xun was the boyfriend the girl had already introduced to her parents.

Thinking about it now, he felt a strange sense of relief, as if he’d survived some kind of ordeal.

Qin Han felt saying she met Gu Xun through “a blind date” might not be ideal. She was about to speak when Zhang Yuqing suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her.

He was a gentle man, rarely aggressive in such matters. But this kiss was different from their earlier exchange of glances.

Qin Han’s retreat wasn’t just in spirit or in the clash of lips. She arched backward, barely kept upright by Zhang Yuqing’s arm around her waist.

The more fervent his kisses, the more she stepped backward until she hit the stair railing. Zhang Yuqing lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

With her face pressed against his shoulder, Qin Han had barely caught her breath when he turned to kiss her again.

As he closed the bedroom door with one hand while still holding her, Zhang Yuqing smiled and reminded her, “Keep it quiet.”

Dandan was sleeping in the next room, yet they were about to do something unsuitable for children.

Qin Han’s ears burned at his words. “Zhang Yuqing,” she ventured, “are you jealous?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then… why…”

He laid her on the bed and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Just felt like it. Little girl, do you want it?”

Under his warm gaze, Qin Han nodded without thinking.

When they emerged from the bedroom two hours later, the sun had already begun its descent.

Qin Han changed into a dress and was carried downstairs by Zhang Yuqing. She had little strength, so when they sat at the table by the window, she ended up sitting on Zhang Yuqing’s lap.

Zhang Yuqing pushed open a window. Outside, the sky was blue like satin, and the rainbow had faded to pastel hues under the bright sun.

The air after the rain was damp, carrying the fresh scent of wet grass.

Qin Han told Zhang Yuqing about what Su Su had just shared with her. Having had such a vigorous workout, she still felt happy for the couple who had reunited.

However, after a few words, the young girl suddenly remembered something. Her face paled with alarm. “Oh no, Zhang Yuqing! I think I made a mistake.”

“What is it?”

Though Zhang Yuqing called her “shopkeeper,” Qin Han had rarely managed the store’s affairs. Even now, she couldn’t tell the difference between the small jars of healing ointment and tattoo pigments on the shelves.

While trying to help, she’d completely forgotten that Su Su had come for a tattoo. She’d actually let slip a customer who’d come right to their door.

“Exactly, Su Su wanted a tattoo…” Qin Han said, sounding frustrated. “If I’d taken her deposit, this wouldn’t have happened. I feel like I lost a whole business deal!”

The regret on her face was genuine. Her brows furrowed slightly, and her lips pressed together.

Zhang Yuqing suddenly laughed. “So what if you ran? Why worry?”

After a pause, he began stroking Qin Han’s hair. “Are you afraid I don’t have enough money to marry you? Or that I can’t support you?”

“Of course not!”

Qin Han recalled Su Su’s mention of Kongming Lantern-style tattoos. Curious, she asked, “Have you ever designed a tattoo based on a Kongming Lantern?”

“I think I have.”

“What does it look like?”

Zhang Yuqing narrowed his eyes in thought, then casually grabbed a sheet of sketch paper. “I’ll draw it for you.”

Qin Han sat on Zhang Yuqing’s lap, the paper spread across the table. As he leaned forward to draw, his chest pressed against her back, securely holding her in his embrace.

Still sensitive from their recent intimacy, Qin Han could feel Zhang Yuqing’s shallow breathing against her ear. At first, she focused on his drawing.

But Zhang Yuqing knew his designs intimately. Within minutes, he had sketched the basic outline.

His success made sense—the pattern was undeniably beautiful. Qin Han’s attention was drawn to the drawing. “It’s stunning. I want it tattooed on me.”

“That might not be possible.”

“Why not?”

“Once a design created for a customer is sold, it can’t be given to anyone else.”

“But I’ve seen online where people get tattoos using designs created by others.”

In truth, this practice isn’t recognized by true tattoo artists. Some artists, lacking in design skills or driven by profit, wouldn’t refuse to tattoo designs created by others.

However, such artists can’t be considered mature professionals. Using someone else’s designs for their customers shows both disrespect for the original designer and a lack of consideration for the customer.

Zhang Yuqing didn’t directly criticize this approach, simply stating, “This isn’t proper conduct.”

Qin Han appreciated the pride that surfaced in his voice during these moments. His principles were hidden beneath his perpetually smiling demeanor.

She turned to glance at Zhang Yuqing, gently pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Keep that up, and I won’t be able to resist,” Zhang Yuqing said, subtly shifting his hips.

The weather was perfect for conversation and tender moments. The sky was clear, the air moist and fresh.

Occasionally, elderly vendors from Yaonan Alley would push their carts along the slightly muddy road, leaving behind wheel tracks that resembled cookie cutter patterns on dough—charming in their simplicity.

Qin Han, a little embarrassed, wrapped her arms around Zhang Yuqing’s neck and spoke about her past childishness. “Zhang Yuqing, back then I wrote on a Kongming Lantern hoping Yaonan Alley would be demolished. Did you think I was being immature? Did you wish I’d grow up faster?”

“No, I just wished for you to be carefree.”

He paused before adding, “I still wish for that now.”

“Then next time we release Kongming Lanterns, I’ll write: ‘May Zhang Yuqing be carefree’.”

Zhang Yuqing suddenly laughed. “Little girl, if you’re carefree and I’m carefree, won’t our household be too relaxed? Won’t we worry about anything at all?”

Even Luo Shijin worried about rising fruit prices, yet Qin Han wanted both herself and Zhang Yuqing to be completely carefree. It did sound a bit greedy.

But when facing the one you love, you can’t help but be greedy.

What made her blush even more was Zhang Yuqing using the phrase “our household” to describe them.

Even as their wedding date approached, Qin Han still felt embarrassed.

She lifted her head, her tone both proud and teasing. “I want us both to be carefree. You’re not allowed to worry too much.”

“Alright, I’ll do as you say.”

The weather after the rain was perfect for this kind of conversation while embracing. The two of them chatted casually, one sentence after another.

In truth, Zhang Yuqing was in a great mood today. Qin Han could feel it in their passionate kisses and in their vigorous physical activity.

“You’re in a good mood today, aren’t you?”

Zhang Yuqing stroked her hair. “Mm, there’s some good news about Li Nan.”

Earlier, while helping Luo Shijin paint his house, Li Nan had also been there, his face glowing with happiness.

Zhang Yuqing hadn’t asked, but Luo Shijin couldn’t contain himself. Through a mix of threats and coaxing, he’d managed to pry out the details of Li Nan’s recent romantic history.

Li Nan had been working at a clothing design company since graduation. At first, only his boss appreciated his talent. His cross-dressing wasn’t accepted by all colleagues, and he’d endured years of cold mockery and underhanded sabotage.

He rarely spoke of it, but whenever he got drunk at Yaonan Alley, he’d reveal fragments of his struggles through tearful confessions.

Zhang Yuqing and the others genuinely worried Li Nan might one day reach his breaking point.

But that’s just how friends are—they keep their worries hidden, knowing they can’t live his life for him.

Some storms must be weathered alone.

Perhaps the only thing friends can do is warm a pot of wine by the red clay stove after he’s braved the snowstorm.

At Li Nan’s company, there was a girl around his age who’d never mocked his cross-dressing. During a date, she’d even asked him shyly how to make her eyes look bigger with makeup.

Later, when the girl went through a heartbreak, Li Nan took care of her, buying her breakfast and such.

Qin Han knew about all this.

She remembered one time when Li Nan had drunk too much. He sat outside Zhang Yuqing’s shop, teasing Beibei while sobering up, when he received a call.

Luo Shijin teased him, “What’s this? You’ve got a situation? Why does that voice sound like a girl?”

Li Nan smiled. “I suppose I do.”

Luo Shijin got excited, rubbing his hands together and throwing an arm around Li Nan’s neck. “Spill! Now! You call this being a brother? Keeping secrets?!”

That day, Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing sat by the window table, gazing at the full moon. They only turned their attention to Luo Shijin’s conversation when they heard it.

The moonlight was beautiful that night, but Li Nan’s melancholy expression was even more heart-wrenching.

Li Nan lifted his wig and looked up at the moon. “There’s nothing to say. I just like someone, that’s all. It won’t come to anything anyway.”

His smile was cold and lonely, his finely drawn eyebrows heavy with emotion.

Even Luo Shijin, usually so talkative, fell into an uncharacteristic silence. He clutched Li Nan’s shoulders tightly, repeating the same words over and over.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Li Nan, trust me. Everything will be okay.”

Li Nan prodded Luo Shijin with his diamond-studded nail, feigning lightness. “Don’t get all sweaty on me. You reek.”

Perhaps he’d stopped hoping for a partner who wouldn’t look down on him because of his interests. Perhaps he’d given up on finding someone who could understand him and love him at the same time.

No one mentioned what had happened that day, but it remained a hidden sore in everyone’s hearts.

Now, when Zhang Yuqing mentioned good news about Li Nan, Qin Han felt a sudden surge of excitement. Before she even heard the details, she was already on the edge of her seat.

Her entire body swayed as her voice pitched upward. “Did Li Nan’s parents come around? Or did the girl he likes finally respond well? Just tell me already!”

Zhang Yuqing placed his hand on her waist, smiling. “Young lady, stop fidgeting. I’ll spill the beans if you promise to behave.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” Qin Han playfully smacked Zhang Yuqing’s arm.

“It’s not just a good response—they’re officially dating now.”

Zhang Yuqing explained that the girl from Li Nan’s company had confessed her feelings first.

Her name was Chen Lingbei, a southern girl with a soft Jiangnan accent and a round face.

At this, Qin Han’s eyes lit up. “You have pictures?”

“Li Nan changed his WeChat profile picture. Go check it out.”

Qin Han took the phone and saw the girl in Li Nan’s profile picture matched Zhang Yuqing’s description—she had a charming, doll-like appearance.

Apparently, Chen Lingbei had been quite assertive during her confession. She’d said, “Li Nan, you’re the south and I’m the north—we were meant to be together. If you’ll agree to paint my face for a lifetime, I’ll stay by your side forever.”

Luo Shijin had teased Li Nan about letting a girl steal his thunder with such a bold move, calling it unmanly.

Li Nan, brimming with happiness, said, “You don’t understand, single dog.”

Then nearly got choked to death by Luo Shijin.

As they spoke, a gentle post-rain breeze stirred outside the window. Qin Han, clad only in a thin silk dress, instinctively shrank into Zhang Yuqing’s embrace.

After what they’d just shared, Qin Han remained unusually sensitive.

Zhang Yuqing still held a pencil, its tip idly tracing patterns on paper.

His hands were strikingly beautiful—bones protruding beneath pale skin, wrist joints prominent, fingers clean and knuckles defined.

Watching his hand move across the paper in loose strokes, thumb and index finger casually gripping the pencil, Qin Han suddenly felt her entire body flush.

She recalled what this hand had done in the bedroom moments ago, and heat pooled in her core.

Noticing her temperature shift, Zhang Yuqing lowered his gaze and asked with a smile, “What’s on your mind, young lady?”

Qin Han shook her head, denying it outright. “Nothing!”

“Nothing at all?”

His tone carried genuine regret, making Qin Han look up involuntarily. She tilted her head to meet his eyes, their bodies pressed together through the thin fabric of her dress.

Under his intense gaze, Qin Han’s ears burned crimson. Scenes from the dimly lit bedroom earlier began surfacing in her mind, each memory painting itself across her consciousness.

“You might not be thinking anything, but I’m certainly thinking a lot. Want me to tell you what’s on my mind?”

She didn’t need him to say it—the evidence was clear in his lap.

“I want to carry you to the bedroom, strip off your dress, and pin you to the bed…”

Qin Han flushed crimson, covering Zhang Yuqing’s mouth with her hand to muffle his words.

But his eyes sparkled with mischief. He kissed the palm she’d pressed against his lips.

In matters like this, it’s hard to say who loses composure first. To everyone’s surprise, Qin Han was the first to act. She stole a kiss from him before burying her flaming face in his shoulder.

Zhang Yuqing’s voice dripped with seduction. “What do you want to do?”

Qin Han mumbled against his shoulder. “You know what I want.”

“Tell me then.”

He was clearly teasing her—knowing exactly what she wanted, yet forcing her to say it aloud.

So Qin Han didn’t answer. She bit down on his shoulder instead.

Zhang Yuqing laughed as he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

Qin Han suddenly felt mischievous. “What if Dandan wakes up now?”

“Tsk, you cheeky girl. You’re getting quite bold.”

That day, Qin Han took three showers. She lay on the bed, reluctant to move, and when she glanced at Zhang Yuqing, she couldn’t help but notice his radiant mood, as if he were holding back some unspoken joy.

He was always smiling, but his emotions rarely showed so clearly. Qin Han couldn’t imagine what could have caused this.

“Is Li Nan really the only thing that’s made you happy?” Qin Han asked, her voice muffled by the thin quilt that covered her body. Only her eyes peeked out from the fabric.

Her throat felt dry, and the quilt muffled her words, making them unclear. But Zhang Yuqing heard her. He turned to kiss her cheek. “The new sign is coming tomorrow.”

“Still ‘Oxygen’?”

“‘Sweet Oxygen’.”

Qin Han remembered the origin of the new sign. He’d mentioned it last summer on their way to the forest park. That same day, Zhang Yuqing had asked her to choose a season for their wedding.

She still felt puzzled. “Are you really that happy about changing the sign?”

Zhang Yuqing smiled. “I have good news too.”

“What is it?”

Zhang Yuqing ruffled Qin Han’s hair, messing up the strands that had fallen across her pillow. “We’re bringing you home next week. Isn’t that good enough?”