The consequence of a hangover was a splitting headache and fragmented memories.
The next day, Zong Yi woke up in the familiar bed of the villa's guest room. She stared at the simple chandelier on the ceiling for quite a while before piecing together scattered scenes from the previous night: the social gathering, alcohol, the designated driver, the villa, Yan Hanxie helping her inside, honey water, the warm sofa, and… she seemed to have grabbed someone's hand and leaned against someone while falling asleep.
Her cheeks instantly burned. She suddenly sat up, only for the dizziness from the hangover to make her collapse back down again, her temples throbbing.
Last night… what had she done?
What had she said?
After grabbing Yan Hanxie's hand and leaning against her shoulder, her memory completely broke off.
That was even more terrifying than remembering clearly.
The unknown always bred the worst imagination.
Had she said something she shouldn't have?
Done something inappropriate?
Annoyed, Zong Yi buried her face in the pillow. It still carried a faint scent belonging to the villa—clean and gentle—and a trace of Yan Hanxie's unique cool fragrance.
That smell made her heart beat faster and filled her with even more embarrassment.
She struggled out of bed, washed up, and changed into the comfortable home clothes that had long been prepared for her in the walk-in closet.
The person in the mirror had a pale face, dark circles under her eyes, and a look of hangover exhaustion mixed with lingering panic.
When she went downstairs, the smell of food had already drifted from the dining room.
Yan Hanxie was standing at the kitchen island with her back turned, seemingly frying eggs.
Today she wore a light gray cashmere sweater, making her back look tall and slender (her height of 178 made her stand out even in the kitchen). Her long hair was loosely tied behind her head, revealing a slender neck.
Hearing footsteps, Yan Hanxie turned around.
Morning light poured through the window onto her face. Her complexion looked clear and luminous, her gaze calm. When she saw Zong Yi, she merely nodded slightly.
"You're awake? Does your head hurt?"
Her tone was calm and natural, without any hint of something unusual.
As if the person who had been grabbed by a drunk and used as a human pillow all night yesterday was not her.
"…It's okay," Zong Yi answered stiffly, her gaze somewhat evasive, not daring to meet Yan Hanxie's eyes.
She walked to the dining table and sat down. A glass of warm water had already been placed in front of her.
Yan Hanxie brought over the fried eggs and toasted bread and sat down opposite her.
The two began to eat breakfast in silence.
The atmosphere was somewhat subtle, but not awkward.
Yan Hanxie seemed considerate enough not to mention any details from last night. Occasionally she only glanced at Zong Yi, her gaze calm, even carrying a faint… concern?
Zong Yi ate without tasting anything, her heart unsettled. Yan Hanxie's calmness made her even more uneasy.
This was not Yan Hanxie's style.
According to the past, shouldn't she seize the opportunity to do something or say something to further consolidate her "victory"?
After breakfast, Zong Yi took the initiative to clean the dishes. Yan Hanxie did not stop her, only walked to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and looked out at the cold courtyard of the winter morning.
"What are your plans today?" Yan Hanxie asked, her voice carrying across the spacious living room.
"In the morning I need to go back to the company to handle some finishing work. In the afternoon… nothing for now," Zong Yi said as she dried her hands and walked into the living room.
"Mm." Yan Hanxie responded, turned around, and looked at her. "Are you free tonight?"
Zong Yi's heart lifted slightly.
"…I should be."
"Then come back for dinner tonight." Yan Hanxie's tone was still a statement, not a question. "I've had hot pot ingredients prepared. It's cold—this will keep you warm."
Hot pot?
Zong Yi was a little surprised.
Yan Hanxie's tastes had always been light and refined. Something like hot pot—lively and even a bit "rough"—seemed out of place for her.
But she didn't ask, only nodded. "Okay."
"Go on. Be careful on the road." Yan Hanxie waved her hand, signaling that she could leave.
Zong Yi felt as if she had been granted amnesty and left the villa almost as if fleeing.
Only after sitting in the car did she let out a long breath, leaning back against the seat as exhaustion and confusion swept over her again.
The hazy memories of last night and Yan Hanxie's overly calm attitude this morning were like two clouds of fog intertwining in her mind, leaving her unable to make sense of anything.
Back at the company, the busy work temporarily diverted her attention.
But in the gaps, those images and questions would suddenly surface, stirring her into restlessness.
In the evening, after finishing her work, she hesitated for a moment but still drove back to the villa.
The moment she pushed open the door, the rich aroma of hot pot rushed toward her, mixed with the spicy fragrance of chili and beef tallow, dispelling the winter chill.
On the dining table, the pot on the induction cooker was already bubbling with a bright red broth, surrounded by various fresh vegetables and slices of meat.
Yan Hanxie was already seated at the table, having changed into a more comfortable dark blue set of home clothes. Her long hair was loose as she placed some mushrooms into the pot.
Seeing Zong Yi, she lifted her eyes, the corners of her lips curving slightly. "You're back? Perfect timing—the broth's boiling."
The atmosphere was unprecedentedly… homely, even carrying a warm, lively sense of everyday life.
Zong Yi changed clothes and sat down.
Separated by the rising steam, the two began eating hot pot.
At first there was still some silence, but as the hot soup went down and their bodies warmed, the tension in their nerves seemed to loosen.
Yan Hanxie occasionally picked food for her, her movements natural; Zong Yi would also silently pass her a glass of chilled plum juice when she got too spicy.
There was no deliberate conversation—only the soft clinking of chopsticks against dishes and the steady bubbling of the pot.
Yet in this quiet and warm atmosphere, the lingering awkwardness and unease from last night seemed to be smoothed away bit by bit.
After the meal, the two of them cleaned up together.
The kitchen was warmly lit, filled with the sound of running water.
Zong Yi washed the dishes while Yan Hanxie wiped the counter beside her.
They stood very close, able to smell the hot pot scent clinging to each other, mixed with the fresh fragrance of detergent.
"Zong Yi," Yan Hanxie suddenly spoke.
"Mm?" Zong Yi paused and turned her head to look at her.
Yan Hanxie held a cloth in her hand, her movements also stopping.
She looked at Zong Yi. Under the warm yellow light, her eyes seemed especially deep.
"Last night…" she paused, as if choosing her words, "you were drunk."
Zong Yi's heart suddenly skipped, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the dish sponge.
"Mm." She responded softly, waiting for what would come next—perhaps teasing, perhaps probing, perhaps… something else.
But Yan Hanxie only looked at her quietly for a few seconds, then smiled very faintly.
That smile was light, yet carried an unprecedented softness, even a trace of… indulgence.
"Don't do that next time," she finally said. Her tone was calm but carried unquestionable concern. "It's bad for your health."
After saying that, she continued wiping the counter, as if it had just been a casual remark.
Zong Yi stood there in a daze.
None of the scenarios she had imagined happened.
No probing, no taking the chance to press closer—only a brief, concerned reminder.
This instead made the indescribable feeling in her heart surge even more.
She lowered her head and continued washing the dishes.
The warm water ran over the back of her hands, but it could not wash away the stirring in her heart and… a faint, inexplicable sense of loss.
The days that followed seemed to return to their previous track.
Zong Yi remained busy, Yan Hanxie gradually resumed work, and the time they spent together in the villa was calm and ordinary.
Yan Hanxie never brought up that night again. The way she treated Zong Yi remained that mixture of natural closeness and measured distance.
But Zong Yi could feel that something was quietly changing.
Yan Hanxie's gaze seemed to linger on her longer than before, and there was an added layer of quiet contemplation in her eyes that Zong Yi couldn't quite understand.
Even their occasional touches felt more…careful than before.
As if touching a fragile treasure.
Zong Yi herself had also changed.
She no longer resisted staying at the villa. She even began to look forward to returning each day—to the light left on for her, and the figure waiting (or busy) beneath it.
She grew accustomed to the temperature, the atmosphere, and Yan Hanxie's presence.
The string of prayer beads still rested on her wrist. Sometimes when Yan Hanxie's gaze fell on it, she would pause for a moment, her expression complex, but she no longer said anything.
The Spring Festival holiday approached, and the company went on break.
The villa also took on a festive atmosphere, with window decorations and red ornaments hung up.
Aunt Zhou returned to her hometown early for the New Year, leaving only the two of them in the large villa.
On New Year's Eve, they prepared a simple dinner together, watched some of the lively Spring Festival Gala, then washed up early and returned to their respective rooms.
Occasionally, the sound of distant firecrackers came from outside, making the indoors feel even quieter.
Zong Yi lay in bed but couldn't fall asleep at all.
This was her first time not going back to her parents' home for the New Year, and also her first time spending New Year's Eve in a place that wasn't quite "home."
Her emotions were complicated—there was longing for her parents, but also a strange sense of rooted calm.
The night deepened, and the firecracker sounds gradually faded.
She turned over and suddenly heard very soft footsteps outside her door, stopping at her doorway.
Her breath caught.
After a few seconds, there was a light knock.
"Zong Yi, are you asleep?" It was Yan Hanxie's voice, very low.
"…Not yet." Zong Yi sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.
The door opened slightly. Yan Hanxie stood at the doorway. She was also in pajamas with that cashmere cardigan draped over her shoulders, holding two thick red envelopes in her hand.
"These are for you." She walked in and handed one to Zong Yi. Her face was expressionless, but the tips of her ears seemed faintly red. "New Year's money."
Zong Yi froze.
New Year's money?
For her?
Yan Hanxie was only two years older than her…
"I…" She opened her mouth, not knowing what to say.
"Take it." Yan Hanxie placed the red envelope into her hand. Her fingertips brushed against Zong Yi's palm, carrying a slight coolness.
Then she paused, took out another smaller velvet box from her pocket, and placed it on top of the red envelope.
The box was small and exquisite, covered in deep blue velvet without any markings.
At that moment, Zong Yi's heart almost stopped beating.
She looked at the box, then lifted her head to look at Yan Hanxie.
Yan Hanxie was also looking at her. Under the dim yellow bedside light, her eyes seemed unusually bright, yet carried a rare trace of nervousness.
"This… is also a New Year's gift." Her voice was even softer than before, each word seeming to be squeezed out with effort. "But you can open it later."
After saying that, as if she had used up all her courage, she quickly turned around and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" Zong Yi blurted out.
Yan Hanxie stopped at the doorway, her back to her, not turning around.
Zong Yi tightly gripped the red envelope and the small velvet box in her hand, her palm damp with sweat.
She looked at Yan Hanxie's stiff back, and countless moments from the past months flashed through her mind—the vulnerability and dependence at the hospital bed, the clumsy attempts in the kitchen, the subtle trap during the house viewing, the shelter on a stormy night, the tolerance after her drunkenness, the warmth rising from the hot pot, and now, this awkward yet solemn "New Year's money" and unspoken "gift"…
All the chaotic emotions—resistance, turmoil, sinking, hesitation—finally broke through the last layer of confusion at this moment and became crystal clear.
She took a deep breath. Her voice trembled slightly, yet was exceptionally clear:
"Yan Hanxie."
Yan Hanxie's shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly.
"Turn around," Zong Yi said.
Yan Hanxie turned around extremely slowly.
There was little color on her face, her lips pressed tightly together. In those eyes that were always deep and unreadable, there was now clear unease, anticipation, and a trace of… near-fragile panic.
Like a prisoner awaiting judgment.
Completely devoid of her usual calculation and control.
Zong Yi looked at her, her chest feeling as if something had struck it hard—aching and soft at the same time.
She slowly lifted the blanket, got out of bed, and stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet, walking toward Yan Hanxie step by step.
The difference in their height made Zong Yi (171) have to slightly raise her head to meet Yan Hanxie's (178) eyes.
They stood very close, able to smell the clean scent of her body wash and a faint trace of her naturally cool fragrance.
Zong Yi raised her hand—not to take the velvet box, but to gently hold Yan Hanxie's hand hanging at her side, which was trembling slightly.
Yan Hanxie's body stiffened instantly, her pupils contracting.
"Your New Year's gift," Zong Yi looked at her and said word by word, seriously, "I want to open it now. Is that okay?"
Yan Hanxie's throat moved, her gaze flickering intensely.
After a long moment, she let out an almost inaudible "Mm."
Zong Yi released her hand and picked up the deep blue velvet box.
Her fingertips were cold from nervousness.
She took a deep breath and slowly opened the lid.
Inside, there was no ring.
At least, not a traditional diamond ring.
Lying quietly in the box was a simple band.
The material seemed to be some kind of special platinum alloy, giving off a calm, restrained silver-gray sheen. There were no patterns or inlays, only on the inner side of the band, engraved with extremely fine craftsmanship, a string of tiny numbers almost too small to see clearly: 0716 & 0807.
07/16
Yan Hanxie's birthday.
08/07
Her birthday.
Zong Yi's vision blurred instantly.
She raised her head and looked at Yan Hanxie.
Yan Hanxie was staring at her just as intently, her breathing rapid, her chest rising and falling slightly. In those eyes that were always unfathomable, overwhelming emotions surged—nervousness, anticipation, fear, and a trace of almost desperate tenderness.
"I…" Yan Hanxie opened her mouth, her voice hoarse beyond recognition. "I don't know if you'll like it… maybe this is too presumptuous… I just wanted to…"
Her words tumbled over each other. Her usual calm composure shattered completely.
But Zong Yi suddenly smiled.
Tears slid down her cheeks, yet her smile was extraordinarily bright.
She carefully closed the box, clenched it tightly in her hand, then stepped forward and opened her arms, gently hugging Yan Hanxie.
The posture of the embrace was a little awkward. Because of their height difference, her face rested right in the hollow of Yan Hanxie's shoulder.
She could feel the other's body stiffen instantly, and the heartbeat so intense it almost seemed ready to burst from her chest.
"I like it," Zong Yi said softly near her ear, her voice trembling with tears yet incomparably clear. "I really like it."
Yan Hanxie's body softened completely at those words.
It was as if all her strength had been drained. She lightly rested her chin on top of Zong Yi's head, her arms slowly lifting. She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped them tightly, firmly, around the person in her embrace.
So tightly it was as if she wanted to press Zong Yi into her very bones.
Outside the window, the faint sound of midnight bells seemed to ring. The new year arrived quietly.
Inside, under the warm lights, the two held each other tightly.
There was no grand confession, no romantic ceremony.
Only a simple band engraved with each other's birthdays, a delayed but finally arrived embrace, and two hearts that had gone through countless twists and turns before finally finding their place.
The road of pursuing a wife, at this point, perhaps had truly reached its end.
And the "ring" the hunter had hidden for so long had finally been placed upon the one and only "prey" she had chosen.
In the simplest, yet most profound way.
—
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