Sobering soup required quite a few ingredients. It could ease headaches and help sober someone up. Su Hao glanced at the phone on the coffee table—it was already quite late.

 

She stood up. The hem of her nightdress fell softly. Even though it was a loose cotton dress, her slender figure was still faintly visible. She walked to the small triangular table beside the sofa, picked up the receiver, and dialed the front desk.

 

The call connected quickly.

 

Su Hao listed several ingredients—kelp, tofu, small fish—and asked, “Do you still have these ingredients at this hour?”

 

The front desk paused for a moment. Seeing that the call was from this room, they immediately replied, “Yes, yes, we can find them. Do you need them right now?”

 

Su Hao turned her head and glanced at Zhou Yang. He was propping his chin with his hand, maintaining the same posture as before, looking at her as well. Their eyes met. Calmly, she turned back and said, “Yes, right now. If you can find them, please send them up. Thank you.”

 

After the other end confirmed, Su Hao hung up and looked at Zhou Yang.
“Lie down for a bit. I’ll prepare it.”

 

She then turned and walked toward the kitchenette.

 

The kitchen was brand new, fully equipped. It had been prepared specifically for Zhou Yang and his group—hotels never dared to be careless, replacing utensils regularly even if they weren’t used.

 

Su Hao turned on the hot water, rinsed the cookware, took out a knife and chopping board, opened the seasonings. Her slender figure moved quietly around the kitchen.

 

Zhou Yang’s neck was flushed red, as were his well-defined arms. The veins on the back of his relaxed hand stood out faintly. He glanced at his phone, then toward the woman in the kitchen. The smile on his face faded. His long, narrow eyes darkened, becoming deeper and more unreadable.

 

Her seriousness made his usual flippancy feel like a joke.

 

He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

 

This was exactly the type of woman he disliked—too serious. Serious to the point that once you brushed against her, she would cling like ivy. Impossible to shake off. And once you did, marks would remain.

 

He felt hot.

 

He tugged at his collar, loosening it.

 

The combination of alcohol and fever didn’t dull his senses—if anything, it heightened them. Every sound from the kitchen reached his ears clearly: her footsteps, the cabinet opening as she reached for something, the sound of wiping the counter, her fingers wet with water, probably drying things off.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

Footsteps emerged from the kitchen, passed the coffee table, moved toward the hallway, and the door opened.

 

“Sorry to trouble you. Thank you,” Su Hao said gently as she accepted the items. Every word was clear. Then—bang—the door closed.

 

She carried the bag inside, her footsteps drawing closer. Zhou Yang’s eyelids twitched, but he didn’t open them. He looked utterly languid.

 

As if he were exhausted.

 

He heard a glass being placed on the coffee table. Then her soft voice asked,
“Are you asleep?”

 

“If you’re not, drink some water.”

 

She turned back to the kitchen, her gentle voice following her inside.

 

Zhou Yang finally opened his eyes and sat up, leaning forward to look at the glass of water.

 

His chest thumped once with his heartbeat.

 

Alcohol-induced, he told himself.

 

He picked up the glass and took a sip. Then he casually grabbed his cigarette case, shook one out, held it between his lips, and flicked the lighter.

 

Orange light climbed along his brow.

 

The cigarette lit. He exhaled a smoke ring, idly playing with it.

 

The phone on the table buzzed.

 

Two WeChat notifications—both for Su Hao.

 

She had WeChat set so that only names appeared, not message previews.

 

One was from Shen He.

 

The other from T.

 

It was 10:30 p.m.

 

Zhou Yang’s gaze swept over the names.

 

---

 

Su Hao hadn’t expected the ingredients to be so fresh at such a late hour. Then she realized—it was exactly when the wholesale vegetable markets opened. Major hotels and restaurants all sent people to collect their pre-ordered produce at this time.

 

That explained the freshness.

 

The small fish were still alive and jumping. With good ingredients, Su Hao worked quickly. Soon, the aroma filled the air.

 

She found a large bowl, ladled out the soup and ingredients, and carried it to the living room.

 

There was a faint smell of smoke. The man was checking work emails, a cigarette between his fingers. If not for the scent of alcohol and the unnatural flush at his ears and neck, one might have thought he was perfectly fine.

 

Su Hao set the bowl down, placed the spoon inside, wiped her hands, and said,
“Eat.”

 

Zhou Yang stubbed out the cigarette and smiled.
“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. You’ve helped me a lot before.”

 

Hearing that, Zhou Yang’s fingers paused briefly. Then he picked up the spoon and scooped the soup, his expression unreadable.

 

Su Hao crouched slightly and rummaged through the medicine kit on the coffee table. She hadn’t checked it thoroughly before, so it took a while to find the fever medicine. Her long-sleeved nightdress was loose; as she searched, the sleeve slid to her elbow, revealing a slender, pale wrist—white as the tofu floating in Zhou Yang’s soup.

 

Zhou Yang lifted the bowl, one hand braced on his knee, drinking as his gaze lingered on her wrist.
“You have two WeChat messages.”

 

“Huh? I’ll check.” She tilted her head and lit up the screen.

 

After seeing the names, she didn’t read them immediately and went back to searching for the medicine.

 

Zhou Yang swallowed a piece of tofu, his brows relaxed and charming.
“Besides Shen He, is the other one Tang Rui?”

 

She finally found the fever pills. She paused, broke off a black pill, and said,
“Yes.”

 

“The sobering soup is pretty good. You make it often?”
The taste was fresh—his first time having it. He spoke casually, concealing his thoughts.

 

Su Hao answered frankly.
“Yes. It’s my mom’s specialty. Before my dad got sick, he drank a lot. I used to make it for him. Tang Rui likes it too when he drinks too much.”

 

“Oh?”
Zhou Yang finished the soup in one go, the bowl empty.

 

Su Hao placed the pills beside him, picked up her phone, and said,
“Take the medicine in two hours. I’m heading back now.”

 

“Don’t shower,” she added before leaving. “Wait until your fever’s completely gone tomorrow morning.”

 

She turned off the foyer light and left the suite.

 

The door opened.

 

She tugged her skirt back, then the door closed—taking the hem of her dress out of sight.

 

The room fell silent.

 

The faint scent of a woman faded with it.

 

Zhou Yang stared at the door, then looked away. He picked up the pills. The kit contained black-and-white fever reducers. Last night, Su Hao had taken the black one. His fingertips seemed to retain heat.

 

Gentleness was like ivy.

 

Once it grew, it climbed up.

 

And even if it withdrew afterward, it left marks behind.

 

---

 

Because she’d killed fish, even after washing her hands, there was still a faint smell. Back in her room, Su Hao showered again, changed into clean pajamas, and lay down.

 

Before closing her eyes, she thought about Zhou Yang’s attitude that night.

 

He was different from his younger self—much gentler now. That rebellious edge seemed to have been worn down by time.

 

He was… quite suitable as a friend.

 

As she thought that, she suddenly remembered she hadn’t replied to her messages.

 

She picked up her phone.

 

Shen He: Haohao, when are you coming back? cough cough Can’t you slack off a little?

 

Su Hao: No. Work has to be done properly. Almost finished—I’ll be back soon.

 

Shen He: You’re still awake? I thought you’d gone to sleep.

 

Su Hao: About to.

 

Shen He: Then sleep early—and hurry back. I rarely go on business trips!!!

 

Su Hao: Alright.

 

She exited the chat and opened the other one.

 

T: Asleep?

 

Su Hao: Asleep.

 

T: Doesn’t look like it. How’s the new job?

 

Su Hao: It’s okay.

 

T: Mm.

 

The last reply came slowly. She was too sleepy, set the phone aside, and fell asleep without responding.

 

---

 

The sobering soup worked well. After about an hour, Zhou Yang felt the alcohol ease. He stood up, casually popped the black pill into his mouth, unbuttoned his shirt, and went into the bathroom.

 

He stripped, revealing his abs, and turned on the shower. Hot water cascaded down.

 

His hair flattened instantly. He braced one hand against the wall, water beads clinging to his brows.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

Besides the sound of water hitting the floor, there seemed to be other sounds—the kitchen, footsteps, a slender figure, sleeves slipping down while searching for medicine, revealing a pale wrist.

 

His Adam’s apple rolled. Water slid down his neck.

 

The water roared.

 

The man’s voice was low.

 

“Fuck.”

 

The medicine took effect quickly. After showering, wrapped in a bathrobe, Zhou Yang sat on the bed, lazily towel-dried his hair, then lay down.

 

The medication pulled him into sleep.

 

Into a dream—one with a waist as slender as willow branches.

 

---

 

He slept until dawn.

 

Su Hao was awakened by her alarm—and a call at the same time. She picked up her phone. It was Chen Yu. She paused, raked a hand through her hair, and sat up.

 

“Morning, Chen Yu.”

 

“Morning, Sister Su Hao. When are you coming to Feijie today?”

 

“In a bit. I just woke up.” She yawned and walked barefoot to the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to let light in.

 

Chen Yu hesitated, then laughed.
“Sister Su Hao, yesterday you helped me adjust a March account—it was Fengying’s.”

 

Fengying.

 

The same supplier with the inconsistent purchase prices.

 

Su Hao froze, then reacted.
“You… didn’t reconcile it yesterday?”

 

Chen Yu lowered her voice.
“It’s not that I didn’t. I just didn’t notice the price fluctuation.”

 

“Send it to me again. I’ll整理 the general ledger here, cross-check with you, then submit it to President Zeng. But… don’t tell Zhang Xian or Lu Mimi for now.”

 

The same trick again.

 

Su Hao remembered what Zhang Xian had said yesterday. She considered her words carefully.
“Sister Zhang knows everything. You really shouldn’t play these tricks in front of her.”

 

“What do you mean?” Chen Yu snapped.

 

They had been close since Su Hao joined the company. Chen Yu had taken her out to eat, shown her the ropes. When Zhang Xian and Lu Mimi weren’t friendly, Chen Yu had been the one helping her.

 

Su Hao remembered that kindness.

 

But work was work.

 

“Yesterday’s account—Sister Zhang already knows.”

 

“Did you tell her?” Chen Yu pressed.

 

That question made things awkward.

 

Su Hao lowered her voice.
“She called me yesterday.”

 

“Really? Then why didn’t she tell me?”

 

Chen Yu grew aggressive. Su Hao stopped explaining. Her voice remained gentle—but firm.

 

“In the future, I’ll help with small things when I can. But for major issues—like incorrect accounts discovered after reconciliation and then altered—I will report them to Sister Zhang. I hope you understand.”

 

Click.

 

The call was cut off.

 

Su Hao held the phone, exhaled slowly, and stared out the window for a long time.

 

Only after a while did she turn to shower, though a tightness remained in her chest.

 

Why had Zhang Xian scolded her but not spoken to Chen Yu? Letting Chen Yu vent her anger on her instead?

 

She frowned.

 

Then she thought again—Zhang Xian probably had said something.

 

Given Chen Yu’s usual work attitude…

 

…she probably hadn’t taken it seriously.

 

That thought made Su Hao feel better.

 

She changed clothes. Her expression had recovered. Breakfast had been delivered to her door. She pulled it in, ate quietly, grabbed her bag, and went out.

 

At the elevator, a man in a white shirt and trousers stood scrolling through his phone.

 

Hearing her, he looked up.

 

“Here?”

 

She nodded and smiled.
“Did your fever go down?”

 

“It did.” Zhou Yang looked at her again. “You don’t look great. Didn’t sleep well?”

 

Sharp eyes.

 

She nodded.
“Didn’t sleep well.”

 

She didn’t mention work.

 

Zhou Yang chuckled softly.
“Oh? What were you thinking about?”

 

His narrow eyes curved with a hint of teasing.

 

She found the expression oddly familiar. After a pause, she said,
“Nothing.”

 

The elevator arrived. They went in—silent.

 

He coughed lightly and turned his head.

 

She looked at him and said,
“Drink more water today. Warm water. So it doesn’t come back.”

 

Zhou Yang’s hand curled into a fist at his lips. He turned to her, smiling.
“Okay.”

 

---

 

At the lobby, it was crowded and sunny again.

 

In the bright light, Su Hao noticed his face was still pale. The fever hadn’t fully gone—but his presence was still commanding.

 

Many people stared.

 

After getting in the car, they soon arrived at Feijie. Su Hao reminded him again to drink water, then hurried into the building—it was already a bit late.

 

Inside, her phone buzzed.

 

She checked it.

 

Zhou Yang: Then tell me—what kind of water should I drink?

 

She frowned.

 

That sounded flirtatious.

 

But… she decided not to overthink a sick person.

 

Su Hao: Warm water.

 

Zhou Yang: Okay.

 

Seeing that reply, she relaxed and went back to work.