Chapter Twenty-Two: Five O’Clock in the Morning

Ye Mian was taken aback for a moment and immediately averted her gaze, her heart filled by an indescribable emotion. She lowered her head and walked to the bed, where the phone’s screen, not yet switched off, glowed faintly, drawing her eyes.

She could easily see that there was a half-finished phrase in the app’s search bar.

[How to clean bloodstains from a girl’s pants]

Below it was a string of search records.

[Things to pay attention to when boiling brown sugar water]

[How to relieve period pain for girls]

[What to be aware of during menstruation]

At that moment, her heart was beating like a thousand drums, every detail laid out in plain sight.

Jiang Chen, she thought, is almost too kind.

She cast a furtive glance back at the bathroom.

Inside, his silhouette stood amidst the soft sounds of fabric rustling and the barely audible trickle of water.

Her feelings were a tangled mess—she couldn't tell if embarrassment or guilt weighed heavier. All she could do was quietly return to her chair, holding the sweet, cloying brown sugar water, sipping it in small gulps so as not to trouble him further.

Outside, the rain grew heavier. The dawn was faint, with not a trace of the sun, everything shrouded in gray beyond the dark curtains.

Ten minutes later, she heard the roar of the hair dryer.

She realized Jiang Chen was probably washing her pants or the sheet she’d stained.

He, who was so fastidious, would touch them without a word?

Her heart felt as though a crack had been pried open, subtle emotions seeping into her bloodstream, burning at the tips of her ears.

Flustered, she covered her ears, the very air seeming to scorch her.

Time passed, long and slow.

Jiang Chen didn’t come out.

Anxiety spread through the room; she couldn’t say why she was so nervous, only that she felt stifled, guilty for having caused such trouble.

Fortunately, in the next moment, Jiang Chen pushed the door open. Draped over his arm were her pants from earlier, now impeccably clean and so dry they might have been baked in the sun.

Ye Mian hurried to take them, instinctively saying, "Thank you so much, really, you’ve gone to so much trouble."

Jiang Chen’s hand paused midair, an eyebrow arched as if to see whether she could say anything besides thank you.

After a moment, he glanced at her with a wry smile and said, "Mm, repeating the same words is quite troublesome indeed."

In his tone, she caught the teasing, and her embarrassment deepened. She didn’t know what else to say, so she only gave a quiet laugh.

"I’m heading out. Get some rest," Jiang Chen said, his half-smile fading into fatigue at his brow and eyes. He took his phone, opened the door, and turned back. "If you’re hungry or thirsty, there’s the kitchen—or you can just call me."

Ye Mian nodded, watching him close the door gently behind him.

The room returned to its original stillness.

Through a gap in the curtains, she saw the overgrown yard. The room was dim, the youth beautiful to the point of wickedness. Everything felt beautiful yet unreal, like a strange dream.

She picked up her pants, catching a faint, clean fragrance at her nose.

Whatever laundry detergent Jiang Chen used, its scent was fresh and light.

The fragrance reminded her of the misty tree in his WeChat profile photo—solitary and silent, as if it would envelop her.

The rain continued for another two hours before finally tapering off.

Ye Mian carefully arranged her things on the table, put the chair back in place, and only then opened the door.

Leaving the quiet bedroom, she softly closed the door with one hand and carried her shoes in the other, tiptoeing downstairs.

Below was just as silent and dim.

She stepped cautiously onto the wooden floor when a slow, faint sound of breathing caught her attention.

Perplexed, she looked up.

On the sofa lay a motionless figure.

Her heart tightened, and she moved even more lightly.

In the faint gloom, she saw Jiang Chen stretched out on the sofa.

He leaned against the armrest, the computer beside him already dark, eyes closed in deep sleep.

His features were half-hidden in shadow, expressionless and cold, but fatigue was etched between his brows.

For a moment, Ye Mian couldn’t even detect his breath.

Her own breath caught; she put her shoes down and tiptoed to his side, bending to look.

The temperature wasn’t high, and the occasional draft made the air feel chilly.

Yet he wore only a thin shirt.

She reached out and touched his hand—it was cold as death.

After a moment’s hesitation, she softly called, "Jiang Chen, why don’t you sleep in the bedroom?"

He lay there silently, utterly exhausted, and didn’t respond.

Ye Mian recalled that he hadn’t slept even at five in the morning and stopped herself from calling out again.

Just then, his phone alarm went off, its shrill vibration startling in the silence.

Ye Mian jumped in fright.

Jiang Chen’s eyes fluttered open. His fine brows knit slightly, still clouded with sleep, lips pale, exhaustion weighing upon him.

Ye Mian had to admit—Jiang Chen was remarkably handsome.

Even in his current state, he seemed separated from the world by an invisible barrier.

The faint furrow of his brow only heightened his almost oppressive allure.

After a few seconds, his gaze cleared. He rubbed his brow and turned his head.

His eyes met Ye Mian’s almond-shaped ones.

They were very close, and for at least ten seconds, neither moved.

Heat rushed to Ye Mian’s cheeks; she hastily stepped back, pretending nothing had happened as the alarm continued to beep.

Jiang Chen reached for his phone, silencing the alarm with a touch.

He glanced up at the flustered girl, his voice hoarse: "Why are you downstairs? Do you need anything?"

She shook her head and explained, "The rain stopped. I’ve troubled you long enough—I should go."

He nodded, glancing at her empty hands before resting his chin on his hand, his voice tinged with lazy amusement. "Take what I bought for you with you."

Ye Mian blinked, realizing he meant the sanitary pads. Instinctively, she refused, "But you bought them—I can’t just take them."

Jiang Chen laughed, his eyes bright with obvious mirth, his tone languid. "What, do you think I’ll keep them for some other use?"

"…"

She had to admit that made sense, but she couldn’t bring herself to take them, and blurted out, "You could give them to someone else?"

"Give them to someone else?" Jiang Chen repeated as if hearing a joke, a smile curving on his lips as he looked at her intently. "That’s a new one. I doubt I’ll ever run into another girl doubled over with stomach pain on the roadside at five in the morning."

"…"

Ye Mian closed her eyes. It was true—this was all too novel. What was wrong with her? Her brain seemed to short-circuit whenever Jiang Chen was around.