An Ke was halfway up the stairs, legs burning under the weight of the shopping bags, when He Ting stood there like an idiot, staring into space.
“What are you doing—get down here and help.” There was an easy, practiced tone in her voice, as if she were ordering her husband around.
He Ting came up, slapped her shoulder and took a bag from her hands, depositing it on the kitchen counter. Sweat beaded at his temples as he peered into the piles. “Help me sort these,” An Ke said. “I’ve never done this before.”
He blinked, bewildered. “Really?” she asked, looking at him like he’d come from another planet. He was rich and important, yes—but clueless about groceries? It was almost endearing.
“So what do you usually eat?” she asked. A man who ran a company couldn’t possibly live on restaurant food every day, could he?
He shrugged. “I don’t… eat much. Sometimes Yuan Ping orders delivery for me.”
An Ke’s mouth curved with amusement. That explained why, when she’d lived here before, he’d come home to eat every night. She took a step closer and tapped his chest. “I thought you’d always been like that—coming home so often.”
“That was because you were here.” He Ting’s voice softened. As long as he could look at her, do anything for her, he was content.
“All right,” she said, moving to the counter. “These meats go in the freezer. Vegetables go in the crisper drawer—keeps them fresh without freezing them. Use the top shelf of the fridge for dairy…”
He listened intently, riffling through the bags. “What’s this—cling film for?” he asked.
An exasperated smile crossed An Ke’s face. “Are you really asking that? You wrap leftovers with cling film, dump them in the fridge. Why are you asking everything?”
“I… I just don’t have much experience.” He scratched his head, cheeks reddening. Then, suddenly, he darted off toward the bedroom.
“Hey—what are you doing?” she called, but she didn’t follow. Curious, yes, but not intrusive.
He Ting returned briskly with a small box tucked in his hands and a grin that made her forget the groceries for a second. “This is for you.”
He set the box on the counter and opened it. A necklace lay inside, a delicate chain cradling a purple stone. An Ke’s fingers hovered over it. It was beautiful—and far too expensive.
“I can’t accept this. We—” she began.
He Ting frowned. “Do you think I bought something ugly? If you don’t like it, we can exchange it.”
“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head. “It’s just too much. I know what this means, He Ting, but—”
Before she could finish, he slipped the chain from the box and moved behind her, gently fastening it around her neck. “My woman doesn’t ask for presents,” he said softly, “but she shouldn’t have to make me forget to give them either. Xiaoyu—spending on you is a pleasure. I’m serious about us. I don’t want a fling, a relationship that ends. I want to keep going.”
Those words landed with more weight than a clumsy “I love you.” An Ke felt her pulse quicken.
“Am I really that important to you?” she asked, voice small.
“Of course.” He took her hand; his eyes were honest, intense. “I’ve never been in love before, not like this. You made me feel noticed, made me want to be near you and care for you. I want to stay. If I have faults, tell me—I’ll change.”
Warmth spread through her chest. She laughed softly and tapped his forehead. “Not bad. You admit when you’re wrong. The first time I met you I thought you were cold and selfish, but—”
He placed a finger over her lips before she could finish. “That’s just how I come across. Nothing to do with you.” He let the moment go, then snapped his attention back to the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s cook. It’s almost eight—we can’t let it get late.”
He chattered as they prepared the meal, and the nervous cadence that would once have grated on her now sounded like a familiar song. There was a quiet happiness in the ordinary—picking up vegetables, rinsing rice, passing plates—that filled the kitchen like light.
“Try it,” An Ke said, offering him a bite.
He swallowed in one go. “Delicious,” he declared, smiling. “You’re my little homemaker.”
She didn’t mind the nickname. Then she grew serious. “There’s something I came back to tell you about. It’s important—about Uncle He’s death…”
He Ting’s smile vanished. For a heartbeat his expression hardened, the air between them chilling. But he didn’t let her continue. “Eat first,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I want to keep this evening light.”
An Ke hesitated, then nodded. It wasn’t the place for heavy talk anyway.
“Don’t overthink,” he said, trying to sound casual as he reached for the dish she loved and placed it on her plate. His hand brushed hers, and for a moment the worry was held at bay by the steady rhythm of the meal.