Since we are all reborn, let’s arrest the senior!

At 7:15 a.m., the early summer sunlight shone through the gauze window, weaving diamond-shaped patches of light on the kitchen tiles.

Lu Mingze was awakened by a rustling sound. Still sleepy, he slipped on his slippers and went downstairs. He saw Jiang Zimei, wearing her faded strawberry-print nightgown, kneeling in front of the refrigerator, battling with the egg rack on the top shelf. She stood on tiptoe, her chestnut curls brushing against the inner shelf of the refrigerator. There were still bits of popcorn that had fallen when the two of them suddenly decided to watch Pokémon the night before, which looked like scattered gold in the morning light.

With a "bang," the egg rack finally gave way and tipped over, sending three plump eggs rolling to her feet. She hurriedly reached out to catch them, but the milk carton in her arms slipped from her grasp. Fortunately, Lu Mingze reacted quickly and caught it before it hit the ground, the milky white liquid rippling in the carton.

“Lu Mingze, look!” She held up the three intact eggs, her amber eyes shining like a cat that had discovered a new toy. “They must have been playing a prison break game just now, and they almost fell and turned into ‘egg drop soup’!” He smiled helplessly, bent down to pick up the eggs, and his fingertips touched the strawberry jam jar at her feet—the cap was twisted crookedly, and the dark red jam meandered down the side of the jar, drawing several irregular hearts on the tiles, just like the doodles she usually drew casually in his sketchbook.

"Eat your bread first, little adventurer." He pulled out two slices of whole wheat toast and stuffed them into the toaster. The metal casing reflected her fluffy curls in the morning light. "Mr. Strawberry Jam and Ms. Egg need to calm down, lest they start a full-blown fight in your stomach." Jiang Zimei snorted, then suddenly tiptoed and reached for a box of strawberry ice cream from the top shelf of the refrigerator. The condensed water droplets on the box slid down her wrist, forming a glistening trail at her elbow.

“Then I’ll just eat this!” She shook the ice cream, then suddenly leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Anyway, Mr. Lu’s white shirt is already sweet enough—yesterday when I was giving ‘Coal Ball’ a bath, it rubbed some cotton candy onto your sleeve.”

They've recently taken a liking to cats, so they got one.

Lu Mingze raised an eyebrow, reached out and pressed the back of her hand, the warmth of his palm passing through the ice cream box: "We're going to the supermarket at eight o'clock. Do you want the ice cream to turn into a liquid like glaze in your bag? Last time you forgot your lipstick in your pocket, and the whole canvas bag turned into a rose-red 'abstract painting'."

She stuck out her tongue, obediently stuffed the ice cream back into the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, and as she turned around, her ponytail brushed against his chin, carrying a sweet scent mixed with strawberry shampoo and milk. Lu Mingze suddenly noticed that the strap of her nightgown had slipped down, revealing a newly applied cat temporary tattoo on her shoulder—a Ragdoll cat wearing a bow, exactly like their "Youyou" at home.

"Here you go." She pulled a fruit candy from her nightgown pocket, the pink wrapper making a crisp sound in the morning light. "Strawberry flavor, bribe the purchasing officer to buy more tomato-flavored potato chips later—the big wavy kind!" The man bit open the wrapper, the sweet and sour fruity aroma bursting on his tongue, mixed with the faint scent of laundry detergent on her body, and suddenly felt that it was more tempting than any fancy dessert.

He reached out and ruffled her curly hair, watching the curls bounce between his fingers.

Jiang Zimei laughed and slapped his hand away, just as the toast popped out with a "ding". She tiptoed to get jam from the cupboard, the hem of her nightgown slipping past her knees.

Lu Mingze turned around and took out her usual strawberry jam from the drawer; he had already loosened the cap beforehand.

“I knew you’d want this.” He shook the bottle, and sunlight streamed through the glass, turning the jam a translucent orange-red, much like the color of her pupils in the sunlight.

Jiang Zimei took the bottle.

She suddenly remembered how he treated the calico cat's wounds last night, his fingertips so gentle it was like touching fragile porcelain, and even the usually timid cat obediently lay on his lap.

The two sat at the table eating breakfast, while three Ragdoll cats perched on chairs, watching longingly. Suddenly, the most lively cat, "Youyou," jumped onto the table, its tail sweeping so hard that the milk carton tipped over. Jiang Zimei cried out and rushed to help, but Lu Mingze caught the carton with lightning speed, spilling a few drops of milk that drew irregular patterns on his white T-shirt, like an impromptu abstract painting.

"Youyou!" She glared at the cat with a stern face, but immediately broke down when she saw the cat tilting its head and acting cute. She reached out and pinched its paw pad. "Next time you do that, I'll replace your dried fish with vegetable sticks!" "Youyou" seemed to understand, meowing pitifully and rubbing against her wrist affectionately. Lu Mingze chuckled and reached out to wipe the milk splattered on her wrist: "A certain photographer clearly ate ice cream himself, but blamed it on the cat. That's called 'the thief crying 'stop thief!'"

After breakfast, Jiang Zimei squatted in the entryway to change her shoes. Suddenly, she pointed at Lu Mingze's hair and laughed, "Lu Mingze, your white hair looks like it's been sprinkled with glutinous rice flour in the morning light!" The man tossed his hair in front of the mirror, and in the reflection, the white hair behind his ears contrasted with the gold powder in her hair, like a watercolor painting completed unintentionally. She suddenly reached out and put a cat paw-shaped hair clip on his head—she had made it out of clay yesterday, with a mini rhinestone embedded in the paw.

“Let’s go, purchasing officer.” She jingled her keychain, the mini cat paw charm he’d given her hanging from the bell. “Today we need to buy a new leash for ‘Coal Ball’ and pick out some nutritional paste for ‘Youyou’—you said it was a bit calcium deficient last time. Oh, and we also need to buy tomato-flavored potato chips, the big wavy kind!” Lu Mingze looked at her serious expression and suddenly reached out to straighten her crooked hairband, his fingertips brushing against the delicate skin behind her ear: “Yes, ma’am, my chief pet stylist—but we can only buy one bag of chips, lest you sneak some in the middle of the night and get cavities.”

At three in the afternoon, a torrential downpour began. Raindrops pounded against the windowpane, sounding like someone scattering glass beads outside. Jiang Zimei nestled in Lu Mingze's arms, wrapped in a blanket with a cat pattern, a half-eaten bag of tomato-flavored potato chips piled at her feet. The television was playing an old 90s martial arts film; the picture was blurry, but it couldn't hide the dashing figure of the male lead, cloaked and riding a horse.

“Lu Mingze, look!” She was munching on a potato chip when she suddenly pointed at the screen. “Doesn’t his cape look like the bathrobe you hung out to dry on the balcony yesterday? It’s the same off-white color, but it’s missing two pockets.”

The man looked down at her; there were still blue Lego bricks stuck in her hair from when they were building Lego that morning—they had spent two hours building that mini pet hospital model that morning, which was now on the display cabinet in the living room, with a few Lego kittens perched on the windowsill.

“Should I change careers and become a ‘Towel Hero,’ specializing in rescuing lazybones stuck in potato chip bags?” he said, flicking her forehead with his fingertip, eliciting a soft, playful reproach. Jiang Zimei angrily punched his chest, but accidentally smeared potato chip crumbs onto his white T-shirt, like sprinkled gold leaf. Lu Mingze chuckled, picking up a strand of her curly hair, watching the rain-soaked ends cling to her cheek like curled rose petals: “Some artist’s ‘creative material’ is scattered everywhere; looks like I, the ‘human lint roller,’ need to step in.” Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the entire living room. Jiang Zimei trembled in fright, shrinking into his arms, her fingertips gripping his sleeve tightly.

"Scared?" He chuckled softly, tightening his arms around her and pulling her into the blanket. "How about I tell you a ghost story? Like—the eggs in the fridge hold a meeting in the middle of the night to discuss how to escape being eaten. The leader egg says, 'We'll form an egg-shaped commando team and sneak into the kitchen to explore while humans are sleeping!'"

She looked up, her amber eyes reflecting the dim light of the television screen, but a smile involuntarily crept onto her lips. "Then they must have chosen strawberry jam as their strategist, because it's the best at 'sweet talk,' able to bewitch human taste buds." Lu Mingze chuckled softly, the vibrations of his chest reaching her ears like a low, melancholic melody. The rain outside the window grew heavier, the raindrops pattering against the glass, a soft patter as if nature were providing accompaniment for their afternoon.

Jiang Zimei suddenly noticed the white hair behind his ears, a few more strands than the last time she saw it. She reached out and brushed it aside for him, her fingertips touching the soft ends of his hair. She suddenly remembered last week at the pet hospital, when a little girl pointed at his white hair and said, "Dr. Lu looks like a gentle wizard from a fairy tale!" At that time, he was squatting on the ground bandaging the little girl's teddy bear's wound, and the sunlight shining through the window onto his white hair really looked like a handful of stars.

“Lu Mingze,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder, “we could actually just stay cozy like this all day, ignoring the outside world. No calls from the vet, no filming assignments, just me, you, and these potato chips.” The man raised an eyebrow, his fingertip brushing the potato chip crumbs from the corner of her lips, stealing a kiss in the process. The salty taste of the chips mingled with the strawberry lip balm on her lips, like a strange yet harmonious concoction: “It’s an honor, my ‘sofa ceramicist’—but only if you clean the potato chip crumbs off my T-shirt, otherwise it’ll be uncomfortable to sleep on tonight.”

She sat up with a smile, grabbed the lint roller from the coffee table, and as she looked down, she noticed the birthmark below his collarbone—a temporary tattoo she had given him last year, which she had described as "the exclusive mark of the pet hospital director." The tattoo had long since faded, leaving a faint red mark, like a small, never-fading flower blooming in pale snow. She suddenly remembered a saying: "True love is leaving the marks of time on the other person."

"What are you looking at?" Lu Mingze reached out and pinched her cheek. "Are you thinking of a new photography theme? Like 'The Wondrous Adventure of the White-Haired Doctor and the Potato Chip Girl'?" Jiang Zimei nodded and suddenly raised her camera, pointing it at him. Lu Mingze didn't have time to dodge, and the lens captured his slightly stunned expression—his white hair was slightly disheveled, potato chip crumbs were stuck to the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were filled with a gentle smile, like a cup of warm cocoa.

“Perfect!” She looked at the camera screen. “This one could be titled ‘A Gentle Trap in the Rainstorm.’” The man shook his head, then suddenly snatched the camera and turned it to point at her. Jiang Zimei hurriedly covered her face with a blanket, but he snapped a picture with lightning speed—her curly hair was messy, potato chip crumbs were stuck to the tip of her nose, and her eyes were curved into crescents, like a little animal that had successfully stolen some fish. The background was a blurry martial arts scene on TV, creating a strange sense of temporal and spatial displacement.

“This is the real ‘Gentle Trap’,” he said, setting the photo as his phone wallpaper. “It’ll remind me at all times that there’s a little monster in the house who can steal my heart.” Jiang Zimei snorted, but suddenly fell silent when she saw the densely packed pet photos in his phone’s album—there were calico cats with their cute yet fierce faces, golden retrievers with their smiling faces, and countless photos of her focused profile as she took pictures. Each photo had a date and a brief note, like a journal recording time.

At eight o'clock in the evening, the bathroom was filled with steam, and the fragrance of rose shower gel permeated the air.

Jiang Zimei stood in front of the bathtub, humming "The Cat Waltz," her fingertips gently turning the faucet. Warm water cascaded down like a waterfall, creating tiny splashes in the tub. She squeezed some shower gel onto the bath sponge and gently rubbed it in. Pink foam expanded like clouds, emitting a faint rose scent.

Suddenly, the bathroom door was pushed open, and Lu Mingze walked in carrying a change of clothes. The buttons on his white shirt were not fully fastened, revealing his slender collarbone and a faint red mark below, which was from when "Youyou" was being affectionate this morning.

His hair was still dripping wet, clearly he had just finished grooming the cats downstairs, and his body smelled of cedarwood perfume and pet shampoo.

"Get out!" Jiang Zimei grabbed the bath sponge as if to hit it, but because she used too much force, she squeezed out too much shower gel.

Pink foam piled up like a small mountain in his palm, accidentally splashing onto his white shirt and drawing several irregular clouds on his chest.

Lu Mingze looked at the foam on her chest, deliberately moved closer to her, his nose almost touching her forehead: "Need help scrubbing my back? I've been a professional bath scrubber for twenty years, my technique is gentle, and I treat everyone fairly, young and old."

Jiang Zimei blushed and tried to push him out, but she slipped on the wet tiles and stumbled backward with a gasp. Lu Mingze quickly caught her around the waist, and the two bumped into the edge of the bathtub, causing ripples in the water. She looked up at him and noticed tiny bubbles clinging to his eyelashes, like scattered diamonds, shimmering under the warm yellow light.

"Mr. Lu, are you cosplaying as a snowman?" She reached out to brush the foam off his eyelashes, her fingertips touching the warmth of his skin, slightly cooler than the water, yet with a reassuring touch. The man chuckled, wiping the foam off her face with his fingertips, accidentally turning it into a mustache: "Snowmen need to be charged—" He suddenly leaned down and kissed away the foam from the corner of her lips, "—with a real-life hand warmer, the battery lasts longer, and the warmth is doubled."

The steam in the bathroom gradually blurred the mirror. Jiang Zimei suddenly pointed behind his ear: "There's foam on your white hair!" Lu Mingze raised an eyebrow and picked up a shampoo bottle from the shelf: "Want to try the new 'foam hair dye'? It's said to turn white hair black instantly and even has a rose scent." She shook her head with a smile, then suddenly shoved a bath sponge into his hand, her fingertips tracing the calluses on his palm: "Scrub Mr. Snowman's back first, otherwise your shoulders will hurt tomorrow—yesterday you spent the whole afternoon bending over while bathing the golden retriever."

Lu Mingze reluctantly took the bath sponge and turned to take off his shirt. Jiang Zimei looked at the old scar on his lower back and suddenly reached out to gently stroke it, as if touching a precious piece of porcelain: "Lu Mingze, don't always bathe large dogs yourself in the future. Ask the nanny to help."

(End of this chapter)