First, then, love.

The heat that last night had completely dissipated by noon the next day.

11:30 a.m.

Shu Yao rolled over on the big bed, feeling an indescribable soreness and weakness permeating her entire body.

The space next to me was empty; the gray cotton sheets were flat and offered no warmth.

He Zheng had already gone to the city's special police detachment.

This man is like a tireless perpetual motion machine. He acted as her human walking heater late into the night last night, yet he was still able to get up and go for a morning run at seven o'clock this morning.

Shu Yao rubbed her aching lower back and slowly sat up.

The underfloor heating in the bedroom was on full blast, but the gloomy sky outside the window sent chills down my spine.

Her toes instinctively darted out from under the covers and landed on the carpet.

Suddenly, images from last night flashed through my mind.

These icy feet were unceremoniously placed in the back of the man's burning hot thighs, and he gently rubbed them with his large hands until they were warm, and then...

Shu Yao's cheeks inexplicably flushed.

"You bastard, at least you have some conscience."

She muttered something under her breath, then dragged herself into the bathroom wearing those hideous dark gray wool socks.

After washing up, my stomach started growling.

On the kitchen island, the rice cooker's yellow keep-warm light is on.

Before leaving, He Zheng cooked congee with preserved egg and lean pork, and there was a note next to it.

The handwriting is strong and powerful, seemingly penetrating the paper: [The porridge is in the pot, eat it and don't run around, it's getting colder today.]

Shu Yao looked at the note and pursed her lips.

She absolutely refused to drink porridge today; her mouth tasted bland. Once her stubborn streak kicked in, not even nine oxen could stop her.

All I want now is to drink Yirgacheffe hand-drip coffee from that coffee shop in the city center, and have a slice of their sea salt dark chocolate mousse.

It must be drunk now, immediately, right away.

They act on a whim.

Shu Yao's Sagittarius traits are quite obvious—she has extremely strong initiative.

She turned and went back to the bedroom, opening the wardrobe.

The weather forecast says there will be a widespread cold wave today, with localized rain and snow.

She was afraid of the cold, so she wrapped herself up like a round, chubby polar bear.

A thick, off-white down jacket that went past the knees, with the zipper pulled all the way up to his chin.

She wore a pair of fleece-lined slim-fit jeans and black sheepskin ankle boots.

A thick camel-colored cashmere scarf was wrapped around her neck, and most of her face was buried in the soft, fluffy fabric.

She wasn't wearing makeup, just a bare face, and was wearing black-rimmed glasses.

Grab the car keys and push open the door to get out.

The underground parking garage was cold and damp.

Shu Yao got into the Porsche, started the car, and left the heater on for a full five minutes before her hands and feet slowly regained feeling.

The car drove out of the underground parking garage.

The streets were much quieter, and the sky was as dark as dusk. A strong wind swirled withered yellow leaves on the road, and pedestrians hurried along, their necks hunched over.

Half an hour later.

The Porsche was parked in an open-air paid parking lot on Wutong Road.

The coffee shop is located in a one-way alley; cars can't drive in, so you have to walk.

Shu Yao got off the car.

The cold wind blew in like a knife, instantly slicing through the surface of the down jacket.

She gasped, stamped her feet twice in shock, and shoved her hands tightly into the pockets of her down jacket.

Shrinking his neck and lowering his head, he walked into the alley against the wind.

The coffee shop was very warm, and when you pushed open the glass door, the brass bell on the door rang out with a clear "ding-dong" sound.

The rich aroma of roasted coffee beans wafts up, mixed with the sweet scent of butter and cinnamon.

Shu Yao let out a long sigh of relief, and her glasses instantly fogged up.

She took off her glasses and walked to the bar.

"A cup of Yirgacheffe, lightly toasted and hot, and a slice of sea salt dark chocolate mousse, to go."

The barista was a familiar face, and greeted her with a smile: "Miss Shu, aren't you in class today? It's so cold, why did you come all this way?"

"I'm craving this," Shu Yao smiled and paid the money.

I stood there and waited for more than ten minutes.

The coffee is ready, and it's packaged very securely in a paper bag.

Shu Yao, carrying a paper bag, pushed open the glass door.

A biting, eerie wind suddenly rushed into my collar, accompanied by a shower of icy rain the size of soybeans.

The rain and snow started suddenly, without any warning.

Ice crystals mixed with rainwater pelted the bluestone pavement, splashing mud everywhere.

Shu Yao abruptly pulled her foot back from the threshold.

The eaves of the coffee shop are very narrow, barely enough to block out a small patch of sky overhead.

A gust of wind blew, and the cold raindrops slapped directly onto my face.

Shu Yao left home without an umbrella, and parked her car in a parking lot 200 meters away.

This distance would normally only take a minute to run, but now it's freezing raining outside, and I'd be soaked to the bone if I ran there.

She is afraid of the cold, and even more afraid of catching a cold.

In the past two years, her immunity has been extremely poor. She catches a cold every time the seasons change, and it's more accurate than a barometer.

Shu Yao could only carry the brown paper bag, huddle under the eaves, tuck her hands into her sleeves, and keep bouncing in place in small movements, trying to generate some heat for herself.

Pedestrians on the street ran to find shelter from the rain.

Shu Yao sighed, took out her phone, and prepared to call a ride-hailing service to take her directly to the alley entrance.

Just as she looked down and swiped the screen.

The light overhead suddenly dimmed for a moment.

The cold rain was blocked by something.

Shu Yao subconsciously raised her head.

A pure black, long-handled umbrella was held steadily above her head.

The umbrella has a large canopy and sturdy ribs. Rainwater hits the high-quality water-repellent fabric and makes a dull "tap-tap" sound.

Look down along the umbrella handle.

The hand gripping the umbrella handle had distinct knuckles, long, slender, and fair fingers, with neatly trimmed nails. At the wrist, the cuffs of the shirt were perfectly white, complemented by a subtly luxurious Patek Philippe watch.

Let's look up further.

It was a perfectly tailored dark gray haute couture suit, with a black cashmere coat draped over it.

Broad shoulders and an upright posture.

The man under the umbrella wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and his eyes behind the lenses were long and gentle.

He had a straight nose and thin lips, exuding an innate air of refined scoundrel.

No, it's a refined and elegant sense of sophistication.