First, then, love.

Evening rush hour, traffic jam.

He Zheng held the steering wheel with one hand and lowered the car window with the other.

A cold wind blew in, dispelling the stuffiness in the carriage.

In the city center, traffic was jammed like a long line of stationary tin cans, with horns blaring incessantly.

He Zheng stared at the red light ahead, his fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel.

We've arrived in the west of the city.

The queue outside this popular dessert shop called "Li Qiu" has stretched onto the sidewalk.

He Zheng found a parking space, parked the car, removed the key, and got out.

He walked over and joined the end of the line without hesitation.

The queue was packed with people: stylishly dressed young women, college students in matching outfits, or unfortunate men sent by their wives to run errands. Everyone was looking down at their phones, complaining about how slow the queue was.

He Zheng felt out of place among them.

He was 1.88 meters tall, with broad shoulders and a wide back. He was wearing a black casual windbreaker with his trousers tucked into his tactical boots, making him look like a black iron wall.

With that cold, unruly face that exudes a bandit-like aura, he doesn't look like someone who's there to buy desserts at all; he looks more like someone who's there to smash up the shop.

The two girls in front turned around and whispered to each other.

"That handsome guy looks fierce, is he a special forces soldier?"

"I bought it for my girlfriend, it's such a cute contrast."

He Zheng heard it, but ignored it, standing ramrod straight with his hands in his pockets.

I waited in line for a full forty minutes.

It was finally his turn.

The shop assistant behind the counter was taken aback by his aura, and her hand trembled slightly as she handed him the menu.

"Sir... what would you like to order?"

"A chestnut cake, freshly baked, to go." He Zheng's voice was low.

"Okay, thirty-eight yuan."

He Zheng scanned the QR code to pay.

Two minutes later, the clerk handed him a beautifully crafted kraft paper box.

The bottom of the box was still warm from being freshly baked.

He Zheng took the box, didn't linger, and strode away.

Once inside the SUV, he placed the cardboard box securely on the passenger seat's leather seat and turned up the car's heater.

"I won't eat it if it gets cold."

Shu Yao's original words in the WeChat message were quite spoiled.

He Zheng smirked and started the car.

But instead of going straight back to Jinxiu Huating, he turned the car around, got on the elevated road, and drove towards the southern suburbs.

In the southern suburbs, large areas of agricultural greenhouses are connected together.

The white plastic film reflected the sunlight in the setting sun.

He Zheng parked the car on the side of the dirt road.

Pushing open the car door, I trudged through the half-dry mud, walking to the largest, constant-temperature greenhouse at the very back.

Push aside the heavy plastic curtain.

A wave of heat, mixed with the smell of soil and fertilizer, hit me.

The greenhouse owner, a man in his fifties surnamed Zhao, was squatting on the ground repairing a water pipe.

"Captain He! What brings you here today?" Old Zhao stood up and wiped his hands on his apron.

He Zheng walked in, nodded, and said, "I've come to see the flowers."

He went straight to the third row of flower stands.

He privately leased this entire half of the greenhouse.

The shelves are filled with top-quality Carola red roses.

It's still a lush green area, full of flower buds, with thick branches covered in sharp thorns.

He Zheng squatted down.

He stretched out his fingers, calloused from the rough gun barrel, and pinched the black soil in the flowerpot; the moisture was just right.

He gently touched the thorny branch again.

"These seedlings are growing well," a hint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

"Of course, I wouldn't dare not take the task assigned by Captain He seriously," Old Zhao said, walking over and offering a cigarette.

He Zheng waved his hand, not taking it; he had given it up.

"When will these flowers reach their peak bloom, when they're fully open?" he asked.

Old Zhao took a puff of his pipe and carefully examined the size of the flower buds.

"Given the current temperature and the amount of water and fertilizer, it will definitely burst into bloom in two and a half months at the earliest, and three months at the latest, turning into a bright red patch that will be absolutely spectacular."

Three months.

That is, next spring.

The timing was perfect.

"Okay, keep the temperature under control. If there are any problems, I'll hold you accountable," He Zheng stood up.

"Don't worry, Captain He, you'll get every single one of these thousands of roses," Old Zhao assured him, patting his chest.

He Zheng didn't linger and turned to walk out of the greenhouse.

He's a rough guy and doesn't understand romance.

But since Shen Minghua had booked the entire wedding venue, he had to do something.

*

6:30.

He Zheng drove the car into the underground parking garage.

Carrying the cake box, I went up the elevator.

Exit the elevator, unlock with fingerprint, and push open the security door.

The main lights weren't on inside; only a few warm yellow wall lamps and floor lamps were lit.

Next to the shoe cabinet, white women's cashmere slippers were carelessly tossed on the floor, clearly kicked off by the owner when she returned.

The sweet scent of tuberose wafts through the air.

But today, this sweet fragrance is mixed with a hint of dry pine resin.

"Buzz—"

A deep, resonant cello sound came from the direction of the living room.

He Zheng changed his shoes quietly.

He placed the still-warm chestnut cake box on the entryway cabinet without making a sound.

Step inside.

In the living room.

Shu Yao sat on a pure white cashmere carpet in front of the French windows.

She was wearing a very loose off-white chunky knit sweater with a large neckline, and light-colored jeans that had faded from washing.

She wasn't wearing socks, her bare feet, her fair toes sinking into the carpet's plush.

The black carbon fiber cello was held securely between her legs.

Her eyes were closed, her long curly hair was casually pinned up behind her head with a shark clip, and a few stray strands of hair fell beside her slender swan neck.

Hold the bow in your right hand and pull it slowly and firmly across the strings.

The left hand quickly vibrates and presses the strings on the fingerboard.

It is Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1.

The piano music was low and melodious, with a rough, grainy quality, resonating throughout the 300-square-meter apartment.

He Zheng stopped behind the sofa.

He didn't say anything to disturb them.

My gaze passed over the sofa and landed on the woman on the carpet.

He walked around to the front and sat down on the large black leather sofa, his long legs spread wide, his back resting on the sofa cushions, in a relaxed posture.

At the other end of the sofa, the third princess was curled up in a ball, sleeping.

Feeling the sofa vibrate, the princess opened her eyes a crack.

I saw He Zheng.

If it were yesterday, it would have been puffing up its fur and hissing in anger.

But today, all the princess could think about was that delicious bowl of imported freeze-dried food from this morning.