His physiological preference

The house is exquisite. The sofa in the living room is light gray, and there is a bouquet of fresh flowers on the coffee table, arranged in a white porcelain vase.

The floor was dark wood, polished so bright you could see your reflection in it.

A painting hangs on the wall; it's a traditional Chinese ink landscape painting, simple in style, just a few strokes, yet conveying a profound artistic conception.

The curtains for the French windows were made of off-white cotton and linen, which billowed slightly in the wind before slowly falling down.

The kitchen is located to the right of the living room. It is open-plan and fully equipped with a stove, oven, and coffee machine.

There was a sticky note on the refrigerator that read, "There are ingredients in the refrigerator, and the milk is on the second shelf."

Yang Zhiyan stood in the middle of the living room and turned around.

"Whose house is this?" she asked.

"Mine." Qin Yuzheng leaned his suitcase against the wall, walked over, and stood next to her.

"I occasionally stay here in Beijing. It's not far from where you're training, just five subway stops away."

Yang Zhiyan looked at his profile. He had prepared the house in advance; the refrigerator was full of food, fresh flowers were on the coffee table, and even sticky notes were written on them.

She didn't know when he arranged it.

When they were in Haicheng, he would pick her up and drop her off at work every day, squeeze toothpaste for her, peel shrimp for her, and sleep with her.

She thought that was all he had. Little did she know that he was doing these other things behind her back.

"What's wrong?" Qin Yuzheng asked, noticing her lost in thought.

Yang Zhiyan shook her head, walked over and hugged him. She pressed her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"It's nothing," she said. Qin Yuzheng placed his hand on her back and gently patted it.

The two stood in the living room, embracing, neither of them saying a word.

The persimmon tree outside the window swayed gently in the wind, its leaves rustling. A dog barked in the distance, once or twice, then stopped.

That evening, Qin Yuzheng took Yang Zhiyan out for dinner. It was a private restaurant located in an old alley.

The storefront is small, but once inside, it's a hidden gem. In the middle of the courtyard stands a pomegranate tree, with several split-open pomegranates hanging from it, revealing red agate-like seeds inside.

Liu Minlan and Zhou Yijun had already arrived and were sitting in a private room next to the courtyard.

The private room had wooden lattice windows covered with rice paper, and the light shone through them, creating a dim glow.

When Qin Yuzheng pushed open the door, Liu Minlan stood up from her chair, walked over, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Ah Zheng, it's been a long time."

Liu Minlan was wearing a dark blue thin sweater and black casual pants, and she looked very energetic.

His eyes were smiling, and so were the corners of his mouth—a natural, unpretentious, and genuine smile that only exists between acquaintances.

His gaze shifted from Qin Yuzheng to Yang Zhiyan, paused for a moment, and then he reached out his hand.

"Sister-in-law, I'm Liu Minlan. I'm Zheng's childhood friend."

His tone was formal yet friendly.

Yang Zhiyan squeezed his hand.

Zhou Yijun walked out from behind Liu Minlan, wearing a dark green long dress, with her hair down and a pair of small pearl earrings on her ears.

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries.

The four of them sat down. The dishes had been ordered in advance, and the waiter brought them out one by one.

Beijing cuisine is different from southern cuisine; the portions are large, the flavors are strong, and the presentation isn't as refined, but it's very satisfying to eat.

The roast duck is sliced ​​in front of everyone at the table. The chef makes swift cuts, and the duck skin falls onto the plate one slice at a time, as thin as paper.

This was Yang Zhiyan's first time eating roast duck sliced ​​on the spot, and she stared wide-eyed at it.

Qin Yuzheng used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of duck skin, dipped it in white sugar, and put it in her bowl.

"Try it, it tastes best this way." Yang Zhiyan put the duck skin in her mouth and took a bite.

The duck skin was crispy, the fat melted in her mouth, and the sweetness of the sugar and the aroma of the duck fat blended together, making her eyes light up.

"Is it delicious?" Qin Yuzheng asked.

Yang Zhiyan nodded, still chewing, unable to speak.

Liu Minlan watched this scene from the side, picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and his eyes were full of smiles. His brother had finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel.

Zhou Yijun poured Yang Zhiyan a cup of tea and pushed it towards her. "Eat slowly, no rush. There are still many dishes to come."

During the meal, Qin Yuzheng stated his purpose. He didn't beat around the bush or lay any groundwork; he went straight to the point.

"Min Lan, while I'm away from Beijing for the next month, could you please look after Yan Yan for me?"

His tone was serious, solemn, as if he were entrusting someone with something very important.

Liu Minlan put down her chopsticks, looked at Qin Yuzheng, and then at Yang Zhiyan.

"Don't worry," he said, "In Beijing, as long as my sister-in-law asks, and as long as I can do it."

His tone was relaxed, but getting Liu Minlan's promise was no easy feat.

Qin Yuzheng nodded without saying thank you. There was no need for thanks between them.

He then turned to Zhou Yijun, "Sister-in-law, if Yan Yan has any problems here, please help her out."

Zhou Yijun smiled, glanced at Yang Zhiyan, and said, "Zhiyan, if you ever need any help, just let me know. Shopping, eating out, buying clothes—I can help you with anything."

Yang Zhiyan was amused by her and nodded.

The meal was relaxed and enjoyable. Liu Minlan and Qin Yuzheng chatted about the recent situation in Beijing, lowering their voices when mentioning certain names.

Yang Zhiyan didn't understand, nor did she ask, and continued eating with her head down.

Zhou Yijun served her food and poured her tea, and asked her about the cheongsam design.

When Yang Zhiyan talks about cheongsams, she becomes quite talkative. She says she's currently preparing her final piece, and while the theme hasn't been decided yet, she has a few ideas in mind.

Zhou Yijun listened, occasionally asking "And then?" like a patient, unhurried listener waiting for her to speak.

It was almost ten o'clock when the show ended.

Liu Minlan and Zhou Yijun left first; they lived far away. Qin Yuzheng and Yang Zhiyan slowly walked out of the alley.

The alley was quiet, and the orange light from the streetlights cast long shadows on the bluestone pavement.

A few jujube branches peeked out from over the wall; the jujubes were gone, but the leaves remained, rustling in the wind.

"Liu Minlan is a reliable person," Qin Yuzheng said. "He knows a lot of people here, so you can ask him for help if you need anything."

Yang Zhiyan walked beside him, her hands in his coat pockets, her fingers intertwined with his.

"Okay," she said. She didn't really think anything would happen to her.

The training consists of attending classes, drawing, and making clothes. Is there anything I can help with?

But Qin Yuzheng didn't think that way. He arranged her month in a perfectly organized way.

He wasn't making a mountain out of a molehill; he was worried she'd suffer alone out there. He couldn't rest easy without her under his watchful eye.

The next morning, Qin Yuzheng took Yang Zhiyan to register. The training location was at the Beijing Fashion Institute, a gray teaching building with a red banner hanging at the entrance that read "National Cheongsam Design Competition Final Training Class".

Several buses were parked in front of the building, and contestants from all over the country walked in in twos and threes. Some were dragging suitcases, some were carrying painting tubes, and some were eating soy milk and steamed buns as they walked.

Qin Yuzheng parked the car on the side of the road without turning off the engine. He turned to look at Yang Zhiyan.