His physiological preference

As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on her face—a serious, honest, and even slightly cautious look.

Yang Zhiyan looked at him, several thoughts racing through her mind.

Grandma Qin rented the house to her cheaply, so she owed Grandma Qin a favor. He lived alone, was busy with work, and ate whatever he could find, which Grandma Qin felt sorry for.

"Okay," she said.

Qin Yuzheng's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

"Anyway, I cook all the time," Yang Zhiyan picked up the empty bowl from the coffee table, stood up, and walked towards the kitchen. "I'll do one more thing."

Qin Yuzheng sat on the sofa, his hand still on his stomach, secretly pleased that he had successfully created an opportunity.

He stood up, carrying the remaining empty plates into the kitchen. Yang Zhiyan was washing dishes at the sink when she heard footsteps and turned around.

"You don't need to..."

"It's a deal I'll be in charge of washing the dishes." Qin Yuzheng placed the plate by the sink, revealing his forearm.

Qin Yuzheng's arms were not thick, but they had a good shape, with firm muscles and veins that stretched from the back of his hands to his wrists, bulging slightly under the light.

Yang Zhiyan stepped aside and gave him the sink.

The two stood side by side in front of the kitchen sink, one rinsing the water, the other wiping the dishes. Neither of them spoke.

The tap was running, the bowls and plates were being passed around in my hands with a soft sound, and occasionally there was a crisp sound of the rim of a bowl clinking together.

The kitchen light shone down from above, casting the shadows of the two people on the floor tiles, one on the left and one on the right, with a fist's distance between them.

After wiping the last bowl, Qin Yuzheng folded the rag and placed it by the sink. As he turned around, Yang Zhiyan was turning off the tap.

"Miss Yang," Qin Yuzheng said sincerely, "thank you for tonight."

Yang Zhiyan raised her head.

The kitchen light shone down on her head, reflecting two tiny points of light into her eyes.

Her eyelashes were long and slightly upturned, casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyelids.

Her lips were a natural light pink without lipstick, and her lower lip was fuller than her upper lip, making it look soft.

"You're welcome, Mr. Qin," she said.

"By the way," he said, "don't call me Mr. Qin anymore. Just call me Brother Qin."

Yang Zhiyan looked at him and blinked.

"Brother Qin," she called out softly, with a hint of probing.

When Qin Yuzheng heard those two words come out of her mouth, something in his heart softened.

"Hmm," he said, then turned and left.

The door closed behind him.

He said to himself in his heart: Qin Yuzheng, you have made progress today.

In June, Haicheng was so rainy that it felt like the sky was leaking.

It rained for three days straight, and the air was full of moisture. The clothes hanging on the balcony always felt damp.

When Yang Zhiyan brought in the last shirt, the sky outside the window was still overcast, and she couldn't tell if it was evening or a cloudy day. She just felt like she was going to get moldy.

But she had a fulfilling few days.

The house changes every day. When I moved in on Saturday, it was empty, but now there are blankets on the sofa, vases on the coffee table, and the spice rack in the kitchen is full of bottles and jars.

Salt, sugar, light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, oyster sauce, cooking wine, vinegar, and sesame oil stand in neat rows, like elementary school students lining up for exercises.

She also bought succulents: Peach Egg, Bear's Paw, and Lithops, three small pots, which she placed on the south-facing windowsill in the living room.

When the sun shines, the leaves of the peach egg plant turn pink and plump, like a baby's fingers.

The first thing she does every morning when she wakes up is to look at them, and seeing them marks the start of a beautiful day.

The leaves of the bear's paw succulent have a layer of white fuzz that feels soft to the touch, like a bear's ear.

She couldn't help but laugh every time she touched it, thinking how amazing nature was that such a thing could grow.

The storage rack I ordered online has arrived. It's made of solid wood, has six compartments, and needs to be assembled myself.

Yang Zhiyan unpacked the package. Wooden boards, screws, and hardware were scattered all over the floor. She studied the instructions for half an hour and tightened more than a dozen screws. She found that one of the side panels was installed backwards. The holes did not match, and she could not remove it because the screws were too tight and it was stuck.

He squatted on the ground, holding a screwdriver, and stared at the upside-down wooden board for five minutes.

Then Yang Zhiyan threw the screwdriver on the ground, saying, "Why is it so difficult?"

"How could it be installed backwards?" she asked the air.

The worktable I ordered online also arrived. It was delivered to my door, carried in by two deliverymen. It was heavy, made of solid wood, and had a layer of clear varnish on the surface, with clear and beautiful wood grain.

The seller said installation was very simple, just follow the instructions step by step. Yang Zhiyan opened the box, emptied out the parts, studied the instructions for a long time, and assembled it halfway before realizing something was wrong.

The crossbeam was in the wrong position, the drawer slides were installed backwards, the four legs were uneven, and one leg was about two millimeters short. She measured it with a ruler, and it was indeed short; it wasn't because the ground was uneven.

Yang Zhiyan could only put away the screwdrivers and wrenches, pile the semi-finished products in a corner of the balcony, and cover them with an old cloth.

She'd wait until the weekend; she'd have time then to study it properly. If all else failed, she'd just pay someone to install it. Although she really didn't want to spend the money—two hundred yuan for installation was enough to buy a lot of groceries.

On Thursday afternoon, Yang Zhiyan sent the preliminary design sketches of the cheongsam to Qin Yuzheng from her studio.

Yang Zhiyan offered three options: one was a moon-white color with a narrow trim around the neckline and a few orchids embroidered on the hem, simple and elegant;

A light purple one, without embroidery, with only fine pleats at the neckline and cuffs, simple and elegant;

A light blue one, tapered at the waist and flared at the hem, resembling a modified version of a student uniform from the Republican era, youthful yet dignified.

She sent the three pictures, put down her phone, and continued with her work.

Qin Yuzheng replied shortly afterward.

Qin Yuzheng: Miss Yang, you're amazing. All three are beautiful, I can't choose.

Yang Zhiyan smiled slightly as she read the message. No two options are perfect; the three styles are different and suitable for different occasions. The moon white one is suitable for everyday wear, the light purple one for formal occasions, and the light blue one is more youthful. Not knowing Qin's mother's actual age and temperament, she couldn't judge which one was more suitable.

Just as she was about to reply, another message came in.

Qin Yuzheng: My mother is in her fifties, with a classic temperament, and doesn't usually like overly flashy styles. Ms. Yang, which one do you think would suit her better?

Yang Zhiyan thought for a moment: The light purple one is elegant and suitable for any occasion.

Qin Yuzheng: Then let's go for light purple. I trust Miss Yang's taste.

After much deliberation, Qin Yuzheng asked again:

By the way, Ms. Yang, are you free tonight? I'd like to come over for a meal. I'll handle the grocery shopping, is that alright?

Looking at the message, Yang Zhiyan remembered the promise she had made to Qin Yuzheng. It had been almost a week since last Saturday, and he hadn't come to see her. Yang Zhiyan thought he was joking last time.

We've chatted a few times on WeChat, mostly about cheongsam design sketches, always in a businesslike and polite manner.

Yang Zhiyan thought that when he said "I occasionally come over for a meal" that day, it was just a polite remark. She thought she would forget about it.

After all, someone like him, a high-ranking leader, is very busy. How could he possibly come to her house for a free meal?

Even now, when she thinks back on it, she still feels like what happened that night was unreal.

So when Qin Yuzheng said he was coming over for a free meal today, she was taken aback.

Then he replied: Okay.

He added another sentence: "I get off work at five o'clock."

Qin Yuzheng replied almost instantly: "Then I'll wait for you at the supermarket at six o'clock? The supermarket downstairs in Shengshi Tianxi."

Yang Zhiyan: Okay.

She placed her phone face down on the table, picked up the scissors, and continued cutting the fabric.

She drew lines on the fabric with chalk, and cut along those lines, the scissors moving smoothly and sharply along the grain. But her mind wasn't on the fabric.