His physiological preference

But they chat on WeChat every day. Good morning, good night, what did you eat, are you tired today?

We used to chat, but now the tone of our conversations has changed; it's more natural and intimate, and we don't need to carefully choose our words anymore.

Qin Yuzheng would sometimes send voice messages, his voice low, carrying the fatigue of a long day at work and a tenderness unique to Yang Zhiyan.

Yang Zhiyan would sometimes post photos—pictures of the knotted buttons she made that day, pictures of the succulents on the windowsill, or a bowl of noodles she had just cooked. Qin Yuzheng would reply with a simple "I want to eat this" or "It looks good."

During that period, the two didn't see each other very often. But every time they met, Qin Yuzheng would pick her up from the studio. He would park his car under the sycamore tree at the intersection of Renmin Road, and he would already be standing by the passenger door waiting for her when she came out of the building.

When he sees her, he smiles and then opens the passenger door.

When they're not busy, they eat together. Sometimes they eat out, and sometimes they cook at her house.

Yang Zhiyan cooked, and Qin Yuzheng assisted her. Their teamwork in the kitchen became increasingly seamless; she would reach out and the salt would be in her hand; he would wash the dishes, and she would wipe them.

A week before the Mid-Autumn Festival, Qin Yuzheng asked her on WeChat, "Do you have any plans for the Mid-Autumn Festival?"

Yang Zhiyan was finishing up with the buttons for a cheongsam in her studio. She used one hand to type: "No. What about you?"

Qin Yuzheng: "Come back to the old house with me and have dinner with Grandma."

Yang Zhiyan's fingers paused on the keyboard for a moment. Back to the old house. To have dinner with her grandmother.

She knew what those words meant when put together: meeting the parents. Although Qin Yuzheng said it would only be her grandmother, she was still nervous.

Her heart skipped a beat. She typed a few words, then deleted them, and finally sent the message: "I'm a little scared."

Qin Yuzheng called. His voice came through the phone, low and reassuring.

"Don't be afraid. It's just me and Grandma; everyone else is out of town and won't be coming back. You don't need to worry or be nervous."

Yang Zhiyan held her phone, her fingers slowly stroking the phone case.

"You know Grandma too," Qin Yuzheng said, "she's your landlady."

Yang Zhiyan was taken aback. Of course she knew that Grandma Qin was Qin Yuzheng's grandmother, but she had never associated the identity of "landlord" with "meeting the parents".

She lives in Grandma Qin's house, and Grandma Qin has been very kind to her. She has always wanted to find an opportunity to thank the old lady properly.

"But..." she hesitated for a moment.

"Yan Yan," Qin Yuzheng's voice was very soft, as if he was afraid of startling her, "it's just a meal. Grandma wants to see you."

Grandma wants to see you. These five words made Yang Zhiyan's heart beat faster.

After hanging up the phone, she sat at her workbench, staring blankly at the half-finished button she was working on for a long time.

Teacher Mu came out from the inner room, saw her appearance, and asked what was wrong. Yang Zhiyan said she was going to Qin Yuzheng's house to see her grandmother during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Teacher Mu paused for a moment, holding her teacup, then smiled, a smile full of meaning. "That old lady from the Qin family has been wanting to see you for a long time."

Looking at Teacher Mu's smile, Yang Zhiyan always felt that there was something hidden beneath that smile that she didn't know.

In the days leading up to her visit to Grandma Qin, Yang Zhiyan was thinking about what gift to bring.

She asked Qin Yuzheng, who said there was no need to prepare anything; Grandma would be very happy if she went.

Yang Zhiyan said, "How can this be? It's our first formal meeting, it would be too impolite not to bring a gift." Qin Yuzheng thought for a moment and said, "Then you decide for yourself, Grandma won't be picky about these things."

Yang Zhiyan originally wanted to have a cheongsam made. But when she thanked Grandma Qin last time, she had already given her one. Giving her another cheongsam would seem redundant.

Moreover, there isn't enough time to make just one cheongsam. She has several orders to complete in the next few days and can't spare a large chunk of time.

She thought about it for a long time and finally decided to make a shawl.

A shawl is simpler than a cheongsam, but it's not easy to make. She chose the finest cashmere fabric, in the color of deep autumn maple red, which complements her skin tone without being ostentatious.

The edges of the shawl were embroidered with a few orchids in the same color silk thread. The embroidery was sparse and scattered, just enough to embellish the scene.

She worked for another one or two hours every night after returning from the studio, and after four days, she finally finished it on the night before the Mid-Autumn Festival.

She folded the shawl neatly and put it into a beige cloth bag, which was tied with a ribbon in a bow.

She stood in front of the mirror, held the bag to her chest, looked at it, and then thought the bow was too childish, so she took it off and replaced it with a simple square knot.

When Qin Yuzheng came to pick her up, he saw that she was carrying a beige cloth bag, which was bulging inside.

"For Grandma?" he asked.

"Mm." Yang Zhiyan sat in the passenger seat and carefully placed the cloth bag on her lap.

Qin Yuzheng started the car and drove out of the parking lot. He glanced at the cloth bag on her lap, then at her slightly pursed lips.

"Don't be nervous," he said. "Grandma is very easy to get along with."

Yang Zhiyan took a deep breath and nodded. She placed her hands on her knees, her fingers slowly stroking the fabric of the bag.

The off-white cotton fabric was soft to the touch, just like her mood at that moment—expectant, nervous, and with a touch of sweetness.

In September, autumn was just beginning to emerge in Haicheng. The old house was located on an old street in the west of the city, with plane trees planted on both sides of the road. The leaves were still green, with only the edges beginning to turn yellow, like a thin golden border.

Qin Yuzheng parked the car at the alley entrance, carrying the gift Yang Zhiyan had brought for Grandma Qin: a cashmere shawl she had made herself, placed in a beige cloth bag with a plain ribbon tied around the opening.

Yang Zhiyan reached out to take it, but he didn't. He was carrying the cloth bag in one hand, and with the other hand, he naturally took her hand.

Yang Zhiyan glanced down at their clasped hands, a slight smile playing on her lips, but she didn't pull away.

The bluestone path has been worn smooth by years of footsteps, with fine moss growing in the cracks, making it a bit slippery to walk on.

She was wearing high heels and walked carefully. Qin Yuzheng slowed down and walked on the side closest to the road.

The old house has a dark brown wooden door with a plaque above it that reads "Qin Residence" in simple and vigorous characters.

There was a stone drum on each side of the door, polished smooth by the passage of time. Qin Yuzheng didn't ring the doorbell; he simply pushed the door open.

The osmanthus flowers in the courtyard are in bloom, and their sweet fragrance wafts over, rich but not cloying.

The osmanthus tree is very large, its canopy covering half of the yard, with golden flowers densely adorning its branches and leaves.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting patches of light on the ground, which shimmered in the breeze.

Yang Zhiyan took a deep breath. The fragrance of osmanthus blossoms soothed her nervousness somewhat, and a slight smile unconsciously curved her lips. Just as she was about to say something to Qin Yuzheng, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

The door to the main room was open, and sounds could be heard coming from inside.

There were two people talking, one was old and gentle, it was Grandma Qin;

Another young, soft one, with a languid, nonchalant tone.

Yang Zhiyan was puzzled. Wasn't it said that only her grandmother was at home?

Qin Yuzheng heard the sound. His hand stiffened briefly in hers, so briefly that she wouldn't have felt it if she hadn't been holding his hand.

Yang Zhiyan sensed it and glanced at him. His expression didn't change at all, and the corner of his mouth even still held the smile from before.

But Yang Zhiyan still sensed the change in him.

A layer of fine petals had fallen beneath the osmanthus tree, making no sound when stepped on. The two walked across the courtyard, past the osmanthus tree, and to the entrance of the main room.

The threshold wasn't high, and as Yang Zhiyan stepped over it, her gaze shifted from the courtyard to the main room.

Grandma Qin sat on the mahogany sofa, with two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of her, one next to her and the other opposite her.

There was someone sitting opposite me. A woman.

She was wearing a pale yellow silk dress that reached her calves and had a well-defined waist.

Her hair was in big, wavy curls, cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup was exquisite, with bright red lipstick that made her skin appear even whiter.

She sat there in a relaxed posture, one hand resting on the armrest of the sofa, the other holding a teacup, her legs crossed, her toes gently dangling.

She was talking to Grandma Qin when she heard footsteps and turned around.

Her gaze swept across Qin Yuzheng's face, paused for a moment, then fell on Yang Zhiyan, and paused again.