His physiological preference

Qin Yuzheng held her hand tightly without letting go.

He took a step forward, pulled her into his arms, wrapped one arm around her waist, and placed the other hand on the back of her head, pressing her head into the crook of his shoulder.

Her face was pressed against his neck, her breath brushing against his collarbone, warm and a little rapid.

"It's alright," his voice came from above her head, a soft reassurance.

"It's normal for women to get their clothes dirty during menstruation. There's no need to feel ashamed."

Yang Zhiyan froze in his arms. No one had ever spoken to her like this before.

Something was churning in her mind.

Is this normal? This isn't the kind of information she's received growing up.

She remembered the day she had her first period when she was twelve years old.

She was terrified, thinking she was bleeding and that she was going to die.

She ran out of the bathroom, crying, and went to find Yang's mother. Yang's mother was cooking in the kitchen, and her expression changed when she heard her words.

He pulled Yang Zhiyan along, quickly walked into her room, closed the door, and rummaged through the cabinet to pull out a pack of sanitary napkins and stuff them into her hand.

The movement was so fast, it was as if they were passing on a contraband item.

"Don't let your dad and brother see it," Yang's mother said. "Keep it in your room, don't take it out."

Once, she didn't put her sanitary napkins away properly and was scolded by Yang's mother. She said it was unlucky for a man to see such dirty things.

From then on, Yang's mother ordered her to change sanitary napkins only in her room.

But her room didn't have a toilet. She had to hide sanitary napkins in her sleeves, sneak into the bathroom when no one was around, change hers, roll the old ones up in tissue paper, secretly take them back to her room, throw them in the trash, and then come out to wash her hands.

Therefore, Yang Zhiyan always felt that getting her clothes dirty during menstruation was a very unseemly and shameful thing.

Now Qin Yuzheng tells her it's "normal." These words are meant to soothe Yang Zhiyan's shame.

Tears streamed down Yang Zhiyan's face. Years of suppressed emotions were finally released.

Tears streamed down his neck, down the hollow of his collarbone, leaving a small, dark, damp stain on his shirt collar.

Qin Yuzheng panicked. His hand slid from the back of her head to her cheek, his fingertips touching the dampness, and his body stiffened.

He had never seen her cry like that before. She had cried before, but it was when her eyes were red, her nose was sore, and tears welled up in her eyes but didn't fall.

This time was different; tears flowed like a burst dam.

"Baby, what's wrong?" His voice was filled with anxiety.

"Don't cry. Are you feeling unwell?"

Yang Zhiyan shook her head, her face still buried in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt and sticking to his skin, feeling cool.

"What's wrong?" He lowered his voice even further, gently comforting her.

"Tell me, okay? I'm here. I can help you with any problems."

Yang Zhiyan buried her face even deeper. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt.

Her face was pressed against his chest, and she could hear his heartbeat, thump-thump-thump, faster than usual.

He was nervous, even more nervous than she was. She wanted to speak, but something seemed to be stuck in her throat; she opened her mouth, but only managed a muffled sound.

She gave up, buried her face in his chest, and stopped talking.

Qin Yuzheng didn't ask any more questions. He wrapped one arm around her waist and placed the other hand on the back of her head, his fingers slowly running through her hair, stroking it gently.

The living room was quiet. A clock ticked along the wall, the second hand clicking away.

He didn't understand why she was crying, but he knew she needed his company.

About ten minutes later, Yang Zhiyan's crying gradually subsided, replaced by occasional sobs.

She lifted her face from his chest, her eyes and nose red, her cheeks glistening with tears.

Her lips tasted salty from her tears.

"Thank you for today," she said in a hoarse voice. "I'd like to go back and take a shower and change my clothes."

Qin Yuzheng looked at her. Tears still clung to her eyelashes, glistening in the lamplight.

He didn't let go; his hands were still wrapped around her waist, and he looked down into her eyes.

"Are you really alright?" he asked, his tone serious.

Yang Zhiyan looked at him and nodded. Qin Yuzheng was still worried.

"You must tell me if anything happens," he said with concern. "We'll face it together."

Yang Zhiyan looked at him and said, "Okay."

Qin Yuzheng released her hand, took her hand, and led her to the entrance. He changed his shoes, picked up the key from the shoe cabinet, and opened the door.

The motion-activated lights in the corridor came on, and he led her through the short corridor to her door.

She opened the door, and he followed her inside.

Qin Yuzheng showed no sign of leaving. He sat on the sofa with his hands resting on his knees.

"I'll wait for you," he said. "Take your time washing."

Yang Zhiyan glanced at him, said nothing, and went into the bedroom.

She took a change of clothes: cotton and linen pajamas, long-sleeved shirts and trousers, light gray in color.

She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

She came out half an hour later.

Her lips were a lighter color than before, and her eyes were slightly red.

Qin Yuzheng watched her walk out of the bedroom, stood up, walked over, and took her hand.

His hands were warm, from his palms to his fingertips.

"Baby, you have to promise me," he said, looking down into her eyes, his voice very soft.

"Don't keep it to yourself, tell me, okay?"

Yang Zhiyan looked into his eyes. Those eyes held worry and heartache.

Her eyes reddened again, but she didn't cry. She sniffed and nodded.

"I'm hungry." Her voice was soft, like she was pouting.

Qin Yuzheng led her back to his side.

The food had gone cold. Qin Yuzheng asked Yang Zhiyan to sit down at the table and took the cold food into the kitchen to reheat it.

When he brought the dishes up, Yang Zhiyan's appetite was whetted; she was really hungry.

"Is it good?" Qin Yuzheng asked. Yang Zhiyan nodded.

He sat opposite her, holding his rice bowl, but barely ate anything. He watched her eat.

I watched as she picked up a piece of pork rib and took a bite;

She took a sip of soup, and pursed her lips because it was too hot.

I watched as she picked up a piece of baby bok choy with her chopsticks, chewed it slowly, and her cheeks bulged out.

The way she ate was so beautiful that it put Qin Yuzheng in a good mood and made him have a good appetite.

After the meal, Qin Yuzheng cleared the dishes and put them in the kitchen. He didn't wash them; Aunt Li would wash them tomorrow.

When he returned to the living room, Yang Zhiyan was already curled up on the sofa.

She leaned against the corner of the sofa, holding a cushion in her arms, her eyes half-closed, her eyelashes fluttering gently.

Qin Yuzheng sat down next to him, not too close, just a cushion away.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Mmm." Yang Zhiyan's voice was soft and sweet.

"Go to bed."

Yang Zhiyan shook her head and hugged the cushion tighter. "I'll just lie on the sofa."

Qin Yuzheng looked at the length of the sofa; it wasn't long enough for her to stretch her legs.

He stood up, walked over to her, bent down, took the cushion from her hand and put it aside, then took her hand in his.

"It's more comfortable to sleep in the bed," he said. "I'll go change the sheets. It'll be quick."

Yang Zhiyan shook her head.