Yingqu Liuzi was pampered by her wealthy daddy.

He wrapped himself in the blanket, huddled in the corner of the bed, and sat against the wall. The blanket and quilt wrapped him up like a ball, with only his head sticking out.

It's still cold.

Shen Yu'an tucked his chin into the blanket and stared at the small window opposite.

The curtains weren't fully drawn, and you could see it was still raining outside, the raindrops glistening under the streetlights. A cool breeze seeped in through the crack in the window, causing the curtains to sway gently.

He wanted to turn on the electric heater, but there wasn't one in the apartment. Many old houses in Britain don't have air conditioning; they rely entirely on central heating in winter. Now that the heating is broken, the whole room is like an icebox.

Shen Yu'an picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, wanting to talk to someone, but then thought it was late at night and everyone should be sleeping, so he didn't want to disturb them.

He typed "So cold," then thought about it and deleted it.

Oh well, I'll just have to bear with it and it'll pass.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened. When I first arrived, I lived in a student dormitory. The heating was good, but it was ridiculously expensive.

Later, we moved out. It was cheaper, but the old house had many problems. It would leak one day and lose power the next. It took a long time to call someone to fix it.

Shen Yu'an pulled the blanket tighter around himself, curling up into a ball to minimize his contact with air.

He closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but it was too cold to fall asleep. His feet were numb with cold, his hands were icy, and he couldn't stop shivering even when he was huddled under the covers.

I don't know how much time passed, but my phone suddenly vibrated.

Shen Yu'an opened his eyes, picked up his phone and looked at it.

It was a short message; I hadn't saved the number.

The message contained only one sentence: "Are you asleep? Is the heating fixed?"

Shen Yu'an was stunned.

He stared at the text message for several seconds, his first thought being: Who is it?

But the next second, he remembered.

The person who brought him home tonight.

The Englishman who drives a Rolls-Royce.

He didn't tell the other person his name or leave his contact information. How did the other person know his number?

No, he didn't tell the other party that the heating was broken.

Shen Yu'an thought for a moment, and realized that he had casually mentioned it during their conversation in the car earlier.

When the person asked him how his place was, he said it was alright except the heating wasn't very hot, and he had told the landlord several times but no one had come to fix it.

It was something he had mentioned casually, something he had almost forgotten, yet the other person remembered it?

And they even got his phone number?

Shen Yu'an felt a bit conflicted. On one hand, she felt heartwarming to be remembered, but on the other hand, she was a little scared that the other person could find her number.

But then he thought again, that person was driving a Rolls-Royce, and was obviously a very rich and powerful person. It probably wouldn't be difficult for him to find out a student's phone number.

Moreover, the message he received asked, "Is the heating fixed yet?", showing that he was concerned about him.

Shen Yu'an looked at the text message and felt a surge of indescribable warmth in his heart.

In a foreign land, past midnight, does anyone remember if he's cold?

He hesitated for a moment, then typed back: "Not asleep yet. The heating is broken, it's not warm at all. The landlord hasn't sent anyone to fix it yet."

After sending the message, he felt like he had said too much. The other person was just asking politely, and he started complaining.

But the message has already been sent and cannot be taken back.

Shen Yu'an stared at the screen and waited for a while, but there was no reply from the other end.

He figured the other person was probably asleep. After all, it was so late; they were probably just asking casually before going to bed.

He was about to put his phone down when the screen lit up again.

A new text message: "Do you have any other heating devices at home?"

Shen Yu'an replied, "No. But I've put on two extra blankets, so I'm not cold anymore."

It was actually still quite cold, but he didn't want the other person to think he was being delicate.

There was silence for another ten seconds or so, then the other end sent a message: "Send me the address."

Shen Yu'an was taken aback: "Huh?"

"Apartment address. I'll have someone send an electric heater over."

Shen Yu'an quickly typed: "No, no, really no, it's too much trouble for you. I'll just bear with it tonight and find someone to fix the heating tomorrow."

"It's very cold in the early morning, you'll catch a cold."

Shen Yu'an felt a pang of sadness upon reading those few words.

He knew he would catch a cold, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know anyone in this city, and no one could help him.

"Really, no need, thank you."

This time, it took quite a while for the other end to reply, and the message was very brief: "Then at least drink more hot water and wrap yourself up in the blanket. I'll have someone check the heating tomorrow."

Shen Yu'an's eyes suddenly welled up as she looked at the message.

He couldn't explain why, but he felt so good that someone cared about him on this freezing night, wondering if he was cold or if he would catch a cold.

He was all alone in London, bearing everything on his own. When he was sick, he took medicine by himself; when he was hungry, he cooked noodles for himself; and hardly anyone even remembered his birthday.

No one ever asked him in the dead of night if the heating was fixed.

Shen Yu'an sniffed and typed, "Okay, thank you. By the way, I still have your umbrella. How can I return it to you?"

"No rush to pay it back. Go to sleep early, goodnight."

Just like the previous text message, they didn't say who they were or leave their name.

Shen Yu'an stared at the unfamiliar number for a long time before finally creating a new contact in his address book.

He thought for a moment and typed two words: sir.

After securing the phone, he placed it next to his pillow and pulled the blanket tighter around himself again.

The room was still cold, and the radiators were still icy, but he didn't seem so cold anymore.

Perhaps it was because my heart felt warm.

Shen Yu'an closed her eyes, and the face of that person appeared in her mind. Deep gray-blue eyes, handsome features, and a deep voice when speaking.

And the tone of his voice when he said, "It's cold in the early morning, you'll catch a cold."

It's about being worried about someone's tone of voice.

Shen Yu'an pulled the blanket over his head, shrinking himself inside, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curved into a smile.

He rolled over, picked up his phone again, and glanced at the text message.

"Then at least drink more hot water and wrap yourself up in the blanket. I'll have someone check the heating system tomorrow."

He read the sentence again, then pressed the phone to his chest and closed his eyes.

He lay in bed after taking a shower, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Tonight's events feel like a dream.

A well-known Englishman who drives a Rolls-Royce passed by a foreign student who was taking shelter from the rain by the roadside and offered to take him home.

No one would believe this if I told them.

Shen Yu'an turned over and buried her face in the pillow.

That person's voice was still echoing in his mind, low and slow, each word spoken so clearly.

It didn't feel like talking to a stranger; it felt more like taking care of a child in need.

When he said "it's not safe," his tone was really gentle.

Shen Yu'an closed his eyes and it took him a long time to fall asleep.

That night, he didn't know when he fell asleep.

At the same time, on the other side of London.

In an old house, Caesar Lester was sitting in front of the fireplace in his study.

He hadn't changed his clothes; he was still wearing his suit and tie. He held his phone in his hand, the screen displaying a message from his assistant.

"Sir, we've found the child's information. Shen Yu'an (Ian), 21 years old, Chinese, studying at the London College of Art, has no relatives or friends in London."

After reading the message, Xize put his phone aside.

As he looked at the flickering flames in the fireplace, the image of that Eastern boy standing in the rainy night kept replaying in his mind.

Those eyes.

Her eyes were very clean and black, and when she looked at people, she seemed a little timid and shy, yet very serious.

Xize closed his eyes, his fingertips gently caressing the signet ring on his ring finger.

Thirty years.

He had lived for thirty years and had never felt this kind of impulse towards anyone before.

She rolled down the car window, asked him what was wrong, offered to take him home, and handed him her umbrella.

Everything he did broke the rules he had set for himself.

He never showed excessive attention to strangers, never meddled in other people's business, and never allowed anyone to get close to his social circle.

But tonight, on that rainy street corner, as he looked at the shivering young man from the East huddled under the eaves, his heart suddenly softened.

The feeling was so unfamiliar that he didn't even know how to describe it.

All he knew was that he had only one thought in his mind at that moment.

We can't leave him there alone.

Xize opened his eyes, picked up his phone, opened the message sent by his assistant, and read it again.

Shen Yu'an.

Twenty-one years old.

He was nine years older than the boy.

Xize put down his phone, stood up, and walked to the window.

It was still raining outside the window, and the raindrops streaked across the glass, blurring the lights outside.

He opened another chat history.

The above is his chat history with that child.

He read it several times, his gaze lingering on the last message.

"Okay, thank you."

This child kept saying thank you the whole time.

Say thank you on the bus, say thank you when you get off the bus, and say thank you in a text message.

They were very polite and careful, as if afraid of causing any trouble to others.

Xize recalled the information his assistant had sent him: his parents were in China, he was alone in London, he had no relatives or friends, and he lived in an old apartment building in the old town.

She was 21 years old, nine years younger than him.

Alone in this unfamiliar city, there's no one to help fix the heating when it breaks down.

Xize closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

After reading it, he sent a message to his assistant: "Tomorrow morning, have someone go to this address to fix the heating. The sooner the better."

After sending it, he added, "Don't say who arranged this."

After putting down his phone, Xize got up and walked to the window.

It was still raining outside the window, though the rain had lessened a bit, but the fog was still very thick, shrouding the entire city in rain and mist.

He remembered the child huddled in the car, his whole body tense, afraid of getting his car dirty.

Even though she was freezing, she was still thinking about not causing trouble for others.

Xize stood by the window for a long time, and finally said something softly.

Goodnight, Shen Yu'an.

The sound was very soft, dissipating into the rainy night.