Yingqu Liuzi was pampered by her wealthy daddy.

The day after signing the contract, Shen Yu'an started moving.

He lived in that old apartment for almost a year. He didn't have much stuff; two large boxes and a painting supplies box were all his belongings.

Clothes, art supplies, a few art books, and some other odds and ends.

When the landlord found out he was moving out, he looked very unhappy and said some unpleasant things, such as "Foreigners are such a hassle" and "He ran away before the rent was even raised."

Shen Yu'an didn't argue with her. He cleaned the room, took photos for his records, and left with the keys.

He hadn't had time to deal with the deposit issue yet, but Mr. James said that the legal department would follow up, so he wasn't too worried.

He hailed a taxi, stuffed the two suitcases into the trunk, and held the art supplies box in his arms. That's how Shen Yu'an left the place where he had lived for almost a year.

The street scene outside the car window receded little by little as he leaned back in his seat, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn't quite describe.

Although the place had poor heating, a rude landlord, and bad conditions, it was, after all, his first real "home" after arriving in London.

He endured countless nights of homesickness there, painted many pictures, cried once, and laughed many times.

But the place we're moving to now should be better.

The taxi stopped in front of the old white building. Shen Yu'an paid the fare and carried the boxes down one by one.

James had already activated the access control system downstairs for him yesterday. He swiped the card and pushed the suitcase into the building.

The old-fashioned elevator was a bit small; it was almost full after just two suitcases went in. He huddled in a corner and pressed the button for the third floor.

When he reached the door, he took out the brand-new key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it.

The door opened.

Just like when they viewed the apartment yesterday, sunlight streamed in through the south-facing windows, bathing the entire living room in a golden glow. But Shen Yu'an noticed that some things were different from yesterday.

When I viewed the apartment yesterday, there was nothing on the sofa; now there's a light gray blanket on it.

A rattan basket has appeared on the coffee table, containing several art magazines.

On the kitchen counter is a copper kettle, next to which is a set of what looks like an exquisite tea set.

There was an umbrella stand in the entryway, with a dark green long-handled umbrella inside, very similar to the black one he had borrowed before, only the color was different.

Shen Yu'an pushed the box in, closed the door, and stood in the entryway for a while, lost in thought.

Were these new things placed there by Mr. James after yesterday? Or were they arranged by someone else?

He changed his shoes and stepped barefoot onto the floor. The floor was solid wood, polished smooth, and felt warm to the touch.

With the underfloor heating on, his feet felt warm and comfortable, making him want to sit right on the floor.

Shen Yu'an first moved his things into the bedroom.

There are some new changes in the bedroom. The bedding on the bed is no longer the pure white one we saw yesterday; it has been changed to a light blue set, and there is a small, soft throw pillow next to the pillow.

Several wooden hangers hung in the wardrobe, and the drawers were lined with paper, emitting a faint scent of cedar.

Cedar smell.

Shen Yu'an was stunned for a moment.

This smell is exactly the same as the smell in that person's car.

He stood in front of the wardrobe, sniffed again, and made sure he wasn't mistaken. It was that scent—very faint and clean, like wood in a forest after the rain.

My heartbeat has become irregular again.

He continued walking into the bedroom and saw a chair at the foot of the bed with a blanket folded on it.

Shen Yu'an reached out and touched it, but froze the moment his hand touched the fabric.

What kind of material is this? Why is it so soft?

He had never touched anything so soft in his life.

It's not the kind of flannel or coral fleece sold in ordinary shopping malls. Although those are also soft, they are not in the same league as this.

This blanket feels like a cloud, like cotton candy, like the downy fur of a small animal; it's warm to the touch, not cold at all.

Shen Yu'an picked it up and examined it closely. The label had a brand name he didn't recognize, and below it was a line of small print: 100% Baby Cashmere.

cashmere.

He had never bought anything like this before, but he had seen it online and knew that this level of cashmere was ridiculously expensive, with a blanket possibly costing thousands of pounds.

He carefully unfolded the blanket and draped it over his shoulders.

Light. Warm. Soft.

It felt like being enveloped by a warm cloud.

Shen Yu'an stood in front of the mirror and saw herself wrapped in the light camel-colored cashmere blanket, which made her face look fair and made her look very well-behaved.

The blanket was large, hanging down almost to his calves, covering his entire body.

The chill of late autumn in London seemed to vanish suddenly in the presence of this blanket.

He stood in front of the mirror for a while, then folded the blanket and put it back on the chair before continuing his tour of the new home.

In the kitchen, he discovered that the refrigerator was not empty.

Upon opening it, I found milk, eggs, and several boxes of fruit. In the freezer compartment, there were several bags of vegetables and a tub of ice cream.

Shen Yu'an closed the refrigerator door and then opened the cabinet next to it.

The cupboard was filled with food.

There was a thermos next to the kettle. Shen Yu'an picked it up and shook it; there was liquid inside.

He unscrewed the cap and poured some out.

It's hot cocoa.

Shen Yu'an stood in the kitchen, holding the cup full of hot cocoa, somewhat speechless.

Everything was so well-thought-out.

It wasn't like something any random landlord would prepare; it was more like someone had thought of every detail of his life in London and arranged everything perfectly.

Shen Yu'an held the cup and took a sip of hot cocoa.

It's sweet but not cloying, very rich, and tastes like it was made with cocoa powder and milk.

It warms you from your throat all the way down to your stomach.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, holding the cup of hot cocoa, looking at the brand-new apartment where every corner seemed to say, "You're being well taken care of," and his eyes welled up with tears.

Yesterday, when he was shivering in that cold rented room wrapped in two thin blankets, he never imagined that just one day later, he would be standing in such a place, drinking hot cocoa and wrapped in a cashmere blanket.

And all of this is because of that person.

Shen Yu'an put down her cup, took out her phone from her pocket, and opened her chat history with "Mr."

The last conversation ended with him saying "Thank you," and the other person replying with "Okay."

Shen Yu'an thought for a moment and then started typing.

"Sir, I've moved to a new apartment."

After posting it, I felt it was too weak, so I added another message: "The house is really nice, even better than I imagined."

He paused here, bit his lip, and added another sentence.

"Hot cocoa is hot too."

Three messages were sent, but there was no immediate reply.

Shen Yu'an wasn't in a hurry. He put his phone aside and continued packing his luggage. He hung his clothes in the closet one by one.

I was halfway through tidying up when my phone vibrated.

He picked it up and saw that the gentleman's reply consisted of only one line:

"If you like it, that's fine. Let me know if you need anything."

Shen Yu'an stared at those words for several seconds, then slowly curved the corners of his mouth into a smile.

He didn't ask, "Did you prepare this?" or "How did you know I was moving?"

Because he knows the answer.

Everything here tells him the same answer.

It's him.

It's all him.

Shen Yu'an held his phone in his hand, turned around and walked to the window.

It was getting dark; night comes early in London.

The buildings across the street lit up, their warm yellow light filtering through and blending with the lights inside the apartment.

His own shadow was reflected in the window, wrapped in a light camel-colored cashmere blanket, his soft hair hanging over his forehead, and his eyes sparkling.

He remembered the night they first met, when the man said, "You're all alone here, with no one to take care of you."

At the time, he only felt a pang of sadness, but now, looking back, he understands how much was hidden in those words.

It wasn't just politeness or pity.

It's heartbreaking.

I really feel sorry for him because he has no one to take care of him.

Shen Yu'an wrapped the cashmere blanket tighter around herself, leaned against the window frame, looked at the London night view outside the window, and gently exhaled.

In this city more than 9,000 kilometers away from home, he was finally no longer alone.

Someone, out of sight, protected him in the palm of their hand in the gentlest and quietest way.

Shen Yu'an lowered her head and sent another message to her husband.

Just two words.

"So warm."

The other side responded very quickly this time.

"That's good. Get some rest."

Shen Yu'an stood under the warm yellow light, holding her phone, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

That night, wrapped in the finest cashmere blanket, he slept in his new apartment bed, surrounded by the scent of cedarwood, and slept without a single dream.

Very reassuring.