Conquer the other worlds with abandon, they've fallen in love with me!

After dinner, Lin Yu [temporarily changed] washed the dishes, and Arya sat at the table wiping it.

The kitchen still held the warmth of the food, mixed with the faint lemon scent of dish soap, filling the air with a cozy feeling.

The tap was running, and the sound of the gushing water was occasionally mixed with the soft clinking of dishes—very soft, as if Lin Yu was intentionally being quiet.

Arya listened intently for a while, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously curved into a smile.

Before she met Lin Yu, she never knew that the sound of a man washing dishes could make her feel at ease.

He drew circles on the table with the rag in his hand, wiping away the last traces of oil and water.

The table was made of solid wood and had been used for many years. Its surface was worn smooth and warm, and it shimmered with a soft sheen when the light shone on it. Arya wiped it slowly, with a kind of absent-minded seriousness—her mind wasn't on the table, but rather like a lazy cat, comfortably curled up in this moment when dusk was ending and night was beginning.

She thought of many things, yet it seemed like she thought of nothing at all. She just felt an indescribable preciousness about this ordinary night. Lin Yu's apron-clad figure standing in front of the sink, the spice bottles still on the stove, the potted plant on the windowsill that she had nurtured for two years and which finally bloomed—these trivial, insignificant things, combined, formed a happiness that brought tears to her eyes.

She lowered her eyes, folded the rag in half, and began wiping the edge of the table.

The sound of the faucet behind her stopped. Then came the click of dishes being placed into the drainer, the soft sound of Lin Yu turning on the hand soap pump, the water running briefly again before stopping. Next came the rustling sound of drying hands—she could match each sound to the next without turning around, as if listening to a piece of music she knew by heart.

Footsteps approached from the kitchen, unhurried, making a soft creak on the floor. Arya didn't turn around, but her hands paused, and her smile deepened. She waited for Lin Yu to come over as usual, perhaps to sit opposite her, perhaps to lean against the table and chat for a bit about the day, or perhaps to simply stand quietly behind her, saying nothing.

But this time, the footsteps didn't stop opposite or beside her.

She felt the voice getting closer and closer, so close that she could smell the lingering scent of hand sanitizer on Lin Yu's hands—fresh, with a hint of the ocean. Then she felt his breath suddenly envelop her from behind, like a warm, silent cloud.

Arya instinctively wanted to turn her head and ask, "What's wrong?", but before her voice could even escape her throat, her body suddenly felt light.

A pair of strong arms reached around her waist, one around her waist, the other supporting her knees. The movements were swift and precise, yet surprisingly gentle—as if practiced countless times, and as careful as if handling something precious and fragile. The chair creaked slightly as her body moved, and then she lifted off the chair and landed steadily in Lin Yu's arms.

"Ah—" Arya gasped briefly, still clutching the rag in her hand. Her body tensed instinctively, her left hand frantically grabbing the fabric of Lin Yu's shoulder, her right hand holding the rag frozen in mid-air, unsure where to put it. Her heart pounded wildly, like a bird suddenly lifted into the air, flapping its wings but not really wanting to fly away.

"What are you doing..." Her voice was filled with obvious panic and a hint of reproach, but beneath that reproach lay a soft joy that even she could hear.

Lin Yu did not answer. His expression remained indifferent, revealing little emotion, but his eyes shone brightly, like the surface of a lake illuminated by moonlight in the dead of night, a gentleness that was difficult to describe beneath the calm.