First, then, love.

He looked at her, her face streaked with tears, and at her trembling shoulders.

My heart ached as if a piece of my heart had been ripped out with a knife.

All those prepared remarks, all those tough words usually used to deal with superiors and colleagues, were rendered useless at this moment.

All he knew was that this pampered little darling he cherished was terrified.

He Zheng's Adam's apple bobbed violently. He cupped her hand in his large hand and wiped away the tears from the corner of her eyes with his thumb.

Knowing that in the face of such panic, any words are pale in comparison.

He suddenly lowered his head and sealed her trembling lips with his.

The narrow, dimly lit emergency exit was filled with the noise of people outside. He Zheng pressed her against the back of the door and gave her a deep, forceful yet soothing kiss to ease her anxiety.

*

The man's hand rested on the back of her head. The iron-gray fire door was icy cold, but his chest felt like a red-hot furnace.

Their lips and tongues intertwined, and Shu Yao was so breathless from the kiss that she swallowed all the salty taste of her tears.

After a long while, he released her.

He gently brushed his fingertips across her swollen, red lips, his gaze lingering on them with deep affection.

"I'm tough as nails, even the King of Hell wouldn't dare take me," he said in a hoarse voice, exuding an arrogant fearlessness. "Don't listen to those old women's nonsense, I'll hold up the sky if it falls."

Shu Yao sniffed and raised her hand to punch his chest. The hard muscles made her hand hurt from the impact.

"Who cares if you're tough or not? From now on, you have to wear two layers of bulletproof vests when you go on missions," she ordered, her voice trembling with tears. Her temper flared up again, and she was being unreasonable, but it was all out of concern for him.

He Zheng chuckled softly.

"Okay, I'll listen to my wife. Wear three layers. If I die from the heat, it'll be considered a work injury."

He lowered his head and pecked her lips again.

"Go wash your face. Your eyes are as red as a rabbit's. Those brats must think I'm abusing you."

After tidying up their clothes and going to the restroom to freshen up, the two returned to their private room.

Inside the private room, after several rounds of drinks...

The team members were all drunk and staggering, while Old Li, holding a microphone, was belting out "Serve the Country with Utmost Loyalty" in his hoarse voice.

No one noticed that they had gone out.

He Zheng pulled Shu Yao down to sit, and with a cold face, kicked away several drunkards who came over to offer him a toast.

He shielded her behind him, poured her a glass of warm water, and handed it to her.

The meal didn't end until after 10 p.m.

*

The same days, day after day, but because of each other, the days are not so boring.

By the end of December, winter had truly arrived.

The cold wind was like a knife, stinging my face, and the temperature dropped to minus five degrees Celsius.

As the New Year approaches, the number of performances at the arts center where Shu Yao works has increased.

With various New Year's Eve parties and New Year's concerts popping up all over the city, the Starry Sky Art Center has taken on several major projects.

As the principal cellist, Shu Yao was extremely busy.

I leave home at eight o'clock every morning and don't return until ten o'clock at night, still feeling chilly.

That morning.

It was still dark outside the window, and a whirlwind was blowing, with a thick layer of frost flowers forming on the glass.

The alarm clock rang, and Shu Yao turned over in bed, letting out a painful groan.

Her whole body ached, and she didn't want to get up. The intense rehearsals had left her shoulders and wrists feeling like they were falling apart.

He Zheng had already returned from his morning run.

He was wearing gray sweatpants, shirtless, with glistening beads of sweat clinging to his hard muscles.

Stepping into the master bedroom, I ruthlessly ripped off the heavy silk quilt.

Cold air rushed in instantly.

Shu Yao screamed and curled up like a shrimp, "It's cold! What's wrong with you, He Lao Er?!"

"It's 7:30, get up," He Zheng said expressionlessly, grabbing her ankle and dragging her toward the bed.

"I'm not going to work! I want to take a day off! I want to sleep!" she said, her eyes closed, clutching the sheets tightly with both hands.

He Zheng sneered, grabbed her with his large hand, hoisted her onto his broad shoulders, and strode into the restroom.

They pinned her to the sink and forcibly shoved an electric toothbrush with toothpaste already squeezed into her hand.

"Hurry up and swipe it, I fried some eggs, I'll take you to the center after you eat them."

Shu Yao, with her hair all messy, angrily brushed her teeth, glaring fiercely at the ungentlemanly bandit through the mirror.

In the restaurant.

Two fried eggs, golden brown on both sides with crispy edges, and two bowls of steaming millet porridge.

He Zheng's cooking skills were still rough, but he had mastered the art of frying eggs.

The God of War crouched under the table, staring longingly at the eggs in her plate, his tail sweeping the floor.

The princess leaped onto the dining table, strutting with a haughty, cat-like gait.

It walked up to He Zheng's bowl of porridge and flicked its tail.

"Plop!" A fluffy toy mouse covered in cat saliva fell precisely into the hot porridge.

The air was dead still for three seconds.

He Zheng's forehead veins bulged as he grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and lifted it into the air.

"I'm having an extra meal for lunch today: a boiled live cat."

Shu Yao bit into a fried egg and laughed gleefully, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

The daily chaos and commotion dispelled the chill of a winter morning.

He Zheng drove her to the art center.

"I'll pick you up at ten o'clock tonight," he said, turning his head to look at her as he drove with one hand on the steering wheel.

"No need, don't you have a nighttime anti-terrorism training exercise tonight? I'll drive myself," Shu Yao said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

He Zheng thought about it for a moment. It was the end of the year, and the bureau was cracking down hard, so he really couldn't leave tonight's large-scale training exercise.

"Okay, drive carefully. Send me a WeChat message when you get home. Call me if it's dark in the underground parking garage."

Shu Yao nodded and got out of the car carrying the heavy violin case.

The rehearsal hall at the art center was blasting heat, like a sauna.

The orchestra conductor, Old Wang, had a terrible temper and an extremely obsessive demand for pitch accuracy.

"String section! What's going on! Didn't you eat?! You're playing like sawing wood! Start over!"

Old Wang was frantically banging his baton on the music stand.

Shu Yao sat in the first row, with her cello resting between her legs.

My right hand gripped the bow, my wrist aching so much I could barely lift it. My left fingertips pressed against the strings, leaving deep red marks, and the calluses on my fingertips grew thicker and thicker.

Even with the rosin He Zheng applied to her, the intense, continuous playing was still unbearable.

During a break.

Qiaoqiao came over with two cups of hot cocoa, plopped down next to her, and slumped in the chair without any regard for her image.

"I'm exhausted! Who chose the songs for this New Year's Eve party? This is killing me!" Qiaoqiao took a big gulp and let out a long sigh.

"Isn't your 'King of Hell' coming to pick you up from get off work tonight?"

Shu Yao rubbed her aching wrist and took a sip of hot cocoa. "He has an anti-terrorism drill, so I'll drive back myself."

Qiaoqiao leaned closer, staring slyly at the turtleneck sweater around Shuyao's neck.

"Tsk, you've been wearing this turtleneck for almost half a month now, and it still hasn't worn off? Is your pet a SWAT officer or a police dog? Is it born in the Year of the Dog?"

"Get lost," Shu Yao said, blushing, and pushed her away. "How's your prince doing lately? You haven't taken him out to play with him at all."

"Don't even mention it, it eats like a pig, I can't even lift it anymore, it just lies at home all day gaining weight for winter," Qiao Qiao rolled her eyes.

The rehearsal continued until 10:30 p.m.

The conductor finally swung down that deadly baton, "That's it for today. Everyone go back and get some rest. We'll have a dress rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. Anyone who's late will have their pay docked."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, packed up their instruments, and walked out like wilted eggplants.

Qiaoqiao's new boyfriend came to pick her up, but she left early.

Shu Yao stayed behind last, carefully placing the cello into the gray carbon fiber case and fastening the clasp.

She changed out of her thin performance outfit and put on that long, off-white down jacket that went past her knees.

Wrap yourself in a thick cashmere scarf and put on leather gloves, covering yourself up completely.

Most of the people in the building have left.

In the empty corridor, only the sound of her footsteps on the floor tiles echoed.

She carried the violin case and pushed open the glass door at the back of the first floor of the arts center.