Spring Night Kiss.

The plane landed in Gyeongju late at night.

Stepping out of the terminal, the night breeze was much cooler than in Suzhou. Song Qingjia rubbed her arms, and Xu Zhouye took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Aren't you cold?

Xu Zhouye took her hand and walked down the gangway: "Don't doubt the physical fitness of an F1 driver."

Song Qingjia: "..."

They really know how to climb up the pole.

Upon exiting the airport, a driver was already waiting by the roadside. The two got in, and Xu Zhouye tilted his head to ask, "Address?"

Song Qingjia found it hard not to suspect that he was trying to get her address.

"Wangjiang Prefecture".

The black car drove through the Second Ring Road of Jingzhou in the night, turned into a quiet sycamore-lined avenue, and stopped in front of a high-rise apartment building.

Song Qingjia got out of the car, and Xu Zhouye followed.

She walked straight to the glass door, swiped her card, and the door slid open. She went inside and glanced back at the man.

The other person stood at the bottom of the steps with their hands in their pockets and did not follow.

"Aren't you going to see me to the door?" she asked.

Xu Zhouye was unusually surprised: "You want me to go up?"

"Come up and have a cup of tea." Song Qingjia turned and walked inside, her voice trailing behind her. "Never mind if you don't want any."

Xu Zhouye chuckled and strode after him.

When they arrived at the door, Song Qingjia entered the code, and with a "beep," the door opened. She changed her shoes, took a pair of men's slippers from the shoe cabinet, and placed them beside his feet.

Xu Zhouye glanced down and paused.

"Do you keep men's shoes at home?"

"It's my dad's." Song Qingjia had already entered the living room, pressed the switch, and turned on all the lights.

The darkness was dispelled, and the whole room became bright in an instant.

Xu Zhouye changed his shoes, closed the door, and then looked around. The apartment wasn't large, but it was spotless. The color scheme was gray and white, with not a single unnecessary decoration.

There are two rooms on the left and right. One door is closed, and the other is an open tea room.

Song Qingjia had already gone inside and was standing in front of the counter. She turned around and asked, "What kind of tea would you like?"

"Tieguanyin".

Song Qingjia hummed in agreement, took out the purple clay teapot for brewing Tieguanyin tea, poured boiling water into the teapot, added the tea leaves, boiled it, and then lifted the teapot to scrape off the water droplets.

Counterclockwise, one circle, clean and neat.

This is to welcome guests.

Xu Zhouye smiled and walked into the tea room, sitting down opposite her.

Song Qingjia poured two cups, pushing one towards him. The orchid fragrance of Tieguanyin tea rose with the steam, wafting between the two of them.

Xu Zhouye picked up his cup, smelled it, and took a sip.

"Good tea."

"It's alright." Song Qingjia picked up her cup and took a sip.

The two quietly drank a few sips of tea. The night outside the window was dark, and the only sound in the living room was the soft clinking of the cup lid against the rim.

After finishing her tea, she got up, walked to the door, and opened it.

"The tea is finished."

Xu Zhouye paused, holding his teacup, and looked up at her. Her expression was very serious. He chuckled in exasperation, put down the cup, stood up, walked to the door, put his hands in his pockets, and tilted his head to look at her.

"Song Qingjia, are you really just inviting me for a cup of tea?"

"What else?" She leaned against the doorframe, her expression unchanged. "What did you think it was?"

Xu Zhouye stared at her for two seconds, then reached out and pinched her chin, rubbing his thumb against her lips.

"Okay, goodnight," he said.

Then he let go and left.

-

The next afternoon.

Song Qingjia hailed a taxi. The driver, a local from Jingzhou in his fifties, spoke with a thick Beijing accent. He glanced at the rearview mirror and asked, "Where are you going, young lady?"

"General Hospital of the Military Region".

"Oh, where's wrong?" The driver stepped on the gas, his tone genuinely concerned. "You're so young, you need to take care of your health."

The kindness of strangers is invaluable, and Song Qingjia couldn't help but smile: "I'm fine, I'm just visiting someone."

"That's good, that's good." The master nodded and stopped nagging.

Song Qingjia got off the car at the entrance of the inpatient department, looked up at the gray building, and then slowly walked inside.

Although Nie Yuhuai had a falling out with her yesterday, he still sent her the floor and room number, as if he was certain she would soften her heart and come.

And she did indeed come.

However, Song Qingjia didn't think she was being soft-hearted. She simply didn't want to become like Cheng Yizhen.

The elevator reached the fifteenth floor, the doors opened, and the corridor was filled with the smell of disinfectant. The corridor was quiet, with only the occasional nurse pushing a medicine cart passing by.

Song Qingjia was all too familiar with this scene. During her three years of junior high school, she spent almost all her time in the hospital, except for school.

Until Song Mingqian passed away.

She watched as the doctors covered him with a white sheet and then watched as they wheeled him away.

When I saw him again, that big man had turned into a handful of dust, and was placed in that small box.

It was only then that she belatedly realized she no longer had a father.

Song Qingjia leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, took a deep breath, and suppressed these fragile emotions back into her heart. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was icy cold.

She straightened up and turned towards the door of the ward.

Just then, the door opened from the inside, and a middle-aged woman in her forties came out. She was taken aback when she saw Song Qingjia, but then smiled and said, "Miss Song? You're here! Come in, come in quickly. Teacher Cheng was just talking about you."

Song Qingjia nodded. She knew Aunt He, who had been taking care of Cheng Yi for many years.

Aunt He smiled and called into the house, "Teacher Cheng, look who's here!" Then she lowered her voice and said to Song Qingjia, "She's in much better spirits today. She'll be so happy to see you."

Song Qingjia pushed open the door and went in.

Cheng Yizhen leaned against the hospital bed, her hair disheveled, and the fine lines around her eyes were more noticeable than on television. She looked somewhat haggard due to her illness.

She had just heard Aunt He's voice, and leaned forward, looking towards the doorway.

"Qingjia, you're here." She smiled.

Song Qingjia gave a faint "hmm": "If I don't come soon, I'm afraid I'll be condemned by everyone and called an unfilial daughter."

Cheng Yizhen's smile faded.

Seeing this, Aunt He hurriedly said, "Miss Song, don't stand there, please sit down. I'll go wash some fruit for you, you can chat." With that, she picked up the fruit basket and quickly walked out, closing the door gently behind her.

The ward fell silent.

Looking at her daughter's cold face, Cheng Yizhen finally softened her tone and said, "Sit down."

Song Qingjia said, "No need, I'll be leaving in a bit."

Cheng Yizhen paused for a moment, then said, "Let's sit a little longer. It's been a long time since my daughter and I have had a proper chat."

Song Qingjia was busy with work, and so was she; the two of them really didn't have many opportunities to meet. Some things, when said over a phone, can easily become distorted and lead to misunderstandings.

What would you like to talk about?

"Talk about your life, your work, anything," Cheng Yizhen sighed. "You need to let your mother know if you're doing well and if you're happy."

Song Qingjia pursed her lips.

It's always like this, showing concern from time to time.

If she were heartless from beginning to end, that would be one thing; she could hate her without any burden and never forgive her.

But that's not true; she's actually very gentle.

When she was little, she was naughty and always got into trouble. Cheng Yizhen never scolded her; she would just pat her on the head and reason with her.

Her friends all envied her for having such a mother.

Cheng Yi is just really busy with work.

Her father told her the same thing.

If she hadn't seen it... perhaps she really would have thought so.

Song Qingjia replied curtly, "There's nothing much to say, everything's fine."

Cheng Yi-zhen: "Back then—"

Before he could finish speaking, the ward door opened again, and a middle-aged man in his fifties, wearing a gray suit, walked in. He paused, surprised to see Song Qingjia, then smiled: "Qingjia's here?"

Song Qingjia responded calmly, "Uncle Nie."