Chapter 86: Zhou Wan Has Fallen

Shen Xian lifted his head and looked at Zhou Wan.

At this moment, Zhou Wan’s eyes were filled with sincerity and a hint of tenderness. No matter how much she tried to deny her feelings for Shen Xian, no matter how much she forced herself not to think about him, Shen Xian had always been her only man, and her first. A woman can never forget her first.

Nighttime always brings richer, more sensitive, and more easily expressed emotions. So Shen Xian and Zhou Wan both revealed their softer sides.

She was already sitting beside Shen Xian, and under the lamplight, their shadows overlapped. Shen Xian met Zhou Wan’s beautiful eyes, his gaze trailing over her fair forehead, her elegant nose, her vivid red lips. For reasons unknown, he felt something stir within him. Though it lasted no more than a fraction of a second, his long-stilled heart unmistakably skipped a beat.

This was the second time he had felt this. The first was under moonlight, when Lin Zhixia stood beneath a willow, confessing her feelings to him with utter sincerity, shouting before hundreds on the school field, “Shen Xian, I like you.”

Shen Xian did not know why his heart beat faster. Perhaps it was because Zhou Wan and Qingqing’s arrival had brought a breath of life into his home, a spark of vitality to this household.

“All right,” Shen Xian replied, his face calm, though inside waves surged.

Seeing Shen Xian staring at her, Zhou Wan’s heart began to race, her cheeks gradually flushing with shyness. She couldn’t help but lower her head, her slender, fair fingers clutching the towel tightly, betraying her inner turmoil.

Shen Xian was about to tell Zhou Wan, “I’m the messenger; from now on, your songs are mine to deliver,” when Qingqing’s soft whimpers interrupted. At some point, she had wandered to the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “Daddy, I’m hungry!”

“It’s cold on the floor—why are you barefoot, silly girl!” Shen Xian jumped up and hurried over, scooping Qingqing into his arms. With one hand, he held her little feet, warming them gently.

Watching Shen Xian cradling Qingqing, Zhou Wan’s gaze filled with tangled emotions. In that instant, she felt herself begin to fall for him. She didn’t even notice that Qingqing had come out barefoot, nor that the floor was chilly with the Mid-Autumn Festival approaching. Yet Shen Xian saw it at a glance and immediately acted.

Truly, he was a model father.

So she began to fall, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.

Holding Qingqing, Shen Xian glanced at the clock—it was already half past eleven. “Sit with Mommy for a bit. I’ll make you both a late-night snack.”

“What would you like to eat, Xiao Wan?” he asked gently.

Without even noticing, Shen Xian had changed how he addressed her. Before, he always called her Miss Zhou or Queen Zhou. Now, it was simply Xiao Wan.

Zhou Wan loved this new name, so she didn’t object, replying softly, “Anything’s fine.”

Shen Xian walked to the fridge and checked the ingredients. “Let’s have noodles, then,” he said, and set to work.

In the kitchen, his back to Zhou Wan, Shen Xian’s tall, lean figure was perfectly proportioned, not an ounce of excess flesh on him—truly a pleasing sight. Once again, Zhou Wan felt a warmth and peace in her heart, a sense of safety she couldn’t explain. When a woman begins to feel sympathy for a man, feels at home with him, safe and at peace in his presence, it means she’s not far from falling for him completely.

“Dinner’s ready.” Shen Xian brought three steaming bowls of noodles to the table, and then fetched a plate of fried eggs and two small dishes: pickled yard-long beans and salted radish.

As Zhou Wan was about to tie up her damp hair, Qingqing suddenly pointed at her and said, “Daddy, blow it dry!”

Both Shen Xian and Zhou Wan were taken aback.

Zhou Wan pursed her lips, preparing to pinch Qingqing’s cheek, but Shen Xian said, “All right, all right, whatever Qingqing wants.”

“The noodles are hot, anyway. By the time I finish, they’ll be just right to eat.”

With that, he fetched the hairdryer from the bathroom and stood behind Zhou Wan. Instinctively, she wanted to refuse, but a strange, fluttering feeling held her back, and she hesitated, letting him proceed.

He gently took a lock of her hair in his hand. Her hair was soft and smooth. As the warm air blew, the fragrance of her hair filled the room, drifting into Shen Xian’s nose, awakening his long-dormant heart.

He realized then that love need not be earth-shattering, nor must a fluttering heart be unforgettable. Even the most ordinary moments could move him.

Zhou Wan’s cheeks were scarlet, yet a smile curled on her lips. Shen Xian’s touch was gentle, the hairdryer perfectly positioned, never too hot.

After ten minutes or so, Shen Xian turned off the hairdryer, picked up a shark-clip, and pinned up her hair himself, revealing her elegant, fair nape and ears as translucent as jade. Her silk nightgown made it easy for him to catch a glimpse of her fair skin and graceful curves.

“All done. Time to eat.”

Zhou Wan steadied her emotions and began to eat. She was surprised by how delicious the noodles tasted—springy, flavorful, nothing like any noodles she’d had before. They were neither thick nor thin, unlike ramen or knife-cut noodles, a little like rice noodles but not quite.

“What kind of noodles are these?” she asked.

Shen Xian replied, “Handmade dried noodles, crafted with a technique passed down since the Ming Dynasty. Few people make them now—a little village keeps the tradition alive. It’s an intangible cultural heritage. I always buy some when I visit.”

Zhou Wan nodded and picked up a piece of pickled yard-long bean, which was a vibrant green, like jade. One bite—crisp, and bursting with rich flavor and saltiness.

Her eyes lit up. “What’s this side dish? I’ve never had it before. Where can I buy some? I want to get some for myself.”

Shen Xian smiled. “You can’t buy it—I make it myself.”

Zhou Wan was surprised. “You know how to do that too?”

“Just watch.” Shen Xian laughed, went to the kitchen, and brought out a glass jar filled with long, slender beans, with a smooth pebble weighing them down.

“This stone has been with me for over twenty years,” Shen Xian said, gaze lingering on the jar.

It was the only thing his grandfather had left him.

A pang of sorrow struck Zhou Wan. He could do everything. And that meant he’d suffered every hardship.

Given his current income, Shen Xian could easily buy the finest foods. Yet he still preserved a thread of innocence.

Gentle, attentive, handsome, good with children, a skilled cook, and emotionally supportive—any one of these traits would set a man apart, but Shen Xian possessed them all.

“Shen Xian, you’re truly wonderful,” Zhou Wan said softly, her face glowing with a gentle, tender smile, her whole being suffused with a quiet warmth.