That night at her house, I slept quite well. It was only when the sky brightened that I vaguely felt someone had come to the door several times. I faintly knew it was her who wasn't at peace and came to check on me. Nor did I know what kind of mood she was in, but this disturbance actually made me sleep even more soundly afterwards. It wasn't until the sunlight outside the window shone brightly that the dark curtains couldn't block it out, that I opened my eyes and smelled a fragrance.

  I walked out of the room and saw Tan Jiao standing in the kitchen. A pot of porridge was simmering on the stove, and she was wearing a small floral skirt and an apron, frying eggs.

  Her legs were white and straight again. However, her outfit at the moment was cute, like a gentle little girl.

  I leaned against the kitchen door, quietly watching her. She heard the noise, turned her head and smiled: "Awake? Just wait a while, we can eat soon. Go wash up, I bought disposable toothbrushes and new towels back."

  I went to wash myself clean and leaned against the kitchen door again. For some reason, I didn't want to stay anywhere else. She had already fried eggs and was picking pickled vegetables from a jar, looked at me and said: "Why are you always standing there? Go sit down, it's ready to eat."

  I heard myself ask: "Have you always been so good at taking care of people?"

  She smiled and said: "Then you've got it wrong, I've never taken care of anyone before."

  I didn't speak for a moment, and she didn't either; only the porridge on the stove was making gurgling sounds.

  I don't know what I'm looking forward to or what I'm catching. But I'm a man, and when I hear my own faint voice ask: "So this is the first time?"

  A faint blush spread across her ears.

  "Hmm, what's it to you?" she said lightly, then turned around with a small plate of kimchi and said, "Let's eat."

  We sat down at the dinner table.

  I held the porridge and ate two more mouthfuls of crunchy kimchi, feeling an unprecedented deliciousness. She seemed to be eating uneasily and didn't raise her head to look at me often. However, our results were quite good - a small pot of porridge, she had one bowl and I had three. Pan-fried eggs, she had one and I had three. The remaining kimchi was also eaten by me. She held the empty pot, looked at me and said: "Men... can they all eat so much?"

  I said: "I am indeed hungrier today."

  She laughed, a very happy laugh, and then said: "You wash the dishes."

  I have no objection. I'm in a good mood too.

  It was already noon, and the sun outside was shining brightly, illuminating the kitchen. I stood in front of the sink washing dishes, listening to her turn on the TV in the living room. I turned my head to look over, and saw her hugging a pillow, shoeless, with her bare feet propped up against the sofa, looking a bit lazy and distant. Her eyes were clear, her nose was elegant, her lips were rosy, and her long legs were slender. This sight, I gazed at from afar for quite a while, feeling as though my chest was filled with something, yet also somehow empty at the same time.

  It's all because of this woman, getting involved.

  The doorbell rang and Tan Jiao ran to open the door. I heard a low, gentle female voice say: "Dazhu, I've found an interesting clue, so I came to tell you."

  It was her friend, the author known as Zhuang Yu, who had arrived. Apparently, that's what her friends called her. I thought it didn't sound good enough. These delicate writers probably all have eccentric personalities and oddly prefer to be referred to by such coarse nicknames.

  "Is anyone else here? Have you hired a housekeeper?" asked Zhuang Yu, hearing the noise in the kitchen.

  Tan Jiao: "Not..."

  I washed the last dish, wiped off the water on my hands and walked out.

  Two women were staring at me.