Chapter Forty-One: The Ideal Gentleman

It took nearly twice as long as usual for Qin Ruonan to return home. As she entered, she wiped the sweat from her brow and placed the box of Yunnan Baiyao, now warm from her grip, on the table. She went into the kitchen to boil a kettle of water, and in the process, dug out a hot water bottle she hadn’t used in ages.

After filling the hot water bottle, Qin Ruonan sat at the small dining table in the living room, pressing the warmth to the injury at her waist. She stared blankly at the aerosol box on the table, lost in thought. While waiting for the water, she had gone to the bathroom, lifted her shirt, and looked in the mirror—the sprawling bruise she saw was quite alarming. Recalling her struggle with Yao Chang, a chill of lingering fear crept through her.

Just as she was drifting in a daze, the phone on the table suddenly vibrated, snapping her out of her reverie and nearly making her jump out of her chair, which tugged at her injury and brought another sheen of sweat to her forehead.

She snatched up the phone and glanced at the sender. Her heart immediately pounded wildly. The coincidence made her cheeks flush—she had just been thinking about someone and something, and now that person had messaged her, as if he could peer into the secrets of her heart. Flustered, she set the hot water bottle aside, one hand pressed to her burning cheek, the other opening the message to read and reply.

An Changpu: Are you home yet?

Qin Ruonan: I’m home. What is it?

An Changpu: Nothing urgent, just reminding you not to forget your medicine.

Qin Ruonan: Got it.

An Changpu: Don’t forget to use the liniment first, then the aerosol. If you’re not feeling better by tomorrow morning, don’t force yourself. I’ll request leave for you—go see a doctor.

Qin Ruonan held the phone, her eyes lingering on the screen for a long time. Her heart softened. She took a deep breath, ruffled her hair, and muttered to herself, “Stop thinking! Stop thinking! Just stop!”

After a while, she finally replied to the earlier message.

Qin Ruonan: Are you always this concerned about others, or is it only women you pay such special attention to?

An Changpu’s reply came quickly, starting with a line of exclamation marks, then: “You’re a woman???????”

Qin Ruonan looked at the message, then at her own reflection in the window—slender frame, short hair with an androgynous edge. She couldn’t help but sigh.

From head to toe, inside and out, she truly didn’t carry much of a feminine air. Not to mention those graceful, long-haired girls she saw on the street; even Tian Mi, with her doll-like face in the same office, would easily outshine her in feminine charm by miles.

Some things that other young women possessed effortlessly—a self-assurance full to the brim—seemed a distant luxury for her. But considering her own circumstances, if she had tried to imitate others, being delicate and coquettish, would the Qin Ruonan of today even exist?

The answer was painfully clear. So, it was better to forgo unrealistic daydreams and poetic fantasies, and simply live her life with both feet on the ground.

Qin Ruonan sighed, put down her phone, looked at the medicine on the table, hesitated, but ultimately didn’t open it. She placed it neatly on her bedside table instead.

This had been an exhausting and endless day. After gathering herself, she washed up quickly and lay in bed. As she reached for her phone to set an alarm, she found that An Changpu had messaged again while she was in the bathroom. Since she hadn’t replied to the previous message for a long while, his tone this time seemed a bit tentative.

An Changpu: You’re not upset, are you? I was only joking. Anyone with eyes can see you’re a woman—really!

Reading this, Qin Ruonan couldn’t help but laugh, picturing the possible expression on his face as he typed.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a long time before she finally replied, simply and plainly.

Qin Ruonan: Not upset. Rest early. Good night.

After sending the message, she reflexively wanted to clear her messages, but hesitated. She wavered, then deleted all the other texts one by one, leaving only those from An Changpu that evening.

The pain in her waist left her sleeping fitfully. She tossed and turned, and in the morning she woke feeling less than refreshed. Fortunately, the pain, whether dulled by numbness or genuinely eased, was now more bearable—not as tormenting as the day before. Qin Ruonan dressed and left home earlier than usual, yet still arrived at work around the same time.

Recently, in the Major Crimes Unit, Qin Ruonan and An Changpu were working the Lu Min case, while Tian Yang and Mo Dou had just taken on a kidnapping investigation. When Qin Ruonan arrived early at the office, she found only one person there—Tian Mi—who, with her wedding approaching, had been deliberately excluded from fieldwork and relegated to assisting with minor tasks.

“Ruonan, you’re here! Come, come! I finally managed to save some proofs from my wedding photos yesterday, after much pleading! Those men have no appreciation for these things; I’ve been waiting for you!” Tian Mi was staring at her computer screen. Seeing Qin Ruonan, she happily hurried over, pulling her towards her desk. Halfway there, she suddenly recalled Qin Ruonan’s injury. “Oh! I almost forgot you’re hurt. Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Qin Ruonan shook her head. At first, she’d felt awkward around Tian Mi because of something Tian Yang had said, but after getting to know her, she realized this girl, though clever, was guileless and easy to get along with—someone hard to dislike.

“Look, these are the photos I saved—they’re unretouched! All natural! What do you think?” Tian Mi beamed, making Qin Ruonan sit in her chair while she stood behind, watching the slideshow as if eager to show off a treasure.

Qin Ruonan had to admit, the wedding photos of Tian Mi and her fiancé Lu Xiangdong were beautiful. Tian Mi’s petite, sweet appearance was charming, and though her fiancé’s expression was mostly indifferent, his handsome features lent his aloofness an air of pride.

But these details weren’t what caught Qin Ruonan’s attention. What she couldn’t look away from was the gentle gaze in Lu Xiangdong’s eyes whenever the two faced each other on camera.

A man only looks at a woman like that when he truly cherishes her, when she is his precious treasure. Such feelings can scarcely be put into words; they are not the practiced looks of affection, but a genuine, subtle warmth that far surpasses a thousand insincere smiles.

To be deeply loved is the greatest happiness of all—especially when the one who loves you is also the one you love in return.

“Your photos turned out really well,” Qin Ruonan said sincerely. She wasn’t skilled at giving compliments or saying pretty things, but this praise came straight from her heart.

“The photographer at this studio is amazing! When it’s your turn to get married, I’ll take you there for your shoot!” Clearly, Tian Mi misunderstood her meaning.

Qin Ruonan didn’t correct her, especially as the topic shifted uncomfortably in her direction. Before Tian Mi could start probing further, she quickly changed the subject: “Where’s An Changpu?”

“Oh, he went to an awards ceremony. The notice only came in this morning—he left just now and should be back soon.” Tian Mi’s eyes flicked to Qin Ruonan’s face as she mentioned An Changpu. “He was commended during the peacekeeping mission, so he’s probably standing there right now with a big red flower, enjoying the praise! Honestly, An Changpu is such a capable, easy-going, and gentlemanly guy—a model man! I wonder which lucky girl will end up with him someday.”

“If he’s so great, and you two were colleagues, why didn’t you ever think about getting close?” Qin Ruonan couldn’t help but joke.

“That’s the thing!” Tian Mi scratched her head in frustration. “I just don’t feel that spark with model men. I’m only attracted to cold, odd types—sometimes I wonder if I have a masochistic streak!”

Qin Ruonan couldn’t help but laugh at this.