The next day.

Zheng Wanqing stood in front of the dressing mirror, her fingertips stroking the Suzhou embroidery cheongsam that her father had specially ordered for her. The pearl buttons fastened to her collarbone like a gentle shackle.

Aunt Liu stood behind her, her palms smeared with fragrant jasmine oil, and she gently moved her hands through Zheng Wanqing's hair. Her hands, with the warmth and skill accumulated over the years, tamed the stubborn and unruly short hair one by one.

As the clear and elegant aroma of hair oil lingered, the bob haircut that symbolized rebellion gradually lost its ostentatious edges, and every strand of hair seemed to be cast under a spell, sticking neatly to the scalp.

Reflected in the bronze mirror was the dignified appearance that befitted the eldest daughter of the Zheng family. Her every move and gesture revealed the gentleness and reserve of a lady from a noble family.

In the evening, the setting sun was like blood, dyeing the sky a brilliant orange-red. In this poetic and picturesque yet somewhat quiet atmosphere, Xie Yun's car slowly drove into the front yard of Zheng's house. The wheels rolled over the stone road, making a slight "gurgling" sound, breaking the moment of tranquility.

"Miss, Marshal Xie's car has arrived." Aunt Liu reminded softly outside the door. Although her voice was soft, it was like a heavy hammer, hitting Zheng Wanqing's heart.

The rose garden of Lishun was filled with fragrance, and the beautiful roses were blooming in the last splendor under the afterglow of the evening. Xie Yun stood quietly in the sea of ​​flowers with his back to Zheng Wanqing, like a beautiful oil painting.

He was wearing a British officer's woolen uniform, which was well-cut and perfectly set off his tall figure. The silver tassels on the epaulettes swayed gently in the breeze, flashing tiny lights.

Hearing footsteps behind him, he slowly turned around.

"Ms. Zheng." He nodded slightly, his voice low and mellow, like the deep ending sound of a cello, flowing slowly in the air, "I've heard a lot about you." That voice seemed to have an innate magnetism that made people unconsciously attracted to you.

The waiter brought two cups of coffee. The spoon hit the rim of the cup with a crisp sound, and the coffee vapor spread between the two people.

"Sorry for the inconvenience." Xie Yun said, his slender fingers unbuttoning the top button of his military uniform. His Adam's apple rolled gently with the rhythm of his speech, as if he was relieving the fatigue of the day. "I met with three groups of Japanese consultants in a row today, and I really can't spare the time."

He frowned slightly and tapped his temple with his fingertips. "Ms. Zheng has been in France for a year. I'm sure the sweltering summer heat in Tianjin must be even more unbearable for her." He narrowed his eyes slightly, with a hint of concern and some kind of exploration hidden in his eyes.

"It looks like she's used to it. I thought I'd see Miss Zheng in a dress today." The corners of his mouth slightly raised, and in that smile, there was a hint of teasing and a hint of appreciation.

"Thanks to the young commander, I've adapted to the situation." Zheng Wanqing's voice rose slightly. "If I had known that the young commander was not as conservative as I imagined, I wouldn't have dressed up like this on purpose."

"Miss Zheng is still as sharp-tongued as she was a year ago, but she has cut her long hair into a neat short style." His eyes, like a sharp hunter, carefully examined Zheng Wanqing, as if he wanted to take in every subtle expression of hers.

Zheng Wanqing was secretly surprised, but remained calm on the surface. She suppressed her inner doubts and carefully studied the face in front of her. The wheat-colored skin glowed with a healthy luster under the setting sun. A few strands of unruly hair fell on the sword-like eyebrows, adding a bit of vitality to this meticulous face.

And those eyes were as deep as the abyss and as black as ink.

She just met his gaze inadvertently, and it was as if she had fallen into two endless dark abysses without warning.

Xie Yun's gaze carried an eerie sense of constancy, as if time had stood still at this moment.

Doesn't this person blink? Zheng Wanqing thought to herself.

She counted subconsciously, and when she counted to the seventeenth second, the pair of pupils were still staring at her like a precise sniper scope, as if they could see through her.

"What is Miss Zheng counting?" The deep voice startled her fingertips.

"Tuqi?" Xie Yun raised his eyebrows slightly, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

He reached out and used the sword at his waist to gently lift the lid of the sugar jar. The sound of metal collision was crisp and pleasant, yet somehow reminded people of the coldness and sharpness of a gun being loaded. "Not blinking is just a trick taught on the battlefield. It might be more interesting to think about where we've seen it before."

His eyes were fixed on Zheng Wanqing, with a hint of teasing in them, as if hinting at some unknown past.