Prologue

The sky was clear and the air was fresh. A gentle breeze carried white clouds over the gate of Yukimura's house. A crowd of people was bustling in front of the gate, and the liveliness was tinged with a hurried warmth.

At the Momozawa residence in the early morning, Momozawa Yuzuru was half-dragged, half-supported from bed by her family. Still dazed, she was wrapped in layers of exquisite fabric, transformed into a charming bride, and unwittingly went through the joyous wedding ceremony before being led to her bedroom in the newlywed residence. She sat blankly on the soft mattress, her fingertips touching the cool silk, before belatedly snapping out of her daze—everything had happened so quickly, like an unreal dream.

Sixteen-year-old Momozawa Hanyu, a first-year high school student at Rikkai University in Kanagawa Prefecture, now has the words "married" prominently displayed in his identity section.

She sank into the fluffy blankets, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Her dewy, doe-like eyes slowly closed, and as sleepiness washed over her, fragments of the past flooded back. She had once been Lin Shengsheng, an ordinary children's book illustrator with a stable job and a peaceful life, until the devastating news of her parents' sacrifice in disaster relief efforts shattered all her tranquility. In a daze, she accidentally ingested a drug with adverse effects, and her life ended at the age of twenty-five.

She regained consciousness in a warm embrace—the womb of Momozawa's mother. She was born amidst the overflowing expectations of her family, and her father named her Momozawa Hanyu. She finally had a home again.

The years she spent in Kanagawa before the age of three were bathed in warm sunshine. Later, her mother was transferred, and the whole family moved to Tokyo. She completed junior high school peacefully, and those fifteen years were as calm as a still lake, filled with small, fragmented moments of happiness. At twelve, the year she entered junior high, she saw miniature versions of Fuji Syusuke and Tezuka Kunimitsu at her new school, and realized with a start that she had stepped into the world of "The Prince of Tennis," a manga she had repeatedly reread. As a devoted fan, she secretly drew chibi versions of the princes and collected them; that vibrant youthful energy was the warmest comfort she found when she missed her parents.

She always felt like an observer. Her grades were average, nothing special; she was cute but quiet, and often sat in a corner lost in thought, like an inconspicuous blade of grass at school. When she saw Echizen Ryoma in her third year of junior high, she could only secretly think to herself, "What an adorable little boy." Her only interaction with him was when her friend Miyamoto Mina dragged her to watch a few Seigaku tennis matches.

After graduating from junior high school, she was admitted to Rikkai University at her mother's behest. On the list of students in Group D of the first year of high school, the name "Yukimura Seiichi" stood out, but she had only heard that he was receiving treatment in the United States and had never met him. After the year-end exams, at the beginning of winter vacation, she was planning to finish her third picture book, "The Story of Pancakes," when she was dragged to Tokyo for a small gathering by Miyamoto Mina's "accusation." After receiving her sixteenth birthday present, she slowly returned to Kanagawa.

But as soon as she got home, her mother Ryoko's gentle words shattered her calm: "Yuyu, your aunt Mio and I are very close friends. We were pregnant around the same time back then, and we arranged a marriage between you and her son."

"You're kidding, Mom!" Her face instantly scrunched up.

"Let's meet first, if you don't want to, that's fine too," Ryoko joked with a smile.

The moment Momozawa Hanyu saw Yukimura Seiichi, she felt as if struck by lightning, frozen in place—it was the image she had only ever seen in art books, a radiant smile, her eyes gentle as if bathed in moonlight. The man slowly approached, his melodious voice, like that of a piano, flowing into her ears: "Momozawa, don't you want to see me?"

"So handsome...so beautiful..." In her shock, only this thought remained.

As if guided by fate, she was led by him into the Yukimura residence; as if guided by fate, she nodded in agreement under the warm hospitality of both families; and as if guided by fate again, she walked with him into the ward office and signed her name on the marriage register.

Sitting in their newlywed bedroom, Momozawa Yuzuru gazed at the still bright daylight outside the window, sighed softly, his eyes filled with bewilderment and disbelief: "It really... is so dreamy."

The noise from the outside world seemed to be shut out by an invisible barrier, leaving only the tranquility of the afternoon in the bedroom.

Hanyu Momozawa wrapped himself up like a round dumpling, buried his face in the warm blankets, and muttered something under his breath:

"I really don't want to face it."

She hadn't fully recovered from the shock of being newly married, and the thought of her family members probably still busy outside the door, and the boy she had only met a few times before becoming her husband, made her want to hide herself away.

With a soft click, the sliding door was carefully pushed open, breaking the silence inside.

His shoulder-length, iris-purple hair swayed gently with his movements. Yukimura Seiichi wore a moon-white kimono with a few elegant wisteria embroidered on the lapel, which made his already delicate face appear even more gentle.

He carried a black lacquered tray with two steaming cups of tea and a plate of delicate wagashi (Japanese sweets). He walked slowly to the bedside, a gentle smile on his lips, and his voice was like a spring breeze across a lake: "Momozawa, are you hungry?"

He reached out his finger and gently pulled at the tightly wrapped blanket, like peeling back a cocoon, revealing little by little the girl's chubby, blushing cheeks.

Yuzuru's eyelashes were still trembling slightly, clearly not fully awake yet. His bewildered yet adorable appearance suddenly stirred a mischievous impulse in the young man's heart.

Yukimura leaned down, his warm breath brushing against Yuzuru's forehead. He deliberately softened his voice, tickling her ear like a feather, with a hint of teasing: "Time to wake up."

The warm touch and the sudden whisper made Yuzuru stiffen. His fair ears turned bright red instantly, the blush spreading down his earlobes and up his cheeks like ripe cherries.

She suddenly opened her wet, doe-like eyes wide, meeting Yukimura Seiichi's smiling purple eyes. Seeing his shoulders trembling slightly as he suppressed a laugh, she puffed out her cheeks in a huff, saying with a hint of embarrassment and annoyance, "Yukimura-kun!"

Yuzuru composed herself, turned around and went back to her room to change into some comfortable loungewear. The light pink cotton dress made her look even more petite.

When she stepped out of the room, there were still a few relatives in the living room helping to clean up the mess. Without thinking too much, she rolled up her sleeves and joined in, carrying plates and wiping tables. Her movements were quick but deliberately focused. From beginning to end, she never looked at the boy standing not far away, also busy cleaning up the mess, but whose eyes were silently following her.

As the sun gradually set, the last group of family members smiled and said goodbye, leaving the room in complete silence the moment the door closed.

Only Hanyu Momozawa and Seiichi Yukimura remained, and an awkward silence filled the air, making even their breathing seem unusually clear.

Yuzuru clenched his sleeves, unable to bear the silence any longer, and broke the ice, his voice trembling slightly: "Yukimura-kun, what do you like to eat?"

The moment she asked the question, the aroma of large meat buns from northern China filled her mind—a soft outer layer wrapped around juicy meat filling, warm and filling, the most comforting taste at that moment.

Yukimura Seiichi rested his elbow on the low table, propped his chin on his hand, and pondered seriously for a moment after hearing this. His purple eyes were filled with laughter, and his tone remained gentle: "Momozawa likes noodles, right? I'm fine with anything."

"Then let's have steamed buns tomorrow! The big, Chinese-style meat buns. Let's make a lot, and freeze the ones we can't finish. We can just steam them whenever we don't feel like cooking." Yuzuru's eyes lit up when he talked about his favorite food, and his tone became cheerful.

After saying that, she turned around and quickly walked into the kitchen—her family had brought all her kitchen utensils and ingredients with them when they moved, and now they came in handy.

She took a medium-sized stainless steel bowl from the cupboard, scooped in an appropriate amount of flour, sprinkled in yeast, and slowly poured in warm water. She stirred it with chopsticks until it became flocculent, and then reached out and began to knead the dough repeatedly.

A few specks of white flour, like snowflakes, had somehow appeared on her serene face. Her slender sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her fair forearms. As she kneaded her hands, the muscles in her arms tensed slightly, revealing a touch of earnest cuteness.

"Speaking of which, I bought this flour in Chinatown," Yuzuru muttered to himself unconsciously as he kneaded the dough, as if talking to himself or sharing a little secret.

"The noodles made by that noodle shop owner are especially delicious. I used to go there often. Sometimes I would try to make them at home, but they were always soft and mushy without any chewiness. So I shamelessly asked the owner for advice. Unexpectedly, the owner waved his hand and said that I could just go to him to buy flour in the future. He is such a kind uncle."

Yukimura Seiichi had somehow arrived at the kitchen doorway and stood there quietly without making a sound.

He watched the girl's busy figure and listened to her rambling words. A gentle smile gradually warmed his eyes, like the winter sun, comforting and reassuring. He spoke softly, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching Yuzuru's ears: "Momozawa has always been very likable."

Yuzuru's movements suddenly stopped, his cheeks slightly flushed, and he belatedly realized that he had been talking to himself again. He quickly turned around and scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly: "Sorry, Yukimura-kun, I'm used to talking to myself. Did I disturb you?"

“No, it sounds beautiful.” Yukimura shook his head, walked forward slowly, reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead behind her ear. His fingertips brushed against her cheek unintentionally, with a slightly cool touch. “This way it won’t block my view, Momozawa.”

After kneading the dough, letting it rest, and preparing the filling, Momozawa Yuzuru felt completely drained. She had just put the last bowl of filling in the refrigerator when she dragged herself to the living room sofa and collapsed onto it with a thud, her limbs outstretched like a deflated balloon.

Her eyelids felt as heavy as if they were glued on. She closed her eyes, her long eyelashes casting a small shadow under her eyelids. She didn't have the strength to move a single finger and just wanted to fall into a deep sleep.

Yukimura Seiichi sat on the edge of the sofa, glancing sideways at the girl's unseemly appearance, a faint smile appearing in his eyes.

He reached out and gently twirled a strand of Hanyu's soft, light brown hair with his fingertips, stroking the delicate texture of the strands with his fingertips. In his other hand, he held a picture book, his gaze fixed on the pages, focused yet not ignoring the movements of the person beside him. The room was so quiet that only the soft sound of turning pages and the girl's even breathing could be heard.

After an unknown amount of time, as night deepened, Yukimura put down his sketchbook, looked down at Yuzuru who was almost asleep, and spoke in a very soft voice, like a feather brushing against the heart: "It's time to rest, Momozawa."

Yuzuru mumbled a "hmm" in her sleep, her consciousness oscillating between wakefulness and sleep. It took her a while to sit up, propping herself up on the sofa. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and walked unsteadily upstairs.

Pushing open the bathroom door, warm steam wafted in. She habitually prepared to wash up, but when her fingertips touched the cold faucet, she was suddenly startled—she was married, and this was her and Yukimura Seiichi's new marital home. Would they sleep together tonight…?

The thought was like a pebble thrown into a still lake, creating ripples. Yuzuru's cheeks instantly flushed, and her heart pounded erratically. With a mix of trepidation and helplessness, she quickly washed up, changed into clean pajamas, and dawdled into the bedroom.

Only a dim wall lamp was on in the room, casting a warm glow on the large bed. She lifted the covers and lay down, her body taut, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, even her breathing becoming soft.

Not long after, the bedroom door was gently pushed open, and Yukimura Seiichi walked in. He was wearing a light blue cotton pajama set, and his hair was still slightly damp, indicating that he had just washed up. He didn't turn on the light, but walked to the bedside by the dim light of the wall lamp, gently lifted the covers, and lay down.

The mattress beside him dipped slightly, and a figure with a cool, refreshing aura approached. Yuzuru's body instantly stiffened like a stone, and he didn't dare to move an inch. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

The next second, a warm, large hand gently wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a warm embrace. Yukimura rested his chin on the top of her head, his thin lips slightly parted, and he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, his voice deep and gentle, carrying a soothing power: "Goodnight, Momozawa."