The next day, when Yu Yin came, Ye Zhengchen proactively moved a chair for her.
Yu Yin was stunned and quickly said, “Thank you.”
I winked at him, and he nodded helplessly, squeezing out a somewhat forced smile at Yu Yin: “Sorry, I shouldn’t have blamed you…”
and shouldn’t have said what I said yesterday.”
“It’s okay,” Yu Yin smiled. “I understand, she means too much to you.”
At that moment, I discovered she was truly beautiful—a delicate light gray dress, long brown hair, and an elegant temperament. Her radiant smile was full of charm.
Later, Ye Zhengchen and Yu Yin’s relationship improved; they began chatting occasionally.
After leaving the hospital, I invited Yu Yin to my home for a meal. She carefully observed my space, including my unmade bed and the wall filled with “Zheng” characters.
“These are the times my senior brother tutored me; we were just playing around,” I explained while folding the bed, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“You two must have a great relationship.”
“It’s okay,” I replied casually. “Not as good as you might think. We’ve been together for less than three months.”
“Three months, just the honeymoon period.”
“Yes, once love passes its expiration date, who knows what might happen.”
Yu Yin didn’t respond, just looked at the wall full of “Zheng” characters.
He pointed to another one, light purple with sweet pink floral prints, a typical feminine style. “Don’t you think it’s childish?”
He touched the floral pattern. “A bit, but this pink always reminds me of you, and I have an impulse to sleep on it…”
I blushed, secretly laughing while putting a four-piece set into the shopping cart. In Yu Yin’s bedroom, I rejoiced that Ye Zhengchen no longer liked green; it was too dazzling and piercing.
I contemplated telling Yu Yin that people don’t always stick to a single color and that Ye Zhengchen would change until he found someone who could influence him. Instead, I reminded myself that people are different; Ye Zhengchen and Yu Yin’s boyfriend are not the same.
After touring the bedroom, Yu Yin took me to the study. The bookshelf was almost empty, with only a few Japanese books scattered about, including one titled “Clinical Pathology.”
“Oh? Are you studying medicine?” I asked, curious.
