"What grade are you in, little one?"

"Second grade."

"Second grade? Oh, you're such a big kid now. Be brave, okay? Big sister's going to press it down."

Gu Zhi tore open a fresh band-aid and gently pressed it onto the boy’s knee. Her slender fingers smoothed the edges, ensuring the wound made full contact with the medicated pad.

"Good job," she said, clapping softly. She pulled a candy from her pocket. "This is a reward from big sister."

Eyes crinkled with warmth, she handed him the candy, patted his head, and watched him leave the nurse’s office.

She followed his small figure until he vanished down the hall. Then, like melting snow in early spring, her smile faded.

Turning back, she glanced at the open book on the desk—and lost all desire to pick it up.

Life after leaving Qingchuan felt hollow. From the moment her eyes opened to the white ceiling each morning, the day’s path was already set: monotonous, ripple-less, utterly predictable.

How could anyone find sweetness in such emptiness? They moved like ants trapped in a flat world, blind to anything beyond their own needs—living without ever grasping why.

She’d walked away from the Gu family’s wealth, from a life of extravagance, to become a school nurse at this obscure institution—a role so peripheral no student remembered her name. Her few weekly classes were routinely claimed by others. Most days, she simply sat in the nurse’s office with a book.

Her family thought money could exile her far from Qingchuan, keeping her from the inheritance feast.

The family empire was a massive cake—too vast for one to consume, yet none would share. Blood relatives fought with ruthless hunger, spilling blood without hesitation.

How tragic…

Such fragile bonds. A smile today, a blade in your back tomorrow. Friends. Family. Lovers. All capable of betrayal.

That kind of love was dust—lighter than air, worthless. Not what she sought. Not what kept her breathing.

She craved something deeper. Unshakable. Eternal. A love flowing downward, pure and absolute. Blood-soaked. Bone-deep. A devotion that would remain etched in the soul even after flesh turned to ash.

…

Knock, knock, knock!

The sound shattered the silence. Gu Zhi lifted her gaze toward the door and set down her book.

"Unlocked. Come in."

The rusty iron door groaned open, its grating screech setting teeth on edge—yet what stepped through felt like clear, cool water soothing her tired eyes.

"What brings you here?" Her smile remained gentle, consistent—the same warm sunbeam every visitor received, meant to reach straight into the heart.

The boy stared, speechless. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful. His childhood friend was pretty too… but nothing like this. Her every glance felt like a soft breeze. Mature grace radiated from her without effort.

"I…" He stammered, then simply lifted his knee. Blood had crusted into a thin scab, but fresh droplets seeped with the slightest movement.

"Shh, I see." Her smile softened. Genuine pity shimmered in her eyes—as if the wound were her own. "Be brave just a moment. Big sister will fix it."

"Th-thank you."

Pain throbbed faintly. Watching her turn to prepare supplies, something long-buried stirred inside him. He saw the real concern in her eyes—a warmth others never gave. They only offered pity.

But teenage pride ran deep. He didn’t want pity. He craved something wordless. Something true.

He could endure taunts from boys his age without flinching.

But when they pointed at his brow and screamed "orphan," he had no defense. Because it was true.

He wasn’t technically an orphan—his father worked endlessly; his mother had vanished long ago. Close enough.

He’d hide in empty corners after such words. He rarely cried—not even today, with raw skin on his knee.

A child no one notices… crying changes nothing.

He’d watch mothers wait at the school gate—scolding, fussing, hugging. To him, every glance was a treasure.

He didn’t cry because he didn’t want comfort. He just… never found an embrace that felt like home.

…

The boy’s small voice reached her. Gu Zhi lowered her eyes, winding the gauze in careful circles. The white bandage darkened in her vision—like thick black fog swallowing all light.

"All done. It might sting a little. Be brave, okay?" Her voice dripped with tender affection, as if he were her own.

She applied ointment. His limbs trembled, but his face stayed still.

Only his eyes betrayed him. Clear pupils reflected her bending form—tracing the line of her black hair down to her snow-pale neck. He stared, forgetting the pain.

"Sis… you’re so beautiful."

He had no polished idea of beauty. He only knew he couldn’t look away. The cold in his bones warmed. His thin cheeks flushed. The words slipped out, honest and raw.

Gu Zhi’s hand faltered. Her breath misted in the cold air. Her frozen heart stuttered—then hammered wildly.

"Oh dear, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry." Concern filled her eyes as she studied his furrowed brows, the faint pain dissolving like ink in water.

How could a boy hold such delicate, sorrowful grace in just his eyes? Unformed features, yet all his fragility pooled there—aching to protect.

So breakable. Like something one hand could hold. Exquisite face. Transparent emotions. Perfect… perfect for an obedient pet.

Maybe… she’d finally found a vessel for her love. They’d cling through winter nights. No lies. No betrayal. Only devotion.

The thought coiled through her nerves, blooming hot and bright. Hormones surged. A vision crystallized.

"Done. Remember to come back for new dressings. I’m here every day." She secured the bandage and offered a candy—her usual gesture.

But this one was different. No colorful wrapper. Just dull gray paper.

"Thank you." He took it without hesitation. Trust bloomed instinctively. He was starving for this—the warmth his mother never gave.

He unwrapped it. The milky candy melted on his tongue, sweet-and-sour juice easing the sting. His eyes grew damp, faintly pink at the edges.

"What’s your name?" Gu Zhi sat beside him, turning slightly with gentle curiosity.

"S-Su Yu."

"Su Yu? Lovely name. I’m Gu Zhi. Call me Sister Gu… or just 'sis'."

"Sis."

His voice, small and earnest, melted straight into her chest.

"Sis… why am I so sleepy?" He rubbed his eyes, but drowsiness surged. Eyelids drooped, lifted, drooped again. He shouldn’t sleep here—he’d be trouble.

"Thank you, Sis. I’ll go." His small frame stood unsteadily. He stumbled toward the door—then froze. A cold hand gripped his arm. Icy. Sharp. Like winter icicles.

He turned, confused. How could such warmth hold such cold?

Before he could react, his weary body surrendered. He was pulled into softness—suffocating, yet achingly familiar. Like a beached fish craving the sun.

"Sleep, little one. Sis is right here."

Warm breath, sweet with candy, brushed his ear. Drowsiness flooded his mind.

He sank into the tenderness… and slept.

...

As evening fell, the setting sun’s afterglow—tinged with early spring’s chill—filtered through the curtains. His long lashes trembled slightly. He opened his eyes, gazing at the clean ceiling, a flicker of familiarity stirring. His nostrils twitched; that same soft fragrance from before sleep still lingered, now faintly blended with disinfectant.

A gentle softness pressed behind him. He turned—and met plush warmth. Startled, he scrambled sideways, the motion jolting back the suffocating sensation from earlier.

His clear eyes, pure and unclouded, dropped to the deep cleavage. Carefully, he tugged the quilt to cover her modesty—disturbing her sleep.

"Mmm~ Xiao Yu? Awake already?" Gu Zhi murmured, blinking awake. Catching his clumsy, endearing gesture, the corners of her slender eyes curved into a tender smile, warmth blooming across her features.

Her slender arms slipped around his neck, cradling his head close. Nose to nose, she gazed into his obsidian-dark eyes, thumb gently tracing the outer corner of his eye. Her warm breath brushed his flushed cheek.

"Now that you’ve shared a bed with your big sister… if Xiao Yu’s a real man, you’ll take responsibility, hmm?"

The small frame in her arms shuddered. He wasn’t a child anymore—he knew enough about boy-and-girl things. Nestled like this in a woman’s embrace, his face burned crimson, body aflame with heat.

"Big Sister… don’t joke."

"Hehe, I’m not joking, Xiao Yu." Her voice softened. "From now on—if anyone bullies you, come find your big sister. I’ll beat them up for you. Remember: you were never alone. You *have* a big sister."

Su Yu lifted his gaze to Gu Zhi, cheeks flushed deep red. His heart trembled. He’d never dared wonder—why would a woman he’d just met pour such warmth upon him?

Sudden drowsiness. A soft, comforting embrace. Gentle, thoughtful care… Everything moved too fast—dreamlike, yet melting the icy barrier between strangers.

He’d always been alone. Chasing that warmth for so long.

But now…

…maybe he’d finally found it.