Chapter Sixteen: Brown Sugar Ginger Tea

The news of Wang Tao being "exiled to the frontier" fell into Yu Ling’s heart like a stone dropped into a deep pond, stirring ripples that refused to settle.

That night, Zhao Chen’s cold gaze toward Wang Tao, Lin Wei’s loaded words, and the phrase “direct intervention by the group headquarters” assembled like scattered puzzle pieces in her mind, pointing to an answer that was both obvious and yet hard to believe.

She stared at her own somewhat dazed reflection in the mirror, her fingertips unconsciously brushing over the wrist Zhao Chen had grasped—where the pain had long since faded but somehow the warmth of his palm and the undeniable strength of his protection still lingered.

What kind of power lay dormant beneath that man’s gentle and harmless façade, capable of turning the sky and earth at will? This question wrapped around her thoughts like vines, leaving her to face Zhao Chen with a subtle, inexplicable scrutiny and... a secret flutter in her heart.

Yet life did not pause for the clouds of doubt in her mind. Like a rushing river, it carried with it fragments of light and warmth, flowing ever forward.

On a Friday evening, the sky hung heavy and gray, like a waterlogged velvet cloth. The air was thick with the oppressive humidity that precedes a storm. Yu Ling stood beneath the towering glass façade of the Genesis Building, watching the large raindrops splatter noisily on the ground, sending up murky splashes. Within moments, a dense curtain of rain wove itself between earth and sky, mist swirling, blurring the distant buildings and streams of traffic into a shifting haze of light and shadow.

She had no umbrella.

The morning had been clear and bright; who could have predicted such a sudden change in weather? The company’s spare umbrellas had long since been snatched up. She pulled out her phone, hesitating between calling a ride or waiting for the rain to subside. At this time, with the heavy downpour, the queue for taxis showed over a hundred people ahead, with a wait time estimated at over an hour.

Yu Ling sighed and resigned herself to retreating into a corner of the lobby. Watching the torrential rain and the harried pedestrians running awkwardly with umbrellas, a small surge of irritation and helplessness rose within her. Her ankles ached from standing in heels too long, and the damp chill crept up beneath her skirt, bringing a faint shiver.

Her phone vibrated. It was Zhao Chen.

[ZhaOC]: [Image: dense curtain of rain outside the window]

[ZhaOC]: The rain is heavy. Lingling, did you bring an umbrella?

[Ling]: [Crying face.jpg] No... I'm trapped downstairs at the office. The queue for a ride is over a hundred people...

[ZhaOC]: [Patting head.jpg] Don’t move. Ten minutes.

Ten minutes? Yu Ling looked out at the relentless downpour, then back to the unmoving queue on the app, feeling puzzled. The distance to her apartment wasn’t short; even driving, ten minutes might not be enough. Could he be nearby?

She put away her phone and leaned against the cold wall in boredom, her gaze idly sweeping over the chaotic rainy scene beyond the revolving door. Rainwater streaked the glass, leaving winding trails.

Time passed, minute by minute. Just as she thought Zhao Chen was merely comforting her and she would resign herself to waiting for a ride, the revolving door pushed open, carrying in a breath of damp, cool air and the fresh scent of rain.

A tall, upright figure stepped in against the light. He held a large black umbrella with a long handle, made of a special material that shed water instantly without a drop lingering.

The umbrella brim hung low, shading most of his face, leaving only a sharply defined jawline and slightly pressed lips visible. He wore a dark gray waterproof trench coat and matching trousers, but his pant legs and shoes were astonishingly dry, as if he had walked through mist rather than a downpour.

He closed the umbrella with smooth, elegant movements, the water quickly pooling and draining into a metal trough for wet umbrellas at the entrance, leaving almost no trace on the floor.

Only when he lifted his head did Yu Ling clearly see his face—it was Zhao Chen.

Raindrops had slightly dampened the strands of hair on his forehead, clinging to his smooth temples, adding a touch of unruly charm rather than disarray. His amber eyes, bright under the lobby lights, reflected Yu Ling’s stunned expression before softening into a warm smile.

“Lingling.” He approached, bringing with him a faint chill of the outdoors, his steps steady. Arriving before her, he naturally reached out and brushed away imaginary raindrops from her shoulder—the lobby was dry—his touch so practiced it seemed he’d done it a thousand times.

“Why...” Yu Ling stammered, eyeing the almost untouched hem of his coat and his polished shoes, “the rain outside is so heavy...”

“It’s fine. The umbrella’s big enough,” Zhao Chen replied lightly, flicking the modest yet luxurious umbrella with sleek lines in his hand. Yu Ling caught a glimpse of a subtle silver logo at the end of the handle—PaSOtti. An Italian top-tier handcrafted umbrella brand she had only seen in luxury magazines, costing a month’s salary!

“Another ‘gift from a friend’?” Yu Ling’s mouth twitched, swallowing the question she was about to ask. It was pointless anyway.

“Let’s go. The car’s outside.” Zhao Chen naturally extended his hand, reaching for her commuter bag.

Yu Ling instinctively pulled back, cheeks warming. “I can carry it myself.” She hadn’t yet recovered from the embarrassment of the “lap pillow” incident and the shock of Wang Tao’s exile. Now faced with his overly casual attentiveness, her heart fluttered uncontrollably.

Zhao Chen’s hand paused midair, unruffled, smoothly retracting as he opened the heavy glass door for her. A gust of cold wind carrying the sharp scent of rain swept inside, mingled with icy droplets.

“Watch your step,” Zhao Chen’s voice remained clear and gentle amid the rain’s patter. He opened that enormous PaSOtti umbrella, lifting his arm slightly so its wide canopy fully covered Yu Ling, creating a dry, safe space around her. Meanwhile, half of his own shoulder remained exposed beyond the umbrella’s edge.

“You...” Yu Ling noticed the wet patch spreading on his coat at the shoulder and was about to ask him to shift the umbrella.

“It’s nothing, just a little rain.” Zhao Chen cut her off, turning his head with a soft, steadfast smile. His other arm moved naturally, with an unspoken protective gesture, hovering near Yu Ling’s lower back without actual contact, forming an invisible shield that guarded her from side splashes and could steady her on slippery ground.

Side by side, they stepped into the pouring rain. Outside the umbrella was a noisy, chaotic world of water; beneath it, a warm, dry space fragrant with the faint scent of cedar from Zhao Chen’s clothes.

The steady drumming of raindrops on the canopy sounded muted but rhythmic. Yu Ling could clearly feel the warmth radiating from Zhao Chen’s arm through their clothes, along with the steady beat of his strong heartbeat. His pace matched hers, careful to avoid puddles.

Rainwater gathered on the umbrella ribs and cascaded off in a rush. Zhao Chen’s knuckles gripped the handle with defined strength, as steady as a mountain. Slightly turned, he tilted the umbrella more toward Yu Ling, while his soaked shoulder glistened under the dim streetlights.

An indescribable warmth, tinged with subtle concern and immense security, quietly spread through Yu Ling’s heart.

She glanced up secretly, watching the rain-soaked profile of Zhao Chen, his long eyelashes dotted with tiny droplets. At this moment, all doubts about identity and the awkward “lap pillow” moment were sealed away by this silent protection and the steady rain’s sound. She unconsciously inched closer to him.

The car waited nearby in a temporary parking space. Zhao Chen carefully helped Yu Ling into the front passenger seat and closed the door, then circled to the driver’s side. He folded the umbrella, flicking off the water with elegant composure, as if escorting her through the storm had been the most natural thing in the world.

The vehicle smoothly merged into the rain-shrouded traffic. Warm air blew softly, dispelling the chill. Gentle classical music flowed inside the cabin. Leaning back in the comfortable seat, Yu Ling watched the city’s neon lights blurred by rain, her taut nerves finally relaxing.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible tenderness.

“You’re welcome,” Zhao Chen replied, focused on the road ahead but with a faint smile playing on his lips. “I can’t let my Lingling get soaked.”

The word “my” slipped out so naturally from him that it cast a small pebble into the lake of Yu Ling’s heart, sending ripples spreading. She said nothing more, simply turning her head to quietly gaze at his sharply defined profile, a secret softness settling in a corner of her soul.

A few days later, one morning.

Yu Ling was awakened by a familiar, dull ache in her lower abdomen. She curled beneath the covers, frowning deeply, fingers pressing instinctively against her belly. Her period always brought with it an unspeakable discomfort and irritability.

She struggled to get up, her face pale, steps unsteady as she left the bedroom. The living room was filled with the familiar aroma of breakfast, but today there was an added warmth, a spicy-sweet fragrance?

Zhao Chen, wearing his trademark deep blue apron with a small whale emblem, stood with his back to her, busy at the open kitchen island. Hearing her footsteps, he turned, his gaze lingering briefly on Yu Ling’s pale face, his brow tightening imperceptibly.

“Awake?” His voice was softer than usual, tinged with subtle concern. “You don’t look well. Is your stomach hurting?” His eyes fixed precisely on the hand she continued pressing to her abdomen.

Yu Ling nodded awkwardly. “Yeah... it’s that time.” Her voice was muffled.

“Sit down. Don’t stand.” Zhao Chen set down what he was holding and came over in a few steady steps, gently taking her arm and guiding her to a comfortable Windsor chair in the dining area. His touch was impossibly considerate, impossible to refuse.

“Drink this first.” He turned and brought out a delicate white porcelain cup from the kitchen, steam rising from its rim. The aroma was rich, spicy with ginger and sweet with red dates.

Yu Ling took the cup, feeling its warmth in her hands. Looking down, the liquid was a deep amber, with plump red dates, thinly sliced ginger as delicate as cicada wings, and several shiny, round, bright red goji berries. Wait—beside the goji berries floated a few dark brown, oddly shaped flakes she had never seen before, exuding a unique, slightly medicinal fragrance.

“Brown sugar ginger tea?” Yu Ling asked in surprise. She recalled mentioning her discomfort once and that last time Zhao Chen had only made ordinary ginger sugar water.

“Upgraded version.” Zhao Chen sat opposite her, holding a cup of coffee, his gaze gentle. “Added some good stuff. Drink it while it’s hot. It’ll warm you up.”

Yu Ling sipped cautiously, blowing on the steam. The warm liquid slid down her throat, a spicy-sweet warmth instantly spreading through her mouth and quickly radiating throughout her body. The spice was just right, stimulating her taste buds without burning, filling her with a blissful sense of comfort.

The sweetness of the red dates, the sharp fragrance of ginger, the mild sweetness of goji berries, and the faint, elusive unique aftertaste from the unknown herbs blended perfectly, creating a strange, addictive warmth. Remarkably, after just a short while, the restless heaviness and chill in her lower abdomen seemed to ease significantly under this soothing warmth!

“Mmm... it’s so good!” Yu Ling’s eyes lit up, and she took another big sip, feeling warmth spread through her whole body, closing her eyes in comfort. “What did you put in this? It feels way better than regular ginger tea!”