"No need," Shen Zhuying replied at once. "The bus will be here any moment."
She did, in fact, own an electric scooter, but the rain had kept her from riding it.
Then the thought struck her—
How did Fu Sizhuo know where her flower shop was?
The autumn rain was coming down hard, soaking the hem of her pale green dress and the ends of her hair.
The temperature hovered barely above ten degrees, yet she wore only a thin knit cardigan over her long green dress.
It was obvious she was freezing, trembling with cold.
So this was what they meant by choosing elegance over warmth.
For once, Fu Sizhuo lost patience. His tone left no room for debate. "Get in the car."
His temperament was cool and distant, yet when he said this, there was a quiet authority in his voice—gentle, but compelling.
So Shen Zhuying, dazed, reached for the back door. It didn't open.
Fu Sizhuo sighed. "Sit in the front."
She opened the passenger door and slipped inside.
With a long reach, he fetched a coat from the back seat and tossed it to her. "It's clean."
He traveled often, so he always kept spare clothes in the car.
The coat fell over her completely, enveloping her in his crisp scent—cold pine, sharp and clean, overwhelming her senses.
She sat frozen, stunned into stillness.
What was this? A dream?
She pinched her thigh hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.
No. It was real.
Slowly, she lowered the coat, revealing only her fair, delicate face.
The car settled into a long, heavy silence.
Her usual quick tongue had deserted her.
After a long struggle, she managed only two words. "Thank you."
He replied in equal brevity. "Don't mention it."
"Um…" Shen Zhuying hesitated. The words she was about to say sounded suspiciously like flirtation, yet she couldn't suppress them. "Won't your girlfriend mind?"
"Girlfriend?" He paused—
Then realized who she meant. "She isn't my girlfriend."
"Oh." Shen Zhuying blinked, relieved by the correction, and said nothing more.
When they reached Floral Arcadia, she stared at the beige coat in her arms for several seconds before deciding, "I'll wash it and return it to you."
"All right," he said easily.
She hesitated, then asked, "How did you know I opened a flower shop? And the exact location?"
"My memory's not that poor," he answered, turning to her. A faint smile touched his lips—rare, understated. "Thank you for the umbrella that day, Miss Hyacinth."
She caught the two key words instantly—
Umbrella.
Hyacinth.
Two years ago.
So he remembered her from two years ago.
Even without knowing her name, he had held on to that image of her—cool, distant, yet gently calling her Miss Hyacinth.
On the very day she had decided to forget him.
Shen Zhuying didn't know whether to feel amused or heartbroken. She muttered under her breath, "What a terrible memory."
He arched a brow, unsure he'd heard correctly. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said with a quick smile. "Thank you for the ride. I'll get going."
She reached for the door—
Only to feel her wrist caught once again.
Heat rushed to her skin, freezing her in place.
Fortunately, he released her almost immediately and picked up his phone. "How exactly do you plan to return the coat?"
"Ah?" she blinked slowly.
He looked at her, half exasperated. "WeChat?"
"Oh." Her soul finally returned to her body.
They exchanged contacts. Fu Sizhuo asked, almost casually, "What will you set as my remark?"
"You already know."
He lifted his eyes, puzzled.
"My name," she said, her brows curving, her smile bright and sly. "Miss Hyacinth."