---
She turned to him with a soft smile, her voice soft as she asked, "Why do you want to work so badly?"
He looked up at her, his dark eyes holding an unfamiliar determination. "Because I want to help... I don't want to sit here doing nothing."
Her lips parted slightly in surprise.
She hadn't expected that answer— not so sincere. Her heart twitched strangely, a flutter she quickly pushed aside.
She cleared her throat. "You should just rest and focus on recovering. That's more important right now."
"No," he said, firmly. "I can't sit around. I'll do anything—just let me help."
She sighed, giving up the argument.
There was a firmness in his gaze that wouldn't budge.
"Fine. You can help out around the house while I look for something you can do. Nothing stressful. Deal?"
He nodded.
---
The next morning, Lin Yue rubbed her eyes as she stepped out of her room.
But what she saw made her blink.
The apartment was... spotless.
The wooden floor gleamed. Her books, previously stacked in uneven towers on the shelf, were now arranged by size and color.
Even the small window over the sink sparkled, letting in soft morning light.
And there he was—shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, a cloth in hand, dusting the top shelf with a calm, focused expression.
"Wow," she breathed, a smile tugging at her lips. "Not bad at all."
He turned to her and gave a small smile before going back to dusting.
Feeling oddly cheerful, she walked to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast.
---
The scent of warm soy milk and fried eggs soon filled the air.
They ate quietly, as usual, but the silence was beginning to feel comfortable.
After breakfast, she washed the dishes and went to shower.
She changed into a simple white top and a pair of faded jeans.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stepped out of her room.
"I'll be back by evening," she said.
He followed her to the door, giving a tiny wave. "Don't forget to look for work for me."
She laughed lightly, nodding. "I won't."
---
At work, the thought lingered in her mind like a cloud.
What kind of job could he do?
He didn't remember anything—not his name, not his past, not even basic skills.
She'd asked around among her colleagues, but no one had a job opening.
---
Two days passed.
She was beginning to worry.
Maybe she should just tell him to rest.
But just as she was dragging her feet home after another exhausting day of working non stop, she spotted a small yellow poster fluttering beside a pole near the entrance of her apartment complex.
Delivery Man Wanted – Basic Riding Skills Required – 7000 Yuan Monthly.
Her eyes lit up.
Seven thousand?!
Seven?! Thousand?!
That was a good salary, especially for someone who didn't have a résumé.
She almost squealed with excitement, rushing up the stairs with her heart pounding.
She pushed open the door. "I found it!" she shouted.
He was sitting on the sofa, calmly flipping through a book.
His eyes widened slightly as she ran straight into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck in joy.
"I found a job for you! Seven thousand yuan! Can you believe that?!"
He stiffened at first. The touch, the closeness—it stunned him.
And then she realises what she had done, she quickly stepped back, face flushing with embarrassment.
"Ah... sorry. I just got too excited," she muttered, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves while biting her lips.
"It's... okay," he said, still a little stunned.
She coughed and quickly changed the subject. "So, what do you think?"
He nodded. "It sounds good. What's the job?"
"Delivery man. But..." She hesitated, looking at him. "Do you know how to ride a scooter or bike?"
He blinked, then shook his head.
She sighed. "That's what I thought. But don't worry, I'll teach you!"
Before he could respond, she disappeared into her room and emerged a few seconds later, pushing a pink scooter that had seen better days.
"This used to be my baby back when I was hustling. It's a little worn out, but still runs. Let's go."
---
The rooftop was wide and open, just one floor above.
The breeze carried the scent of the city night, and the faint buzz of street sounds echoed below.
"Okay," she said, adjusting the helmet on his head.
It was slightly too small, and his dark hair stuck out from the sides.
She pointed to the scooter. "This is the brake, this is the accelerator. Balance is everything. Got it?"
He nodded, listening carefully.
The first try was a disaster.
He hit the gas too hard and the scooter jolted forward, throwing him into a pile of dusty cardboard boxes.
She ran to him, laughing and concerned at the same time.
"You okay?!"
He groaned, sitting up. "I think so."
"Lesson one," she grinned. "Start slow."
He got up, dusted himself off, and tried again.
The second time, he managed to stay upright, wobbling like a duck on ice. She clapped for him.
"Better! Now try turning without panicking."
By the fifth round, he was managing slow circles.
By the tenth, he was beginning to look like he belonged on that scooter. She watched in amazement.
---
By 10 p.m., two hours later, he was riding around the rooftop like a pro.
She walked beside him as they made their way back downstairs.
"I'm actually impressed," she said, glancing up at him, while pouting. "You're a fast learner. I took three days to learn, and I fell down, like, a dozen times."
She remembered how she'd fallen, almost breaking her leg while learning.
He smiled at her gently while opening the door.
She pouted again, nudging his elbow as they entered the house. "Don't look so smug."
"It's because of you," he said softly.
She paused, her steps faltering. Her eyes widened.
"What?
She looked away quickly, her cheeks turning warm.
She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words stuck in her throat.
---