As Nie Yinzhi had suspected, the reason why the Tower approved Gu Jiang’s leave application was partly due to her influence.
For Sentinels and Guides like them, who had bonded unexpectedly due to a sudden surge of compatibility, it was common for both parties to not know each other very well. This vacation was meant to help them deepen their relationship—essentially, it was a honeymoon.
Generally, after being registered in the Tower, they could proceed to the civil affairs bureau to complete their marriage registration. Pairs whose compatibility was strong enough to trigger a bonding surge were considered a match made in heaven—in every sense of the word.
Nie Yinzhi listened to the song playing in her earphones: *“Love comes too fast, like a tornado.”*
She felt as though she had been swept up in a damn tornado, spinning so fast that she was dizzy and disoriented. Even catching a glimpse of a dandelion made her think of a rabbit curled up into a ball, which then made her think of Gu Jiang—his eyes, his voice, his smile. It sent her into a state of blushing, heart-pounding, and lightheadedness.
It was just her body producing an excess of dopamine, adrenaline, hormones… and all those other messy chemicals.
Fairly enough, she wasn’t the only one caught in this hormonal trap.
The car moved steadily forward, the window slightly cracked, letting in a gust of warm, sunlit wind. She was now taking this Sentinel home to meet her parents, introducing him into her life.
Nie Yinzhi had already listened to two songs, but the gaze fixed on her hadn’t shifted. She turned her head and said, “It’ll still be a while. You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“Mhm,” Gu Jiang murmured lazily, his narrow eyes glinting softly.
Nie Yinzhi couldn’t stand the intensity of his infatuated gaze, so she reached out and turned his face to the side. “Then sleep.”
Gu Jiang caught her wrist, slipped his fingers into her palm, and obediently closed his eyes.
---
Gu Jiang’s mental stability was truly remarkable. He could largely manage the drawbacks of a Sentinel’s heightened senses on his own, rarely requiring her deliberate intervention as his Guide.
Before having a dedicated Guide, he relied on white noise to self-regulate, ate bland food, never listened to pop music, and only tuned in to the sounds of wind, water, and rain. He couldn’t even bask in the sun for too long. When not on missions, he spent most of his time lying in his soundproof room, sleeping.
After spending a long time with him, Nie Yinzhi started to get used to not wearing earphones. She would play music softly out loud, go for morning and evening runs with him, and nap at home during the afternoon.
Nie Yinzhi built a mental barrier for him, suppressing his overly acute senses, and fed him a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.
Gu Jiang squinted from the cold, and the rabbit resting on his shoulder shivered.
“Still not okay?” Nie Yinzhi asked nervously.
Gu Jiang opened his eyes, took her hand, and scooped another large spoonful into his mouth. “So sweet.”
When he reached for a third bite, Nie Yinzhi stopped him. “No, you can’t have too much at once. It’s too cold—it’ll make you uncomfortable.”
So Gu Jiang waited until she took a bite herself, then cupped her chin and kissed her.
---
After Nie Yinzhi passed the Tower’s assessment and received her Guide badge, she accompanied Gu Jiang on missions. It was then that she realized just how ruthless this man could be when fighting enemies. The soft, fluffy bunny could kick a brown bear ten times its size to the ground with a single strike, and every shot he fired hit the enemy’s vital points with pinpoint accuracy.
After the mission, covered in the scent of blood, he hooked an arm around her neck and nuzzled her cheek.
The first time Nie Yinzhi killed someone with her own hands, Gu Jiang held her carefully all night, as if afraid she might suffer any psychological distress.
Nie Yinzhi didn’t really have any trauma—after all, she hadn’t killed an innocent person—but being treated with such tenderness made her feel like she could afford to be a little scared.
Gu Jiang comforted her for a long time, even confessing his own moments of fear in the past. When he looked down and saw the calm in her eyes, he paused for a moment, then inexplicably leaned in to kiss her lips.
He really loved kissing her. Nie Yinzhi wrapped her arms around his neck, watching his enamored expression up close, and thought dizzily that the effects of those hormones hadn’t worn off yet.
---
Later, Nie Yinzhi finally seemed to graduate from her lovestruck, foolish phase. Though it took a long, long time, she no longer thought of him every time she saw a dandelion, nor did she blush and her heart race so easily.
She just found herself instinctively choosing the softest fabrics whenever she bought textiles and developed a habit of collecting all kinds of umbrellas—rain umbrellas, sun umbrellas—as if they were some kind of prized collection. Gu Jiang’s once bland tastes gradually became more varied under her influence.
On their days off, they would curl up at home watching movies. The on-screen couple loved each other passionately, their hearts breaking in dramatic fashion, while Nie Yinzhi cried her eyes out. Beside her, Gu Jiang was fast asleep.
She sniffled and channeled her emotions through their mental link. Sure enough, Gu Jiang woke up, his eyes bleary and teary.
A Sentinel’s heightened senses made him highly sensitive. Her emotions, amplified several times over, overwhelmed him, and within moments, the corners of his eyes were red from crying.
Nie Yinzhi’s heart raced as she reached out to wipe his tears.
Gu Jiang caught her hand and pressed it downward.
Nie Yinzhi: “???” Who gets turned on while crying like a delicate flower? How perverted!
Gu Jiang’s gaze held a hint of that same perversion. “These are your emotions.”
Nie Yinzhi: “…”
Gu Jiang took a moment to savor the emotions she had poured into him, then chuckled softly. “I love you so much too.”
