Three Years

Hangzhou, although considered a second-tier city in China, carries a rich cultural heritage and elegance that threatens to surpass even the most famous first-tier cities. As the old saying goes, "Heaven above, Suzhou and Hangzhou below." The "Hang" in that phrase refers to Hangzhou.

Hangzhou is home to the picturesque West Lake, a place steeped in breathtaking scenery and tear-jerking love legends. The city itself exudes a unique sense of grace and charm, something that belongs exclusively to this city.

If Hangzhou were a woman, she would undoubtedly be the epitome of a well-bred, elegant lady—refined and graceful to perfection.

Hangzhou University is one of the top ten universities in China. Attending this school places one among the academic elite, standing at least a head taller than others in intellectual pursuits.

Of course, such a prestigious university is also a breeding ground for hidden talents and wealthy heirs, a place that never lacks a few prominent figures from the political or business world.

But none of that interested Chen Liuhe. At this moment, he was crouched by a shabby tricycle that had attracted countless stares, smoking a cigarette while eyeing the stream of top-tier students passing by.

"Wow, look at those long, white legs—so youthful, so firm. And those delicate, pretty faces—absolutely mouth-watering," Chen Liuhe muttered to himself.

He felt like he could stay crouched here all day, saving himself the cost of dinner by feasting on the view alone.

Just as he was enjoying the spectacle, a distinctive girl appeared at the grand entrance of Hangzhou University.

She was different from most because she sat in an electric wheelchair. The moment she appeared, she attracted countless gazes—not just the occasional glances of contempt, but rather a kind of involuntary admiration.

The girl in the wheelchair wasn't particularly beautiful. If you rated her by looks alone, she might score an 85 out of 100—not stunning, but still attractive. However, what truly set her apart was the unique aura she carried. Calm, reserved, and radiating a quiet confidence, she possessed a charm that was irresistible. Her demeanor was the real poison—something that made people linger and admire.

When Chen Liuhe saw her, he immediately flicked his cigarette away, stood up, and exhaled sharply into the air to get rid of the smoke lingering in his mouth. Satisfied with the result, he cheerfully jogged over to her.

Even though he had only been out of prison for half a month, he came here every day without fail, rain or shine, just to pick her up.

"Brother, you should cut down on smoking," Shen Qingwu said, her voice calm and firm—not like a spoiled little girl, but with a concerned, almost commanding tone.

"Hehe, alright, less smoking, less smoking," Chen Liuhe grinned. This killing machine, who had taken countless lives, couldn't muster even the slightest temper in front of the girl. He complied with every word, his smile genuine and unforced.

Shen Qingwu, the only surviving member of the Shen family, was the one person in this world who commanded Chen Liuhe's undivided loyalty and affection.

If the woman in Beijing, touted as the country's most beautiful yet cold-hearted woman, could earn a 95 out of 100 in Chen Liuhe's eyes, Shen Qingwu was a perfect 100.

A flawless score, without a trace of bias. She was the only perfect woman in his heart.

Here they were, a scruffy, unkempt man paired with a brilliant, disabled girl in a wheelchair—a truly striking combination. Everyone who passed by couldn't help but take a second look.

But neither Chen Liuhe nor Shen Qingwu cared about the stares. These two, who could be called monstrous in their own ways, were utterly indifferent to the judgment of others.

"Hold on tight," Chen Liuhe called out, as he effortlessly lifted Shen Qingwu and her wheelchair—at least several dozen pounds—and placed them both in the back of the tricycle.

Mounting the tricycle, releasing the brake, and pushing the pedals, his movements were fluid and swift. Yet no matter how gracefully he moved, the reality remained unchanged: he was still riding a beat-up old tricycle, drawing only contemptuous looks.

"That Professor Zhang from your university called me today. He was fuming mad, saying you silenced him in class by debating him about the art of manipulation," Chen Liuhe said with a playful grin. "He was ranting about how you were just using sophistry."

Despite his words, Chen Liuhe couldn't hide the pride in his voice. He was, after all, quite proud of her.

"He's full of nonsense," Shen Qingwu replied flatly. Her tone was always filled with pride. "In a debate, there's only victory and defeat. There's no such thing as sophistry." After a pause, she added, "But that old man is kind of cute. He's even learned how to complain."

Chen Liuhe chuckled mischievously. "I think he's just unlucky. He doesn't even know who's the real guardian between us two. Complaining to me? I'd give him a slap for that."

As Chen Liuhe pedaled the tricycle through Hangzhou's scenic streets, both of them enjoyed the ride. They had gotten used to this routine—Chen Liuhe felt content, and Shen Qingwu seemed to savor it.

"Qingwu, transferring you from Jinghua University, where you were the top student nationwide, to Hangzhou University two years ago—does that feel like a step down?" Chen Liuhe suddenly asked in a soft voice.

Shen Qingwu's expression remained tranquil as her clear, bright eyes took in the increasingly lively evening scene. She replied softly, "As long as you don't feel it's a step down, then neither do I. Having you back is the greatest blessing for me. Being alive is better than anything."

A silence settled over them, lasting for several moments before Chen Liuhe exhaled deeply. "Don't worry. I promised Grandpa that I wouldn't go back to Beijing for three years."

"What happens after three years?" Shen Qingwu asked. No one knew how much courage it took for her to utter those four words.

Chen Liuhe smiled without answering. He simply kept pedaling the tricycle.

"Brother, you still can't let go, can you?" Shen Qingwu's voice trembled slightly.

"Let go?" Chen Liuhe's smile was bright. "The Shen family gave everything for the country, but what did we get in return? A year ago, Grandpa died of sorrow. Seven years ago, your father fell on the battlefield. Five years ago, your uncle and great-uncle also sacrificed their lives for the country."

Chen Liuhe's voice was calm. "Now, you're the last remaining bloodline of the Shen family. And after I was imprisoned, what happened to you? Your legs—are they really from illness like you said? I'm not stupid."

"Although I'm not a Shen by blood, just an orphan Grandpa picked up, I'll settle the Shen family's debts. The Shen family isn't dead yet!" His tone was flat, devoid of any emotion.

"Brother, they say you'll go back to Beijing in three years and kill three people," Shen Qingwu gently wrapped her slender arms around Chen Liuhe's waist.

"Three people? Haha, I wonder if that's enough," Chen Liuhe said with a faint smile. "Those people owe the Shen family far more than that—more than lives alone can repay."

With that, Chen Liuhe steered the conversation away from the heavy topic. He grinned. "Qingwu, I made a little money today. Let's have some meat for dinner." And with that, they headed straight for the market.