A sense of humor truly is the enemy of anger. These two messages directly extinguished the small flame gathering in Zhou Mi’s heart, even forcing out a hint of a smile at her failed prank.

But she didn’t respond to Zhang Lian because of this.

Zhang Lian gave her a very subtle feeling, and also a very vague one. It couldn’t be called hatred or dislike, but to say she liked or admired him didn’t seem to fit either.

Strangely, he always had a reliable and accommodating quality that made people want to depend on him, like a knitted sweater that hung on a chair back for years, impossible to ignore when needed.

In front of him, she could release her most authentic self without hesitation; many things that seemed like the end of the world to her could be deftly deflected by him, handled in just the right way.

Could this be the advantage of greater life experience?

Zhou Mi respected and admired this about him, and secretly wished to learn a trick or two by following behind him.

Unfortunately, they often didn’t see eye to eye.

Zhou Mi exhaled deeply. Just as she was about to sit back down at her computer to continue organizing her spreadsheet, her mother called from outside in a loud voice, asking her to come help decide what clothes to wear on Sunday.

Zhou Mi squeezed her eyelids forcefully, accepting defeat as she left her chair.

As soon as she opened the door, Tang Peili was holding up two long-sleeved dresses, one yellow and one red, cheerfully asking which one suited her better.

Zhou Mi lifted her eyelids slightly, her black pupils swinging back and forth like a pendulum, and raised her hand to point at the one in her mother’s left hand.

“The red one?” Tang Peili’s newly tattooed thin eyebrows raised high as she smiled. “Why does it feel like I’m going to a wedding?”

Zhou Mi was speechless.

Tang Peili held the dress against herself a few times, then looked Zhou Mi up and down with a disapproving expression. “You should also choose your clothes carefully, more formal. Don’t always dress like a student. It’s not mature or steady at all. His parents are both university professors. You should at least make yourself look reliable, don’t let people look down on you.”

Zhou Mi slowly swallowed a breath and asked sweetly, “Alright, Mom, what do you think I should wear?”

Tang Peili directly stormed into the bedroom, flung open her wardrobe, and grimaced with disgust at the fully displayed clothes: “Sigh, we’d better go shopping tomorrow.”

Is that necessary? Zhou Mi wailed inwardly.

—

At noon on Sunday, both father and daughter were dressed in their finest at Tang Peili’s command, arriving punctually for their appointment.

Father Zhou was in a formal suit, while Zhou Mi wore a satin dress resembling a cocktail dress.

The dress was cream-colored, knee-length, with a cinched waist and flared skirt. The glossy material resembled mother-of-pearl. Though the style was simple, it wasn’t everyday wear. Those who didn’t know better might think she was attending an early company annual party.

The meeting place was a traditional Chinese restaurant in the city center, serving the most authentic local cuisine. The building had a classical style, with winding corridors, scenic views of mountains and water, and exotic flowers and trees visible everywhere.

Passing through the trumpet vine arch that hung like a green waterfall, Zhou Mi immediately spotted Zhang Lian standing tall outside the private room.

The next second after their eyes met, Zhou Mi had only one thought: she was overdressed.

Because Zhang Lian looked relaxed, wearing clothes almost identical to what he wore at the company—a white shirt and black trousers.

His somewhat careless attitude made her and her whole family appear strange and comical in comparison.

This contrast made her feel ashamed.

Zhou Mi quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks involuntarily flushing hot.

But she could feel that Zhang Lian’s gaze hadn’t moved away. He walked toward them at an unhurried pace, politely greeting her parents.

Her mother was a typical “mother-in-law who likes her daughter’s boyfriend more and more,” her joy more radiant than the patches of light filtering through the leaves above.

Meanwhile, her father’s perfunctory response, feigning seriousness, restored a small part of Zhou Mi’s self-esteem.

Zhang Lian let them go ahead, his tall, thin figure looming before her. “Zhou Mi.”

“Yeah.” She responded nonchalantly, but her eyes stared straight ahead, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Zhang Lian leaned slightly closer. “You look beautiful today.”

This compliment matched his movement, deliberately lowered, but the volume wasn’t that soft, naturally reaching the hearing range of everyone present.

Everyone stopped momentarily.

Zhou Mi finally raised her head to look back at him, smiling gracefully, but her words showed no modesty at all: “I look beautiful every day.”

The official smile at the corners of Zhang Lian’s eyes and eyebrows became a bit more personal. “Indeed.”

Tang Peili, hearing this, nearly showed all twelve of her teeth, hurriedly half-covering her mouth to restrain herself.

As they approached the entrance, Zhang Lian’s parents, who had been waiting in the private room for some time, came out upon hearing them, stepping beyond the threshold to welcome them.

Seeing her advisor, Zhou Mi, immediately called out as if her hands and feet were bound: “Professor Xun.”

“Zhou Mi, don’t be so formal,” Xun Fengzhi sighed, introducing the man beside her. “This is my husband, Zhang Zhou.”

Zhang Lian’s father was tall and slender, wearing frameless glasses and a gray thin cardigan over his shirt, clearly showing his scholarly air.

Zhou Mi curved her lips, maintaining her customary respect for teachers: “Hello, Professor Zhang.”

Zhang Zhou smiled faintly, equally polite: “I’ve heard your Professor Xun mention you several times, finally meeting you in person.”

“Zhang Lian has good taste,” he glanced at his son. “Very good indeed.”

Hearing this, Tang Peili beamed with pride and joined in the pleasantries, creating a harmonious atmosphere.

“Alright, let’s not keep standing at the door.” Xun Fengzhi raised her hand, ushering everyone inside to take their seats.

The room was decorated in a serene style, like a scholar’s study. Along the edges were tables with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, along with incense burners and tea sets. The walls were adorned with traditional Chinese landscape paintings.

A large round rosewood table stood in the center, with several cold dishes slowly rotating on it, exquisite and vivid, designed with unique craftsmanship, like a flowing miniature art exhibition.

Zhang Zhou hosted, taking the seat facing the south main door. Zhou Mi’s father, Xun Fengzhi, and Tang Peili sat clockwise.

Finally, the two young people playing their parts with hidden agendas sat next to each other, neither too close nor too far apart.

A waitress in a brown qipao came over to inquire about beverage preferences.

Zhang Lian’s seat was closest to the serving entrance. He first asked Zhou Mi, “What would you like to drink? There are hot drinks available.”

Zhou Mi glanced back at him. “Anything is fine.”

Zhang Lian turned to look at the waitress. “Give her a black rice walnut drink,” then he looked toward the other female elders. “Would you like alcohol or…?”

Xun Fengzhi replied without hesitation, “I’ll have some wine.”

Tang Peili, who had intended to answer “juice,” paused and quickly followed suit. “I’ll have wine too.”

Zhang Lian gestured to the waitress with his eyes, then asked Zhou Xing, “Uncle, you drove here, right?”

Zhou Xing forced a smile. “Yes, I won’t drink alcohol.”

Zhang Lian said, “I can drive you back later.”

Zhang Zhou added, “Zhang Lian specially brought two bottles of Zimao today. It would be a waste not to drink it.”

Zhou Xing’s heart stirred, finding it hard to decline such hospitality.

Tang Peili discreetly glared at her husband.

They engaged in polite conversation, while Zhou Mi had been quietly observing since entering the room, her nerves taut, her face becoming rigid.

When Zhou Mi’s drink arrived, Zhang Lian rose first to take it from the waitress’s hand and gently placed it in front of her.

Zhou Mi smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

“Are you being formal with me now?” Zhang Lian sat back down.

All the elders looked at the two of them with uniform expressions of satisfaction.

Soon after, the dishes started arriving, and the atmosphere gradually became more lively, with toasts exchanged.

Zhang Lian participated with ease, able to lead, complement, or bridge conversations, never allowing an awkward silence.

Zhou Mi only sought to be a dignified ornament, carefully responding with a few words when the conversation turned to her.

The questions and answers inevitably revolved around the various “predestined connections” between her and Zhang Lian, which the two female elders described in extraordinary terms, calling it a perfect match, a union arranged by heaven.

As the meal neared its end, Xun Fengzhi drained the red wine in her glass and looked kindly toward Zhou Mi. “Zhou Mi, my son, said he has a gift for you today.”

Zhou Mi’s temple twitched rapidly, playing dumb: “What is it?”

Zhang Lian didn’t answer but simply left his seat to retrieve something from the side, casually placing it before her eyes.

It was a small navy blue square box with a gold-plated logo on top, circling the letters HW.

Zhou Mi was completely stunned, her gaze dropping onto the box, suspiciously wondering: Surely he’s not getting serious?

Seeing that Zhang Lian made no further move, Xun Fengzhi urged her son, “Open it! Are you expecting the girl to unwrap it herself?”

Zhang Lian methodically took out the round box and spread it open.

Zhou Mi was severely stung by the dazzling diamond light, instinctively frowning.

A second later, “Flight of the Bumblebee” began playing in her head because of the somewhat exaggerated size of the diamond.

“It’s so big!” She wasn’t the only one shocked. Her mother similarly straightened up, unable to suppress her exclamation. “Must have cost quite a bit.”

“As it should be,” Xun Fengzhi rested her chin on her crossed hands, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Don’t all girls love these sparkly things?”

Zhang Lian remained silent, removing the diamond ring and bending forward, very gently lifting Zhou Mi’s right hand.

Zhou Mi sat there, her nervous system collapsing, her brain temporarily shutting down, watching wide-eyed as this dazzling, resplendent little galaxy of stars surrounding a moon was slipped onto her finger.

The ring size was surprisingly perfect, fitting around the base of her ring finger without a hint of looseness or pressure, as if it had been custom-made for her.

At the same time, it was also a miniature, gorgeous shackle or seal, making it difficult for Zhou Mi to move. She could only look up to probe Zhang Lian’s mood.

The man’s acting was superb. His face, focused to the point of devotion, made everything seem dreamlike, becoming a beautiful illustration that might appear on the final page of a Tacky Fairytale – Chapter in “Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales,” captioned “The prince and princess lived happily ever after.”

Zhou Mi felt chills down her spine.

Until—his gaze slid from the back of her hand to her face, and only then did he curve his lips into a smile. This smile was backlit, entirely disconnected from genuine emotion, like the sharp facets of a diamond.

The black-hearted king had lavishly spent a fortune just to obtain this moment of perverse satisfaction.

“Do you like it?” Zhang Lian’s smile deepened in Zhou Mi’s frozen, grape-like pupils.

Zhou Mi’s face turned blood red, speechless for quite a while, appearing extremely shocked and shy from happiness.

After a moment, Zhou Mi’s bodily functions recovered, and she almost spat out each word individually: “I like it, but it’s too expensive. I might…”

“Zhou Mi, your liking it is what matters most.” Zhang Lian seemed to anticipate her polite refusal and said decisively, “Accept it, it was always meant for you.”

Zhang Zhou applauded his son in support, and the other elders quickly followed.

Tang Peili was almost in tears, while Xun Fengzhi, with eyes full of joy and comfort, suggested, “Let’s take this opportunity to set a wedding date.”

—

Zhou Mi instantly came back to her senses, her eyes wide open. “We’re already discussing wedding dates?”

Zhang Lian sat back in his original spot, quietly sipping his tea, showing no reaction.

Zhou Mi’s finger felt uncomfortable, and her heart couldn’t bear the burden either. “But I haven’t graduated yet.”

Xun Fengzhi smiled and said, “That doesn’t matter. Many graduate students get married.”

Facing her kind advisor, Zhou Mi needed more mental effort to maintain calm and clarity. “But Zhang Lian and I haven’t been dating for long. Wouldn’t getting married so soon be too rushed?”

This statement undoubtedly poured cold water on all the elders present.

Zhang Lian didn’t say a word, handing the main stage to her, retreating to the sidelines to enjoy her improvisation.

Zhou Mi swallowed and took a deep breath. “Professor Xun, Professor Zhang, I truly like Zhang Lian very much, but I also love my job at Ao Xing…”

She struggled to organize her words: “I chose to intern at Ao Xing not because Zhang Lian is there. Even before I knew him, Ao Xing was already my dream company.”

“Although Zhang Lian and I are in love,” Zhou Mi internally retched, but her manner remained sincere and earnest, “if we announce our marriage at the company at this time—a boss and an intern—this identity is somewhat awkward. You’ve probably heard of a term called ‘sleeping one’s way to the top.’ I’m very concerned that Zhang Lian’s authority at the company will suffer greatly because of this.”

All the elders watched her almost without blinking. Zhou Mi’s breathing became slightly irregular, somewhat stuttering: “Then… I’m still in my internship period, which means I’m working hard every day for a permanent position, so I don’t want to hear people say I got ahead through that kind of… personal relationship. You know how much I value my personal development, otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen to… to give up pregnancy.”

During her speech, Zhou Mi secretly hid both hands under the table because they had begun to tremble uncontrollably.

Not just because of the lies, but also her instinctive fear of being the center of attention, like an ant under a magnifying glass, torturously scorched.

Her eyes swelled, and she looked around: “May I make a personal suggestion?”

Xun Fengzhi’s face showed a gentle willingness to listen: “Go ahead.”

“One consideration is that Zhang Lian and I haven’t spent enough time together yet, and we haven’t fully understood each other. Another is my concern about the negative impact on the company. So I’m wondering if we could…”

Zhou Mi suddenly choked up, tears nearly flying from her eyes. Anxiety encircled her tighter and tighter; she could barely breathe.

Suddenly, her right hand, resting on her leg, was grasped.

Zhou Mi’s pupils contracted sharply.

The pressure of the man’s fingers wasn’t heavy, but it was full of energy, the transmitted warmth silently comforting and supporting her.

Like a soothing white medicine dissolving in her blood vessels, the effect was immediate. Zhou Mi’s shivering limbs gradually calmed, and her heart palpitations ceased. She composed herself for two seconds, then spoke again: “Could we first live together as a trial marriage for some time? Marriage shouldn’t be impulsive but requires adjustment and careful consideration. If we’re truly suitable for each other, we’ll continue forward. If not, I don’t think it will waste too much of our time—just consider it a small trial and error in life.”