Before she had run after him, Yunque had imagined many things.

She had imagined how Lu Rangchen’s friends might look at her. She had imagined all the cutting, unkind things Lu Rangchen might say to her — or that he might push her away.

But the one thing she hadn’t imagined was that Lu Rangchen would take her away, kiss her, and then say something like “you don’t love me at all.”

She couldn’t have said, in that moment, which emotion was making her ache.

All Yunque felt was that her heart and lungs were trembling together — suffocating, sharp-edged, and bitter.

She wanted to push Lu Rangchen back and speak clearly, but Lu Rangchen, mistaking her intention for an attempt to leave or pull away, only pressed deeper and held her tighter.

Yunque was essentially powerless to break free.

She could only surrender to it — and try, through this kiss, to let him feel her sincerity, her yielding.

She forgot what she had meant to say. Couldn’t say it anymore.

Only knew that lips and tongues were entangled in a hunger that could barely be contained.

Lu Rangchen seemed determined to claim her completely through sheer action — until her breath grew too shallow to catch. Yunque had no choice but to curl her arms around his neck, rise onto her toes, the very tip of her heart trembling.

And then, later, a car passed behind the two of them.

Bright, unsparing headlights hit Yunque’s eyes.

Before she could react, her eyelids were covered by something warm — Lu Rangchen’s long fingers, shielding her. He finally eased the force of his kiss.

He kissed her, one press at a time. Yunque kissed back, soft and obedient, yielding warmly.

Only once he was certain she wasn’t going to run did Lu Rangchen stop — that intimate, tender moment drawing to a close. His breathing came heavy, the space between his brow and the tip of his nose resting against hers.

It was the look of a man on the verge of being consumed by longing.

But that longing lived not only in Lu Rangchen’s eyes. It was in Yunque’s too.

She hadn’t been this close to him in a very, very long time.

Such a beautiful face — the kind that made you ache just looking at it.

His complexion had a glazed, porcelain quality. His lashes were dense and long, clean-featured and handsome.

One shade more intense and it would be overpowering. One shade more restrained and it would be too cold. Exactly this — balanced perfectly, nothing in excess.

Their eyes stayed on each other.

Yunque finally gathered the courage to speak.

Her eyes glistening with moisture, she repeated her words slowly, one by one: “Lu Rangchen. He and I have never been together.”

“Not in the past. Not now. And not ever in the future.”

“Tonight was because I owe him a great debt of gratitude.”

She said it steadily, and with each sentence, the look in Lu Rangchen’s eyes deepened a shade. At last, his voice came out hoarse: “Then what about the past? What were we, back then? And where did that leave me?”

His long fingers closed around her jaw again. Lu Rangchen’s throat worked. His deep voice was cool and low: “And you still dare tell me you weren’t stringing me along?”

“It was a lie.”

Yunque’s voice broke apart at the edges, yet her gaze on Lu Rangchen was stubborn — without a single trace of deception. She said, “What else could I do? I simply couldn’t.”

As she spoke, those eyes reddened again.

The irises were bright with unshed tears, shimmering as she looked at him.

That look struck something loose in the depths of him — something that had been pressed down for years.

Lu Rangchen’s jaw pulled taut. His grip on her jaw tightened. He stared at her and said, “Couldn’t what?”

It was both a demand and a plea.

Even when the answer was already half-known, he needed to hear it from her — directly.

Just one sentence. And he would believe her.

At last, Yunque looked at him — eyes neither flinching nor evading — and said, “Couldn’t bring myself to not go with you.”

The words fell away.

Her lashes trembled like butterfly wings.

She tilted her head back like that and looked at Lu Rangchen. Then tears came without warning, streaming down — as though she had arrived at the edge of collapse. She said, “Lu Rangchen. I don’t want to keep pretending. I’m so tired. I really am. I’m so tired of it all…”

She lowered her eyes. Scalding tears fell through the gaps between Lu Rangchen’s fingers in steady, quiet streams. “I don’t want to take care of anything anymore. I don’t want anything anymore.”

“……”

“Lu Rangchen. I just want you. Just you. Is that alright? Is that alright?”

……

Over at the bar.

A work call had come in, and Xie Han was a step behind — getting inside no more than ten minutes later than he’d intended. But in those ten minutes, Yunque had vanished.

At the peak of the crowd, he wove back and forth between the booth seating several times. He was just about to call Yunque when a girl’s voice sounded from behind him — bright and lively: “Hey — aren’t you the one who came in with Yunque?”

He turned immediately at those words, and found himself looking at Lin Zhi, put-together and striking.

Honestly, Lin Zhi’s kind of good looks were hard to ignore — bold, aggressive, the kind of face that imprinted itself on you after one glance.

That’s why Xie Han recognized her right away and said, “Yes — do you know where Yunque went?”

Lin Zhi, arms crossed, chin tilted, gave him a thorough once-over without any particular warmth, then said with some irritation, “You’re asking me? I’d rather ask you. The person your people brought dragged my brother away — I was about to come find you about that.”

This left Xie Han at a complete loss. He said with a wry smile, “What kind of logic is that? I’m not Yunque’s boyfriend — I’m not her keeper. If anything, I’m the one who’s been wronged here.”

The moment he said he wasn’t Yunque’s boyfriend, Lin Zhi’s attention sharpened considerably.

She raised an eyebrow. “You two really aren’t together?”

Xie Han said, “Why would I lie about something like that? We’re not, so we’re not.”

Lin Zhi pressed further: “Then why did Lu Rangchen look like that when he saw you two? I’ve never seen his face go that dark before.”

That was a question asked of exactly the right person.

But even so, Xie Han couldn’t actually tell her.

He could hardly explain to this girl that, once upon a time, it was he who had swaggered in front of Lu Rangchen and goaded him into leaving.

He could only deflect: “What else? Jealousy, obviously.”

He had to concede — even that was somewhat amusing.

Xie Han glanced at his watch, doing the mental math on the time, and thought maybe he should just head home and pour himself a couple of drinks.

The Lin Zhi beside him had been quietly studying him, though. She noticed he was actually fairly good-looking and had money on top of that — and for a moment, her interest was piqued.

Lin Zhi was the kind of person who acted on instinct.

Her mouth moved faster than her brain: “If you’ve got nothing else going on, come have a drink with us — we’re waiting for Lu Rangchen anyway.”

Xie Han turned to look at her at that.

He found the suggestion, unexpectedly, quite reasonable.

After all, no one was oblivious — anyone with half a brain knew that Yunque at this moment was tangled up with Lu Rangchen.

His heart may have been somewhat blocked with that knowledge, but people came to places like this to find some amusement, didn’t they? If A was taken, couldn’t there be a B?

Xie Han had never been the type to wallow. He found the idea genuinely interesting. So he let out a chuckle and agreed, and followed her along.

By the time Lu Rangchen returned, his reserved booth section was already full.

Four seats — the other three hadn’t moved, but his spot had been taken by Xie Han.

Of the three, only Li Tie hadn’t turned traitor. The look he was giving Xie Han said everything. The other two girls had already struck up a game of cards with Xie Han.

Lin Zhi in particular — her smile was so easy and bright it was dazzling.

She hadn’t even noticed Lu Rangchen was now standing right behind her. It was Xie Han who gave her a quiet signal with his eyes, and she spun around with a start, nearly flinging her cards into Xie Han’s face.

“What are you, a ghost?” she said. “When did you get back?”

Lu Rangchen glared at her without much enthusiasm, then shifted his gaze to Xie Han. His voice was flat and cold. “Just now.”

Xie Han felt thoroughly uncomfortable under that stare.

He was half a second from standing up to offer back the seat — but then Lu Rangchen came out with: “Tonight’s bill goes on my tab. I’m heading out. Things to do.”

As he spoke, he swept his car keys and phone from the glass table.

Xie Han’s eye happened to catch it — from this angle, he could see that on Lu Rangchen’s key ring, there was a small, somewhat childish black toy bear. Judging by the wear and quality, it had clearly been there for some years.

The others, hearing what Lu Rangchen said, all froze.

Li Tie’s expression turned displeased. “Where are you going?” he asked.

He looked around and said, “What about… her?”

Who “her” referred to — everyone present understood without needing it spelled out.

Judging by the situation, Zhou Jin couldn’t say why, but her heart sank by half, thinking this one had gotten hurt again. But Lu Rangchen just gave a mildly knitted frown and said, “Why do you ask about everything?”

The tone was a touch exasperated — that part was genuine.

But it wasn’t heartbreak. No real damage done.

It was more like someone pressing down on something good — keeping it close, not wanting to let it out.

Zhou Jin was straightforward by nature. She couldn’t bear the two of them going around in circles any longer. She looked at him with full, expectant eyes and asked: “Did you make up with Yunque?”

At that, Lin Zhi’s eyes flew wide too.

Xie Han was the calmest of all of them.

He just leaned back in his chair and, quite at his leisure, picked up the cocktail Lu Rangchen had paid for, brought it to his lips, and took a quiet sip.

Lu Rangchen didn’t look at any of them. He was looking directly at Xie Han.

He didn’t answer Zhou Jin’s question. Instead he said to Xie Han: “She asked me to let you know — she won’t be coming back to find you.”

“You can stay if you want. I’m buying. But whatever she owes you — don’t expect her to repay it. I won’t allow it.”

“If you need anything in the future, come to me.”

He said it clean and direct, with a swagger that was both high-handed and casually reckless. When he was done, Lu Rangchen pulled out a club business card and tossed it in front of him.

That — all of it — made Xie Han laugh outright.

Not from irony or bitterness. But because, in that moment, he thought: Yunque, that girl, had genuinely good taste.

A man like Lu Rangchen — never mind the women.

Even he, another man, found himself seeing the appeal.

That feeling of being bested and yet finding it admirable — he had experienced it years ago already, so now he digested it fairly calmly.

All things considered, one should cultivate goodwill wherever possible.

Xie Han gave a clean nod and said, “Sure. I’ll reach out if something comes up.”

Then he smiled at Lu Rangchen.

As for rivals meeting — the ill will Lu Rangchen held toward Xie Han wasn’t something a sentence or two could dispel. He didn’t spare him so much as a second glance and simply turned and left.

Of all the people in that group, the one who could read the situation most clearly was Zhou Jin.

She pressed her lips together in a quiet smile and had a sip of her drink.

Lin Zhi propped her chin in her hand, wide-eyed with burning curiosity. “Wait, wait, what’s going on? What just happened? I’m a little lost.”

Zhou Jin heard this and almost laughed, glancing at her sideways. Before she could say anything, Li Tie let out a sigh of resignation.

He said, “What else could it be? Back to square one, that’s what.”

Those old-fashioned words dropped in front of Lin Zhi and left her stumped, sitting bolt upright.

She looked back at Xie Han. Xie Han smiled at her too — as though he could read the shock in her eyes — and said, “Exactly. Yunque is just that extraordinary.”

—

When Lu Rangchen came out of the bar, he found Yunque sitting quietly on a long bench by the entrance.

Her slender arms rested on the wooden slats of the seat.

Her soft, lustrous hair hung loosely at her shoulders. The breeze moved her skirt’s hem. She was staring at the flat-soled shoes on her own feet, nudging a small pebble with the toe of one foot, again and again.

The amber glow of the streetlight fell over her, as though edging her entire silhouette in a soft, warm gold.

From where Lu Rangchen stood, he could see that her lashes were still damp.

Just a short while ago, he had held her against that low wall, speaking in quiet, gentle tones, holding her — and still she had cried so hard, so long, until her voice went hoarse and her eyes went puffy.

So that even now, looking at her, she seemed, somehow, a little ridiculous.

Clearly twenty-eight years old. Capable of commanding the attention of her students with perfect authority. Yet in his eyes, she still seemed like a dramatic little child.

He couldn’t quite explain why, but an almost imperceptible curve touched Lu Rangchen’s lips. He walked over and came to stand beside her.

Sensing the particular, familiar warmth of his presence, Yunque paused and looked up.

Wet, bright eyes lifted to find Lu Rangchen standing above her, looking down — and then he reached out a long, pale hand toward her.

He said, “Yunque. Let’s go home.”