Ruan Yu stood up and quickly left Teng Hao’s room, but deliberately softened her footsteps when turning into the hallway. Downstairs, Teng Yi was still sleeping, maintaining the same position as when she first entered.

She went to the bar counter to pour water, then carried the cup, seemingly casually walking toward the sofa.

Teng Yi’s jacket was thrown over the armchair. She set down the water cup nearby, picked up the jacket, and gently laid it over him. Despite Ruan Yu’s carefulness, the force of the falling sleeve still woke him.

He stirred, and the magazine covering his face slid down to his chest.

The magazine featured an interview with Lo Han, the Asian Dance King.

“I… came down to get some water,” she quickly turned around, gripping the ceramic cup as if it were a lifeline. “The weather’s getting cool, and I thought you might catch a cold sleeping like this, so I just happened to… just happened to…”

She stumbled over her words, making her attempt at concealment even more obvious.

Teng Yi retracted his long legs from the footstool, sat up from the sofa, and rotated his neck from side to side.

“Is Teng Hao making you fetch water again?” he asked. Having just woken up, his dark eyes were clouded with a layer of mist, making his gaze appear even gentler.

“No, I just wanted to come down and move around a bit.”

“Move your legs? Or move your thoughts?”

Before Ruan Yu could understand what “move your thoughts” meant, she saw him pick up the water cup from the coffee table and take a sip.

“You got the wrong cup again,” he said.

Ruan Yu instinctively turned to look at the bar counter, comparing the cups.

The two cups looked the same. She had carefully observed them before pouring water, but couldn’t see any difference with the naked eye.

“How can you tell them apart?”

“Here.”

Teng Yi leaned toward her, showing her the bottom of the cup.

Their distance suddenly closed, making Ruan Yu feel awkward. She subtly tried to move away but was blocked by the sofa.

The air carried the sweet scent of his hair product.

Ruan Yu glanced at the cup’s bottom. She had expected to see the text but instead found a pair of small wings engraved there, raised high as if a bird about to take flight.

She thought of his name.

Teng Yi.

Yi.

“If it’s engraved on the bottom where you can’t see it, how did you know I took the wrong one?”

“Things you use often have a connected aura.”

“Then what’s engraved on Teng Hao’s cup?”

“What do you think, Valedictorian Miss?” His lips curved into a smile.

This “Valedictorian Miss” was invented by Teng Hao, who occasionally called her that at home, with a hint of teasing and mockery, shouting it loudly.

Ruan Yu never paid attention to Teng Hao, thinking it childish, but now, these four words coming from Teng Yi weren’t irritating. Although there was still a teasing tone, she could feel the friendliness in his voice.

“Are you testing me too?” Ruan Yu asked.

“Take a guess. There’s a reward if you get it right.”

“What reward?” Her curiosity was piqued.

“Guess correctly first.”

“I’m only curious because I know I can guess it.”

“That confident?”

“Of course.” Ruan Yu raised her eyebrow slightly. “I was the provincial college entrance exam valedictorian after all.”

Teng Yi was momentarily struck by the gleam in her eyes.

In all the time he’d known her, she had always seemed modest, reserved, and composed. But now, he suddenly saw another side of her that few knew – perhaps this was the real her.

Confident, clever, and calculating.

“Then tell me, what’s engraved on the bottom of Teng Hao’s cup?”

“Stop trying to lead me into a trap.” Her demeanor was composed, her tone certain. “I guess there’s nothing engraved on the bottom.”