The next morning, Lu Xun woke before Qian Wei again, as usual. She was still half-asleep when she felt his kiss land gently on her forehead, then felt the other side of the bed dip slightly as he got up. Not long after, the sound of an electric razor came from the bathroom.

She hadn’t felt shy at all the night before, and yet this plain, ordinary morning suddenly made her bashful. She pulled the blanket up over her face, feeling like being with Lu Xun still felt, even now, like some kind of dream.

In this dreamlike daze, Lu Xun coaxed her out of bed. Strangely, even though they’d already done something as intimate as what they’d done, the moment their eyes met now, there was still a trace of shyness between them.

Lu Xun’s gaze was steady and intent, and Qian Wei quickly caved under it. She grabbed at the blanket, trying to cover her face. “I haven’t put on makeup, haven’t even washed my face. Don’t look.”

Lu Xun couldn’t help a small laugh at how childish she was being. He gently pulled the blanket from her hands. “Silly. You can hide now, but can you hide forever?” He looked at her, saying each word deliberately and sincerely, “And to me, you’re beautiful no matter what.”

“But Lu Xun, I’ve never been able to figure it out—why did you like me? Nineteen-year-old you, what exactly made you fall for me?” Qian Wei thought it over, finally voicing the question that had lingered for so long. “Back in college, honestly, we weren’t even that close…”

“Qian Wei, that’s just how you are. You flirt with someone and then run off, and afterward act completely innocent about it.”

“Huh? When did I ever flirt with you?”

Lu Xun looked helpless, though there was fondness in it too. “It’s a good thing I have a decent temperament, or you’d have driven me to an early grave a hundred times over by now.” He turned his face away, his lashes trembling slightly, his voice a little strained. “Honestly, I always thought you were the one chasing me.”

Qian Wei: ???

“Back then you were always hovering around me. For a long stretch, wherever I went, there you were. You’d follow me and secretly watch me, but the moment I turned around, you’d pretend you weren’t. Honestly, I’d seen that trick plenty of times before—it wasn’t new. Plenty of girls did that. Usually if you just ignore them completely, they get bored and give up on their own soon enough.” Lu Xun pressed his lips together. “But I never expected you to be so… persistent. No matter how much I ignored you, you kept trailing after me every single day, and it only got worse—you even figured out my whole schedule. I could go to the movies and find you sitting within three rows of me.”

Qian Wei looked at him and couldn’t resist calling him out. “What you actually meant to say was you couldn’t believe how shameless I was, not how persistent I was, right…”

“Don’t focus on the details.” Lu Xun cleared his throat, flustered. “Anyway, back then, to me, you were like a piece of gum stuck to my shoe that I couldn’t shake off no matter what. At first, having you follow me around drove me crazy, but after a while I got used to it—it became second nature. No matter where I was, I only had to glance around and I’d spot you. No other girl had ever managed that before. I figured you must be completely infatuated with me.”

“…” Qian Wei chose her words carefully. “Were you maybe thinking, having a crazy stalker like that was a little annoying, but deep down it also felt pretty good—like it proved how irresistible you were?”

Lu Xun glanced at her and took a deep breath. “I found it annoying, sure, but I also felt a little sorry for you—liking me to that degree.”

Qian Wei was genuinely stunned. She’d never imagined that her behavior back then had been interpreted this way in Lu Xun’s eyes.

Back then, Qian Chuan had been single-mindedly infatuated with Mo Zixin, and in his stubbornness he’d decided Lu Xun was his rival in love. Since Qian Wei, Lu Xun, and Mo Zixin were all in the same college, Qian Chuan had begged and pleaded with her to go keep an eye on Lu Xun for him. Qian Chuan, notoriously stingy back in college, had even paid her half a month’s worth of living expenses as tribute for it.

Since she’d taken the money, Qian Wei had gone on to enjoy Qian Chuan’s “tribute” for the better part of a year, and per her client’s demands, had kept close tabs on Lu Xun for months on end. She still remembered clearly, even now, the two conditions Qian Chuan had laid out for her: first, know your enemy to win every battle—she was to closely monitor what Lu Xun was up to and analyze his rival’s personality, then report back regularly; second, if there was ever a chance for Lu Xun and Mo Zixin to be alone together, Qian Wei had to jump in and sabotage it without fail.

But Qian Wei had never known that Lu Xun had all this time mistaken it for her being madly infatuated with him…

“Later, when Mo Zixin and I were rehearsing for the tango competition, you kept showing up every day bringing drinks, fussing over us, watching us practice, giving earnest feedback. And you only ever talked to Mo Zixin, never to me, so I figured—this girl’s actually pretty dumb. Obviously she came to see me, wants to talk to me, but chickens out at the last second, doesn’t dare, so she pretends to just be there to chat with Mo Zixin instead. But the real motive was obvious at a glance. So I deliberately laughed and joked with Mo Zixin while ignoring you completely, hoping you’d take the hint and back off on your own. But you didn’t seem to mind at all—you just kept showing up cheerfully every day. I was honestly amazed. How could anyone like me that much?”

Lu Xun pressed his lips together. “What I remember most clearly is—one time after we finished rehearsing, it suddenly started pouring outside the practice room. None of us had brought umbrellas, but you had, since you’d come to bring us milk tea and fruit. And then you gave your umbrella to us and walked off alone in the downpour.” He turned his head away, clearing his throat to cover his reaction. “Before that I’d always found you a bit annoying, but in that moment, watching you run off in the rain, I suddenly felt this pang of tenderness. You just liked me—you weren’t doing anything terrible. And putting your whole heart into it for me like that was, honestly, kind of pure. Sometimes your approach was clumsy, and you were always the one showing warmth to my cold shoulder, and too timid to say anything—but sometimes it was actually kind of endearing.”

Listening to this completely different version of the past unfolding in Lu Xun’s memory, Qian Wei felt both startled and deeply touched. She looked at him, leaned in, and kissed him, a little playfully. “So what was endearing about me exactly?”

Lu Xun’s face flushed slightly at the question, though his voice still tried for feigned composure. “Just, endearing. You were a bit loud sometimes, but your eyes always seemed to carry a hint of laughter in them—it felt like whenever I saw you, you were smiling, and somehow it would lift my mood too. And I thought you were pretty good-looking, honestly. Shameless as you were about chasing me, you were actually quite genuine underneath it all—probably just hopelessly devoted to me.” He cleared his throat. “So I decided to just put up with you following me around.”

Qian Wei thought to herself—who would’ve guessed. Cool and distant on the surface, but underneath, Lu Xun had this whole rich inner drama going on…

“At the time I thought, if you kept chasing me a little longer, I’d give you a hint. If you confessed to me, I’d figure, well, given how much you liked me, I might as well say yes.”

Watching Lu Xun’s slightly indignant expression, Qian Wei suddenly wanted to laugh. To think that someone as aloof as Lu Xun had gone through this kind of internal struggle.

Though she didn’t want to embarrass him, Qian Wei felt she owed him an explanation. “That… actually, I wasn’t chasing you at all back then. I was just keeping tabs on you for Qian Chuan… just helping him sabotage you and Mo Zixin, making sure the two of you never got a moment alone. Going to the practice room to bring milk tea and fruit was actually me following Qian Chuan’s orders to watch for anything intimate between you two—and also looking out for his future girlfriend. I kept chatting with Mo Zixin and never talked to you because I figured she might end up my future sister-in-law, so I wanted to build a good relationship with her early. That’s also why I gave her the umbrella that day—I just didn’t expect her to end up walking with you under it…”

Lu Xun scowled. “Well, I understand now, at least. No wonder you vanished from my life the moment Qian Chuan and Mo Zixin got together.”

“So what did you think was the reason I disappeared, back then?”

“I started wondering if I’d been too cold toward you, if I’d used up all the affection you had for me.” Lu Xun let out a dry laugh. “And then not long after, I saw you getting friendly with Li Chongwen, all cozy. So I figured you’d just moved on to someone new.”

“…” Qian Wei thought back—she and Li Chongwen hadn’t actually been close back in school at all. There’d just been a short stretch of time when they’d discussed a debate competition for the college. And somehow, in Lu Xun’s eyes, that had become “getting cozy”???

Men and their jealousy—truly a force to be reckoned with.

“So if you thought I’d already moved on to someone else, why did you still write me that love letter and confess later?”

“I was pathetic, all right?” Lu Xun shot her a flustered glare. “Maybe you’d put some kind of spell on me. During that stretch I just kept thinking—no, I have to win you back. If you won’t make the first move, then I will.”

Qian Wei pictured the whole scene and Lu Xun’s state of mind at the time, and suddenly found it almost too funny to bear. Lu Xun—capable, unshakeable Lu Xun—had actually gone through this whole unrequited pining ordeal. She suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for him. Imagine: a proud guy like him, falling for someone for the first time, only to watch her seemingly move on to someone else, struggling internally, finally working up the nerve to write a confession letter—only to get completely stonewalled in response. His first love, the most precious thing in his life, sinking without a trace along with that letter… For someone with his temperament, what a devastating blow that must have been.

And yet he’d still gone on loving her, steadfastly, for nine years.

“I really couldn’t understand it. You’d liked me so intensely before—head over heels—and then suddenly you just… didn’t. No hesitation at all. I wrote you a love letter and you completely ignored it. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. Was it because I’d been too cold to you before?” Lu Xun lowered his head. “So I decided I’d just wait for you, quietly. Watch over you quietly, until the moment you liked me again.”

Even though it was all in the past now, Qian Wei couldn’t quite hold back her emotions. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, feeling both frustrated and full of regret. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner? If we hadn’t cleared up this misunderstanding just now, I wouldn’t have known any of it! Same with your confession—if you hadn’t been so proud, if you’d just told me to my face sooner, we might have gotten together back when we were nineteen.”

Though she never said it out loud, Qian Wei had always felt a quiet pang about those lost nine years. Nine years—if they’d gotten together sooner, imagine all the precious memories she could have had with Lu Xun in that time.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t be together at nineteen, in the prime of our youth—but twenty-eight has advantages nineteen could never match.” Lu Xun stroked her hair. “Nineteen-year-old me wasn’t as mature as twenty-eight-year-old me—might have even made you angrier back then. Time has made me steadier, given me more to offer. Nineteen-year-old me couldn’t promise you a future, but twenty-eight-year-old me can. I have more to stand on now than I did back then—I can protect you, give you the life you want, shelter you from whatever comes.” Lu Xun looked at her and smiled faintly. “Being able to be with you at twenty-eight—I’ve always been grateful to fate for that. Twenty-eight is beautiful too. I have you, I have my career, I have everything I ever wanted—as long as the heart underneath stays the same, what does it matter that we missed nine years? Life is made of these small regrets. We missed nine years of being together, but we’ll have countless more nine-year stretches ahead to make up for it. I have a whole lifetime to listen to you tell me the stories you imagined of us being together at nineteen—all those things you dreamed up, we have all the time in the world to try them, one by one.”

Lu Xun raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Besides, there’s one thing nineteen could never have managed, no matter what.”

“What’s that?”

“At nineteen, you’re not even legally old enough to marry.”

Qian Wei laughed too, though even amid her warm feelings, she couldn’t help grumbling internally—she regretted having blurted out, in her emotional state at the airport, that whole thing about marrying Lu Xun. Judging by his attitude now, was he actually planning never to propose at all?

Even though the two of them had circled around each other and missed nine years only to finally end up together—already a rare stroke of luck in life—every woman still hopes for a proposal. Qian Wei couldn’t help feeling a little wronged inside, blaming herself for being too careless, and now missing out on ever experiencing one.

“Oh, by the way—it’s job-hunting season for graduating seniors right now, and this afternoon my alma mater’s law school invited me as an outstanding-alumnus guest speaker. I’ll be giving a short talk, some career advice for the underclassmen. Come with me?”

The two of them were having dinner at the hotel buffet, and on the way to walk Qian Wei to the firm, Lu Xun extended the invitation with a smile.

Qian Wei nodded in agreement, though part of her mind was still on the matter of the proposal.

Unfortunately, they were both adults now, and no matter how big a personal matter might be, work still came with its own professional obligations as lawyers. The moment they got back to the firm, both Qian Wei and Lu Xun had client consultations waiting, forcing them straight back into a whirlwind of work.

Lu Xun’s speech was scheduled for three in the afternoon. Before that, he had a client company’s investment meeting to attend, while Qian Wei had a court hearing for cross-examining evidence. So in the end, the two decided to head there separately.

Qian Wei’s hearing wrapped up early, so she arrived at the school ahead of Lu Xun.

Though she’d stayed in City A ever since starting work, she rarely made it back to campus given how busy things were. Walking once again down the ginkgo-lined avenue at A University, surrounded by young, carefree faces full of laughter, she passed couples riding bicycles side by side, young men playing basketball full of youthful energy, girls sitting in the shade reading. Everything felt so familiar—the campus layout hadn’t changed much in nine years, only the people passing through it, one wave after another.

She and Lu Xun had once spent their youth here too, growing up in all their confusion and uncertainty. Had the girl she’d been nine years ago ever imagined she’d end up here today?

Maybe Forrest Gump had it right—life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get. She’d once felt so inferior around Lu Xun, so much so that she’d never even considered the possibility of anything between them. And yet who could have known that someone as remarkable as Lu Xun had been quietly loving her, all along, for nine years.

The speech was held in the school’s main auditorium. Lu Xun was clearly quite well known—the crowd wasn’t limited to law students, but had drawn students from various other colleges as well.

Qian Wei arrived ten minutes early, but the auditorium, which could seat over a thousand, was already nearly full. She could only find a seat near the back.

“You know Lu Xun, right? He’s the most legendary face the A University law school has ever produced. So many of us girls who chose law were basically lured in by that photo of his on the law school’s website. I mean, he graduated years ago, but the faculty are clearly shameless—they just keep reusing his photo for recruitment. When I first got into the law school I actually thought all the guys would look like him. Turns out… ha. Here I am, a senior already, and I can’t even land a decent crush.”

Beside Qian Wei, a senior law student was giving a couple of freshman girls a rundown of Lu Xun’s legendary reputation.

Another girl chimed in. “If Lu Xun ever went into entertainment, he’d probably debut as the center immediately! I’ve seen him in person—he’s even more handsome than his photos. Tall, fair skin, great build. His only flaw is being kind of standoffish.”

A curious freshman asked, “Is he married?”

“No! Not married! I have a senior who’s the head of legal at one of his client companies—totally reliable source. Not only is he unmarried, he’s single. That senior of mine liked him for ages, kept dropping hints, tried every which way to get his attention for like three years, and he really was that cold—like he genuinely had no interest in romance at all, completely focused on work. Even she eventually gave up.”

The girls chatted eagerly about Lu Xun, trading rumors from his college days, their tone full of admiration and adoration.

Sitting there among them, Qian Wei couldn’t help a small smile. There was a quiet joy in her heart that none of them knew about—that this cool, work-obsessed Lu Xun belonged to her, and only her.

Soon, every seat in the auditorium was taken, with people standing along the aisles. Lu Xun walked in right on time, looking a little travel-worn, clearly having rushed straight over—yet at precisely three o’clock, not a minute off.

The students greeted their handsome young alumnus with thunderous applause.

“He’s even more handsome than I imagined!!!!”

“Oh my god! I could stare at that face forever!”

Plenty of girls seemed dazzled by his looks; even Qian Wei caught snippets of whispered admiration around her.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Lu Xun. I graduated from A University’s law school seven years ago, and I’m now a corporate lawyer. It’s an honor to be here…”

He went on to reference something Wu Xiaobo had once said—that the conscience of today’s educated youth rests half with the legal profession and half with journalism, an aspiration: that if lawyers and journalists in this country could hold onto their conscience, uphold their ethical bottom line, honor their professional integrity, believe in the law, and stay committed to the truth, then the nation itself could have a conscience.

He spoke about how every law school graduate might grow into a legal professional—entering the courts, the procuratorate, the notary system, or private practice. Each of them, individually, would just be an ordinary legal worker. The law was simply a tool they relied on to make a living, and legal work just an ordinary job—none of them alone could carry the burden of an entire nation’s legal progress. It was too heavy a subject for any one person. But if every legal professional simply did their own seemingly ordinary job well, believed in the law and in kindness, honored fairness and truth, then all those small, individual efforts would eventually converge into something powerful—and together, they could change society. That was the power of the profession, and the power of belief.

Lu Xun’s speech was lively and engaging. He began with amusing anecdotes from his own time at the law school, walked through his journey from a naive student to a practicing lawyer, wove in the internal struggles and difficult cases he’d faced since starting his career, all delivered in a way that was both accessible and thought-provoking, before naturally arriving at the meaning of law and belief. The whole audience listened in rapt silence—no one on their phone, only rows of earnest young faces.

Lu Xun had always carried a kind of energy about him, a quality that made people want to follow him, look up to him. In this speech, he held nothing back, speaking with genuine fervor and conviction, wanting to pass on to these future legal professionals his beliefs, his conscience, his persistence, his resolve. Being a lawyer wasn’t just a job to make a living—it was something higher, a calling, a career in the fullest sense, not merely work.

When he finished, the applause went on and on.

The world is a harsh place. Society will hurt you, will bring you pain, will make you doubt yourself—but even ten years in the cold can’t cool a burning heart.

His words were deeply inspiring—some girls in the audience were even moved to tears. Law, a field with one of the bleakest employment outlooks, left many law students feeling lost at some point or another—but perhaps, in some quiet way, Lu Xun’s words could offer a little encouragement to those struggling hearts.

Qian Wei looked around at all these young faces, wondering how many of them might, because of what Lu Xun had just said, choose to stay the course in law. How many of them would go on to become prosecutors, judges, or lawyers themselves?

China’s legal environment was far from perfect—there was so much room for improvement. And yet, in that moment, Qian Wei felt deeply moved. If every law graduate could hold onto their conscience, hold onto their faith in the law, might the country’s future become something worth looking forward to after all?

She herself had once felt disillusioned with the legal system. But in that moment, her heart, like everyone else’s in the room, was filled with conviction.

As long as even one person in the legal profession keeps holding on, the conscience and justice of the law will never disappear.

“There’s one more thing. Besides all of you here today, there’s also the person who matters most to me in the world.” As the main part of his speech wound down, Lu Xun didn’t move to close. He smiled. “I love my alma mater, because it wasn’t just where I learned my professional knowledge, or found my beliefs and convictions as a legal professional—it’s also where I found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

The already electric atmosphere in the hall surged even higher at these words. Somewhere in the crowd, a few guys even started whistling.

“Qian Wei, I want to ask you to start a new Don’t Fall in Love With the Boss – Chapter of life with me.” His gaze cut straight through the crowd, landing directly on Qian Wei—he’d already spotted her all along. “I fell in love with you here at A University. Since I was nineteen, I’ve loved you for nine years. So I want to propose to you here, in this very auditorium at A University—it began here, let it end here too, from campus to wedding dress.” Lu Xun smiled, his voice dropping low, carrying through the microphone like a murmur meant only for her. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

“As a lawyer, I always advise my clients to sign prenuptial agreements. But I want you to know—to me, you are the only law that matters. No prenup. Everything I have belongs to you.”

The hall erupted completely, thunderous applause ringing through the auditorium.

Amid all that noise, Qian Wei tried to smile—but as she smiled, she found herself unable to hold back the tears.

She’d never imagined Lu Xun would give her a proposal like this.

But it truly was, in her heart, the best proposal she could have asked for. Not conventional, not ordinary—bold, unapologetic, unrestrained. It had love, it had dreams, it had a career, it had a future. Everything she wanted, Lu Xun had, and Lu Xun was willing to give it all to her. He’d laid his whole self bare, his love included, like an offering, holding his own heart out to her without reservation.

Qian Wei looked up, and through her tears, she saw Lu Xun stepping down from the stage, walking toward her.

When she was very young, she’d read a fairy tale once. In the story’s ending, it said that somewhere in the world, there would be one person who would part the noisy crowd, walk through thorns, and come toward you slowly and steadily, carrying nothing but his courage and his love.

It turned out to be true.