The plane pierced through the clouds and reached cruising altitude. Once the flight stabilized, the flight attendants began smiling as they distributed water and snacks to the passengers.

One flight attendant, in high heels, pushed her cart down the aisle. Passing by a spot near the walkway, she saw a gentleman leaning back slightly, a black fedora covering his face.

Beneath the brim of the hat, the edge revealed the man’s refined, sharply defined jawline and pointed, slender chin.

The flight attendant discreetly studied the man’s clothing — a casual T-shirt, casual pants, a casual jacket, ordinary in every way — but she still recognized the watch on his wrist at a glance.

If she remembered correctly, this watch was worth seven figures.

In an instant, the man’s “ordinariness” from head to toe transformed into understated luxury.

The attendant sweetened her voice, bowed slightly, and asked with professional courtesy, “Good day, sir. What would you like to drink?”

The man’s hand moved slightly, and the fedora on his face slid off with it. First to be revealed was his somewhat tousled hair, then his smooth forehead, then his high, straight nose bridge.

His eyes were lowered, his eyelashes thick and dark, an enviable length.

As if pulled by invisible strings, the fedora landed smoothly in the man’s hand — his hands were large, fingers slender, knuckles pronounced but not jarring; instead, they conveyed strength.

The flight attendant, startled by this man’s air of superiority in every detail, found her gaze involuntarily drawn to his face.

Just then, the man lifted his eyes, and she found herself unexpectedly caught in a pair of dark eyes.

The attendant froze. “Young… Young Master Liang?”

Liang Yan’s brow furrowed imperceptibly.

This trip was private. No one was supposed to know. He had deliberately chosen to board last.

Once on the plane, he had kept his hat pulled down the whole time, and no one had recognized him.

Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to entertain this fan right now.

With years of experience observing people, the attendant immediately saw that Liang Yan didn’t want to be disturbed. She quickly lowered her voice and stopped mentioning his name.

Treating him like any other passenger, she asked softly, “Sir, what would you like to drink?”

Liang Yan was, in fact, surprised by her quick response. He gave her a polite smile, his voice equally low, “Just plain water, thank you.”

“Of course.” The attendant quickly poured a cup and set it on the tray table in front of him. Before leaving, she smiled, “Please enjoy, sir. If you need anything, just press the call button above your head.”

Liang Yan nodded.

After the attendant left, Liang Yan once more pulled the fedora over his face. The passenger beside him pulled down the window shade, and he closed his eyes, plunging his field of vision into darkness.

The cabin was quiet, but Liang Yan’s mind was in chaos.

He kept replaying everything that had happened over the past two years, dragging the floodgates of memory back to the moment he first met Qiao Qi.

He still remembered that scene clearly — the brightly lit restroom, the woman pushed and pressed against the edge of the sink by someone. He’d stood at a distance, her slender figure blocked from view; all he could see were those long, fair, straight legs.

She’d worn a qipao, her hairstyle styled in the fashion of the Republican era, two ruby studs on her pale, delicate earlobes catching the glare of the fluorescent light, glimmering.

He’d rescued her from that man’s grip. At first, the way she’d looked at him had been wary.

At the time he’d found it faintly amusing, glanced at her lightly, and walked away.

Now… he found himself rather ridiculous.

Once you know the truth, looking back at everything, you realize the signs had been there all along. The times they’d chatted, the times he’d traveled for business, the locations of those trips — and if you looked even more closely, you’d notice that the handful of stickers Qiao Qi had sent in the Misty Pavilion group chat were all ones “7” had used before.

“…”

Once he’d pieced it all together from start to finish, Liang Yan’s feelings were remarkably complicated, and — difficult to put into words.

What was hardest to accept was that, somewhere within this tangle of emotion, he could detect a small flicker of relief.

Relief that 7 was Qiao Qi. Relief that Qiao Qi was 7.

Relief that these two people were, in fact, one and the same.

His dream had come true.

But he didn’t seem to fear this outcome the way he had in his dreams — instead, he felt a vague sense of… beneath the fedora, the corner of the man’s mouth slowly curved upward.

A few seconds later, it was suppressed flat again, with effort.

Then, as if remembering something else, the corner of his mouth lifted once more in a flicker of pleasure.

Not until the plane landed smoothly did Liang Yan breathe in the familiar air.

He gazed steadily at the blue sky and white clouds; after a long moment, a trace of a smile touched the corners of his eyes.

He had to admit it — he was thoroughly satisfied with this outcome.

Over the past several hours, he had seriously asked himself: if the two of them weren’t the same person, what would he have done once he’d figured out who 7 really was?

No.

There was no “if.”

They were the same person.

The spirited, playful girl who bantered with him through a phone screen and the cool, composed woman who worked seriously alongside him on set — they were one and the same.

Jackpot.

Liang Yan couldn’t help the smile deepening at the corners of his eyes.

He wondered how she’d react if she knew Li’ang was Liang Yan, would… wait, Liang Yan suddenly remembered how Qiao Qi had gripped his wrist at the hospital a few days ago, hesitating to speak.

Holy shit.

Could it be she already had feelings for Liang Yan?

The moment this thought surfaced, Liang Yan couldn’t help reaching up to touch his own hair.

Was his head already sprouting a lush, thick patch of grass, goddammit?

Just then, a burst of noisy commotion sounded from a distance, as though a crowd of people were waiting for someone.

Liang Yan vaguely caught fragments — “They’re coming, they’re coming!” “Oh my god! Oh my god! I’m so excited!”

Liang Yan frowned, his good mood evaporating by half.

Had that flight attendant said something on Weibo?

Even a private trip had people camping out — these fans needed another lesson, apparently.

Liang Yan reached to pull the hat back over his head; before settling it, he ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, strands falling across his forehead, occasionally tangling with his curled lashes.

He blew out a careless breath, sending the strands rising and falling again, narrowed his eyes, turned, and headed for the exit.

Though he wore a mask over his face, nothing could suppress the sheer magnetism of his presence; with one hand tucked into his pocket, passersby kept glancing his way.

He was long accustomed to living under the spotlight — these curious glances weren’t enough to unsettle him.

If anything, they lent him an extra air of unbothered distinction.

Just as he drew closer to the crowd, and was about to raise a hand in greeting, he suddenly saw the people at the front covering their mouths and shrieking.

But their gazes seemed to be aimed… behind him?

Liang Yan paused, stopping in his tracks.

The next second, he clearly heard someone shout: “Qiao Qi! Qiao Qi! Sister Qiao Qi!! The lovely Seventh Princess, radiant as she steps into the light!”

…What?

Qiao Qi?

Liang Yan turned to follow everyone’s gaze, and saw — about three meters away — Qiao Qi walking toward them, looking a little lost and alone.

She had no bodyguard or assistant with her at all, pushing a single pearl-white 24-inch suitcase by herself.

Her own outfit was especially simple and understated — a plain white shirt, a dark blue high-waisted A-line midi skirt.

The skirt looked like it was made of pure cotton, wide and full; on her, it didn’t look like it was overwhelming her frame — instead, it looked relaxed and comfortable.

There was a faint, natural air of easy freedom about her.

This presence stood in sharp contrast with the bewilderment on her face; she seemed like she’d never experienced such a large-scale airport greeting before, and for a moment seemed caught between staying and fleeing.

Not until someone led the chant again: “Lovely Seventh Princess, radiant as she steps into the light! Lovely Seventh Princess, radiant as she steps into the light!”

…What kind of nonsensical slogan was that?

Liang Yan was only distracted for a moment before Qiao Qi strode right past him on her long legs.

Completely ignoring him.

…What?

Was his presence really that weak?

Liang Yan couldn’t help pulling out his phone to check his reflection.

Still devastatingly handsome!

And yet, at this moment, no one was paying attention to this devastatingly handsome top-tier celebrity — everyone’s eyes were fixed on Qiao Qi, phones and cameras raised to capture her.

Qiao Qi wore no makeup, no mask, no sunglasses, no hat, no protective gear of any kind — she simply walked forward, bare-faced and unguarded, right into the crowd.

She looked a little uneasy, unsure how to greet them.

Before she could even get out a “hello,” she was almost instantly swarmed.

She stood right in the middle, unable to move forward or step back; her suitcase had been jostled out of her grip by someone in the crush. She blinked in bewilderment, looking like a monkey forcibly pinned down for the crowd to gawk at.

“Ahhhhh Qiao Qi! Oh my god! You’re so gorgeous!!”

“Holy crap, her skin is amazing!”

“Ah! Qiao Qi, Qiao Qi, can I hug you?!”

Countless requests exploded around her ears; Qiao Qi felt herself completely losing control of the situation.

She finally frowned and spoke up, “Wait — wait a moment, excuse me, please let me through, excuse me, excuse me…”

No one listened.

These people who claimed to love her so much didn’t hear her request at all — some even reached out to tug at her clothes, others tried to grab her hand.

The moment the first person touched her, more followed.

Qiao Qi frowned in resistance, growing angry, her voice rising.

“Excuse me! Please let me through!”

Just then, a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pushing his way desperately through the crowd, his target unmistakably Qiao Qi.

Qiao Qi’s instincts flared at a flicker in her peripheral vision, and suddenly a wave of oppressive presence surged toward her.

Almost by reflex she turned her face away and stepped back, but her foot landed on someone else’s, and her already unsteady body lost its balance entirely. Her eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively threw an arm up, grasping at the air, trying to find something to hold onto.

But at the exact moment she most needed protection, the fans around her instinctively stepped back to protect themselves. Qiao Qi lost all support completely, and with the crowd’s chaos compounding the problem, she was about to fall to the ground —

That man also seized the opening, trying to wrap his arm around Qiao Qi’s waist.

At that critical instant, the crowd — until then like an impenetrable wall — suddenly parted, and a figure appeared from nowhere, blocking the man who was reaching for Qiao Qi’s waist.

Not only was the man blocked, but he was also shoved — not too hard, not too gently — and in an instant, he landed flat on his backside.

The sudden turn of events left everyone momentarily speechless. All eyes turned as one toward a masked man who had Qiao Qi wrapped protectively in his arms, in a posture of complete, unwavering shelter.

He was tall; when he narrowed his eyes, his thick, long lashes obscured his gaze.

Yet it still radiated an unmistakably chilling presence.

The man who’d fallen stared up at him in disbelief. Somewhere in the crowd, someone murmured, “Young Master Liang?”

The scene fell silent for an instant, then erupted into a wave of shouting, one after another.

“Young Master Liang?!”

“Whoa! It’s Young Master Liang!”

“Ahhhhh, what kind of dog-crap luck did I step in today!”

Everyone was thrilled and excited — but in the next second, Liang Yan, one hand still shielding Qiao Qi, reached up with the other and pulled off his mask.

He flipped it around and handed it to Qiao Qi, saying quietly, “Put this on.”

Qiao Qi was still in a state of shock and disbelief, still leaning against Liang Yan’s chest, clearly feeling his large hand resting at the small of her back.

When she tilted her face up to look at him, warmth seemed to silently ignite at the base of her spine.

Her whole body’s temperature began to rise, and her ears, hidden beneath her long hair, turned nearly transparent red.

“Stunned?” Liang Yan asked, having waited a while without a response. He tilted his head, meeting Qiao Qi’s still-dazed eyes, and the anger that had been half-ignited in his own gaze instantly dissipated. He arched an eyebrow slightly, released her waist, and reminded her quietly, “Stand steady.”

Qiao Qi silently steadied herself.

Seeing her still looking dazed and foolish, Liang Yan’s mouth curved up slightly, and he personally put the mask on her, backward.

Then he turned to face the crowd of fans, narrowed his eyes, and let his presence radiate outward, “Move aside!”

He was a man of few words.

Anyone in the industry knew Liang Yan never coddled or indulged his fans; if pushed too far, he could have someone hauled to the police station without hesitation.

And yet, some people ate that up.

So the crowd instantly fell silent, backing away to clear a path.

Liang Yan lifted his eyelids, sweeping his gaze over everyone, then took a few steps to retrieve the fedora that had been knocked off earlier. He returned to Qiao Qi’s side and, with a large hand, settled the hat onto her head.

Once he seemed satisfied that Qiao Qi was fully “armored,” he finally turned a cold gaze to the man still sitting on the ground.

The corner of his mouth curled into a mocking smile, his tone anything but polite, “Sir, why don’t you look up at the security cameras? Broad daylight sexual harassment — not a great look, is it?”

The man’s face changed almost instantly; he scrambled up and ran.

A fan reacted, “Young — Young Master Liang, he’s getting away…”

Liang Yan gave a light scoff, unconcerned, “Getting away? Where’s he going to run — underground?”

The fans: “…”

Thank you, they had a deep appreciation for Young Master Liang’s sharp tongue.

At this point, the chaos finally dispersed, and the previously bustling fans unanimously appointed themselves bodyguards and escorts for Qiao Qi and Liang Yan.

Everyone watched as Liang Yan shielded Qiao Qi tightly and thoroughly, as though afraid this grown woman might bump into something.

No one quite knew how it happened, but somehow they’d all been inexplicably shipped as a couple.

Before long, this little incident trended on social media — not just photos, but videos, and even a livestream!

Liang Yan and Qiao Qi, having been directly caught red-handed by their own actions once again, sent the shippers cheering and celebrating wildly all over again.

This time, neither Liang Yan nor Qiao Qi needed to post anything on Weibo — his die-hard solo fans took it upon themselves to dig into his Weibo, screenshotting his earlier posts denying the relationship.

Whenever shippers danced under the trending topic, his solo fans would coldly recite the same key phrases in response: Brotherly affection! Buddies! Work partners! Don’t taint Teacher Qiao’s reputation! Our Young Master Liang can be shameless, but Teacher Qiao cannot!

After “clarifying,” they’d run to the fan forum and act cute: “Hehe, big bro, praise me! @LiangYan, this time you don’t even need to lift a finger, we’ve got it handled for you!”

Liang Yan, having watched this whole spectacle unfold on his phone: “…”

No need.

There was really no need.

Are you helping me?

You’re whipping my corpse!

Author’s Note: Go to sleep, all of you.

I’ll keep writing — should update again before 2am.