Underground, in a parking garage, a black SUV sat parked in a corner. Outside it was broad daylight, but the corner of the parking lot was dim, as though conveniently set up for something illicit.

Qiao Qi sat in the passenger seat, the mask still on her face, every breath filled with Liang Yan’s scent.

This awareness made her ears flush red without her realizing it, her earlobes practically burning.

The blush spread from her cheeks down to her neck, and into the more forbidden territory beneath her collar.

Fortunately her hair was long, and the car’s interior was dim, so these changes were completely concealed.

She lowered her eyes, fidgeting with her fingers, feeling like she could hardly breathe — and yet inexplicably reluctant to take off the mask.

She could only keep her eyes lowered, processing all this emotional upheaval alone.

Liang Yan was faring no better than Qiao Qi. He sat in the driver’s seat, both hands resting uselessly on the steering wheel.

His fingers tapped the wheel in a disordered, restless rhythm, his inner unease laid completely bare.

His hair was equally disheveled; since leaving the Misty Pavilion production, his hair had grown longer, and he hadn’t bothered cutting it or changing the style.

He hadn’t joined a new project, so his hairstyle was left entirely to its own devices.

Now, with his hair longer, some strands tangled messily at his neck, the black tips like intriguing veins winding across his pale, cold neck.

He stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

All one could tell was that his refined features carved sharp, distinct lines even in the dim light.

Even his eyelashes seemed superior in the blink of an eye.

Neither of them spoke, letting the atmosphere in the car settle into a silent, sprawling tension.

After a good while, Liang Yan hesitantly opened his mouth, “I…”

Qiao Qi spoke at the same moment, “You…”

Both of them turned their heads at once, eyes meeting.

The moment their words landed, they both closed their mouths again, falling into a shared silence, “…”

The atmosphere grew even more delicate.

The air in the car seemed to have been drained entirely, making it hard to breathe.

Liang Yan waited a moment longer, then clicked his tongue and rolled down the window. Wind carrying the scent of the parking garage rushed in, then rushed back out.

Like wind sweeping away clouds, it carried off a good portion of the ambiguous tension inside the car.

Blown by the wind, the strands tangled near her ear lifted and fell again; the burning sensation in her ears gradually faded, and Qiao Qi grew steadily more clear-headed.

She turned her head; beneath the hat brim, above the mask, only a pair of dark, bright eyes remained visible.

She looked at Liang Yan, unblinking, “Why are you here?”

“I went abroad for a bit.”

And, in the process, uncovered your whole secret.

Liang Yan said it with easy candor.

Perhaps out of a guilty conscience, Qiao Qi’s heart gave a sudden lurch, and she asked, almost urgently, “What did you go abroad for?”

The moment she said it, both of them froze.

Liang Yan, thinking himself in possession of a god’s-eye view, sharply sensed something was off with Qiao Qi’s mood. He narrowed his eyes, and a sharp gleam surfaced in his usually lazy, flirtatious eyes.

His thin lips curved, and he probed with a half-smile, “Why is Teacher Qiao suddenly so interested in my travel itinerary?”

Qiao Qi felt an instant cold sweat break out across her back; she almost immediately looked away, then, halfway through, realized this behavior was practically the equivalent of covering her ears while stealing a bell — so she forced herself to look back, steady and seemingly unbothered.

Feigning nonchalance, she said “Oh,” casually, “Nothing, just wondering. Everyone in the group chat’s talking about the interview in a couple of days, and no one could reach you — didn’t realize you’d gone abroad.”

Hm?

Was that really all?

Liang Yan couldn’t help narrowing his eyes further, the gesture making his already alluring eyes appear even more elongated, the corners tilting upward. He stared at Qiao Qi for several seconds before looking away, unconcerned.

“Any more promotional events?” he asked.

Qiao Qi’s attention was, sure enough, redirected to work matters. She pulled out her phone and read him the specific time and location of the event from the group announcement.

Liang Yan said “Oh,” sounding indifferent. He suddenly propped his elbow on the steering wheel and tilted his head slightly, looking at Qiao Qi again.

With the light behind him, his expression was hard to read clearly, but his eyes carried an unmistakable veneer of predatory intent.

Belatedly sensing this oppressive atmosphere, Qiao Qi paused.

She stared at Liang Yan, her heart pounding.

What exactly had he gone abroad to do?

Had he discovered something?

Just as she sank into this knot of anxiety, Liang Yan suddenly asked, “Hey? Teacher Qiao, this trending topic of ours today — it won’t affect things with your boyfriend, will it?”

…Oh.

So that’s what he was worried about.

A wave of indescribable disappointment washed over Qiao Qi, but at the same time, she felt an unspoken relief.

Actually, she still hadn’t figured out how to face Liang Yan.

Especially after he’d stepped in to rescue her in front of so many people — the scale in her chest, already unable to balance, tipped even more visibly.

On one hand, she wanted to believe Liang Yan was doing this for Qiao Qi, because that would prove she also had some connection to Liang Yan in real life. On the other hand, she couldn’t help resenting him — resenting why he’d suddenly started asserting his presence in front of Qiao Qi.

Hadn’t he always treated Qiao Qi as a brother, a buddy?

What kind of platonic “bro-ship” involves wrapping an arm around someone’s waist in public and sharing a mask?

Was this some kind of German bone-setting technique?!

Goddammit.

So annoying.

Qiao Qi couldn’t help swearing under her breath, her whole mood instantly dropping.

She looked away, her head lowered slightly, and answered Liang Yan glumly, “It won’t. He doesn’t pay attention to this stuff.”

Nonsense.

You’ve never even told me how I follow this stuff?

Liang Yan’s thoughts were a mess. Qiao Qi wasn’t being particularly warm toward him — did that mean she probably didn’t have feelings for “Liang Yan”?

Then that thing on Li’ang’s head should still be black, right?

But… wasn’t “Liang Yan” the same as “Li’ang”?

Trapped in his own logical loop, Liang Yan short-circuited, and after a good long moment finally managed to blurt out: “Fuck!”

Qiao Qi jerked her head up. Only then did Liang Yan realize he’d accidentally cursed out loud; he hurried to explain, “Not cursing at you.”

Qiao Qi: “?”

Liang Yan: “Not cursing at myself either.”

Qiao Qi: “??”

Liang Yan: “…Not cursing at your boyfriend either.”

Qiao Qi: “???”

What was even going on.

She frowned, “What exactly are you trying to say?”

Liang Yan opened his mouth, then finally turned his head away, “Forget it. Never mind.”

He asked, “Where are you headed now? I’ll take you.”

Qiao Qi named a hotel. Liang Yan knew the place; before turning the key, he reminded her, “Seatbelt.”

Qiao Qi reached to fasten it, but the seatbelt accidentally caught the hat on her head, knocking it off into the backseat. Her hair fell messily over her face; distracted by her hair, she let go of the seatbelt.

The belt snapped back into place with a sharp, jarring sound.

Liang Yan, sitting beside her, watched her fumble, unsure what to deal with first. He sighed helplessly and reached out to help.

But he’d only gotten his hand halfway there when Qiao Qi caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and, quick and decisive, slapped the back of his hand.

Without hesitation.

Clean and efficient.

Liang Yan’s heart shattered. His eyes widened slightly, “What was that for? Why hit me?”

Qiao Qi shot him a flat glance, reached up to tuck her tangled hair behind her ear, then buckled her own seatbelt.

She said, matter-of-factly, “I have a boyfriend. No need to trouble you, Teacher Liang.”

Liang Yan: “…”

It hurt.

It really hurt.

An awful lot.

But Liang Yan had never been the type to accept a loss lying down, so he said, equally flatly, “Oh, understandable. It really is inconvenient — after all, I have a girlfriend too.”

Qiao Qi choked on that; she held it in for a long moment before, unable to resist, feigning nonchalance while deliberately avoiding his gaze, “Is Teacher Liang’s relationship with his girlfriend a good one? You two must’ve been together a long time, right?”

Meanwhile, her hand kept gripping the seatbelt.

Since the conversation had reached this point, Liang Yan couldn’t help wanting to probe a little further, so he answered first: “Yeah. Very good. We’ve been together a long time. What about you, Teacher Qiao? Your relationship with your boyfriend must be good too, right?”

Qiao Qi shot Liang Yan a cold glance sideways, watching the faint smile rise at the corner of his mouth as he mentioned his girlfriend, her heart a tangle of complicated feelings.

After holding it in for a while, she said, sulkily, “It’s just, so-so.”

Two light words, devastatingly effective.

Liang Yan slammed on the brakes, turning his head in disbelief, “‘So-so’? What do you mean, ‘so-so’? How is it ‘so-so’?”

Setting reality aside — weren’t the two of them practically inseparable online?

Wasn’t there rarely a day they didn’t chat?

Chatting every single day and it’s still ‘so-so’?

Qiao Qi lurched forward from the sudden braking, and once steady, tilted her head, giving him an appraising look.

Belatedly realizing his overreaction, Liang Yan cleared his throat lightly, looked away, faced forward, pressed the gas, and drove on slowly.

He added an explanation, “I’m just a little curious. Back on set, weren’t you two close? I noticed you kept texting him whenever you had free time.”

Qiao Qi said coldly, “Because I was bored.”

“…” Liang Yan’s heart went half-cold.

Qiao Qi’s attention was entirely on her sulking, completely missing Liang Yan’s unnatural expression. She deliberately teased, “Teacher Liang seemed pretty fond of chatting with his girlfriend on set too.”

Trying to salvage his previously damaged image, Liang Yan seized this opportunity to redeem himself, praising with genuine sincerity.

“Yeah! My baby’s great — pretty, great personality, good at everything.”

“Is that so.” Qiao Qi gave a cold, ambiguous laugh.

Since Qiao Qi didn’t know Liang Yan already knew her identity, the more he praised his girlfriend in front of her, the more she felt he was doing it on purpose.

Deliberately showing off how good his relationship with his girlfriend was, to tell her not to entertain any inappropriate thoughts about him.

Hah.

“You praise your baby that much — does your baby know?” Qiao Qi asked.

Liang Yan answered with complete certainty, “She knows!”

Qiao Qi gave a cold “Oh,” rolling her eyes internally three times over.

She knew a damn thing.

…Oh, wait. Actually, now she did know.

But what good did that do?

Right now she was Qiao Qi, not 7!

So Qiao Qi’s mood sank another notch.

Liang Yan, oblivious to Qiao Qi’s inner turmoil, prepared to score more points in his girlfriend’s real-life presence, and said, “My girlfriend really likes you, actually. She praises you in front of me all the time.”

“Your boyfriend…” Liang Yan asked, expectant.

The next second, he heard Qiao Qi say, “My boyfriend doesn’t know anything about the domestic entertainment industry.”

She added deliberately, “Because he lives abroad most of the time. He’s an elite.”

Liang Yan: “…”

His whole heart went cold.

“Oh, right.” Qiao Qi added with a smile, “He’s not in the country right now, either. He just told me a few days ago he was abroad.”

Liang Yan: “………….”

Goddammit.

He’d completely forgotten about that detail!

How many holes had he dug for himself, how much dirt had he buried himself under?

Might as well just buy a coffin and lie down in it now!

Author’s Note: Young Master Liang: Just so, so regretful. 🙂