Wind swept through the hallway; time had drifted into dinner hour, and the once-bustling corridor gradually thinned of people.

The doctor arrived as scheduled to check on Liang Xumo, asking about her condition, and upon seeing Liang Yan seated on the hallway bench, greeted him.

Liang Yan lifted his head at the sound, and only then did the doctor notice how bad Liang Yan’s complexion looked, his lips gone pale.

The doctor asked, “Mr. Liang, are you feeling unwell?”

Liang Yan’s thoughts churned; his throat felt as though it were choked with stone.

He stared at the doctor for a long moment, somewhat dazed, before finally saying in a hoarse voice, “I’m fine.”

The doctor asked again, “Coming in with me?”

He could tell that Liang Yan and Liang Xumo were a close, warm pair of siblings.

But to his surprise, Liang Yan declined.

He rose slowly from the bench, his movements sluggish, as if he himself were utterly exhausted.

“I won’t go in. Please, doctor, do explain the precautions carefully to my sister.”

—

Qiao Qi never got a reply from Liang Yan, and worry gnawed at her both before and after, until she finally decided to go over in person.

At that moment Maiya was lying in bed watching TV on Qiao Qi’s phone. Qiao Qi went over and said, “Can you give me the phone first?”

For the first time, Maiya said “no.” She gripped the phone tightly, even turning her back to Qiao Qi, offering only her shoulders.

Whether it was that she didn’t want to give the phone back—

Or that she didn’t want Qiao Qi to leave.

These days, nothing was ever simple.

Qiao Qi sighed helplessly, pulled a chair over and sat by the bed. She didn’t force Maiya to turn around, only spoke to her own accord: “Maiya, little kids shouldn’t be so rude, you know?”

“Sister Liang has been so good to you. You can dislike her, but you can’t show it to her face.”

Maiya flung the phone away angrily and scrambled up from the bed, short arms and legs pulling her upright, glaring furiously at Qiao Qi. “She’s a bad person! A thief!”

Qiao Qi’s heart caught, but she kept her face composed, continuing to coax her, “Hm? What bad person? What thief?”

“Did she steal something of yours?”

Maiya was stumped by the question, flustering red-faced without managing to explain anything, and finally burrowed back under the blanket.

Pulling the covers tightly shut behind her.

Looking at the small lump on the bed, Qiao Qi felt as if a breath were stuck in her chest too.

She quietly clenched her hands and sighed inwardly.

So close.

But she’d hit a wall here, so she had to give up.

Qiao Qi stood, bent to retrieve the phone still lying on the other side of the bed, and said to the lump, “I’m heading out now. Be good and listen to Brother Fairytale while I’m gone, okay?”

Maiya said nothing.

Getting no response, Qiao Qi turned to leave without another word.

But just as she turned, a small hand slowly emerged from under the covers, the edge of the blanket lifting slightly to reveal the child’s cautious eyes.

The little hand grabbed Qiao Qi’s finger. Sensing it, Qiao Qi paused mid-step and turned back to meet Maiya’s eyes.

After much hesitation, Maiya finally said, “…Sorry.”

She shouldn’t have lost her temper at the Seventh Princess.

What else could Qiao Qi say? She simply pulled the little girl out from under the blanket and, stroking her head, said, “It’s fine. Tell me whenever you’re ready, no rush.”

Maiya buried her chin against Qiao Qi’s shoulder, her big eyes blinking, thoroughly conflicted.

But… but they said not to tell the Seventh Princess.

Otherwise the Seventh Princess would be very sad.

She didn’t want the Seventh Princess to be sad.

—

By the time Qiao Qi reached Liang Xumo’s hospital room, she found that Liang Yan wasn’t there—only the doctor was speaking with Liang Xumo.

She stood at the doorway; perhaps because of the angle, Liang Xumo didn’t notice her.

Liang Xumo didn’t seem to be listening very attentively to the doctor; whatever he said, she responded to absently.

Probably shaken by everything happening online.

That kind of raw, bloody past—she must have worked hard to act as if it didn’t exist. Now that it had been pried open again, laid bare for the public to examine and judge, it must feel terrible.

Better not to go in and disturb her.

Qiao Qi turned to leave, but just as she did, she caught a glimpse of a figure flickering past around a corner down the hall.

—It was Liang Yan.

For some reason, Qiao Qi found this odd.

Given how harmonious Liang Yan and Liang Xumo’s relationship was—practically a model sibling pair—shouldn’t he be sticking close to Liang Xumo’s side after everything she’d just gone through?

Why was he hiding over there?

—Wait.

A flicker of something passed through Qiao Qi’s eyes.

She’d used the word “hiding.”

Was Liang Yan hiding from Liang Xumo?

Why?

Qiao Qi only hesitated a moment before turning and walking toward the corner.

At the corner by the window, Liang Yan had already taken off his coat at some point.

He wore only a shirt, the fabric not especially thick; the wind blew against him, the cloth wrapping around the outline of his body, catching the air and puffing slightly, making his frame look slender.

A little fragile, too.

Dusk had fallen without anyone noticing.

Winter nights always came early.

The city sky seemed draped in a massive curtain; far below, traffic streamed, people swarming like ants.

The hospital was all white, except for this one corner, colored the gray of concrete.

Liang Yan, apparently tired of standing, had tilted slightly, shoulder resting against the corner wall.

His expression was unreadable as he gazed out the window, a slender cigarette between his lips, its ember glowing; the wind caught it, and a spark of light fell into his eyes.

After a good while, he blinked slowly, drew the cigarette from between his lips with two fingers, and ash drifted down past the windowsill.

His fingers were longer than the cigarette.

This was the Liang Yan Qiao Qi had last seen on the night of the wrap party.

He stood right there, and yet seemed as though the whole world had abandoned him.

It made her heart ache.

Qiao Qi was absolutely certain she was aching for Liang Yan, so before he could notice her, she walked over on her own.

She still had her heels on, and made no effort to soften her footsteps.

In such a quiet corner, sound carried clearly.

But Liang Yan never turned back.

Never turned around.

He remained tilted against the wall, gazing at something, a hazy light pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Qiao Qi walked the last few steps to stand beside him.

She knew he’d seen her, and knew he knew it was her who’d come.

“Why are you out here?” she said, gazing out the window too.

“Bored.”

The moment Liang Yan spoke, Qiao Qi knew he hadn’t stopped at just one cigarette.

His voice sounded as if it had been steeped in tobacco, hoarse and low, grinding against the ear, a faint numbness spreading straight to the heart.

Qiao Qi couldn’t help frowning, glancing sideways at the corner of the wall, and sure enough, there was a small pile of cigarette butts.

Evidence enough of the man’s gloomy mood.

But it wasn’t a good habit.

Almost without thinking, Qiao Qi reached out and snatched the half-finished cigarette from between Liang Yan’s fingers.

This wasn’t something Liang Yan had anticipated; he looked at her with some surprise, and Qiao Qi, not even sure where her own boldness had come from, glared back at him, tone rather harsh, “What are you looking at?”

Liang Yan blinked, then arched an eyebrow.

Qiao Qi certainly noticed this, but pretended not to, reaching out to snuff the cigarette out against the windowsill before tossing it into the corner.

Liang Yan remained leaning against the corner wall as before, but his whole posture had clearly relaxed. A careless smile hung on the corner of his mouth, and his gaze, laden with meaning, wandered across Qiao Qi’s face.

After a while he said, “Littering cigarette butts isn’t good.”

“No kidding,” Qiao Qi retorted. “You think I don’t know that’s not good?”

Liang Yan, scolded, laughed instead of getting angry. “And yet you still tossed it.”

“You want me to shove it in your mouth instead?” Qiao Qi looked at him.

Liang Yan: “…So fierce.”

“There’s more fierce where that came from!” Qiao Qi pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, handing it to Liang Yan, tone commanding, “Pick them up. Wrap them up. Throw them away.”

“…What?” Liang Yan hadn’t caught up.

Qiao Qi looked at him, spelling it out word by word, “Pick. Them. Up. Wrap. Them. Up. Throw. Them. Away.”

Liang Yan: “…No.”

Three minutes later.

Qiao Qi and Liang Yan walked back one after the other; passing a trash can, Liang Yan swiftly and deftly tossed in a small white bundle, then walked on nonchalantly, as if nothing at all had happened.

Qiao Qi, walking behind him, couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Meanwhile, the two of them were now less than two meters from Liang Xumo’s room.

Liang Yan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Qiao Qi assumed her laughing had been too obvious and was preparing to play dumb the moment he asked—but instead, Liang Yan turned, grabbed her wrist, and walked straight toward the elevators.

Qiao Qi: “?”

Liang Yan didn’t look back either, saying as he walked, “Come on, let’s go drink!”

Qiao Qi: “…?”

Did he seriously think of her as some kind of drinking buddy?

—

As Liang Yan dragged her along, Qiao Qi’s mind filled with questions—where exactly were they going to drink? Was there somewhere to drink near the hospital? Or were they going to drive around the city looking for some dedicated bar?

This wasn’t good, was it?

She’d finally managed to stay out of the trending topics this time.

“Wait, wait, wait a second!” Qiao Qi tried to stop, but the man, despite looking slender and fragile, still had a strength that far outmatched hers.

In front of him, she felt like a fragile little chick.

The kind you carry around by the scruff.

Qiao Qi couldn’t help imagining herself being carried off like that, and after a good while of speechlessness, said sincerely, “Young Master Liang.”

Liang Yan finally turned back, giving her a look like a monarch bestowing favor.

He said nothing, but his whole expression said: Speak.

Qiao Qi: “…I have legs. Can I please just walk properly.”

Liang Yan lowered his gaze, and even with his eyelids shielding it, Qiao Qi still felt the scan of his scornful, cutting glance.

“Not long enough,” Liang Yan pronounced decisively, spitting out the key word, “Slow.”

“…”

Qiao Qi had genuinely wanted to get along well with this man, since he did seem to be in a bad mood.

But this person clearly had a death wish.

So Qiao Qi lifted her free hand, resting it lightly on Liang Yan’s wrist, flicking it dragonfly-light in warning: “Let go.”

Liang Yan stared back at her silently, unmoved.

Qiao Qi smiled, “If you don’t let go, I’ll show you what real fierce means.”

Liang Yan kept staring back.

Just as Qiao Qi was about to act, Liang Yan suddenly released her, casual as a passing breeze.

Fine.

He did know some restraint after all.

But the very next second, Liang Yan’s brows furrowed slightly, and the corners of his eyes drooped into a puppy-dog look.

A wave of sheer wounded pathos rolled off him.

Before Qiao Qi could figure out what was happening, she heard Liang Yan say, voice low and heavy, “I’m really in a bad mood.”

“I thought, as a former coworker, you’d be willing to keep me company for a while.”

“Guess I was overthinking it.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry to bother you.”

Having said this, he gave her one more deeply meaningful look, then turned to leave.

Watching the man’s solitary figure walk into the darkness, Qiao Qi said nothing.

…If you’re going to compete, compete fair and square—wasn’t playing pitiful and coy against the rules?