Jiang Ruoqiao and Lu Yicheng were both, by some unspoken agreement, perfectly content not to walk over and greet each other.

At this banquet, the two of them were the most background of background figures. No matter how accomplished they were at school, they were still students who hadn’t graduated yet. The majority of people present had already made a name for themselves in their respective fields — and which of them hadn’t once been a star figure in their own school days? Jiang Ruoqiao followed closely behind her senior colleague, who was very kind to her — more than ten years her senior, with clear intention to nurture her — and led her around to meet various people in the industry.

Lu Yicheng didn’t enjoy events like this and felt out of his element, but He Li was fond of him. They had met on an academic forum; at the time, Lu Yicheng was still a freshman and He Li was nearly graduating. The two had gotten into a debate over a forum post, after which He Li sought Lu Yicheng out on his own initiative. They hit it off well, sharing similar interests and outlooks, and Lu Yicheng now worked part-time at He Li’s company. He Li privately wanted to look out for Lu Yicheng too — even if Lu Yicheng had little interest in that sort of thing, He Li still dragged him around to meet the industry heavyweights, making small talk and introductions.

Just half an hour.

Jiang Ruoqiao was exhausted. So was Lu Yicheng.

This was simply not a setting they could handle yet.

They exchanged the occasional glance across the room — which was, in itself, a kind of comfort.

At least… in a place like this, having a familiar face in roughly the same boat as you was genuinely reassuring.

Jiang Ruoqiao noticed a young man nearby glancing repeatedly in her direction.

She took note of it inwardly.

This kind of situation was nothing new to her. But this wasn’t school — at school, if someone tried to talk to her, she could brush them off however she pleased. Here, the situation called for more care. She bowed her head and thought it over for a moment, then decided to seek help on the spot. She took out her phone from her clutch and sent a message to Lu Yicheng — worried he might not see it, she also dialed his number and hung up immediately.

Lu Yicheng was in the middle of eating. He quickly freed up one hand and grabbed his phone, saw Jiang Ruoqiao’s missed call, and instinctively began scanning the room for her.

Then he glanced down at the screen again — she had sent a WeChat message.

He opened it.

Jiang Ruoqiao: 【Emergency. If you see me touch my ear, give me a call.】

Lu Yicheng: “?”

He hadn’t quite worked out what she meant yet, but he looked up again — and finally spotted her… along with the man who was speaking to her.

Lu Yicheng: “.”

Jiang Ruoqiao’s face wore a polite smile. She watched the man hold out a business card with an expression of complete self-assurance, and let out an internal sigh of relief.

Good thing she’d prepared in advance.

“This banquet is hosted by my uncle,” the young man said, making no attempt to conceal his interest in Jiang Ruoqiao. “I do hope you’ll forgive any shortcomings in our hospitality.”

Jiang Ruoqiao smiled lightly. “Of course, thank you.”

The young man asked, “I overheard Miss Liu mention that you’re still a student?”

“Yes, third year.”

“Miss Jiang looks somehow familiar,” the young man said. “Could it be that you’re my junior? Which school do you attend?”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “A University.”

The interest in the young man’s eyes sharpened.

Jiang Ruoqiao thought to herself: if she had the ability to read minds, the thoughts flowing into her ears right now would probably go something like this — *She’s promising. Top student, that’s a feather in the cap. Haven’t gone after this type before. Shouldn’t be hard to pursue.*

This man had made no attempt from the start to hide the fact that he came from a wealthy family, flaunting a background that could open doors others couldn’t.

In Jiang Ruoqiao’s previous romantic standards, she had indeed hoped that a boyfriend would have some measure of financial stability.

At the same time, she had always been clear about one thing: she couldn’t get involved with a rich second-generation heir easily. So among her three ex-boyfriends, aside from Jiang Yan, the other two were from comfortable backgrounds — but in a city like Jing Shi where every square inch of land was worth gold, they still couldn’t be called wealthy heirs.

A lot of those born into money were arrogant. Understandably so — the fawning of the people around them, combined with the way society currently worked, gave them that illusion.

Back in the student union, there had been a senior who was also the school beauty of her class. She and Jiang Ruoqiao got along well, and in private the senior had once told her: if you get into a relationship with one of those arrogant second-gens, you need to be mentally prepared for one thing — they decide when it ends. If they want to break up, they vanish from your world in an instant. If you want to break up and they don’t, then your life turns into hard mode.

Jiang Ruoqiao sighed internally.

Even without Lu Yicheng in the picture, she had absolutely no interest in pursuing any of this further.

She didn’t want to send a signal — to this man, or to anyone else in the room — that she was someone who could be hunted.

She was not prey.

The man looked at her with evident amusement. “Miss Jiang, shall we add each other on WeChat? That way if I ever need your services in the future, I can reach out directly.”

Jiang Ruoqiao knew that in a setting like this, refusing someone outright was poor form. But actually adding him on WeChat was something she genuinely didn’t want to do.

She raised her hand and touched her ear, and smiled. “Sure.”

The next second, her phone rang. She glanced at the man and said with a small apologetic look, “Excuse me, Mr. Chen — I need to take an important call.”

He smiled and nodded.

Jiang Ruoqiao answered. “Hello? Mr. Lu, what is it?”

Lu Yicheng was watching from not far away. He asked, “Is he giving you trouble?”

“No,” Jiang Ruoqiao said, giving Mr. Chen a polite smile while speaking to the voice on the other end. “It’s just a somewhat inconvenient situation, so I’m asking you to help me out.”

Lu Yicheng had already guessed what kind of inconvenience it was.

“So how long do we need to stay on this call?”

Jiang Ruoqiao said, “The longer the better.”

At least until the man got fed up and walked away.

Lu Yicheng made a sound of acknowledgment. “Then let’s find something to talk about.”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “Whatever you’d like, Mr. Lu. I’m completely flexible on my end.”

Lu Yicheng was amused. His clear, bright laugh reached her through the phone.

She tilted her head downward, feeling a little self-conscious.

In a setting like this — crowds moving around her, glasses clinking, and a stranger nearby still waiting to add her on WeChat — she felt, out of nowhere, a small, inexplicable thrill.

Only the two of them understood what was really happening.

“Hearing you call me ‘Mr. Lu’ feels strange,” Lu Yicheng said. “It always feels like you’re mocking me.”

Jiang Ruoqiao couldn’t hold it back — her eyes filled with laughter. “Not at all — you genuinely deserve the title.”

“It really was a coincidence today,” Lu Yicheng said. “I never imagined we’d run into each other here.”

Jiang Ruoqiao smiled. “Same. But it’s a good thing — otherwise I wouldn’t know who to turn to. It’s not the first time I’ve been in this kind of situation, but I’m a lot more careful about it than I used to be.”

Lu Yicheng went quiet.

He still felt, even now, that he was too small. Like right now — knowing she was uncomfortable, he couldn’t step forward and actually do anything about it.

And if he was being honest, when he’d looked up earlier and seen her talking to this man, there had been a dull, heavy feeling in his chest.

Jiang Ruoqiao paused, then asked, “Have you ever run into similar situations yourself, Mr. Lu? How do you handle them?”

Lu Yicheng thought for a moment. “I don’t really remember. Sometimes I say I don’t use WeChat, sometimes I say it’s not convenient.”

“What about in more formal settings?”

“I haven’t had anyone ask for my contact in a setting like this yet,” Lu Yicheng said.

He paused and added: “Probably has something to do with gender.”

Jiang Ruoqiao nearly laughed out loud. Lu Yicheng’s meaning was plain enough — women would hold back, weighing whether a rejection might cause problems. Men seemed to have no such reservations. Take this Mr. Chen, who had been growing visibly impatient — he had probably never once considered that she simply did not want to add him on WeChat. He was likely operating with the quiet confidence of a man who expected not to be turned down.

“Maybe so,” said Jiang Ruoqiao.

A silence settled between them. Jiang Ruoqiao didn’t speak, but she listened carefully.

Even though there was nothing but quiet on his end too.

Lu Yicheng stood holding his phone, watching her back.

Eventually, Mr. Chen really had run out of patience. He mouthed to Jiang Ruoqiao: “I’ll head off.”

Jiang Ruoqiao covered the receiver. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Chen.”

Mr. Chen left, resigned. He had caught enough to tell that the person on the other end was someone significant to her, and that they seemed to be discussing business. No telling how long it would go on.

The matter of adding contacts was dropped, just like that.

After Mr. Chen had gone well out of sight, Jiang Ruoqiao finally let out a breath. “Mr. Lu, I really must thank you for tonight.”

Lu Yicheng: “Please stop calling me ‘Mr. Lu.'”

Jiang Ruoqiao laughed, then quickly checked herself — she didn’t want to draw attention — and reined in the smile on her face. “What should I call you then?”

Lu Yicheng: “I think hearing you use my name feels a lot more natural to me.”

Her calling him “Mr. Lu” was awkward, and frankly a little embarrassing, because he was just an ordinary student — as ordinary as they came.

“Alright,” Jiang Ruoqiao said, deliberately lowering her voice until it was barely audible, and called out in a voice only the two of them could hear: “Lu Yicheng.”

Just those two syllables, heard only by her and the person on the other end of the line.

In that moment, both of them felt something — a feeling neither could quite name.

……

After hanging up, Lu Yicheng looked down at the little cake in his hand.

He had already forgotten why he’d picked it up in the first place.

Someone clapped him on the shoulder — it was He Li, the second familiar face of the evening.

He Li, who had no more love for this kind of networking than Lu Yicheng did, had loosened the top button of his shirt and was breathing a little easier. He asked, “Who were you on the phone with? I was about to come find you, but I saw you on a call and held back. That must’ve been at least fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Lu Yicheng said nothing and kept looking at the cherry jam on top of the little cake.

“Something going on with you lately?” He Li’s eyes lit up with gossip. “Definitely, right? It’s definitely something.”

Lu Yicheng stayed quiet.

Silence was sometimes as good as confirmation.

He Li: “Wait, is it real?! I heard people say you were going after the school beauty, I didn’t press — are you actually doing it? You’re actually pursuing her?”

Lu Yicheng hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Yes, he was pursuing her.

He Li: “I’m so jealous.”

Everyone around him either already had a partner or had something going on. He alone remained gloriously single.

Lu Yicheng paid him no mind.

Near the end of the banquet, Lu Yicheng hesitated, then pulled out his phone and sent Jiang Ruoqiao a WeChat message: 【Do you have anything on after this?】

Almost simultaneously, he received a message from Jiang Ruoqiao: 【Do you have anything on after this?】

They’d sent the exact same message at the exact same moment.

Lu Yicheng stared at the screen for a few seconds, then broke into a smile.

Jiang Ruoqiao simply buried half her face in her hand.

She was in the restroom touching up her makeup.

She hadn’t replied yet when another message from Lu Yicheng arrived: 【If you’re free, we could head back together — sharing a cab would be more economical with two people.】

Jiang Ruoqiao: “……”

Ah, there it was. The return of the cost-efficiency argument.

It had been so long since those words had appeared.

Jiang Ruoqiao teased him back: 【Sure, let’s split the fare.】

Lu Yicheng, upon receiving this message, immediately regretted himself.

Why had he tacked on that second sentence?

He had only meant to invite her to ride back together. How had he managed to make it sound like a carpooling arrangement?

He truly hadn’t meant it that way.

Jiang Ruoqiao was in the restroom, absolutely losing it.

Because she was watching the chat window display “the other person is typing…” over and over again.

And yet, after several minutes, he had still not sent a reply. One could only imagine the state he was in.

After a long while, Lu Yicheng finally replied: 【I’m never using the words ‘cost-efficiency’ again. You can hold me to that.】

—