Ruan Yu turned her head away, staring up at the car ceiling and muttering under her breath: “I didn’t leak any internal information, I didn’t leak any internal information…”

Her expression said this had absolutely nothing to do with her — Xu Huaisong had figured it out himself.

Xu Huaisong was momentarily caught off guard, and quickly realized he’d overreacted just now.

Merely as the person who had helped the novel escape its plagiarism dispute, he had no grounds to feel this degree of displeasure over the casting of the male lead.

Yet Ruan Yu hadn’t questioned his overreaction. Going by her response, she had even tacitly accepted it — that he had every reason to be upset.

Which meant she understood his reason.

Just as among the thousands of animals in the world, she had specifically chosen the fox to compare him to.

Xu Huaisong’s hands slowly loosened from the steering wheel, and he turned to study her, a probing quality in his gaze.

Under that scrutiny, Ruan Yu sensed that he seemed to have figured something out. She drew her neck in and gradually looked away — but then reconsidered and straightened her back: he was allowed to see through things without saying them aloud, but she wasn’t?

The moment she squared her shoulders, Xu Huaisong averted his eyes — possibly because the moral ground had always been his to concede first.

He stared ahead, brow tightly knitted. After a moment, he returned to the matter at hand: “He’s a singer. What business does he have acting?”

Ruan Yu tilted herself sideways, propped her chin in her hand, elbow resting on the storage console between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s, looking the picture of innocent bewilderment: “People who argue cases in court act too, don’t they?”

Xu Huaisong faltered, looked down, and found her tiny face hovering just beneath his line of sight, wearing an expression of unguarded smugness — and suddenly reached out and pinched her chin.

Ruan Yu froze, registered what that gesture likely meant, and jerked backward the instant his index finger moved to tilt her chin up.

The seatbelt snapped her spine back against the seat, and she saw stars.

Xu Huaisong laughed despite himself: “What are you doing?”

She pressed a hand over her chin and feigned composure: “What were you doing?”

Xu Huaisong considered for a moment: “Swatting a mosquito. There was one on your chin just now.”

“I was swatting a mosquito too,” she said, glancing behind her, “there was one on my back just now — I, I slammed it to death…”

Xu Huaisong held back a laugh, started the car again, and after pulling out a ways, still couldn’t let it go: “You don’t have any veto power?”

It took Ruan Yu a few beats to catch his meaning — he was still fixating on Li Shican.

She shot him a sideways glance: “The fact that I get to be involved in the scriptwriting at all is already them thinking highly of me. Who am I to have a say in casting? Aren’t you being a little unreasonable?”

Xu Huaisong said no more and changed the subject: “Dragon Boat Festival is in a few days.”

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you heading back to the suburbs?”

“I’m freelance — it’s not like I have to wait for holidays to go home. I usually leave those days for my parents’ former students. Come every festival, there’s always a whole crowd of outstanding alumni from No. 1 High coming to visit them. I might not even be able to squeeze my way in.”

Xu Huaisong smiled slightly: “Someone like me — would I count as an outstanding alumnus of No. 1 High?”

Ruan Yu had talked herself straight into a corner. There was no way to turn Xu Huaisong down now even if she’d wanted to.

He’d made it perfectly clear — he was going to visit his former teachers in the capacity of a student, and could conveniently give her a ride while he was at it. What could she possibly say to that?

And besides, on the matter of Li Shican being cast as the male lead of the film, he was occupying the high ground of someone who had been wronged. For him to make a request from that position — she couldn’t very well give him the cold shoulder.

So on Friday evening, when Xu Huaisong came to pick her up to go shopping for gifts at the mall, she didn’t manage to say a single “no.”

Three hours later, the trunk was packed full of gifts — some bought specifically for the Ruan family, and some in pairs. Xu Huaisong planned to visit the Ruan household the following day, then head back to Su Shi the day after, or the day after that, to bring some holiday gifts for his mother and sister as well.

It was the first time Ruan Yu had experienced how a man’s purchasing power could sometimes outstrip a woman’s — especially when he was out to make an impression.

She got home and collapsed onto her bed without moving, mentally drafting how to give her parents a heads-up so the visit wouldn’t come as too much of a shock.

Then again, she reconsidered — her father would probably be overjoyed rather than shocked.

She called home, said only that she’d be coming over tomorrow and that someone was driving her, and left it at that.

Hanging up, she was met with an inconveniently timed message from Li Shican: Senior, can you finally make good on that meal you owe me tomorrow?

She did still owe him a meal — a social debt she’d been meaning to repay. She’d been waiting for him to let her know when he was free, but she’d kept waiting and waiting, only for the timing to clash exactly with Xu Huaisong’s invitation.

By any measure of first-come-first-served, Xu Huaisong took precedence. She replied without hesitation: So sorry, junior — tomorrow’s Dragon Boat Festival and I need to go see my parents. Would it be all right to reschedule?

Li Shican: There are still two days left of the Dragon Boat Festival holiday, pick whichever works for you. And it’s not just about the meal — I also want to talk to you about Cen Sisi. She’s already begun further psychological treatment in Germany, and the diagnosis results should be out in the next couple of days.

Cen Rongzhen had reached out to Ruan Yu once before, saying it was largely safe to conclude that Cen Sisi had not engaged in any behavior that threatened anyone’s personal safety.

But Ruan Yu had never quite been able to let go of the matter of the stolen outline, so she’d gently raised the request that the Cen family, in the course of Cen Sisi’s ongoing treatment, help her confirm whether Cen Sisi had ever had someone hack into her computer.

Hypnotherapy couldn’t be rushed, and Ruan Yu hadn’t pressed — but by the look of things now, they were finally going to get an answer.

She typed back: Alright, I’ll let you know the specific time tomorrow.

The following morning, not yet seven o’clock, Xu Huaisong was already waiting downstairs at Ruan Yu’s apartment building.

Just before heading out, Ruan Yu remembered he’d most likely skipped breakfast — so she casually brought two freshly boiled white eggs down with her.

Xu Huaisong watched her get into the car and immediately produce two eggs from her bag, and was so stunned he forgot to drive.

On this day of unspoken understanding — going to win over her parents — what did she mean by giving him two plain boiled eggs?

Was this another one of those “fox and hare” reading comprehension questions?

Ruan Yu glanced at him: “What’s wrong? You don’t eat plain boiled eggs?”

Xu Huaisong quietly turned over the possible deeper significance behind her words, and didn’t answer for a moment.

Ruan Yu assumed he was a picky eater: “Plenty of people don’t eat plain boiled eggs, honestly — and they’re so nourishing.”

“Nourishing…” his throat moved, “for what?”

For what? Ruan Yu found she couldn’t quite say on the spot. In her memory, her parents had always told her eating plain boiled eggs would make you smarter.

Her silence, in Xu Huaisong’s reading of it, looked unmistakably like something too embarrassing to put into words. He blinked slowly twice, and said with a trace of uncertainty: “I shouldn’t… need to supplement that…”

“Oh.” Ruan Yu nodded.

Fair enough — already sharp enough as it was. Any more and he’d turn into something inhuman?

Since he didn’t want them, she didn’t press, tucked the eggs back into the container, and said: “We’ll just have brunch later then.”

Xu Huaisong made a sound of agreement, started the car, and pulled out — only to drift off course, snap back to attention, and hastily correct the steering wheel.

Holiday traffic was heavy, which was exactly why they’d set out so early. Having avoided the peak rush, the car cleared the city limits quickly enough, and just as things were going smoothly, Xu Huaisong’s phone rang.

Ruan Yu reflexively glanced over, and saw that the name on screen read “Lu Shenglan.”

Xu Huaisong looked down at it: “Can you pick that up for me?”

That he was willing to say as much was enough. Ruan Yu shook her head to indicate it was fine: “Just use Bluetooth.”

Xu Huaisong glanced at her, skipped the Bluetooth, and put it directly on speakerphone.

But the moment it connected, a piercing ambulance siren came blaring through the speaker.

In almost the same instant, Xu Huaisong understood what had happened, and pulled the car sharply to the side of the road.

At the same time, Lu Shenglan’s breathless voice came through: “Huaisong… your uncle had another stroke. The caretaker called an ambulance. I just got the news and I’m on my way…”

He was silent for two beats, then spoke quickly: “What’s the situation?”

“Not entirely clear yet. I’m letting you know first — if it comes to it, you may need to come back. I’ll keep you updated.”

Ruan Yu caught the weight of the words “letting you know” and “if it comes to it,” and went perfectly still in the passenger seat.

The chaotic sounds of footsteps and English she couldn’t quite make out filtering through the speaker seemed to confirm it.

Lu Shenglan switched to speaking English with someone nearby — “Here!” — and then hurriedly ended the call.

The air inside the car went completely still.

Xu Huaisong’s brow creased. He turned his head: “I might need to—”

“Drive the car back to the hotel and get your passport,” Ruan Yu cut him off. “I’ll book the flight.” She picked up his phone as she said it.

She made the decision with perfect clarity — but the hand holding his phone trembled slightly.

Xu Huaisong said “mm,” turned the car around and headed back toward the city, and heard her ask: “Lock screen passcode?”

“Your birthday.”

Ruan Yu’s mind was racing, terrified there’d be no seats left on the nearest flight, and nearly blanked on her own birthday. She hesitated for a moment before typing it in, then found the flight booking app he used regularly and searched quickly.

“The next available flight is at eleven twenty — probably won’t make it. Is two thirty in the afternoon all right?”

“That works.”

“Payment passcode?”

“309017.”

In that moment — Xu Huaisong reciting those numbers, and Ruan Yu hearing them — neither of them had any attention to spare for what they meant.

Xu Huaisong drove at full speed.

Fortunately, traffic in the city was still light at this hour. An hour later, they were back at the hotel.

The moment they were through the door, he rushed into the bedroom for his passport. Ruan Yu followed and said: “Take the car straight to the airport. If anything comes up with the hotel, I’ll take care of it.”

Xu Huaisong retrieved his passport, rose, and stood in front of her: “I probably won’t be able to drive you back.”

“I’m a grown adult — can’t I find my way home on my own?”

Xu Huaisong said “mm,” ruffled her hair: “Be careful on your way back. I’ll let Liu Mao know — check in with him when you get home, all right?”

“Got it.” She pushed him toward the door. “Go, hurry.”

Xu Huaisong stepped out.

Ruan Yu stood alone in the room, a sudden panic washing over her. She stood in a daze for a long while, with no sense of how much time had passed, when she suddenly heard the doorbell ring.

Thinking it was Xu Huaisong who’d come back, she was already speaking as she opened the door: “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine on my own—” and then stopped abruptly.

Because standing outside was not Xu Huaisong — but Tao Rong and Xu Huaishi, arms laden with bags large and small.

“……”

Author’s Note: Just a heads-up this time — small scene ahead. Not dramatic, not angsty.