Gu Yan’s “okay” sent Qi Xi’s heart pounding like a drum, and she found herself unexpectedly nervous and uneasy.

Even though she interacted with Gu Yan often, most of it was work-related. Now, having to talk with him deep into the night, Qi Xi suddenly wasn’t sure what to even talk about—could the two of them really keep a conversation going until she fell asleep?

But Qi Xi quickly realized her worry had been unnecessary. Late-night chats with Gu Yan, it turned out, would never risk running dry.

Because Gu Yan started reading her actual bar exam practice questions—

A hypothetical about a man who snatches an old woman’s handbag while she’s walking her dog, kicks the pursuing dog to death fifty meters away to escape, and the woman dies of a heart attack from the shock of watching it all. He asked what category the man’s conduct fell under, and whether kicking the dog counted as violent coercion in a post-theft robbery scenario.

“…”

Qi Xi found that instead of growing sleepy, she’d become even more alert. She answered, deadpan, that it didn’t count as violent coercion after the fact, since that legal category only covered violence or threats of violence against people, not against property—kicking the dog was simply an act to escape its pursuit. But killing the victim’s purebred dog did constitute damage to private property, which could support a supplementary civil claim.

“Mm.” Gu Yan affirmed her answer. “Next, there’s a case where…”

Qi Xi’s survival instinct kicked in and she cut him off fast. “Can we not do practice questions? Talk about something else…”

“You don’t like criminal law? What about civil law?”

“…” Qi Xi struggled on. “Is there anything else?”

“You don’t like substantive law? What about procedural law—civil procedure or criminal procedure?” Gu Yan paused, then added, quite naturally, “Or we could talk about that intellectual property dispute case you just picked up?”

Qi Xi had run out of things to say. She’d now completely forgotten the terrifying near-miss she’d been through earlier that day, replaced entirely by speechless exasperation.

“Gu Yan, can we please talk about something other than work and legal stuff…”

Curled up in her warm blanket, she said, “Tell me how you always come in first place. Everyone says you barely pull all-nighters and don’t even review before exams—so you’re really telling me you’ve never secretly studied through the night?”

“No,” Gu Yan answered, infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “If the professor already covered it once in class and you didn’t retain it, why would reviewing it again after class help?”

“…”

Qi Xi decided this line of conversation wasn’t worth pursuing further. She said, defeated, “Gu Yan, you know what? I finally understand why someone with your looks, physique, and intelligence still failed at confessing his feelings.”

That topic definitely caught Gu Yan’s attention—his voice rose slightly on the other end. “Why?”

Then Qi Xi heard his voice turn a bit sulky. “So what should we talk about, then?”

“Like, more interesting things. Or sing a song for the person you like. Or talk about recent movies, trashy TV dramas, favorite foods, celebrity gossip.”

Gu Yan was quiet for a moment before answering. “I don’t know how. I’m not an interesting person to begin with.”

Maybe people just let their guard down more easily at night—though Qi Xi had originally wanted Gu Yan to keep her company by talking, in the end it was she who ended up carrying the conversation.

She reassured him, “Never mind. Looking like you, you don’t really need to be interesting.”

Burrowing further into her blanket, she said, “Since you don’t know how, I’ll talk and you can just listen. So, a few days ago another one of my plants died. None of the flowers I planted this year ever bloomed—I bought six pots of flowers and plants, and now all six are just empty pots. I read on some blog the other day that people like me, if we want to grow flowers, should try wax-sealed amaryllis bulbs—no watering, no fertilizing, no need for sunlight, you just set it down at home and it’ll bloom on its own.”

Getting excited, she added, “I’m thinking of buying some.”

“Don’t.”

“Hm?”

Gu Yan explained that wax-sealed amaryllis bulbs, unable to take in water, essentially consume the bulb’s own outer layer for energy. The stored energy is enough to force a bloom that first year, which looks convenient and low-maintenance, but that single bloom exhausts the bulb completely. With the wax seal blocking soil contact, the bulb can never grow roots, and the sealed base suffers from severe oxygen deprivation. So that one bloom people see is likely the only bloom the sealed bulb will ever produce in its life—after that, it will probably die.

Gu Yan’s voice was soft but earnest. “But an amaryllis planted in soil can bloom every year—some, with good care, can even bloom twice a year.”

So that’s how it was! Qi Xi had originally been delighted at the idea of this low-effort flower and had been planning to buy several, but now, hearing Gu Yan explain it, she finally understood.

A little disappointed, she said, “Alright, I won’t buy it then. It’s pretty, but sealing it in wax sounds more like torturing the poor amaryllis.”

“Mm.” Gu Yan’s tone was calm and easy, but not the least bit dismissive. “Though you shouldn’t buy the sealed ones, you could get some regular bulbs instead—I can teach you how to plant them.”

Gu Yan seemed to approach everything with the same serious dedication—even something as small as an amaryllis bulb that Qi Xi had mentioned offhandedly, he could responsibly point out all the details she’d overlooked.

Listening to Gu Yan explain amaryllis bulb planting techniques on the other end of the line, focused and completely unselfconscious about it, Qi Xi suddenly found that this earnest, serious attitude of his—even toward something as small as a plant—wasn’t boring at all. If anything, it carried a kind of straightforward, sincere charm.

At the same time, Qi Xi found herself impressed by how knowledgeable Gu Yan was—even though the amaryllis wasn’t exactly a mainstream flower, he could immediately rattle off so much information she didn’t know.

He always seemed to know so much about everything.

Without quite realizing it, the two of them drifted from amaryllis to desktop houseplants, then to office air quality and fresh-air systems, until Qi Xi genuinely couldn’t say when exactly she’d fallen asleep.

It might have been somewhere around the topic of cacti, or maybe even earlier, while talking about a pet turtle Gu Yan used to keep.

That night, Qi Xi had no nightmares about the day’s terrifying ordeal. She slept soundly and peacefully.

Except she’d only just drifted off when a call from Zhao Yiran jolted her awake.

Still groggy, Qi Xi picked up, completely unprepared for the frantic wailing on the other end—

“Sis, this is my fault! I should’ve followed up and checked on you again, and now you’re out there tonight with nowhere to land, like some rootless duckweed! Qi Xi, I’m so sorry!”

Zhao Yiran was practically shouting with emotion. “So where are you right now? I’ll get my aunt to drive over and pick you up—her place is a little small, but if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor, you can crash there for tonight.”

Startled awake in the middle of the night, already a bit dazed, Qi Xi grew even more confused hearing this. “Zhao Yiran, what are you talking about?”

“My aunt said there’s a medical industry conference in town these next couple of days, so basically every decent hotel is booked solid. With your budget, your options are already limited, and you won’t go home—were you planning to just find an internet café to spend the night in?”

Qi Xi was baffled. “Why would I need to find an internet café?”

Zhao Yiran’s voice was full of anguish. “Don’t play dumb with me! What kind of friends are we?! If Gu Yan kicked you out, just say so! Why do you have to suffer just to save face! You never tell me anything, always trying to act tough! Where are you right now?”

Qi Xi was puzzled—Gu Yan hadn’t kicked her out at all. Wasn’t she staying at Gu Xuehan’s apartment?

But her sleepy confusion clearly read as something else entirely to Zhao Yiran.

Zhao Yiran had already moved on to cursing Gu Yan out. “Some nerve he has—if it wasn’t going to work out, he should’ve just said so! Made me think you actually had somewhere to stay! Good-looking men really are untrustworthy after all! How could Gu Yan be so unreliable, so out of line!”

Zhao Yiran kept grumbling. “Good thing Chen Xiang happened to ask, or I wouldn’t have even known his sister came back and you couldn’t stay there anymore!”

Qi Xi was baffled. “Huh?”

Gu Xuehan hadn’t come back—wasn’t Qi Xi still staying there right now?

Still…

Curious, Qi Xi asked, “What’s going on with Chen Xiang?”

Zhao Yiran explained quickly: Chen Xiang had recently gotten scammed by a shady rental agency and kicked out by her landlord, unable to find a new place on short notice. She couldn’t afford a hotel either, especially with the medical conference eating up most of the available rooms. She’d been stressing over it and had happened to ask Zhao Yiran for advice on dealing with the shady agency today, and Zhao Yiran had mentioned Qi Xi’s situation staying at Gu Yan’s sister’s place in passing.

Chen Xiang was another law school classmate of theirs—a rather artistic, talented girl who’d reportedly had poetry collections published since high school. She wasn’t the type known for dazzling beauty, but she was delicate and pretty, with a gentle, soft-spoken manner. She’d had plenty of admirers in college, but had turned them all down one by one. If Qi Xi remembered correctly… Chen Xiang had liked Gu Yan.

Back in college, whatever event Gu Yan attended, Chen Xiang would be there too. Whatever club he joined, she’d join as well. Wherever he went to study in the library, she’d go too.

Though Chen Xiang had never confessed outright, pretty much anyone could see she liked Gu Yan.

In college, Chen Xiang had apparently tried every way she could think of to get close to Gu Yan, but he’d never shown her any particular warmth, completely oblivious. After graduation, Chen Xiang had gone to work at a notary office in the city center, and naturally lost any real opportunity to cross paths with Gu Yan again.

Zhao Yiran’s tone turned sympathetic. “You know how Chen Xiang feels about Gu Yan. I figure she probably felt like she had a shot, thought she’d try her luck—when she heard you were staying at Gu Yan’s sister’s place, she figured she’d ask if she could stay there too. Honestly, do you really think she couldn’t afford a hotel at all? Do you really think she went crawling to Gu Yan just to save a little money? Do you really think she had no other friends she could crash with for a few nights? Or is it that she still hasn’t given up, still holds out hope for Gu Yan, still wants to find some way to make something happen with him?”

Qi Xi’s heart started racing. “So Gu Yan said…”

“Gu Yan said his sister was back, said she hates having people stay in her place, so you’d already packed up and left in the middle of the night,” Zhao Yiran said, indignant. “And it’s not like the guy just left it at that—he even added, telling Chen Xiang, don’t come to him for things like this again, he’s not running a charity.”

“How many years has Chen Xiang liked him? I don’t believe he can’t tell. And he still had to be that harsh with her? Chen Xiang called me in tears right after hanging up with him.” Zhao Yiran got more worked up as she talked. “So if Chen Xiang hadn’t called me crying, I wouldn’t have even known he’d ‘swept you out the door’ too.”

Zhao Yiran muttered, “Honestly, if his sister can’t stand having people stay at her place, I doubt Gu Yan didn’t know that beforehand. If he couldn’t square it with his own sister, and it’s her apartment anyway, then he had no business offering it in the first place! And his sister—didn’t she already confirm it over the phone? Why’d she suddenly change her mind about letting you stay…”

She finished her rant and got back to the point. “So, Qi Xi, do you have anywhere to stay right now? Where are you? I’ll come get you—and don’t you dare feel embarrassed about telling me things like this from now on. Honestly, you’d rather suffer than lose face! It’s not your fault you got kicked out! It’s Gu Yan’s fault! Don’t you dare hide this from me again!”

Almost without thinking, Qi Xi lied, her heart pounding fast enough that her words came out quick too: “I—I’m actually staying at another relative’s place right now.”

…

With Qi Xi’s fumbling excuse, Zhao Yiran finally set her worry aside, believing it, and hung up the phone.

But Qi Xi’s mind wouldn’t settle.

Why had Gu Yan lied?

Her heart was pounding hard, her palms faintly damp with sweat. She felt like a wife who’d just stumbled onto her husband’s affair—completely blindsided by a sudden hidden truth, her thoughts in complete disarray.

She was still staying right there in Gu Xuehan’s apartment—it was a spacious full-floor unit with an empty guest room to spare—so why had Gu Yan so coldly turned Chen Xiang away? And lied about it, too…

Was it because of her—because of Qi Xi—that she’d been allowed to stay?

Was it because, to Gu Yan, she was different from Chen Xiang—somehow more… special?