Wen Tingli, facing a table full of dishes, felt rather at a loss where to start.

This was the dining room in the back building. Lu Shicheng had brought her here, and the food had been laid out on the table within ten minutes.

Every dish looked so tender and delicious, each plate too good to pass up. Dazzled, she couldn’t decide, and finally settled on starting with the bamboo shoot tips closest to her.

She hadn’t been able to eat anything at all when she’d first arrived at the Lu residence tonight, but now, her mood was good enough that she could finish an entire feast.

While Wen Tingli tucked in eagerly, Lu Shicheng watched her from across the table.

In front of him sat a large bowl of noodles. By the time Wen Tingli was halfway through her meal, he had methodically finished the entire bowl of noodles.

Wen Tingli’s heart lifted with delight—it seemed Lu Shicheng’s appetite was even better than hers.

But she also noticed it was a bowl of longevity noodles.

Tonight was Lu Shicheng’s birthday, and apart from the guests, none of the Lu family elders were present. However lively the party, Lu Shicheng was still spending his birthday essentially alone. But he clearly had grown used to all this. She noticed again the scars on the back of his hand—not long ago he’d narrowly survived a brush with death, yet that old master of the Lu family seemed utterly indifferent to it.

Thinking this, Wen Tingli suddenly lost her appetite. She gently set down her chopsticks and looked at Lu Shicheng quietly. “I’d like to use the washroom.”

There were only the two of them in the dining room—even Kuang Zhilin had tactfully made himself scarce, citing the need to attend to guests in the front building. Lu Shicheng himself was playing both host and servant. He rose and pulled out her chair, then led her down the corridor, stopping only once they’d reached the washroom.

By the time Wen Tingli came back out to the dining room, Lu Shicheng had already washed his hands and face, and was sitting there drinking tea.

Wen Tingli hid both hands behind her back, walked over to him, and, smiling brightly, brought the item out and handed it to him.

Lu Shicheng froze—it was a slender little leather case.

He opened it to find a fountain pen inside.

【For me?】

He seemed a bit uncertain.

Wen Tingli looked at him earnestly: “Happy birthday.”

For a few seconds, Lu Shicheng showed no reaction at all.

Wen Tingli felt a little uneasy. She was certainly still upset that Lu Shicheng hadn’t come to find her for several days, but since she’d agreed to attend his birthday party, she couldn’t very well come without preparing a gift for him.

She’d bought it on the way here at Yongxing Western Paper Shop, specially choosing the most expensive one, though she wasn’t sure it would suit his taste.

Lu Shicheng took the pen out of the box and turned it over in his hand—the casing was made of tortoiseshell, the body a steady black. He removed the cap, and the nib flashed with a distinctive silver gleam under the light.

That gleam seemed capable of shining straight into one’s heart.

After looking at it for a moment, Lu Shicheng didn’t hesitate—he took the usual pen from his suit pocket and tossed it aside, putting the new pen she’d given him into his pocket instead.

He did it so naturally.

Wen Tingli quickly turned her head to hide the smile at the corner of her mouth, then quickly turned back and held out her palm to Lu Shicheng: “Give it here.”

【What?】

“Give me the pen.”

【Didn’t I already give it to you?】

Wen Tingli laughed outright: “Give it to me first.”

Lu Shicheng reluctantly took the pen back out and placed it in Wen Tingli’s hand.

Wen Tingli unscrewed the cap to show him: “There’s no ink in it yet. The shopkeeper said it needs German Lüning ink. Do you have any here? I’ll fill it for you, otherwise you can’t use it.”

Lu Shicheng looked at her and smiled.

【I have some, come with me.】He stood up.

The garden was full of people. Lu Shicheng led Wen Tingli far away from the crowd.

Only then did Wen Tingli learn there was an inconspicuous little path through the garden. At every turn, Lu Shicheng would instinctively look back at her, as if worried she might fall behind.

The two of them quietly made their way from the western pavilion back to the front building, looking for all the world like they were up to some mischief.

But Wen Tingli only found it fun.

Arriving at a door, Lu Shicheng opened it, looking down at Wen Tingli.

【Come in.】

Wen Tingli slipped inside in a flash, her figure as nimble as a goldfish.

Lu Shicheng closed the door behind her, then reached up over her head to switch on the light.

The moment the light came on, Wen Tingli found the room’s furnishings strangely familiar. She’d been here before—this was Lu Shicheng’s study.

The last time she’d won the Yuying Award at Wushi Girls’ Middle School, Lu Shicheng had presented her the medal in this very room. She couldn’t help but turn to look at him—outside it was noisy, but inside the room, all that could be heard was the sound of their breathing.

Lu Shicheng lowered his eyes to look at her a moment, then walked straight to the desk and picked something up.

【This is Lüning brand ink.】

Wen Tingli didn’t bother asking why he didn’t fill it himself. She walked over, took the pen, and drew the ink into it right in front of him.

“Try it out.” She leaned halfway over the desk, resting her chin on her hand and pointing at the stack of paper beside him.

Lu Shicheng stood beside her and wrote something. The two of them were so close, yet Wen Tingli made not the slightest move to step away. As she watched him write his first character with the pen she’d given him, her heartstrings gave a light, sudden tug. She felt a bit dizzy, a bit lightheaded—she didn’t even catch what he’d written, only noticing that the ink flowed smoothly.

【Thank you, I really like it.】

She watched him write this sentence.

“Oh.” She deliberately looked away—was “thank you” really all he had to say?

Soon, she heard the soft scratching sound again.

【Forgive me.】

“Forgive you for what?”

【Forgive me for not being able to come find you these past few days, because I was preoccupied with dealing with a traitor within the Lu family.】

Wen Tingli’s heart stirred like a gentle breeze rippling across a lake. She didn’t move, only tilted her head to look at the desk. To Lu Shicheng’s right sat a crystal vase with a few sprigs of fresh flowers in it, but she had no attention to spare even for the shape of the petals—her heart was entirely filled with a sense of joy.

She’d expected that, after the storm that had just passed, Lu Shicheng would first ask why she’d chosen to secretly follow Zhu Zihe rather than go with Kuang Zhilin. Surely he must have realized, in this matter with Zhu Zihe, that she hadn’t trusted him at first.

Lu Shicheng’s cleverness lay precisely in this: he didn’t press her on why she hadn’t trusted him, but quickly understood that the root of the problem lay with himself. And his sincerity lay in this too: he didn’t play the usual guessing games between men and women over such a matter, but instead came straight out and apologized to her for his behavior these past few days.

His perceptiveness and directness caught her off guard.

The moment she saw him write those words with her own eyes, the corner of her mouth curved upward involuntarily.

“I actually didn’t want to come tonight,” she said bluntly, with a hint of a pout. “I was afraid I’d been misunderstanding Mr. Lu’s intentions all along…”

She had no idea that Lu Shicheng’s heart was pounding just as fast as hers. He held his breath and took out a red brocade box from inside his coat.

“What’s this?” Wen Tingli’s voice was as light as a wisp of smoke.

【Your gift. Open it.】

Wen Tingli’s eyelashes trembled. Lu Shicheng had a pair of fair, slender hands, and the box was a begonia red—the two vivid colors together carried a strangely thrilling allure. She sensed it wasn’t an ordinary object, and holding her breath, reached out to take it, only to find the box far heavier than she’d expected, nearly slipping from her grasp.

Fortunately, Lu Shicheng was quick—he caught it in his hand in an instant.

Both of them steadied themselves, and Lu Shicheng carefully placed the box securely back into her hands.

This time Wen Tingli didn’t ask what it was again. She simply opened the wrapping right there, with his hands still under hers.

When a flash of pink, sparkling jewel-light appeared before her eyes, she froze completely.

It was a pink diamond necklace, so beautiful it took her breath away.

The pendant was about the size of two large fingernails put together, surrounded by a setting of diamonds. The gem itself was a rare, crystal-clear shade of pink, its brilliance shimmering and flowing in a way that made one’s heart skip.

The necklace was housed in a shimmering pink pearl-shell jewelry box, with the word “Cartier” stamped in gold on top. She recognized this world-famous jewelry brand.

Her heart pounded so hard it felt as though it might leap out of her throat. She looked up at Lu Shicheng in astonishment—he was watching her reaction without blinking. However composed he appeared, the subtle flicker in his brow and eyes betrayed him; he clearly cared a great deal about her reaction.

Wen Tingli couldn’t help but press a hand to her chest and smile sweetly—even someone so composed had moments of losing his calm.

“I’ll have to think carefully about whether to accept this gift,” she said, holding her breath. Though her tone was reserved, it couldn’t quite mask the joy underneath. As she spoke, she began circling around Lu Shicheng like a proud peacock.

Lu Shicheng couldn’t help but chuckle, lowering his head. When Wen Tingli moved to his right, he turned his head to look right as well; when she moved behind him, he unhurriedly turned around too.

His gaze never left Wen Tingli, not even for a second.

As she walked, Wen Tingli noticed something familiar on the bookshelf—it was—it was the little cat embroidery screen she’d given him not long ago, displayed in a very prominent spot, positioned so that whenever he looked up from his desk while working, he’d meet the cat’s embroidered eyes.

Her heart felt as though it had swallowed a piece of candy, sweet and settled all at once. She turned to face Lu Shicheng and asked, very formally: “Mr. Lu, before I answer you, you must first formally answer a question of mine.”

Lu Shicheng seemed to have already guessed what she was going to ask. Faint ripples rose in his clear eyes as he gazed steadily at her. Wen Tingli didn’t avoid his gaze—instead, she boldly stepped closer to him.

His breath was warm, brushing lightly against her forehead, sending a faint, tingling shiver through her. Her eyes grew hazy and dreamy as she asked him softly: “That night, did you come looking for me or not? And if you did, what did you want to say to me?”

Lu Shicheng’s gaze grew even darker as he looked at her, his throat working. He pointed at his own chest.

Suddenly, a voice barked from outside the door: “Who’s in there?”

Wen Tingli’s foot twisted beneath her.

It was an aged voice, its tone cold and sharp as a blade glinting with cold light. Crucially, the sound came from the hidden door of the study—by rights, ordinary guests wouldn’t pass through such a concealed passage.

Lu Shicheng reached out to steady Wen Tingli, his expression already darkening.

A flurry of hurried footsteps sounded outside: “Old Master, aren’t you supposed to be in Peiping tonight—your humble servant deserves death, I was busy seeing Principal Zou off just now, and couldn’t—”

The old man cut Kuang Zhilin off without mercy: “Who’s in Shicheng’s study? Sounds like a woman’s voice.”

Kuang Zhilin hastily laughed: “Young master Cheng is a bachelor, how could there be a woman in his study? There are so many guests tonight, the sound must be carrying from the flower hall.”

“Open the door!” The old man had clearly grown used to giving orders.

Wen Tingli looked anxiously at Lu Shicheng—she’d already guessed who the man outside must be: Lu Shicheng’s grandfather, the second-generation head of the Lu family, Old Master Lu Hongjun.

She had never been one to fear dealing with people, but for some reason, this old master’s voice chilled her to the bone.

Not knowing what to do, Lu Shicheng had already pulled her behind him. Wen Tingli’s heart suddenly settled—his back looked even more upright and imposing than she’d imagined, as though it could withstand any storm.

The door opened, and a tall figure leaning on a cane stepped in. The moment the old man appeared, he gave off an overwhelming, mountain-crushing presence. He was at least sixty, yet his frame remained as straight as a young man’s. He wore no Western suit, but a dark blue-green Chinese-style long robe, the fabric thin and lustrous, tailored to fit perfectly.

Having grown up in a tailor’s shop, Wen Tingli knew well how difficult it was to make a long robe to such perfection. Just from the meticulous attention to every detail, she could sense a kind of almost pathological rigor.

The old man seemed to have no fondness for Western accessories either—no top hat, no watch, no pocket watch chain—only a lush green jade ring on his thumb. This was the first time Wen Tingli had seen anyone wear such an enormous ring without it looking gaudy, as if that deep, unbroken shade of green were simply meant to grow on the old master’s finger.

At the same time, she couldn’t help comparing the appearances of grandfather and grandson in her mind—Lu Shicheng didn’t resemble Old Master Lu very much. Lu Shicheng carried a gentle, composed air about him, while Old Master Lu’s features were coarser, his manner colder and harder.

Just then, she felt a gaze shoot toward her—the old man was staring at her, his eyes sharp as two awls.

Fortunately, after those two glances, the old man didn’t make trouble. Instead, with considerable gentlemanly grace, he nodded to Wen Tingli. “Chengr, is this your friend?”

Lu Shicheng merely nodded perfunctorily to his grandfather, then, paying no mind to anyone else, guided Wen Tingli to leave.

Wen Tingli hastily bowed in passing: “Goodbye, Old Master Lu.”

“Stop right there!” Old Master Lu barked.

Lu Shicheng ignored him entirely—clearly, the Lu family now answered to Lu Shicheng’s word alone.

Old Master Lu’s brow shot up, his stern gaze following Lu Shicheng: “Do you still have any regard for me, your grandfather, at all?”

He clutched his chest, breathing heavily. Kuang Zhilin and the others hurried to help the old man into a nearby chair, but the old man pushed away the hands supporting him and pointed at Wen Tingli. “Her surname is Wen, isn’t it?”

Lu Shicheng’s steps halted. He turned a stern glance toward Old Master Lu. Old Master Lu signaled for the servants to close the door, then took the handkerchief a servant offered him, wiped the corner of his mouth, and said gravely: “Not long ago, Autumn Glory Company was caught up in a media storm for no reason, all because of helping this Miss Wen out of a bind. And that Xili Pear Juice advertisement—the one they went looking for was this same Miss Wen too. Your grandfather may be old, but I’m not dead yet!”

He glanced at Wen Tingli, his tone suddenly softening.

“Miss Wen, please sit—serve Miss Wen some tea.” The attendants immediately went to prepare the tea set.

Wen Tingli found herself unable to either leave or stay, and could only steel herself and sit down in a chair.

“Thank you, Old Master Lu.”

“I hear your ancestral home is Nanjing, and that you previously studied at Xiude Girls’ Middle School?”

Wen Tingli felt as though all the blood had drained from her body. She could hardly describe the horror of that instant—as if all her clothing had suddenly been torn away, leaving her utterly exposed, standing there bare with nothing to shield her, lashed again and again by poisonous, arrow-like gazes from every direction.

The humiliation she’d suffered at the Qiao family’s hands that time came rushing back into her mind. She could almost picture the series of humiliations that would follow!

But she had long ago sworn she would never again let anyone trample on her dignity and that of her family!

She rose abruptly, bowed to Old Master Lu, and walked out without a word.

Old Master Lu said, weary and cold: “See her out.”

Wen Tingli hurried a few steps, when her foot suddenly gave way—the heel of her left shoe had snapped, likely from the shock of twisting her ankle earlier when she’d heard Old Master Lu’s voice outside the door. But she had no time to worry about that now, and continued walking out on her broken heel. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lu Shicheng chasing after her—far from slowing down, she buried her head and walked even faster.

Just then, attendants happened to be bringing tea in from outside, and collided head-on with Wen Tingli. Neither side could stop in time, and a cup of scalding tea was about to spill all over her—when someone suddenly yanked her backward, and the tea splashed entirely onto this person’s arm instead.

“Crash!” The teacup shattered on the floor at Wen Tingli’s feet.

Wen Tingli’s face changed. “Mr. Lu!”

Lu Shicheng, however, paid no mind to his own arm, hurrying instead to check whether Wen Tingli’s feet had been cut by the broken porcelain. She was wearing open-backed shoes tonight, her bare calves showing beneath her Western dress.

“Don’t just stare at me.” Wen Tingli stamped her foot anxiously. “Be careful of the burn, quick, take off your clothes.”

Only then did Lu Shicheng seem to register the burning sensation, and he swiftly removed his jacket. Kuang Zhilin and the others swarmed to help, quickly undoing his shirt cuff and rolling up the sleeve. Fortunately, the skin was only slightly reddened, clearly nothing serious.

Kuang Zhilin still urgently called for someone to bring ice and medicine.

Wen Tingli, eyes reddened, stared at Lu Shicheng’s arm. A moment ago, the nightmarish memories of her ordeal with the Qiao family had consumed all her thoughts, and she’d wanted nothing but to leave this place—but perhaps, after everything she’d been through, she could try trusting Lu Shicheng once more.

Her thoughts were in complete disarray; for a moment she forgot to withdraw her hand. Lu Shicheng’s eyes held understanding and tenderness, and he let her grip his arm without pulling away.

A layer of frost had already settled over Old Master Lu’s face. “Send for Dr. Louis to examine Shicheng. As for this Miss Wen, since she’s unharmed, see her out of the house at once.”

With that, he kept his gaze locked firmly on Lu Shicheng, his tone turning gentler: “Never mind… your grandfather always thought of you as a child, forgetting you’re already past twenty… The Lou and Chen families are also here tonight, both daughters well brought up—I’ll have them sent for, so you two can use tonight’s opportunity to get acquainted.”

Lu Shicheng seemed to have reached the very edge of his patience, his face darkening as he pushed away the new jacket the steward brought him.

【I need to take Miss Wen home.】

He crouched down to examine Wen Tingli’s broken shoe, then stood and offered her his uninjured arm, gesturing for her to lean on him. The gesture was as courteous and proper as a gentleman inviting a lady to dance.

Wen Tingli felt the stern gaze bearing down from the side, but this time, without hesitation, she rested her hand on his arm.

Lu Shicheng looked at her and smiled—like ice and snow melting at once, brightening the whole room.

Wen Tingli tilted her head up, meeting his smile with one of her own.

Old Master Lu barked, his face livid: “Shicheng!”

Lu Shicheng had already led Wen Tingli away, walking slowly and steadily to keep her from stumbling on her broken shoe. At the door, Wen Tingli hesitated a moment, then turned back and bowed deeply to Old Master Lu.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Old Master Lu.”

Kuang Zhilin hurried out after them, pressing a bottle of medicine into Wen Tingli’s hand.

The moment they reached the hall, Gao Xiaowen and Yan Zhenzhen surrounded her: “What happened?”

Wen Tingli didn’t know how to explain. Kuang Zhilin spoke up beside her: “Young master Lu accidentally stepped on and broke Miss Wen’s shoe while dancing with her in the garden just now, so to make amends, he has to personally see her home.”

Then, raising his voice to the guests in the hall, he said with a smile: “Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse us, young master Lu will be unavailable for a while.”

The guests exchanged knowing glances—breaking someone’s shoe, just replace it with a new pair on the spot, or even ten pairs if need be, why would he need to personally escort her home? Clearly this Miss Wen held quite a special place in Lu Shicheng’s heart.

Given the Lu family’s influence in Shanghai, this was truly no small piece of news. The guests wore all manner of expressions—some astonished, some curious, some looking Wen Tingli up and down.

Facing everyone’s gazes, Lu Shicheng remained as composed and unhurried as ever, while Wen Tingli felt a bit embarrassed. In the crowd she spotted Huang Yuanshan and Dong Qinfang, both winking at her. Beside Huang Yuanshan stood a short-haired, round-faced woman with an amused expression, who had been curiously studying her the whole time. Wen Tingli had never seen this woman before, but judging by how familiarly she spoke with Huang Yuanshan, the two must be quite close—Wen Tingli couldn’t help but feel curious about this middle-aged woman’s identity.

They soon reached the entrance outside, where the Lu family car was already waiting at the steps.

It was past eleven by the time they got home.

Xiao Taozi was already asleep, and Zhou Sao was in the bathroom wiping her face with a towel when she heard the sound at the door and poked her head out.

“You’re back.”

Then she noticed the young man standing beside Wen Tingli, and her eyes went wide.

“Young Master Lu!”

Lu Shicheng nodded politely to Zhou Sao, who stammered, unable to get any words out. Then she noticed the begonia-red brocade box in Wen Tingli’s left hand, and her confusion only deepened.

“Zhou Sao, please make Mr. Lu some tea first,” Wen Tingli said cheerfully, leaning on Lu Shicheng’s arm as she took off her ruined shoes and put on the moss-green soft slippers she wore at home. Then she turned to Lu Shicheng, delighted. “I’m going to put my things away in my room, you wait for me in the parlor.”