Hearing Yao Qiyun’s “I’m sorry,” Situ Jie needed a moment to process it, restraining the urge to lunge at him and shake him by the shoulders like some furious drill instructor, shouting: “Cut the nonsense and just tell my mom the person with me that night was you! Say it, say it, say it right now—it was you, it was you, it was you…”

Xue Shaoping, too, waited in mild confusion for him to continue.

Yao Qiyun set down his chopsticks, his face full of reluctance and difficulty. “It’s not that I won’t help you, Jue. I just don’t think it’s right to lie to Auntie like this.”

Had her mother not been sitting right there, Situ Jie, boiling over with fury, might well have slammed the table and stood up.

“Don’t think it’s right to lie to Auntie”—what a joke, playing the noble one now, when he’d lied in front of her mother plenty of times before. All he’d needed to do here was nod, or simply confirm it—one small gesture would have ended the whole matter—and instead he chose, at the cost of getting nothing out of it himself, to throw her under the bus. It seemed all those little scrapes he’d silently covered for her in the past had just been a smokescreen, saved up precisely for a moment like this, to make her look bad when it counted most.

But the most pressing problem facing Situ Jie right now wasn’t how to deal with this “treacherous” little schemer—it was Xue Shaoping, her face gone cold, glaring at her with barely-contained fury, which was the real disaster looming over her.

“Nothing left to say now, is there, Situ Jie? Have you been taking everything I’ve ever told you and letting it go in one ear and out the other? A girl your age, out at all hours with god-knows-what kind of boy—what does that look like? Your father was right, we’ve spoiled you far too much, spoiled you into thinking you can do whatever you please. And now you actually thought you could lie to my face, dragging Qiyun into covering for you too! If your father finds out about this, he’ll break your legs!”

Even in the midst of her fury, Xue Shaoping couldn’t quite bring herself to scold her daughter about the early-romance issue in front of Yao Qiyun. She’d lost her appetite entirely, and hauled Situ Jie upstairs by the arm. Situ Jie followed her mother up, crestfallen, but couldn’t resist shooting Yao Qiyun a venomous glare on her way out—and to her surprise, he’d stood as well, looking at her with what seemed like genuine concern on his face.

Hypocrite. Still keeping up the act! That was Situ Jie’s one and only verdict on him in that moment.

What followed upstairs, under her mother’s furious lecture, could be summed up in one phrase: an ordeal not worth revisiting. Situ Jie couldn’t even remember how many times her frustrated mother had pinched her that day. Scolding, life lessons, the standards a good girl should uphold, the dangers of early romance… wave after wave of it, until her head was spinning.

Still, Situ Jie held firm to her personal code: catch her red-handed or it didn’t count. She refused, to the bitter end, to admit she was dating anyone at all, let alone name the boy involved. Xue Shaoping wasn’t easily fooled, but with only a secondhand sighting from a coworker to go on, she didn’t have solid enough ground to press further. After a thorough dressing-down, the matter had to be dropped, unresolved. And in the end, out of sheer maternal protectiveness, Xue Shaoping kept quiet about the whole thing in front of her hot-tempered husband as well. Afterward, she also found time to speak privately with Yao Qiyun, praising his honesty, while gently hinting that Situ Jiu’an had far too much on his plate already with work and worries—best not to bring this up in front of him at all.

Yao Qiyun had always longed to grow closer to the household’s matriarch, Xue Shaoping, but never quite found the way in. She’d never made things difficult for him, but she’d never been particularly warm toward him either—something always stood between them. Compared to Situ Jiu’an, who doted on him openly, or Situ Jie, who treated him like a natural-born rival, Xue Shaoping was, in truth, the person Yao Qiyun felt most distant from inside this household, and the greatest obstacle to him ever truly feeling like part of the family. So when she now spoke to him so earnestly and openly, there was nothing he wouldn’t have agreed to.

“Don’t worry, Auntie. I’m not one to talk out of turn. Honestly, Jue hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s popular at school, and some boys go out of their way to approach her—she doesn’t have much of a guard up around people, so sometimes walking together doesn’t necessarily mean anything… romantic. Please don’t be too hard on her,” Yao Qiyun said hesitantly.

Angering Situ Jie hadn’t been his intention at all—he genuinely hadn’t wanted her to suffer too much over this. Though Yao Qiyun didn’t regret refusing to cover for her—after all, she was the one who’d lied, not him, and everything he’d said and done had been correct—for some reason, watching her shock and fury as he’d struggled to refuse vouching for her had stirred an unexpected reluctance and guilt in him.

What Yao Qiyun didn’t realize was that, in saying what he’d just said, he had already quietly shifted Xue Shaoping’s opinion of him. She’d always felt this boy’s thoughts ran too deep, too hard to read, and had, without quite meaning to, kept her guard up around him. But the Yao Qiyun before her now—conflicted, hesitant—couldn’t hide his sincerity and kindness. To her, this was exactly what a genuine, real seventeen-year-old boy ought to look like.

Xue Shaoping had quietly noted, over time, everything Yao Qiyun had done since coming to their home. A person could fake decency for a day, but not forever. Her daughter had always treated him so unreasonably, and he’d absorbed it all without complaint, refusing to “pile on” against her even when given the perfect opportunity, and never once kicking her while she was down.

Perhaps her husband Situ Jiu’an’s judgment had been right all along—Qiyun was smart, steady, hardworking, dependable, and kind at heart. A good boy. What impressed Xue Shaoping even more was that he clearly harbored no inappropriate feelings toward the family’s only daughter—he maintained a wise distance even while being friendly with her. She could finally set her mind at ease.

Moved by the thought, Xue Shaoping patted Yao Qiyun’s hand and said gently, “Qiyun, that girl Situ Jie is far too much trouble. You’re both heading into your senior year soon—this isn’t the time for her to be distracted by all this nonsense. Your uncle and I can’t watch over her every moment of the day. Since the two of you go to the same school, keep an eye on her for me when you can—consider it a favor to your aunt. Don’t let her run wild out there. And if she does anything out of line, come tell me. Of course, she’s got her father’s hot temper, so bear with her on that front too.”

Yao Qiyun blinked, then smiled. “Don’t worry, Auntie. I’ll make sure of it.”

The next morning, Situ Jie came downstairs and ran straight into Yao Qiyun. She didn’t so much as glance at him, changing into her shoes with a stony face, ready for school. Yao Qiyun beat her to the front door and stood there waiting.

Situ Jie squeezed past him, muttering under her breath, “A good dog doesn’t block the way.”

Yao Qiyun let it go without comment, and the two of them left the house one after the other, with him trailing steadily at an arm’s length behind and to the side, no matter how often she glanced back. After a stretch of this, Situ Jie finally couldn’t take it anymore and spun around to snap, “There’s a whole world out there—did you really have to walk this exact way with me?”

Seeing her turn, Yao Qiyun, answering an entirely different question, held up the breakfast he was carrying. “For you.”

Situ Jie said angrily, “Still keeping up the act? Two-faced as ever—watch out, or you’ll split into two personalities.”

“If you don’t eat, watch out for a stomach ulcer instead.”

Situ Jie swatted away his hand as he held the food out closer and closer. “Stomach ulcer? Eating something from a snake like you, I’d be lucky to escape with just that.”

As her hand swept toward him, Yao Qiyun caught her wrist with his free hand. “Your mom made the breakfast.”

Situ Jie seethed with frustration, made all the worse by his infuriating calm—he showed neither anger nor any sign of backing down. She yanked her hand, failed to break free, and, with nowhere else to vent, resorted to stamping her foot and chanting curses: “Yao Qiyun, I despise you, despise you, despise you, despise you…”

Watching Situ Jie, thoroughly provoked, abandon all pretense of composure, her face flushed red, her usually bright and lively eyes now practically burning with fury, Yao Qiyun almost started to believe he really had committed some unforgivable act of betrayal, the way she kept “despising” him.

“Enough.” He cut off her tirade, having to raise his voice slightly above hers just to be heard. “You think I’m deliberately making trouble for you? If you don’t want to get caught, then stop hanging around that boy from Wu Jiang’s class—what’s-his-name, Lian—all day long! The two of you are so obviously smitten, it’s only a matter of time before it reaches your parents’ ears.”

“That’s none of your business!” Situ Jie wasn’t about to let him overpower her, and shot right back at him.

“You think I want to get involved? Go ahead and moon over each other all you like, just don’t come dragging me into covering for you over something so ridiculous—why should I have to?” At that, something in Yao Qiyun seemed to snap, and he yanked his hand free from hers, sharply. “All you know how to do is take your temper out on me. Call me whatever kind of despicable you want—but tell me, other than telling your mother the truth, what exactly did I do wrong here?”

Situ Jie breathed hard but had no comeback. She wasn’t fundamentally an unreasonable person; the outburst just now had been pure frustration boiling over. If she thought about it even slightly, she’d realize that, however much she disliked Yao Qiyun, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong—apart from refusing to lie and take the blame for her, he hadn’t overstepped in any real way. She couldn’t find a solid argument against him.

And yet the unhappiness lingered—that feeling of betrayal that wouldn’t quite go away. Where did that feeling even come from, and how could what Yao Qiyun had done possibly count as “betrayal”? Did some part of her, despite their constant clashes, subconsciously assume he was simply obligated to indulge and cover for her no matter what? Was that why his sudden refusal had made her so furious?

What surprised her most was that Yao Qiyun—normally so quiet and restrained, never one to argue for the sake of arguing—had held his ground so stubbornly over this particular matter. Even when he was upset, he usually kept it bottled up, at most showing a faintly sullen expression. This was the first time in memory he’d ever raised his voice at her like that. The way he’d exploded just now had almost looked like… a husband refusing to be made a cuckold…

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Situ Jie wanted to spit at herself in disgust. Childish nonsense, childish nonsense, don’t mind me.

Yao Qiyun himself seemed to sense something odd in his own words, and an awkward silence fell over them both, faces equally sullen.

“Let’s go, or we’ll be late.” Yao Qiyun tried once more to press the breakfast into Situ Jie’s hands. It was only then that he noticed one or two faint bruises along her arm, red marks that looked like they’d come from Xue Shaoping’s pinching the day before.

Without thinking much of it, he reached out and pressed lightly on the marks on her arm.

“Have you put anything on that?”

Caught off guard, Situ Jie hissed sharply at the sting.

It seemed Xue Shaoping, worried about her daughter straying down the wrong path, hadn’t held back at all. A flicker of regret stirred in Yao Qiyun’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Situ Jie stared at his hand, startled and wary, her voice rising sharply.

Faced with her demand, Yao Qiyun quickly withdrew his hand and forced back the words “I have some medicinal liniment from back home in my room,” swallowing them whole. Flustered, he said instead, somewhat awkwardly, “Guess you don’t need anything on it anyway. Your skin’s dark enough that no one would even notice a few bruises.”

“Drop dead!” Situ Jie slung her book bag back over her shoulder, shot him a glare, and stormed off.

Yao Qiyun gritted his teeth behind her, exasperated with himself. Of course he knew how much Situ Jie hated being called dark-skinned—he’d hit her sorest spot right on the nose. But better that than risk her circling back to ask, “Why were you touching me like that?” If she’d pushed that question, he genuinely might have wanted to die on the spot.

Watching her stride further and further ahead, Yao Qiyun called after her, “I’ll wait for you at the school gate after class today.”

Situ Jie had apparently also heard from her mother about the new arrangement requiring her to travel with Yao Qiyun and accept his de facto supervision—she just hadn’t imagined such an absurd restriction would actually need to be enforced.

She gave a scornful snort through her nose. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“You know your mother’s serious about this. She thinks you’re too wild, which is exactly why she wants me watching over you.”

“Yao Qiyun, you follow me around and I’ll make you regret it,” Situ Jie threatened.

Yao Qiyun walked on in silence—whether he’d dare or not wasn’t something you settled with words.

Situ Jie deliberately slowed her pace, and, as expected, Yao Qiyun didn’t overtake her at a normal speed but kept trailing lazily behind, just as slow. Situ Jie cursed silently to herself: what a twisted, warped creature.

After a stretch of this ant’s-pace walking, with the crosswalk at the upcoming intersection in view, Situ Jie suddenly broke into a sprint without warning, leaving a startled Yao Qiyun behind in an instant, and dashed across just as the light was about to change.

“Situ Jie, are you trying to get yourself killed!” Yao Qiyun called out, exasperated.

Situ Jie knew Yao Qiyun’s character all too well—this former country boy who’d once been baffled by traffic lights had since developed an almost fanatical devotion to rules. Even if there wasn’t a single car in sight at a red light, he’d absolutely wait for it to turn green before taking a single step.

Across the stream of passing traffic, Situ Jie flashed a victory pose at a visibly frustrated Yao Qiyun.

After school, sure enough, Situ Jie spotted Yao Qiyun waiting right at the school gate. She drifted over to the other side of the entrance instead, in no hurry to head home, apparently waiting for something.

After a while, Yao Qiyun walked over to her. “Let’s go.”

“I’m waiting for someone.” Situ Jie glanced at him. “My mom told you to wait for me. She never said I couldn’t wait for other classmates too.”

“Waiting for who?” Yao Qiyun took her bag from her without asking. “Your mom’s still furious with you—you’re really going to go off with him again? Haven’t you been pinched enough already?”

“Go ahead and rat me out to my mom then, since that’s clearly your specialty,” Situ Jie said sarcastically.

Yao Qiyun said coldly, “If she asks, of course I’ll tell her the truth. I promised your mother something, and I intend to keep that promise.”

Just then, Situ Jie raised an eyebrow and smiled, walking toward the person she’d been waiting for. Yao Qiyun’s face darkened as he looked over—but walking beside her wasn’t Lian Quan at all. It was Situ Jie’s good friend, Wu Jiang.

Situ Jie draped a hand casually over Wu Jiang’s book bag and, smiling faintly, walked right past Yao Qiyun, who stood alone by the gate. “Go ahead and tell my mom—say I was with Wu Jiang. But let me remind you of something—he and I have been running around together since we were in diapers, and my mom and his mom used to share the same washbasin before they were even married. Go ahead and tell her. I’m sure she’d love to hear it.”

Walking arm in arm with Wu Jiang for a while, he finally glanced, half-amused, at her hand still resting on his bag, and said, holding back a laugh, “You can let go now, your highness. My bag weighs about twice as much with you leaning on it.”

Situ Jie laughed and shoved him. “Don’t act all put-upon when you’re getting off easy. Other people would kill for this kind of privilege.”

Wu Jiang laughed loudly. “Sure, as long as they don’t mind being glared at like they’ve committed a crime. I swear, walking next to you feels like being the ham slice sandwiched in the middle of a hot iron press—not everyone could handle it.”

“Well, tough luck, you’re my best friend, so you’ll just have to handle it. Enough chit-chat—hand it over!”

“What?” Wu Jiang played dumb.

Situ Jie laughed and threw a light punch at him. He dodged aside, grinning, and finally handed her a small folded note.

Naturally, it was a message from Lian Quan, relayed through Wu Jiang. Situ Jie unfolded it and read it quickly, a smile spreading across her face.

“Poor me, the long-suffering matchmaker!” Wu Jiang sighed dramatically to the heavens. “None of the sweet stuff for me, just all the dirty work.”

Situ Jie pitched her voice low and, quoting a line from a classic romance opera, teased him: “If I shared a wedding bed with such a devoted young lady, how could I bear to fold quilts and make the bed alone?”

Wu Jiang burst out laughing at that. “Well now, Situ Jie—just who exactly are you sharing a bed with?”

Situ Jie, realizing belatedly how that line had come out sounding, blushed and chased Wu Jiang down the street for a good long stretch, swatting at him the whole way.

Neither of them noticed that this intimate, laughing scene, playing out for anyone nearby to see, looked entirely different to someone watching from not too far away.

To keep a low profile for a while, Situ Jie only met up with Lian Quan occasionally during breaks, tucked away in some quiet corner for a quick whispered exchange, no longer flaunting themselves as an open couple. Whatever needed saying between them usually went through Wu Jiang, their faithful go-between.

Yao Qiyun, for his part, seemed determined to see Xue Shaoping’s request through to the letter. Unless his own class ran long or Situ Jie managed to slip away early, he was always waiting at the crossing on her way to and from school. He trailed behind her like a shadow she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried—unbothered by her cursing him out or inventing new ways to insult him, he simply acted as though he hadn’t heard a word. Situ Jie found it maddening, and just as helpless to do anything about it. Only when she walked with Wu Jiang, laughing and chatting freely, did Yao Qiyun keep a bit more distance.

Interestingly, when Xue Shaoping had asked who Situ Jie had been spending time with lately, Yao Qiyun had also, seemingly offhandedly, mentioned her closeness with Wu Jiang. Strangely enough, Xue Shaoping took that news rather lightly—as she put it, Wu Jiang and Situ Jie had grown up together, everyone knew everyone’s business, and she trusted that boy’s character well enough to know nothing untoward would come of it. Given that, Yao Qiyun had no choice but to stay quiet on the matter.

Situ Jiu’an and his wife were quite pleased with how punctually and properly Situ Jie had been coming home lately. Xue Shaoping, in turn, privately expressed her gratitude and approval to Yao Qiyun—in her view, her daughter’s wild, unruly streak needed exactly the kind of steady, persistent tether that Yao Qiyun provided. From then on, even for casual outings during free time—shopping, buying books, whatever it might be—she made sure Yao Qiyun went along too.

Situ Jie seethed with resentment over all this, but with both her parents now firmly on Yao Qiyun’s side, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and swallow it. On the surface, she carried on pretending to ignore him, going about her days as though nothing were wrong, though privately it was agony. First, Wu Jiang made it clear he couldn’t keep this up—he had his own fun to get to, and being dragged along as Situ Jie’s constant chaperone wasn’t sustainable. Besides, he said, he was terrified of being resented by someone, and everyone knew exactly who that someone was. Meanwhile, Lian Quan, kept at arm’s length for so long, was starting to grow restless himself, with more than a few complaints. After all, young love burned as fiercely as fire—it had no patience for philosophical musings about how true affection didn’t require constant closeness.

Fortunately, a turn of fortune arrived. Their school had been designated by the city as a “model quality-education school,” and with the label of quality education to live up to, and finals approaching, the administration decided to lighten the students’ load. The usual three periods of evening self-study were cut down to two, with the school announcing that students who genuinely felt the need for extra study time could voluntarily stay for a third period—entirely optional, with no requirement either way.

As students at a top-tier school, most everyone remained highly motivated, and the vast majority “voluntarily” chose to stay for that third period anyway. Situ Jie, of course, was not among that majority.

Situ Jiu’an and his wife had no idea that their daughter packed up and left the moment the second period ended. Yao Qiyun, since transferring in, had always been a diligent student, naturally sticking around to study right down to the last minute—so that extra freed-up period became Situ Jie and Lian Quan’s stolen window of togetherness. The very day the school’s announcement came out, Situ Jie received a note from Lian Quan via Wu Jiang, asking her to meet him in the botanical garden at City U right after the second period ended.

City U bordered the high school Situ Jie attended, and unlike the tightly monitored environment of the high school, the university grounds were something of a haven for couples. The botanical garden Lian Quan mentioned was one such spot—dense with greenery, tucked away in a quiet corner, beautifully kept, ideal for privacy.

Thinking of how long it had been since she’d properly talked with Lian Quan, and picturing his young, sunny, handsome smile, Situ Jie couldn’t help feeling a rush of longing. The moment the bell rang to end the second evening study period, she bolted out of the classroom. She deliberately avoided the hallway that passed by Yao Qiyun’s classroom, jogging the whole way out through the school gate and circling around to the east entrance of City U, which led straight to the botanical garden.

Time was tight—she’d need to be back at school before the third period ended, in time to walk home with that plague of a chaperone, Yao Qiyun.

Athletic as she was, Situ Jie thought she’d moved plenty quickly—yet somehow Lian Quan had beaten her there, already seated on the edge of a flower bed by the garden entrance, waiting. The two of them exchanged a smile and settled, hand in hand, into a secluded corner of the garden.

Lian Quan said, “If you hadn’t slipped out soon, I was about to go climb up to your balcony like something out of a novel. You didn’t even reply to my note—had me worried sick.”

Situ Jie laughed. “You really are fond of your little notes, aren’t you?”

Lian Quan ducked his head with a faint smile, leaning close to her ear. “It’s not the notes I’m fond of. What I’m fond of is…”

“Fond of what?” Situ Jie asked softly, biting her lip.

Lian Quan flicked the tip of her nose gently, his breath grazing her cheek, and murmured, half tender, half exasperated, “Being difficult again, are we?”

One hand quietly slid to the back of her head, fingers twining through the hair of her ponytail, while the other hovered, hesitant, toward her face, still bright and lovely even in the darkness of night.

Situ Jie could feel his face inching slowly closer, could even see the faint tremble of his eyelashes. He carried the clean, healthy scent unique to young boys—like sunlight warming fresh grass. No, that scent was uniquely Lian Quan’s; Yao Qiyun, the same age, gave off nothing but cold detachment even at close range, nothing more. Compared to Lian Quan, Yao Qiyun was like moss after rain—dim, green, and chilled through.

Situ Jie laughed inwardly at herself. Why was she thinking about that mood-killer Yao Qiyun of all people, right now? Wasn’t the boy in front of her enough to fill her heart completely?

His face was clean and handsome, faintly flushed now, his whole body strangely warm—except for his hands, which moved with careful hesitance, as though cradling the most precious treasure in the world.

He really was a lovely boy, meeting the very best version of Situ Jie in exactly the best moment of her life. Perhaps somewhere down the long river of years ahead she’d meet other, more perfect men—but nothing could ever replace this fresh, tentative flutter of first love, this hazy, tender beauty of the moment.

Situ Jie and Lian Quan had, in fact, been a couple for a good while now, but their relationship had stayed innocently confined to holding hands—at most, Situ Jie lightly wrapping her arms around his waist while riding on the back of his bike.

Perhaps it was the accumulated longing of all this forced distance, or perhaps it was simply that this particular moment felt beautiful enough to move them both—but as Lian Quan’s face grew larger before her eyes, even Situ Jie, usually so bold, felt her own face burning as though set alight, torn between shyness and curiosity, while some small voice inside her kept asking: should she push him away? Should she?

Right at that instant, Situ Jie thought she heard the rustle of leaves being brushed aside—more rhythmic than the wind, unmistakably footsteps.

She quickly realized it wasn’t just her imagination, because Lian Quan’s face had also stopped moving, turning instead toward the direction of the sound.

Situ Jie looked too, and let out a sound of pure despair. The figure walking slowly toward them, now standing some ten meters away, was none other than Yao Qiyun. In an instant, Situ Jie plummeted from her rosy daydream straight back into merciless reality—the swirling emotions of a moment ago doused, in a single breath, by a bucket of ice water.

There was no telling when Yao Qiyun had arrived, or how he’d even found this place. Worse still, he might well have been following them from the very start, watching quietly from a distance, only stepping in to interrupt at exactly the wrong—or perfectly calculated—moment. Which meant, essentially, that she’d just performed an entire romantic little drama right in front of him.

Situ Jie buried her face in her hands, too devastated to speak, having lost even the energy to curse. In her eyes, this relentlessly persistent Yao Qiyun could not possibly be a normal human being.

Being with Situ Jie, Lian Quan naturally knew who Yao Qiyun was. Because of Yao Qiyun’s watchful surveillance, he and Situ Jie had gone a long stretch without any real chance to be alone together—and through it all, Lian Quan had kept telling himself not to resent Yao Qiyun, reminding himself that the boy had simply been taken in by the Situ family and was only doing what her parents asked of him. But even with all his usual understanding, he couldn’t help staring up at the night sky now and letting out a heavy sigh.

At this distance, and with the night so dark, Situ Jie couldn’t quite make out the expression on Yao Qiyun’s face—not that she particularly wanted to. She’d always had a stubborn streak, and right now, deep in her rebellious teenage years, she might have let this slide if he’d simply gone along with things and let her parents’ wishes play out quietly. But his relentless overreach, closing in on her step by step, only stoked her defiance further. She no longer cared what her parents thought—infuriating Yao Qiyun first was all that mattered now. She was past caring about the consequences.

Situ Jie grabbed the hand of Lian Quan, who’d risen to his feet. “Ignore him.”

Lian Quan hesitated, then heard Situ Jie shake his hand and say, “He’s insane. Let’s just see how long he can keep this vigil up.”

Lian Quan looked at Situ Jie’s captivating face and, unable to think of anything else to do, sat back down beside her, gently draping an arm around her shoulders.

Across the way, Yao Qiyun found himself a spot and sat down too, a book in hand, and by the faint light of the garden lamps, bent his head to read in silence.

Situ Jie and Lian Quan whispered sweet nothings to each other on their side. But easy as it was to say they’d ignore Yao Qiyun’s presence, with him sitting right there—seemingly unconcerned with them, yet impossible to forget—recapturing the passion they’d been interrupted from wasn’t something they could simply will back into being. Every time they tried to slip back into their own private world, the faint rustle of Yao Qiyun turning a page, or a small, quiet cough from his direction, would land like a bolt of lightning through their sweet little bubble, jarring them both back to distraction, whether they wanted it to or not.

Situ Jie couldn’t even remember what witty thing Lian Quan had just said, laughing along with him—but partway through her laughter, she suddenly felt all interest drain away, and glancing at Lian Quan, he seemed a little distracted too.

Situ Jie finally understood: this evening had been thoroughly ruined by Yao Qiyun.

It was Lian Quan who finally squeezed her hand first. “Never mind, Situ. Let’s head back. We’ll try again another time.”

An inexplicable relief washed over Situ Jie, followed immediately by a flood of guilt toward him.

Fortunately, Lian Quan was as thoughtful as ever, smiling as he brushed the dust off her skirt, leaning in to murmur, “Well, at least now I’ll have plenty of time to miss you again.”

The two of them started walking out, and as they passed Yao Qiyun, both instinctively paused.

Yao Qiyun closed his book and stood as well, his expression unreadable.

“Finished? Ready to go back?”

“Sure, let’s go.” Situ Jie’s calm, in that moment, was rare enough to be remarkable.

He fell in behind her and Lian Quan. They’d barely walked a few steps before Situ Jie finally turned back around. Jabbing a finger at him, she said through gritted teeth, “Yao Qiyun, congratulations, you win. You must have escaped straight out of an asylum!”

Yao Qiyun quietly tucked his book back into his bag before finally meeting her eyes.

“That’s right. Now that I’ve got you, we’re heading home.”

Situ Jie shook with fury. Lian Quan tried to step in and smooth things over, but she gently pushed him back.

“Sorry, Lian Quan. Go on home first. Leave this between him and me.”

Lian Quan had nothing more to say to that. He shot Yao Qiyun one cold glance and left the troubled scene first.

And so, the botanical garden was left with just Situ Jie and Yao Qiyun. What had been, moments ago, a romantic evening under blooming flowers and golden dusk had, in an instant, turned into something dark and murderous.

Situ Jie thought to herself, God, please, just take him away from me.

Yao Qiyun, out of habit, reached to take her bag from her. Situ Jie clutched it tightly to herself and refused to let go.

“Don’t think that just because my mom gave you one instruction, you get to wield it like some imperial decree. You want to win my mom over, I can see that clearly enough—she treats you like a guard dog, and you really have to work this hard at it?”

Yao Qiyun said nothing for a moment, sidestepping the jab. “Your mom’s only looking out for you, worried something might happen. Being alone with him like that—aren’t you afraid he might—”

Situ Jie cut him off. “I’m not afraid of him, because I find you far more frightening than he could ever be.”

“I have no inappropriate intentions toward you whatsoever.”

“Then stop trailing after me like some jilted wife. You go your way, I’ll go mine. Go ahead and be the good, obedient child in my parents’ eyes—I’ll happily play the villain. Isn’t that a fair arrangement?”

“And you’re not worried I’ll tell your mom everything I saw tonight?” Yao Qiyun circled back to it again.

Unable to hold back any longer, Situ Jie hurled her book bag at him. “Go ahead, tell her. Be my guest.”

Yao Qiyun tilted his head to dodge it, catching the bag out of the air in the process.

“And if I did tell her, what would you do?”

“There’s nothing I could do to you. I’d just despise you—