Perhaps out of consideration for the two adults present — consideration that was clearly ingrained in him — Lu Rangchen kept that remark deliberately light, barely skimming the surface.

But his eyes were fixed on Zhu Yunque like a hawk’s.

It was as though he was teasing her in a way only the two of them would understand — veiled, oblique.

The result was that the two adults hadn’t quite parsed what he meant by it, but the girl’s thin skin had already turned red.

She would never have imagined that Lu Rangchen actually remembered that mortifying incident — her sneaking glances at him during morning exercises. And that he had the audacity to bring it up in front of both their parents.

To make things worse, Feng Yanlai pressed further: “What do you mean, watches you during morning exercises?”

Zhu Yunque’s brow twitched.

The panic in her eyes was plain for anyone to see.

She was fumbling for some explanation when Lu Rangchen interrupted smoothly.

With a calm, breezy air, he dissolved the ambiguous cloud he’d created. “Our classes line up next to each other during morning exercises, so we got to know each other early on.”

He finished speaking and, with perfect deliberateness, cast a glance at Zhu Yunque.

As if to say — I’ve covered for you. Don’t push it.

The exchange played out, and Feng Yanlai gave the sort of oh-I-see expression that suggested she’d accepted it at face value, saying how coincidental.

Cheng Liru, however, was not quite so easy to fool.

She silently shot Lu Rangchen a pointed look.

Lu Rangchen raised his eyebrows, and only then, with unhurried ease, dialed back that mischievous, roguish gleam in his eyes.

It was the first time Zhu Yunque had ever seen him like this.

Compared to the usually dazzling and untamed brilliance of him, the Lu Rangchen in this moment looked more like an approachable boy-next-door — slightly boyish, yet deeply compelling.

She swallowed the flutter in her chest, unseen.

Zhu Yunque felt hollowed out — as if she had just run eight hundred metres.

Fortunately, neither Feng Yanlai nor Cheng Liru lingered on the subject of how well the two of them knew each other. The conversation shifted quickly to practical matters.

Zhu Yunque sat down beside Feng Yanlai on the upholstered sofa, and it was only then that she pieced together the full picture — this apartment belonged to the Lu family, currently unoccupied; it was only because of their close friendship that Cheng Liru was willing to rent it out to Feng Yanlai at a reduced price.

Feng Yanlai smiled brightly. “I knew your home would be lovely, but I didn’t expect it to be this lovely. At this price, from anyone else’s hands, I could never dream of renting a place like this.”

Cheng Liru laughed. “I don’t mean to boast, but it really was comfortable when I lived here. I only moved out because it’s a bit far from Rangchen’s school.”

As she spoke, she picked two fresh, plump mangosteens from the fruit plate and placed them in Zhu Yunque’s hands with a silent gesture to eat.

Perhaps because Cheng Liru’s eyes had a quality similar to Lu Rangchen’s —

Zhu Yunque felt slightly self-conscious. She said “thank you” very quietly.

Feng Yanlai rescued her. “This child is just naturally shy — she’s always been quiet and introverted. She doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

Cheng Liru looked at her with gentle affection. “Anyone can see that. And there’s nothing wrong with it — a quiet girl is much less of a headache. Not like mine. He’s completely unmanageable.”

Without quite realizing it, the topic drifted away from the apartment and settled on Lu Rangchen.

Feng Yanlai had known of his excellence for some time, but seeing him in person made her all the more effusive — she praised his height, his looks, his manners, and declared that he must draw endless attention at school.

Cheng Liru had long since grown immune to this particular brand of compliment. She sighed with mild resignation. “I just hope he stops causing trouble for girls. Otherwise, interfering with other people’s studies — that’s hardly admirable.”

On hearing those words, Zhu Yunque’s fingertips trembled, though she didn’t quite register it herself.

Lu Rangchen came drifting out from the kitchen area, carrying two bottles of chilled fruit juice. He caught the tail end of the comment and gave a short, amused exhale. “You’re at it again.”

Cheng Liru gave him a reproving look. “You’re just like your father.”

Lu Rangchen said nothing to that — just smiled slightly and continued past the back of the sofa.

As he passed directly behind Zhu Yunque, he reached out and pressed one of the cold bottles against her flushed cheek.

The sudden chill made Zhu Yunque’s shoulder jerk inward.

Her heart rate spiked. She looked up quickly and met Lu Rangchen’s gaze, which angled down from above.

He was standing behind her, tall and unhurried, those narrow, dark eyes of his locking onto her. He spoke in a low murmur, his enunciation deliberate and quiet. “Can’t drink anything cold?”

Since their convenience store encounter, this was the first time Lu Rangchen had addressed her directly, one-on-one.

Zhu Yunque felt something tip inside her — unprepared, off-balance.

She shook her head gently and accepted the fruit juice, holding it in her warm, slightly damp palm.

Then Cheng Liru suddenly remembered something. “Oh, that’s right — Rangchen, why don’t you take your little sister upstairs and show her around? Let her get familiar with the study and the bedroom.”

The phrase “little sister” hit its mark with precision.

Zhu Yunque held one mangosteen in one hand and the glass bottle in the other, completely unable to form words.

Lu Rangchen agreed without any apparent resistance. “Sure.”

He finished speaking. Those refined, unhurried eyes of his turned toward Zhu Yunque. He tilted his head slightly in invitation. “Coming?”

Just that one look.

Zhu Yunque crumbled entirely.

She had the strange illusion that this scorching summer hadn’t quite come to an end yet.

The illusion hummed in her ears like the long drone of cicadas.

Zhu Yunque nodded through the disarray of her own thoughts, and then rose to her feet — unsteady — and followed Lu Rangchen upstairs.

Below, two close friends laughed and chatted their way through easy, domestic conversation.

Above, two teenagers moved in silence to the second floor. Then Lu Rangchen’s footsteps came to a stop.

He turned to her and extended his hand. “Give it to me.”

The command arrived without warning.

Zhu Yunque blinked. She was about to say “give you what?” — but then it clicked: he meant the fruit juice in her hand.

“…”

She handed it over without protest.

Lu Rangchen took it from her. With an effortless twist of those long, capable hands, he unscrewed the cap that she hadn’t been able to budge.

He handed the juice back to her. Lu Rangchen’s brow lifted, and his gaze sharpened as it settled on her. “You couldn’t get it open for ages, and you didn’t think to ask for help? Have you lost the ability to speak, Zhu Yunque?”

That cool, magnetic voice of his split through the silence between them like a blade through ice.

Every last trace of his easygoing aristocratic manner was on display in that moment — and it was enough to leave someone blinking in bewilderment.

Zhu Yunque: “…”

Suddenly she understood why Xu Linda had said that Lu Rangchen was actually quite a handful if you came to know him.

— If you thought he was even-tempered, either you’d never provoked him, or you weren’t close enough to him yet.

She wasn’t sure where she fell on that scale — but provoking him… yes. That had happened. Once, at least.

The memory made her press her lips together. She accepted the bottle from him with quiet obedience.

The bottle should have been cold. But the glass still carried a faint, lingering warmth from his palm. She was holding it in the same place he had held it — and she felt her ears grow hot.

After a moment of silence, Zhu Yunque said softly, “I thought I could open it myself.”

Lu Rangchen continued walking ahead, hands in his pockets. He heard her and paused.

Then he laughed — sudden, unguarded. “Recovered the power of speech, have we?”

Zhu Yunque was immediately annoyed. “Who lost the power of speech? You lost it.”

Lu Rangchen glanced at her, mouth curved in that languid way of his. “You won’t talk to me, but you’re not mute?”

Zhu Yunque was struck completely dumb.

It was only then that it dawned on her — from the moment she’d seen him, she hadn’t said a single word to him voluntarily.

While Lu Rangchen, from the very beginning, had been paying attention to her.

Zhu Yunque felt thoroughly defeated by her own reticent nature. After turning it over in her mind, she had no better option than to grit her teeth and produce an apology, adding: “It’s my first time coming to your house. I was nervous.”

She wasn’t lying.

Even now, her heart hadn’t steadied.

Lu Rangchen didn’t look especially convinced. He let out a mildly interested laugh. “Nervous from being in my house, or nervous from seeing me?”

He kept his voice at an easy, unhurried pitch.

In the quiet of the second floor, his words carried with perfect clarity.

It was genuinely impossible to tell whether he was joking or not.

All Zhu Yunque could do was hold her breath and, with as little fanfare as possible, redirect the conversation. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

A girl with clear, guileless almond eyes. Careful and perceptive — but not quite naive.

They held the look for two seconds.

Lu Rangchen gave a faint lift of his brow, as though a line he’d prepared had become superfluous — and with a slight, wry pull at the corners of his mouth, he turned and pushed open the door on the left. “This will be your room.”

Zhu Yunque stepped forward and stopped politely in the doorway, taking it in with contained curiosity.

The room was bright and spacious, done in natural wood tones, without excessive decoration — but every detail and corner was thoughtfully precise, and it gave the impression, just by looking, of something deeply comfortable.

Zhu Yunque couldn’t stop herself. “Was this your room before?”

Lu Rangchen tilted his chin. “Mine is across the hall. If you prefer this one, you’re welcome to it.”

Careless words, but she heard them carefully.

Not wanting him to misread her meaning, Zhu Yunque shook her head with a slightly flustered honesty. “No, this one is perfect.”

Lu Rangchen made a neutral sound, then indicated with his chin toward the room beside the bedroom. “That’s the study. If you like, you can use it for studying — there are quite a few books in there that haven’t been moved yet, feel free to look through them.”

With that, he had already led her in.

Zhu Yunque moved to the glass bookcase. Sure enough, it was packed with works of literature. She shifted her gaze — and found it landing on the wide, sun-filled writing desk, on which sat an Apple desktop computer.

“The computer is a bit old, but it’s perfectly fine for looking things up,” Lu Rangchen said, looking at her. “If you want to use it, I’ll send you the login password.”

Zhu Yunque hadn’t expected him to be this generous. She felt awkward about it. “…Would that be alright?”

Lu Rangchen was entirely unbothered. “I have no secrets.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and tilted his head down — the line of his neck long and elegant — as he began composing.

“Besides,” he added, “they’re already renting the whole apartment. A computer is nothing.”

As he spoke, he typed out a string of numbers and sent it to Zhu Yunque.

A moment later, the phone in her pocket vibrated.

She opened the message. It was a password — a combination of letters in pinyin and numbers, and those numbers were, quite obviously, Lu Rangchen’s birthday.

She quietly saved it to her bookmarks, said “thank you” once she was done.

He’d heard that word from her so many times he was practically immune to it.

Lu Rangchen reached up and gave his ear a casual flick, then raised an eyebrow to acknowledge her.

Just then, Cheng Liru called up from below, asking whether he’d finished showing her around.

Lu Rangchen didn’t bother raising his voice across the space. He glanced at Zhu Yunque and tilted his chin toward the door. “Roughly done. Let’s go down.”

Just as he said it, he was already heading for the door.

The voice behind him rose. “There’s something else.”

His footsteps stopped.

Lu Rangchen glanced back, waiting, easy and composed. “What is it.”

Zhu Yunque wasn’t sure why, but she had the feeling that if she didn’t say certain things now, she might never say them.

So she gathered herself and said it in one breath. “Last time — at the convenience store — thank you.”

He apparently hadn’t expected her to bring that up.

A slight pause moved through Lu Rangchen’s expression, and then his mouth curved into something deliberately light. “Thank me for what? I didn’t do anything.”

“…I actually wanted to drink that day.”

“I know.”

Lu Rangchen answered without ceremony, but his gaze landed on her with a weight you could almost feel. “I just don’t understand why you’re afraid of me.”

Zhu Yunque blinked, startled.

She didn’t understand where he’d gotten that idea. She shook her head quickly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Lu Rangchen appeared to relish the opportunity to work this out properly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, eyes narrowing slightly. “Not afraid? Then why didn’t you come with me that night?”

His clear eyes held a gentle, pointed edge, and he waited for her answer with unhurried patience.

Zhu Yunque was lost for words.

After a few seconds of deliberation, she said evenly, “…I was afraid. Afraid that your girlfriend might mind.”

Because she liked Lu Rangchen — and his girlfriend didn’t know.

Not only didn’t know, but would probably be expected to greet her warmly.

That would be deeply unfair to his girlfriend.

And beyond that, Zhu Yunque had no desire to watch the two of them together.

But these were the real thoughts — and none of them could be said aloud. So she only let her eyes drop slightly, working to keep her feelings folded out of sight.

In contrast to her careful evasiveness, Lu Rangchen’s expression remained unchanged.

The young man’s dark eyes — like polished obsidian — studied her in silence. She watched something move through them in sequence: confusion. Absurdity. Speechlessness.

And then he dropped his voice and gave a short, dry laugh. “Who told you I have a girlfriend.”

The words fell.

Silence rushed in around them.

After a brief, stunned pause, Zhu Yunque raised her eyes. Something flickered in her gaze.

Lu Rangchen looked genuinely, ridiculously incredulous — and exhaled with a laugh. “Where am I supposed to have gotten a girlfriend from?”