The moment she sent that message, Yunque turned off her phone.

No matter how many times Lu Rangchen called, she did not respond — as if in one single, unguarded instant, Yunque had made up her mind and vanished from his life entirely.

New Year’s Eve had not yet ended.

Beyond the three-ring road, the villa district that should have been quiet was swallowed up by the sound of fireworks and firecrackers.

Outside the gates, the sky blazed bright, and noise filled the air from all directions.

Inside the Cheng family home, silence reigned like death itself.

Lu Rangchen’s eyes were dark and turbulent, burning with a suppressed fury. He came down the stairs, jacket slung over his arm, right hand — wrapped in a bandage — clenched tight around his car keys, the keychain bearing the small bear charm that matched Yunque’s.

Cheng Liru sat on the sofa in the living room, expressionless, staring at the television.

When she noticed he was about to leave, she turned her gaze toward him, just slightly.

The days of fighting and crying had run their course. It seemed as if everyone had grown exhausted, simply waiting for this wretched year to end.

Cheng Liru didn’t have the energy to say anything more. Her voice came out flat — drained of every feeling — “When you come back, make sure the door is locked. Keep quiet on the stairs. My sleep is poor.”

With that, she reached for the remote and turned off the television, then rose to leave.

But Lu Rangchen didn’t move. He looked at her with an expression of cold desolation. “I won’t be coming back.”

Cheng Liru finally looked at him.

Lu Rangchen’s eyes held a thin layer of frost. The cold mockery in his gaze was like a blade, driving straight into her chest. His lips curved without warmth. “You’ll be just fine,” he said. “I underestimated you before.”

The words came out in a low, magnetic young voice — husky and hollow, the liveliness completely gone from it.

Cheng Liru’s gaze flickered. Something in her eyes threatened to overflow.

She was struck suddenly by an overwhelming tenderness.

She couldn’t stop herself. Her voice trembled as she called out his name.

But Lu Rangchen didn’t look back. He left those words behind him, turned, and walked out the door without hesitation.

The weather in Nancheng that year was impossible to predict.

One moment, fireworks lit up the sky. Minutes later, rain mixed with snow had begun to fall.

Lu Rangchen stepped outside and pulled his cap down low, driving one-handed to the apartment complex where Yunque was staying — the one Cheng Liru had rented to Feng Yanlai in the city center.

But, as he had expected, there was nothing there.

Feng Yanlai would never sit quietly and wait to be found. He’d come all this way only to find an empty apartment.

What now? Where to go next?

Where would she go to spend the New Year?

Something seized his heart and wouldn’t let go. For the first time in his life, Lu Rangchen found himself completely at a loss over a single thing.

He parked his car outside the complex and stood there smoking, one hand on the phone, working through the list of people they both knew.

But every answer was the same.

No idea. Don’t know. Can’t say.

Even Xu Linda had no way to reach Yunque.

Xu Linda, who had seen the news from the past couple of days, was vaguely confused but too sensitive to press. She thought for a moment and offered the only thing she could: “Why don’t you wait a few days? After the holiday, go find her at her mother’s shop?”

Lu Rangchen’s voice was rough with a slight hoarseness. He gave a low, wry laugh. “Do you think she’ll be sitting there waiting for me to find her?”

Xu Linda struggled with that, went quiet for a moment, then said, “Well… could she have gone back to Yanliuxiang? She usually spends the New Year there — though this year, I’m not sure.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Lu Rangchen had already crushed his cigarette underfoot and gotten back in the car.

Of course. How had he not thought of Yanliuxiang?

It was the place most deeply connected to her.

Clinging to one last shred of hope, Lu Rangchen covered the distance to Yanliuxiang in the shortest possible time — and still, even then, he couldn’t find her.

Yanliuxiang was neither large nor small. So many households tucked together, and finding her among them was like searching for something in the ocean.

In the end, he could only park at the entrance to the alley, standing there without knowing where to go or where to retreat.

He was on the verge of leaving.

Then, by pure chance, he spotted Ye Tian coming out to throw away the trash.

A young man who hadn’t quite grown into himself yet, still carrying the fading bruises from the beating — blinking in the glare of the headlights.

Lu Rangchen got out of the car and called to him. The moment Ye Tian saw who it was, he visibly startled.

The same tall, imposing figure as before.

But the fierce, delinquent energy he’d had that other time was gone. In its place was something worn-down — a subtle air of exhaustion that clung to him from head to toe.

Lu Rangchen was so much taller than him. Without hesitation, he pressed down on Ye Tian’s shoulder with his injured hand and asked, point-blank, where Yunque was. Where had she gone?

The urgency in his eyes was unmistakably real.

Ye Tian hesitated for a moment, caught off guard. “Aren’t you and my sister broken up?” he finally said. “What are you coming around for?”

He looked at Lu Rangchen with a distinct edge of distaste.

But Lu Rangchen paid it no mind. His voice caught in his throat. “We haven’t broken up. I don’t agree to it.”

Ye Tian shook off his hand. “Whether you agree or not is none of my business.”

He turned to head back inside. But Lu Rangchen reached out and grabbed him again, refusing to let go.

The grip was real — the kind that holds onto the last lifeline there is.

Ye Tian winced with the pain, turning to swing at him — but then he saw the bandage on Lu Rangchen’s hand, which was beginning to seep red.

Maybe it was the memory of those three thousand yuan.

Something in Ye Tian softened, just for a moment. Pressing his lips together, he said, “What happened to your hand?”

Lu Rangchen registered the pain only then.

His brow creased slightly. He withdrew his hand and said, “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where she is.”

Ye Tian said, “And what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

Lu Rangchen’s throat moved. The sharp, defined lines of his jaw were set and utterly unyielding. “Then I still need to see her.”

Ye Tian had no answer to that.

He thought for a moment, then said, frowning, “She went home. I don’t know where the new place is. But I do know she’s going back to the capital in the next day or two.”

The emptiness in Lu Rangchen’s eyes sharpened all at once. He said, alert, “What’s she going back to the capital for?”

Ye Tian shrugged. “Who knows what she’s thinking — nobody ever does. All I can say is, it’s New Year’s. If you actually care about her, don’t go bother her. I saw her slip off to the bathroom earlier. She was crying — really crying.”

“……”

His throat felt like something sharp had caught in it.

Even breathing, even swallowing, hurt.

His long lashes dropped, trembling once. Lu Rangchen said quietly, “Alright. I won’t go disturb her.”

Ye Tian had no more interest in talking to him. He turned to walk away.

But Lu Rangchen called after him once more. “Can you pass along a message?”

Ye Tian hesitated two seconds. “What message?”

The weight of something inexpressible pressed down between his brows. Lu Rangchen’s voice hitched for just a moment, then he said: “Tell her — nothing has ever changed for me. Not once.”

—

The rain-snow mix finally stopped sometime after midnight.

Lu Rangchen’s car drifted through the empty city streets, still moving, as if he were holding on to the smallest flicker of hope — directionless, with nowhere to go.

He eventually circled back to the small one-room apartment.

He hadn’t been there in a long time, and the place felt lifeless.

Li Tie must have heard from Cheng Liru’s side about how bad things had gotten, because he came over to keep him company. The two of them drank heavily that night.

Lu Rangchen’s health hadn’t been good in that stretch of time.

He got drunk on less than usual and came down with a high fever the next day.

Before all this, he had been confined to the house — where he’d had a physical altercation with several of the security people the Cheng family had stationed there. The wound was deep and had never properly healed.

Then he’d gone out in the wind and rain late at night. It would have been strange if he hadn’t developed a fever.

Li Tie was alarmed. He immediately called Zhou Jin, and together they rushed Lu Rangchen to the hospital.

Zhou Jin knew the general outline of what had happened, and it broke her heart.

She and Li Tie had always treated Lu Rangchen like a younger brother. Who could stand by and watch their little brother suffer like that?

Zhou Jin, bold and resourceful as ever, took advantage of the moment when Lu Rangchen was resting to search through his phone for Yunque’s number.

Li Tie had objected at first.

But as it turned out, this particular stroke of luck actually worked. Maybe she happened to have something to take care of, because when Zhou Jin called, Yunque picked up.

Zhou Jin was genuinely angry at the time. In her view, a breakup was one thing — but why the running away? Why keep the other person hanging? She said whatever was on her mind, without filtering.

Of course, she regretted it the moment she’d finished — because Yunque went silent.

Li Tie was beside himself. He grabbed the phone right away and said, “Zhou Jin, would you please shut up for two seconds?”

Zhou Jin flared up immediately.

She was about to snap back at him, but then — in the very next second — Yunque’s voice came through, soft and gentle.

Whether from the cold or something else, she had a noticeably stuffy, muffled tone. She asked, “How is Lu Rangchen right now? Is he okay?”

Li Tie’s attitude softened at once. “Him? Not great, honestly. He’s in the hospital room right now, on an IV drip.”

He paused, then added that Lu Rangchen’s arm had been injured — a fairly deep cut from a fight he’d gotten into.

Afraid she’d hang up, Zhou Jin jumped in quickly, speaking fast: “Lu Rangchen going quiet on you for those days — it wasn’t because he was cooling off, and it wasn’t to pressure you into breaking up. It was because of his mother.”

She explained that during that period, Cheng Liru had been in a terrible state, demanding over and over that Lu Rangchen end things with Yunque.

Lu Rangchen had refused, every single time. So the Cheng family had resorted to more forceful measures — they’d simply kept him confined to the house.

Li Tie knew the details from the inside, and he explained things plainly: “He really didn’t go to New Zealand. He wasn’t trying to deceive you. He just didn’t want to set off his mother — she’s overdosed more than once. She was taken to have her stomach pumped just a few days ago. An absolute nightmare to deal with, the whole thing gave Lu Rangchen no end of grief.”

“That said, his mother really pushed things too far. It was a matter between husband and wife, but she kept dumping it all on Lu Rangchen — no wonder he was nearly driven over the edge. He didn’t even go home last night, on New Year’s Eve.”

“If you ask me, little sister — you don’t need to be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of. I think once his mother sees how he is now, even her heart will soften. Can we all just sit down and talk this through? Stop being upset with him, yeah? Without you, he looks like he’s barely holding himself together.”

“Really. I’m not making this up.”

Li Tie’s voice had grown genuinely pained. He said, “Last night Lu Rangchen drank himself stupid, and the whole time he was just calling your name. I never thought he was that far gone with you.”

As Li Tie spoke on his end, Yunque — who had just landed not long ago — was pulling her suitcase through the airport, one tear following another.

A woman nearby — someone she’d chatted with on the flight — was watching her with concern, and came over to ask what was wrong, why she was crying so hard.

Yunque heard her and laughed even through her tears.

She covered the phone’s microphone and shook her head, saying: no, it’s nothing, just something in my eye. I’ll be fine in a moment.

Later, on the bus heading back into the city, Yunque barely said a word.

It was Li Tie and Zhou Jin, taking turns, trying to coax her — explaining everything Lu Rangchen had been through, assuring her that he was entirely devoted to her, that he wanted so badly to be with her.

By the time Yunque’s responses had settled into something mechanical and hollow, she said, “I’m sorry. I can’t go take care of him — that’s on you two for now.”

Li Tie caught the shift in her tone and his voice lifted slightly. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven him?”

Yunque didn’t answer directly.

She only said, “I’m heading back to school. If he wants to talk, he can come find me there.”

Heard one way, those words were noncommittal. Heard another way, they left a narrow opening.

But actually — they didn’t.

By that point, between the two of them, it was already over.

Lu Rangchen just didn’t understand that yet.

Yunque arrived at the dormitory and had barely gotten settled when a message from him arrived.

He sent it over WeChat, only one line: 【Tonight. Meet at school.】

Yunque stared at those words, and a dull, inexplicable ache pressed at her chest.

She imagined what Lu Rangchen must be doing right now. Whether he was happy. Whether he couldn’t stand waiting for the IV to finish and was already looking up flight tickets, already on his way back to find her.

He had always been like that.

Willful, untameable — and once he made up his mind, no one could move him.

But what did it matter.

There was no future for them.

The stretch of time from that afternoon through dusk seemed, because of those words from Lu Rangchen, to stretch unbearably long.

In the end, all Yunque did was take a shower and put on some makeup.

The makeup gave her good color.

Even Lu Rangchen was briefly caught off guard when he saw her.

Whether it was because she rarely dressed up this way in front of him, or because it had simply been so long since he’d seen her, even a single glance was enough to capture him completely.

It has to be said — for young people, love is more dangerous than any drug.

As long as you haven’t been pulled under, you’re fine.

But the moment it gets its hooks in you, it can bleed you dry.

That evening, the two of them arranged to meet at a café just outside campus.

New Year’s Day — it wasn’t very busy. So when Yunque sat down across from Lu Rangchen, she had the strange impression that he had reserved the entire place.

Lu Rangchen laughed at that. “I didn’t,” he said. “I was in a rush. I just picked somewhere at random.”

As he said this, Yunque was staring fixedly at the pair of long, narrow eyes beneath the brim of his cap.

The shadow from the cap made those eyes look even more deep and compelling.

But also dangerous.

She was afraid that if she wasn’t careful, she would fall in and lose herself completely.

Pulling her gaze away, she looked instead at his bandaged hand.

Lu Rangchen’s throat moved as he swallowed. His eyes never left her face — afraid that if he looked away for even a second, she might disappear again.

“Does it still hurt?” Yunque asked.

Lu Rangchen shook his head. His voice was low and a little rough. “It stopped hurting a long time ago.”

Even as he spoke, he reached beneath the table with that hand and took hold of hers.

Yunque tensed, instinctively trying to pull back — but Lu Rangchen’s grip only tightened.

In that instant, both of their eyes reddened.

Lu Rangchen forced a smile. “Stop making trouble, alright? Come home with me. Yunque — I know I was wrong.”

Hearing that.

Yunque smiled too, her eyes stinging.

What had Lu Rangchen done wrong? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

She kept her reddened eyes lowered, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over, and said, “I’m sorry, Lu Rangchen. It’s not you. It’s me.”

Lu Rangchen said nothing.

Yunque looked up at him, smiled. “Really. I’m the one who’s wrong. And so is my mother. The ones who owe you an apology — it’s always been us.”

Lu Rangchen still said nothing. His eyes were dark and unreadable, fixed on her — but the hand that held hers tightened even more.

Until Yunque said it: “Lu Rangchen, I’m going abroad.”

Silence fell between them like a line drawn clearly down the middle.

The server chose that moment to bring their drinks.

It felt to Lu Rangchen as if someone had pushed his head underwater. He couldn’t breathe.

After a long pause he finally spoke, voice tight, somewhere between a bitter laugh and absolute devastation. “When did this happen? Why didn’t I know?”

“I decided recently,” Yunque said.

She looked down at the coffee in front of her. “My mother thinks Australia sounds good too. She can afford it. We could start over there.”

At those words, the line of Lu Rangchen’s jaw went rigid.

His emotions were surging like rough water, but he held himself back — barely — and kept his eyes on her.

“Is this to get away from me?” he asked.

Yunque met his lifeless gaze. “We’ve already broken up,” she said.

Lu Rangchen smiled.

A smile that made something ache — that made you want to clench your fingers tight against it.

He asked her why.

Looking back later, Yunque thought her performance that day was rather clumsy. But however clumsy, the cruel things she said were real — she didn’t know what she was thinking, only that she wanted to push as hard as she could.

She said: “Lu Rangchen, you can’t give me what I want. And you’ll destroy me in the process.”

“Your family has so much power. You could crush me and my mother with a flick of your finger. I can’t afford to tangle with you.”

“It’s just a relationship. I don’t want to be cut to the bone. I don’t want to be backed into a corner with nowhere to go.”

“Or do you really think you could give up your mother for me — and give up your comfortable life? What do you actually have? What can you give me?”

“Lu Rangchen, love isn’t that grand. And neither are you.”

“I’m not asking for much — but I don’t want, and I refuse, to be the one who ends up abandoned in the end.”

That last sentence was the truth.

Yunque’s tears finally fell — and yet she was smiling. “You know — I’ve always been a practical person.”

Once, she had believed that Lu Rangchen had chosen Beijing University because he liked her — that he’d come to find her, pursue her. But later, she’d understood the truth. All of it had happened because Lu Rangchen had been given a clear signal.

He did like her.

But perhaps not nearly as uniquely and irreplaceably as she had imagined.

Maybe she was just a slightly notable figure in the passing scenery of his life — someone his youthful, impetuous self had been happy to slow down for.

Only — Yunque had lost her courage.

From the moment she heard those words from Xu Linda, it had already been gone.

When she had finished saying all of this, Yunque slipped the matching ring from her finger and set it on the table.

In the warm light of the café, it caught the glow and shone brightly.

Lu Rangchen stared at the ring, his lips drained of color. And in that instant, Yunque made her decision to stand and leave.

Outside, snow had begun to fall at some point — far more than Nancheng had seen.

When she stepped out, the streets were already blanketed in a layer of white with real depth to it.

Her new boots were slightly slippery. Her vision was blurred and dampened. Yunque didn’t know how she walked herself back to school — she only knew that tears fell the whole way.

Then footsteps sounded behind her again.

Lu Rangchen caught up, stepping in front of her to block her path, grabbing her wrist with a grip that did not yield.

It was heavy snow that night, and heavy wind — biting at her face, stinging.

The hair at her temples was blown into disarray. She looked at Lu Rangchen’s face — that wild, elegant face, undone and raw in the cold wind.

She didn’t know what he had done to convince himself to follow her. The things she had said were more than enough to wound his pride — and yet here he was, all that pride broken and discarded, coming after her anyway.

His voice was choked. His eyes were red. He said: “Don’t break up. Can we not? Please.”

“……”

“I’m begging you.”

Yunque bit down hard on her lip, from beginning to end refusing to respond, refusing to look at him even once.

As if her silence was what finally stung him most, Lu Rangchen didn’t hold on for long. He gave a short, sharp laugh — entirely self-mocking — and the hand that had been clenching her wrist let go.

“Last chance, Yunque.”

His voice trembled slightly, but its edge was still cold and unyielding — the words landing like a final plea in disguise. “I’m asking you one last time. If you leave now, don’t come back.”

It was a threat, on the surface.

But the way he said it, it sounded more like a prayer.

Yunque looked at him. By then, she could no longer tell whether the pain outweighed the numbness, or whether the numbness had swallowed the pain entirely.

She almost wished this were a dream — one conjured by the fervent heart of a young girl who had wanted too much, a dream of something she could never quite reach.

In this dream, moonlight fell on no one but her.

And she — clear-eyed and resolute — rejected that moonlight.

A tear fell, dropping into the snow.

She said: “Alright.”

……

Whenever Yunque looked back on it afterward, she always felt that the winter of 2015 had been unbearably difficult.

She never knew where the news came from.

Word of their breakup spread quickly, and before long, everyone knew.

By then school had resumed. Yunque had begun the process of applying to study abroad and rarely went to campus, which meant she barely ran into Lu Rangchen at all.

She only heard about him, here and there, through the mouths of friends.

People said that during that stretch of time, he had been living wild — barely attending class, taking up racing, surrounded by women who wanted his attention, going from party to party with his friends, happy to bring along any girl who caught his eye.

Never the same type twice — but never the gentle, quietly pure sort either.

Some time passed. Then came word that Lu Rangchen had entered competitions and was putting in brutal training hours — day and night at the track, night after night without rest. His results were impressive.

Liang Tian would sometimes ask her: “Yunque, do you regret it? Lu Rangchen is drawing even more attention now. The women around him look at him the way demons look at a holy man.”

Every time she heard his name, something in her chest would ache softly, involuntarily.

But what could she do about it.

For her, what was past was past.

No point in dwelling.

Still — she couldn’t help it, in the quiet of late nights: that particular kind of regret, the regret of not getting to love him a little longer.

Not much later, the paperwork for going abroad was finalized. In the days just before she left the country, Yunque made one trip back to campus — and that was the day she ran into Lu Rangchen, in the campus convenience store.

He must have come straight from training — still wearing his team uniform.

Tall and broad-shouldered, long-limbed, the kind of build that looks slim in clothes and solid without them — the clean, easy scent of a man in his prime. He drew attention wherever he was.

Yunque had just picked up a bottle of water and was about to pay when he appeared beside her, seemingly out of nowhere, and tossed a pack of cigarettes on the counter.

“One pack of Marlboro.”

So long since she’d last heard his voice.

It wasn’t a particularly clear or melodic kind of voice — but it was unusually pleasant to the ear, and with age had grown even deeper and more magnetic.

Yunque’s body went rigid against her will.

She thought Lu Rangchen might say something to her, might at least look at her — but he didn’t.

Nothing.

He paid for his cigarettes, and without appearing to notice her at all, turned and walked away.

After he had gone, Yunque slowly came back to herself. She realized he no longer seemed to be wearing the dark agarwood scent.

When she followed him outside, she saw two figures ahead.

Walking beside Lu Rangchen was a young woman — full-figured and narrow-waisted, an air of composed elegance about her, strikingly beautiful in a way that was nothing like Yunque at all.

The girl kept tilting her head up to talk to him, her eyes full of unguarded adoration — open and eager.

Lu Rangchen just drank from his water bottle without much expression, his sharp and attractive throat moving as he swallowed, responding with a lazy “mm” or two — and yet even that minimal attention was somehow enough to leave you wanting more.

Yunque watched the two of them bathed in afternoon light, and without knowing why, she stood there lost to the world for a long time.

It was in that moment, she suddenly understood.

This world was just that merciless.

Nothing stays the same. No one is irreplaceable. Everyone moves on when they have to.

But what Yunque could not have known, in that moment, was that just a few months later, Lu Rangchen would go to Australia for one reason alone — to find her, and ask for another chance.

Or that years after that, the two of them would meet again in Nancheng, outside a police station, in the most abrupt and unplanned way.

All those years seemed to have made them strangers in so many ways — and yet, no matter how carefully either of them concealed it, the feeling in that one second of eye contact — the way it hit like a bullet to the heart — did not lie.

In the end, it wasn’t only Yunque who lay awake that night.

Lu Rangchen did too.

After drinking with Deng Zhe, he went home, ran a hot shower, and stood under the stream of water — closing his eyes, opening them, and seeing only her face.

All these years, he had referred to Yunque as “that woman” in his own mind.

Only today did her name feel like something real again.

He had to admit it — she had grown up, and she was even more captivating than before.

He couldn’t find the right words for what it was about her, but he had no choice except to resign himself to the truth: whatever it was about her — that particular quality that was uniquely hers — was the only thing that had ever really gotten to him.

The more he thought about it, the more restless he felt.

Lu Rangchen couldn’t sleep. He went to the window and smoked two cigarettes. Eventually he fell asleep — but only with the help of a few tablets of plant-based sedative.

The following day, thankfully, there was nothing urgent on at the club. Lu Rangchen woke up later than usual.

He was still getting dressed when Deng Zhe’s call came through.

Deng Zhe sounded busy on his end. He went straight to it: “Hey, are you free today? If so, could you do me a favor and go to Deng Jiao’s school to meet with her teacher?”

Over the years, the two men had come to rely on each other the way family does — always helping each other out when things came up.

So when Deng Zhe asked him to go in his place for a meeting, for just a moment, Lu Rangchen nearly said yes automatically.

Then — the next second — the face he’d seen last night surfaced in his mind.

Noticing the silence, Deng Zhe said, “Hey, you there? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Lu Rangchen was pulled back to the present.

He frowned slightly. “I’m here.”

Deng Zhe said, “Yes or no? Give me a straight answer — if you can’t go, I’ll find someone else.”

Lu Rangchen’s tone was a bit impatient. “Why is there another meeting? Didn’t we just have one last month?”

Deng Zhe said, “It’s not the general parent meeting — this is the homeroom teacher asking specifically. Deng Jiao has been acting up, and I figured she’s more afraid of you, so better you go.”

At that, Lu Rangchen went quiet.

Deng Zhe laughed. “You’re not scared to go because of what’s-her-name, are you? You really don’t have to worry — I asked Deng Jiao, and she says that teacher has a packed schedule. Even if you show up, you probably won’t even run into her.”

That was the kind of remark that hits exactly where it hurts.

Lu Rangchen laughed and told him to go to hell. “Are you stirring up trouble on purpose?”

These years had rounded his edges somewhat. He was still as unbridled as ever, but on the whole, his temperament had mellowed — not nearly as rough as it used to be.

Deng Zhe didn’t know how the two of them had managed their friendly exchange the night before, and simply assumed Lu Rangchen genuinely didn’t want to go. He said, “Alright, forget it then. I’ll just tell Deng Jiao to ask the teacher for a postponement, and I’ll go later myself.”

Lu Rangchen stuffed his clothes into the washing machine and pressed start.

He couldn’t quite say what he was thinking.

Then he opened his mouth: “What time.”

“Ha — I knew you’d come through.”

Deng Zhe let out an audible breath of relief. “The homeroom teacher said as early as possible — best would be during morning study period, to avoid eating into class time.”

Lu Rangchen thought to himself that in some past life he must have owed this pair of siblings something.

Before hanging up, he gave a soft, resigned chuckle. “Got it.”

The morning study period at Nanchen No. 3 High School ran for thirty minutes. After that there was a twenty-minute break.

Gauging the timing, Lu Rangchen got himself ready and drove to the school.

Morning study had not yet ended when he arrived.

He left his car outside, made his way — by now fairly familiar with the route — up to the Year Two teachers’ office.

Truth be told, he’d been going to Deng Jiao’s parent meetings since she entered Year One. Deng Zhe, tied up running the small supermarket, rarely had the freedom to leave. And besides, Deng Jiao genuinely listened to Lu Rangchen more than anyone.

As Deng Jiao herself put it — who else had that kind of presence?

Over time, the school staff had simply accepted Lu Rangchen as Deng Jiao’s older brother. He never bothered to correct them, and whenever they called him by the wrong name — Deng Zhe — he’d answer to that too.

This visit was no different.

The Year Two homeroom teacher beamed the moment she saw him. “Ah — Deng Jiao’s brother! How is it that every time I see you, you’ve gotten even more handsome?”

Over the years, Lu Rangchen had been through enough that small talk had become second nature.

This teacher was an older woman of middle age, and something in him instinctively showed her a kind of respect. He didn’t slouch against the doorframe as he might have done — he straightened, hands coming out of his pockets, and said with a slight smile, “Please don’t tease me.”

The homeroom teacher, Old Liu, gave him a sly look. “What teasing? Handsome is handsome, and I’ll say so.”

She pushed open the office door and led him inside.

The same layout as before. Everything in the same place.

Even the chair Lu Rangchen sat in was the same one he always took.

Old Liu didn’t dive into Deng Jiao’s situation right away. First, she asked: “Still single, after all this time?”

Lu Rangchen leaned back in the chair comfortably, long legs crossed loosely, and replied with a slight smile: “No time for that.”

“No time is no excuse,” Old Liu said with mild reproach. “Look at you — you’ll be twenty-nine, thirty before long. These are good years. You can’t keep putting this off. Find Deng Jiao a good sister-in-law who can look after her.”

Then, lowering her voice, she leaned in: “Hey — what about that young woman I introduced you to last time? How did that go?”

The previous match had been a teacher as well — middle school, though. A niece of Old Liu’s.

The WeChat contact had been passed along to Deng Zhe, who had chatted with her for a laugh and quickly discovered they had absolutely nothing to talk about. Nothing had come of it.

Lu Rangchen scratched the back of his neck, a little awkward, and before he could say anything Old Liu pressed in again: “It’s alright if that one didn’t work out. I’ve got someone else in mind — this one is very pretty. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied. She’d be good for Deng Jiao too.”

Lu Rangchen genuinely couldn’t help laughing.

He also knew that resistance was pointless. She would do this every time she saw him, without fail. So he just nodded and said, “Alright, send her to me, and I’ll add her.”

Pure social filler — what he said every time. And the contact always ended up going to Deng Zhe’s account anyway.

But this time, Old Liu didn’t follow the usual script.

She said brightly: “Add her over WeChat? This time you’re meeting in person.”

She took out her phone with great enthusiasm and — apparently using a voice message — said to someone: “Hey, you almost here? Hurry on over. I’ve been waiting for you to bring me breakfast.”

After sending it, she turned back to Lu Rangchen with a delighted smile. “I’ll be honest with you — I originally had my eye on this young woman for my own son. But she’s too good for him, honestly. She’s out of his league. But I’d rather keep things in the family, so to speak — and looking at you two side by side, in terms of looks and everything else, I think you’d be a real match. Might as well take this chance and introduce you.”

It was, as things go, impeccably timed. No sooner had she finished than the person walked in.

Old Liu’s face lit up. She waved toward the door: “Oh! Xiao Zhu — over here! The family’s here.”

Lu Rangchen had been perfectly relaxed up until that moment.

Then he heard that sound.

That surname.

The morning light fell pale and thin on his half-lowered eyelids. He heard the clean, sharp click of heels, and his nerves pulled suddenly taut.

He looked up.

The figure had already entered his line of sight.

A pale moon-white suit dress, the silhouette slender and graceful. A blunt fringe, neat and dark, with long straight hair flowing softly down. Just looking at her was enough to catch the faint, clean scent she carried.

The hand resting against the back of his neck stilled.

Lu Rangchen looked at her, his expression unreadable.

Yunque met his eyes.

That fresh and quietly beautiful face — features of uncommon clarity, every angle refining itself into something that could only be called a genuine beauty, inside and out.

She didn’t look particularly surprised, as though she had somehow known who was waiting.

Not that it mattered.

Even if she had been surprised, she would not have shown it.

She was that kind of person — the sort who had even ended a relationship with perfect composure.

Thinking of that, Lu Rangchen gave a very quiet, almost imperceptible sound of scorn — and found himself unable to understand, even now, how they had come to be in the same place again.

The more he thought about it, the more strangely, perfectly calm his gaze became as it settled on her.

Yunque seemed completely unaffected by it.

From beginning to end, she stayed composed — expressionless, unhurried.

She held his gaze for two seconds. Then she set the breakfast she had brought from the canteen on Old Liu’s desk, and looked at him again.

Neither deferential nor provocative, she extended one long, pale, elegant hand, and met his eyes without looking away. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Deng Jiao’s English teacher. My name is Zhu Yunque.”