◎ “Just wait till tonight — I’ll make you regret it.” ◎

Yunque had one quality that was utterly unassailable.

When it came to telling lies, she could always do it flawlessly, without the slightest crack — easy, practiced, second nature.

She’d look you straight in the eye with that calm and serious expression, giving you every impression that she was the most transparent, guileless person in the world.

But in reality, her true thoughts were all locked away inside. Unless she chose to speak, no one could pry them out.

This impeccable composure finally wore Lu Rangchen out. He let out a derisive scoff. “After all that — I’m worth less to you than a little money, am I?”

The remark made even Ye Tian across from him crack a smile.

But Yunque remained perfectly composed, her eyes bright and clear as she kept up the innocent act with Lu Rangchen. “But without money, how would I be able to stay by your side?”

“…”

He hadn’t expected her to circle the conversation back around — and from such an unexpected angle at that.

Lu Rangchen narrowed his long eyes slightly, and the look he fixed on her gradually warmed with a dangerous edge.

That gaze said it all — Well played, Yunque. You’ve learned how to offer a slap and a sweet in the same breath.

But on reflection, there wasn’t anything wrong with what she said.

Back when she’d rented that apartment near him — one look at it and anyone could tell she’d spent a considerable amount. She was just a teacher at a private school; no matter how good the salary, there was a ceiling to it.

Thinking about how Yunque had never bought herself an expensive bag, yet had willingly spent so much money simply to live closer to him — Lu Rangchen found his mood lifting without even meaning to.

The corner of his mouth eased into a faint smile.

He couldn’t be bothered to argue with her anymore. He reached out, picked up another crab, and began unhurriedly peeling it for her.

Peeling away, laughing to himself on the inside.

Thinking: Lu Rangchen, you are disgracefully easy to win over.

That day’s buffet stretched on for a full two hours in the end.

Little Zhu Yuxuan had eaten himself into a stupor — he couldn’t even talk by the time they left. The moment he got into the car on the way home, he was out cold.

Lu Rangchen figured he was taking them all the way anyway, so he simply set the navigation for Yanliu Lane.

The route was long. He and Ye Tian chatted on and off throughout, and Yunque, listening in, ended up catching up on news about Zhu Ping’an and Deng Jiali.

Come to think of it, the last time Yunque had seen either of them was in the hospital. That had been just over a month ago — yet somehow it felt distant beyond reckoning, like something from another lifetime.

Lu Rangchen hadn’t expected Yunque to be quite so true to her word.

She had told Zhu Ping’an and Deng Jiali, with that cold expression on her face, to act as if she didn’t exist — and afterward she had stayed every bit as resolute, cutting off all contact with them. All this time she hadn’t picked up a single one of Zhu Ping’an’s calls.

Zhu Ping’an hadn’t expected Yunque to be this decisive either.

Even less had he expected that she would turn around and register her marriage with Lu Rangchen — without even letting him know.

Zhu Ping’an had been quietly nursing that wound for a long time.

And how could he not?

His only daughter — gone from his life. And not only that: she hadn’t been willing to tell him about something as significant as her own wedding, cutting him off from that too.

But who was there to blame?

After all, it was he who had indulged Deng Jiali and let her do as she pleased.

It was he who had, over all these years, given Yunque far too little love and asked far too much of her.

Even a dog would have grown cold at that. Let alone a flesh-and-blood human being.

When the conversation reached this point, Ye Tian thought for a moment, then said: “Don’t take this the wrong way — but Uncle really does think about you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“That incident at the hospital — he and my mum had a huge row over it. He even made her cry. I’m not standing up for my mum — I know how infuriating she can be sometimes, how she speaks without thinking. Don’t take anything she said to heart. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

He paused, then continued: “As for the money — tens of thousands of yuan — Uncle never spent it. He’s been keeping it for you. He thought that now you’re married, he’d add to it and give it to you as a dowry.”

Saying this, Ye Tian’s expression carried a trace of guilt. He sighed. “The truth is, it’s me who isn’t capable enough. If I were, they wouldn’t have had to come to you.”

In truth, Ye Tian had wanted to say all of this to Yunque for a long time.

There had just never been a right moment.

Lu Rangchen glanced over at Yunque when he heard this — and found her expression just as composed as ever. She was looking out at the streets rushing past the car window in silence, and there was no telling what was going on inside her head.

After they passed through the next traffic light, she finally spoke: “How’s the bar doing lately?”

“So-so.”

Ye Tian gave a dry, flat twitch of his lips. “Not really making money, but not losing any either.”

Yunque was slightly taken aback — she hadn’t expected that. After all, when she’d visited before, the place had seemed fairly busy.

“Well, of course it was busy then,” Ye Tian said. “It had just opened — we ran promotions, kept everything cheap, so people came. Now that the promotions are over, the foot traffic has naturally dropped.”

“…”

Yunque fell quiet.

She wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words to offer any real comfort.

It was Lu Rangchen who broke the silence. His voice was unhurried as he kept his hands on the wheel. “Have you got any name cards? Get me some — I’ll put them out there and spread the word.”

Yunque heard this and turned to look at him. Her eyes held a faint trace of surprise.

Lu Rangchen caught the look in his peripheral vision and glanced back at her with an ambiguous little smile.

Ye Tian opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say. “Really?”

“Why would I joke about that — it’s just passing out some name cards.”

Lu Rangchen glanced at Ye Tian casually in the rearview mirror. “A lot of people around me like going to bars. Putting the word out might do something.”

He paused, then added: “And if there’s an opportunity down the line, I’ll try to bring people over myself.”

Most mature men are men of their word — and Lu Rangchen was no exception. If he’d said it, he’d do it. He would not go back on it.

Yunque blinked slowly and couldn’t help turning to look at him again — and sure enough, this man’s gaze seemed to have never really left her; the instant she looked at him, he noticed.

Lu Rangchen quirked his lips at her. “What?”

“…”

Yunque pressed her mouth together and said: “Nothing. That was a good thing to do.”

She couldn’t bring herself to compliment him to his face, of course.

If she did, he’d undoubtedly get smug — or find some way to use it against her.

Without anyone quite noticing, the car had turned into Yanliu Lane.

The large vehicle stood in stark contrast to the narrow lane. Worried about blocking traffic, Yunque and Lu Rangchen stayed in the car and saw the others off at the entrance to the residential complex before pulling away.

The shops along the street were open. Passersby couldn’t help glancing twice at the sleek, expensive car.

It was a funny thing, really.

All these years had passed, and every corner of Nancheng had changed its face — yet Yanliu Lane alone remained exactly as it always had been.

Yunque looked out at the storefronts along the way, a quiet complexity washing through her.

She thought: it turns out that growing up really can make life better.

She didn’t have to make her way through this rough, muddy lane on foot through every season of the year anymore. She could sit in a good car and leave this place — this place where the sky had always felt like only a sliver.

Watching her profile — lost somewhere in thought — Lu Rangchen spoke in an easy tone: “The last time I came here was winter. Late at night, you could barely see the road. I didn’t expect the lane to look this charming in daylight.”

Yunque came back to herself. “When did you come?”

Lu Rangchen gave a quiet laugh, deliberately keeping his eyes on the road ahead while drawing out the suspense. “Yunque — you really are heartless.”

“You know, I came all the way here in a snowstorm to patch things up, and you didn’t even notice me.”

“…”

It was only then that Yunque realized he was talking about eight years ago.

Eight years ago, after she had ended things with Lu Rangchen, he had come to Yanliu Lane during the New Year — and it was Ye Tian who had told her afterward.

Ye Tian had been troubled by it at the time. He’d tried to persuade her, saying: Do you know, Lu Rangchen looked completely broken down. Whatever happened between you two — couldn’t you have talked it out? I could barely watch.

Yunque couldn’t remember what she had said in response.

She only remembered that her tears had fallen like a broken string of beads — impossible to stop.

No one knew how much she hadn’t wanted to let Lu Rangchen go.

She hadn’t wanted it so badly that when Ye Tian had tried to relay his words to her, she hadn’t dared to listen. She’d been afraid that if she heard them, she would crumble completely — abandon everything and run to him without a thought for the consequences.

Many years later, when Yunque had finally begun to think about leaving the capital and coming back to Nancheng, Ye Tian had passed those words along to her for real.

Just that one sentence: “My feelings for her have never changed.”

It was those words that had finally given Yunque the resolve to quit her high-paying job in the capital and come back — back to Nancheng, back to him.

But all those twists and turns, all those layers of feeling — if she didn’t say them aloud, how would Lu Rangchen know?

He probably only thought she was as cold-blooded as they came.

And then she remembered what she’d said at dinner — that pointed little remark she’d used to goad him on purpose. A rare pang of guilt surfaced in Yunque, quiet but real.

She couldn’t help wondering.

How insufficiently had she been showing her feelings, that Lu Rangchen so consistently felt she didn’t love him enough?

After a moment’s thought.

Yunque ultimately reached out and placed her hand in Lu Rangchen’s — a small, unspoken gesture of offering.

It was a slender, pale hand, her fingertips soft as fresh spring shoots. Even the look in her eyes was unusually sincere — and with a rarity that was almost endearing, she looked at Lu Rangchen in a way that was almost a plea.

Lu Rangchen caught the movement in his peripheral vision and let out a quietly amused sound. “Yunque — what’s this about?”

His tone and his expression might have held a note of disdain, but his actions were perfectly honest.

Barely had he finished speaking before he promptly, without hesitation, reached out one hand to take hers — fingers lacing together.

With Ye Tian and Zhu Yuxuan in the car earlier, even trading a lingering look had been difficult; they’d had to suppress the impulse the whole time. Now that they finally had a sliver of privacy, the restraint could go.

Yunque dropped all pretense of composure. She said: “No particular reason. I just wanted to hold your hand.”

Her matter-of-fact little act of affection was always the most captivating thing about her.

Lu Rangchen raised an eyebrow with casual ease, the faintest ghost of a smile crossing his lips — and indulging her completely, he held her hand all the way home without letting go for a single moment.

Along the way, the conversation drifted, without either of them quite intending it, to the subject of Zhu Ping’an.

Yunque spoke with rare openness. “I don’t plan to cut off contact with him forever. He’s my father, after all. When he’s old, I’ll still see him through it — that’s what children are supposed to do.”

She paused. “Right now I just don’t want to deal with him.”

Lu Rangchen squeezed her hand. “Then don’t deal with him for now. If anything comes up that needs handling while you’re keeping your distance, I’ll go in your place.”

“…”

Yunque looked at him earnestly. “But I don’t want to drag you into it.”

Lu Rangchen was amused. “How is it dragging me in? Aren’t we married?”

“But you don’t know—”

Yunque considered her wording for a moment, then changed tack. “I don’t want them to take advantage of you.”

Deng Jiali in particular.

That woman — to keep her own life comfortable — was capable of having no spine at all. Even after being publicly humiliated once, the next time there was something to gain, she could still put on a smile and go crawling to whoever she needed.

That kind of person was precisely the sort Yunque felt most helpless against.

Lu Rangchen understood what she was worried about. He curved his lips. “Don’t worry. I know where to draw the line. What you don’t want me to do for them — I won’t do.”

He glanced at her with a small wink. “At home, you’re in charge. Whatever you say, goes.”

“…”

Words of reassurance weren’t something she’d never heard before.

But none of them — not one — had ever given Yunque a sense of security quite like this.

Yes.

She had a home now.

A home that belonged to her and Lu Rangchen together.

That fact sent a full, spreading sweetness rising through Yunque’s chest, and the corners of her mouth curved imperceptibly.

Only — following this thread of thought, other things began to surface.

Like Lu Rangchen’s father, for instance.

Yunque had been wanting to ask about this for a long time. Several times she’d started to bring it up and hadn’t known how. Taking advantage of the moment, she finally worked up the courage to let it out.

To her surprise, Lu Rangchen’s manner was far more relaxed about it than she’d expected.

He said: “My father is doing well now. He volunteers at a temple back in his hometown in Jiangsu — explaining things, guiding visitors. He comes back to see us occasionally.”

What had happened back then between him and Feng Yanlai had stirred up a storm across the whole city.

Because it had made it onto a trending topic online, the authorities had no choice but to take it seriously — and Lu Rangchen’s father had been placed on suspension.

With his reputation destroyed in a single blow, everything he had built over those years crumbled to ash. Lu Dingzhong had been unable to bear it.

He had fallen into a deep depression from the shock of it, and become severely ill.

It wasn’t until Cheng Liru and Lu Rangchen went back to see him that he had gradually begun to untangle himself from the grief.

There was regret, of course.

And guilt — though all of it had come too late.

Later, by some chance or calling, he had taken to studying Buddhism, and — seeking a state of lasting inner peace — had simply gone to live in a place that felt right for him.

In the years since, Lu Rangchen had gone up to visit him every now and then, bringing offerings of rice, flour, and cooking oil for the monks.

He never stayed long — just long enough to talk a little, share a drink of water, and then come back down the mountain.

Every time, Lu Dingzhong would send a small gift back for Cheng Liru.

Nothing of any monetary value — but having been so long in the atmosphere of the temple, it carried a certain quiet quality that was different from ordinary things.

Cheng Liru never said much when she received them. She always found a clean place and put them away carefully.

Yunque took all this in and fell silent.

For some reason, her thoughts drifted — unbidden — to her own mother, somewhere far away in another country.

All those years, and all the things that had happened among the three of them — it seemed that Zhi Yun Que – Chapter had finally, at long last, been closed.

There was a stretch of traffic on the way back.

By the time they got home that afternoon, it was already nearly three o’clock.

There had been several calls from the club, one after another, pressing Lu Rangchen to come back.

And yet Lu Rangchen remained as unhurried as ever. Once they were inside, he even poured himself a glass of the iced lemon tea Yunque had made fresh that morning.

It was something she’d just learned how to make.

Her technique was still rough, and it had come out a touch too sour.

Yunque, having tasted it and registered that it really wasn’t very good, wrinkled her nose, ate a piece of candy, then quickly unwrapped another one — intending to stuff it into Lu Rangchen’s mouth.

Only Lu Rangchen caught her wrist without any ceremony, pulled her toward him, and settled her down onto his lap.

Whoever was on the other end of the phone — it was impossible to tell — was still talking.

Rambling away without end, going around in circles, sounding for all the world like someone lodging a complaint.

Lu Rangchen couldn’t be bothered to listen. He set the phone aside, tipped Yunque’s chin up between his fingers, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her without the slightest restraint.

He’d gone a long stretch without seeing her during his business trip. And last night at the gathering he’d had too much to drink, so even when he’d wanted to indulge himself it had come to nothing. Now that they finally had time to themselves, Lu Rangchen had no intention of letting the opportunity pass.

The moment their lips and tongues met, sparks flew as if kindled from tinder.

Yunque was caught in his possessive, spiraling kiss until she could barely breathe. From between her lips came involuntary, gossamer-soft sounds — and her slender fingers had crumpled the front of his white dress shirt beyond all hope of smoothing.

But even that barely-there sound was enough for the person on the other end of the phone to register that something was off. In a spectacularly ill-timed moment, a voice said: “Hello? Boss — is someone there with you?”

That one question lit a spark like wildfire — and sent every last heated thought in Yunque’s mind blazing.

In an instant she yanked Lu Rangchen’s hand from beneath her skirt.

Then she snapped her knees together and pushed him back, and slapped a hand over his lips as he leaned in again.

Watching her face — flushed with embarrassment, hot with agitation, and faintly, unmistakably, still wanting more — Lu Rangchen pressed his muffled laughter into his own chest, shoulders shaking with it.

And then the voice on the other end called out again: “Hello? Boss? Boss, where’d you go?”

That voice was about as welcome as a frog croaking in a pond at midnight. It went on, muttering apparently to someone else nearby — just barely audible: “What the hell, I could’ve sworn I just heard a woman breathing on the line. Is the boss watching something?”

At that.

Yunque’s sense of mortification detonated.

She broke free from Lu Rangchen at once and fled barefoot back to the bedroom.

Within a few seconds, she reappeared with a pale piece of fabric clutched in her hand, face burning a deep red, and went straight into the bathroom.

Lu Rangchen’s lips curved into a roguish smile.

Despite his fastidiousness, he acted as if nothing whatsoever had happened — just casually pulled out a damp wipe and gave his hands a perfunctory clean.

When he spoke again to the person on the phone, his voice had already returned to its usual professional composure, as though nothing had occurred.

Yunque took a quick shower in the bathroom.

Standing under the water, she listened to this man speak with his characteristic air of impeccable authority — and the whole time, her heart was pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of the spray. But once the warmth of the water had washed away the heat of the moment, she found her lips curving, for no particular reason, into a quiet smile.

She thought: she had probably been thoroughly corrupted by Lu Rangchen long ago.

No…

She’d always been a little bad herself.

That call went on for another ten-plus minutes.

Yunque took the opportunity to finish her shower and come out.

Lu Rangchen looked up when he saw her and wrapped it up in a few sentences, then hung up. He followed her to the kitchen, slipping his arms around her narrow waist from behind — his chin settling affectionately into the curve of her neck.

Warm breath moved softly against the skin of her nape.

Yunque’s pulse immediately went off rhythm.

She was wearing the fresh set of clothes she’d changed into — a soft, off-white linen loungewear set — and still carried the milky, clean scent of her post-shower skin. Lu Rangchen had personally chosen that body wash for her; it had always been the one most effective at stirring something in him.

He breathed in the lovely fragrance of her and murmured quietly against her ear: “Why did you run so fast just now? Mm? I wasn’t going to eat you.”

This man seemed to have been born with some kind of intoxicating power.

A few words from him and the tips of Yunque’s ears were warming again. She gave him a mild, sidelong look — and since she happened to be in the middle of slicing fruit, she speared the sweetest piece of watermelon on the fruit knife and held it out to his mouth.

Lu Rangchen accepted it cooperatively, taking a bite. It was sweet and full of juice.

Yunque suddenly thought of his hands, and glanced down at them.

“Already washed them,” Lu Rangchen said, languid and breezy. “Couldn’t very well hold our princess otherwise.”

“…”

Yunque was so exasperated she was nearly laughing.

She looked at him with an expression that bordered on bewilderment. “What princess? Where are you picking this up from?”

Lu Rangchen straightened and pressed her gently against the kitchen island, raising an eyebrow. “It’s all the rage online these days.”

He added, with surprising earnestness: “Jiang Sui said it’s useful for coaxing your wife.”

Coaxing your wife. The phrasing was brazenly direct.

Direct enough that Yunque’s gaze flickered with a trace of discomfort.

She tugged at the lapel of his shirt — which her earlier grip had left in disarray — and looked up at that face of his, which was honestly attractive no matter how you looked at it. She couldn’t help smiling despite herself. “Lu Rangchen, how did you end up like this?”

“Like what?”

Lu Rangchen half-narrowed his long eyes, his expression holding the soft edge of something dangerous. “Go on. Tell me.”

Even as he spoke, he leaned in and pressed a restrained kiss to the corner of her lips.

Not because he wanted to hold back.

But because the club had been calling him back repeatedly. What time he had left was only just enough to exchange a few more words with Yunque — nowhere near enough for anything else.

Yunque could tell perfectly well that he was being held back against his will.

Aside from that one urgent, feverish time in the laundry room, he had not truly had any satisfaction in all this time.

But a mischievous impulse surfaced in her regardless.

Yunque let him brush his lips lightly against hers, blinking up at him with clear, guileless eyes — while the expression on her face was thoroughly, quietly wicked. “Lu Rangchen — you’re going crazy from wanting it, aren’t you?”

That remark landed in the man’s chest like a blade.

Lu Rangchen was so annoyed he laughed. He pulled back, pinched her chin, and fixed her with a look. “You know exactly what you’re doing and you still ask. Deliberately starting a fire, are we?”

And as if to retaliate, he hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her onto the marble countertop.

Yunque was finally at a height where she didn’t have to tip her head back to look at him. She settled her arms comfortably around his neck and let a small, sweet curve rest on her lips. “I’m just curious what you’re planning to do about it.”

“What can I do?”

Lu Rangchen met her gaze with easy, unabashed frankness — wholly uninhibited. “Look at your photo and take care of it myself.”

“…”

She truly hadn’t expected him to be that direct.

Yunque’s eyes took on a faint, spring-water ripple. Her lips gave the tiniest, barely-visible parting — not entirely without embarrassment.

But then again, they were married adults. Talking about this kind of thing didn’t really warrant any particular awkwardness.

So Yunque pressed her lips together and pushed her luck a little further. “What about before we got back together? Did you do that then too?”

The moment she asked.

Lu Rangchen realized she was running an interrogation.

He seemed to find it entertaining.

Lu Rangchen turned it back on her with studied gravity: “What do you think?”

She was genuinely tired of that line.

Yunque didn’t bother engaging. She moved to climb down from the counter. Lu Rangchen laughed and caught her around the waist, stopping her.

Yunque, in rare form, said to him in exasperation: “What is wrong with you? Don’t you have work to get to?”

She pushed at him as she spoke.

And pushed to absolutely no effect.

The man simply closed the distance, breath warm and eyes dark, smiling. “Can’t I at least finish what I was saying before I go?”

Yunque asked: “What is it you want to say?”

“Isn’t it what you asked — what did I do before we got back together?”

“…”

“Watched something, handled it myself, or just endured it. Either way, there was never anyone else.”

For some reason.

The more candid Lu Rangchen was, the deeper the flush that spread across Yunque’s face.

She couldn’t help grumbling at him: “Is there any point at which you’re going to develop even a shred of shame?”

Lu Rangchen raised an eyebrow, letting out a short sound. “A bit late to be asking me that now.”

Yunque gave a sudden laugh.

A real one — the kind that made her eyes curve shut.

Lu Rangchen rarely saw her laugh this freely and unreservedly. His expression softened with indulgence, and he held her gaze for an extra beat, reluctant to look away. “Forget all the other stuff. Let’s talk about the two of us.”

He had some kind of magic when it came to her.

Any time Lu Rangchen was with Yunque, he couldn’t stop talking — and it was even worse now. Normally, in front of others, he was the quiet and reserved one.

Thinking of that, he raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember what I was doing this noon — reading your diary?”

“…”

Heat rushed into Yunque’s cheeks.

She suddenly felt that agreeing to let him read the diary last night had been a very regrettable decision.

But regret was useless now.

Everything — every last private, deeply buried thing she had — had already been laid bare to him.

By all rights it was mortifying. And yet, for some reason she couldn’t quite name, something in Yunque’s chest was melting softly, like sugar dissolving in warm water.

She looked at him openly. “What is it you’re trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say,” Lu Rangchen said, drawing out his words with deliberate ease, “is that I worked hard to come back from my business trip, and right now I’d like to hear something nice from you.”

Yunque laughed, a little disbelieving. “Aren’t there plenty of nice things in the diary?”

“That’s different.”

Lu Rangchen said without a trace of shame: “That was the Yunque of the past writing it. Not you, my Yunque, right now.”

Yunque turned it back on him: “So you’re saying — you don’t like the Yunque of the past?”

Lu Rangchen let out a scoff, and deliberately said: “That’s right, I don’t like her — so little that I picked out a white shirt especially for her, just so she’d spare me an extra glance today.”

The moment he said it.

Yunque finally understood.

She looked down at that rare white dress shirt Lu Rangchen was wearing. “…So that’s why you chose white today, of all days.”

Yunque remembered clearly: ever since they had reunited, she had almost never seen Lu Rangchen wearing white. His palette ran almost exclusively to darker shades.

He’d even mentioned it himself once.

Said that as he got older, he needed to look more mature and settled — especially since he was often meeting clients, and he didn’t want to be as eye-catching as he’d been back in his school days.

And besides, white clothing against that face of his made his features look startlingly distinguished — and that wasn’t helpful for keeping the rowdy young members of his club in check.

From anyone else’s mouth, that kind of reasoning would earn nothing but an eye roll.

But when it came to Lu Rangchen.

It was simply the truth.

Yunque could still picture it — back at the restaurant during lunch, a young woman who looked barely out of secondary school had asked Lu Rangchen for his contact information. She’d looked up at him with barely-restrained admiration, stopping just short of batting her lashes.

And Lu Rangchen had simply given her a cool, indifferent glance, then raised one long-fingered hand with quiet deliberateness — showing her the wedding ring on his finger.

The very ring Yunque had bought for him.

As if presenting a prized possession.

The girl had been too young to quite catch on, though. She’d blinked and opened her mouth: What does that mean?

Lu Rangchen had been genuinely unimpressed.

He gave a short, derisive sound, and didn’t bother explaining. He simply tilted his chin toward Yunque — who was behind him, looking after Zhu Yuxuan — and said: “My WeChat is managed by my wife. If you want it, you can ask her.”

Even an oblivious person would understand after that.

And Yunque had happened to glance up at that moment, expressionless, and swept the girl with a single look.

Just one look.

The girl immediately went red-faced and slunk away.

Ye Tian had laughed at that: Brother-in-law, are you always this much trouble?

Lu Rangchen, aware of Yunque’s eyes on him — and seemingly afraid she might be jealous — had flipped his answer out with easy nonchalance: “Probably because I dressed particularly well today.”

Yunque remembered giving him a mild, withering look at the time.

But looking back on it now, she realized — Lu Rangchen had worn white today on purpose. For her.

And now, he looked down at her, the faintest smile resting at his lips. “Wasn’t it you who said I look very good in a white knit sweater? ‘Good-looking enough to make your heart leap at a single glance’?”

“…”

How was it possible that someone would actually recite another person’s diary back to them?

Yunque looked at him with an expression that had moved beyond exasperation into something that defied description entirely — and the tips of her ears went genuinely, palpably hot.

She felt as if she had no armor left in front of Lu Rangchen. Nowhere to hide.

And yet there was no escaping it.

Seeing her embarrassment, the wretched man’s eyes curved with deepening amusement. He leaned in, stole a kiss from her lips, and said: “So — do you like how I look today or not?”

Today’s look.

Not just the flattering white shirt — he’d also worn the kind of relaxed, casual trousers he used to favor back then. His shorter hair had been styled too, and he’d put on a bit more cologne than usual. Not a trace remained of that normally cold and inscrutable persona. He was more like a peacock in full display, making his interest thoroughly, gloriously obvious in front of her.

Yunque barely held back a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes held a flicker of disdain — and underneath it, unmistakable private appreciation — as she looked at the man in front of her. “Lu Rangchen. Stop fishing for compliments.”

Lu Rangchen laughed without any embarrassment at all. “What’s wrong with fishing for compliments?”

He leaned close and said with deliberate, teasing menace against her ear: “Not happy about it?”

Yunque pressed her lips firmly shut and looked directly into that face of his — close enough to touch, maddeningly handsome.

She held his gaze like a standoff for two full seconds, then, quite suddenly, said it plainly: “If you keep this up… I won’t be able to hold out.”

He truly hadn’t seen that coming — that she would suddenly turn the tables on him.

Lu Rangchen’s throat moved. His expression shifted, visibly, in a way that left no room for misreading.

And then he broke into a mischievous, heat-laced grin. “Oh? Tell me more. What exactly does ‘not holding out’ look like?”

His arms around her waist began to move without permission.

Slow, gentle kneading at her slender waist.

Yunque felt her bones go soft.

But she couldn’t bring herself to pull free of his arms.

Then a phone call came — sudden and ill-timed — cutting through the warm, private atmosphere between them.

Lu Rangchen didn’t even glance at it.

He simply closed the distance, pressing his forehead against hers with a soft, unconscious nuzzle, his voice going low and dark. “Yunque. Kiss me.”

“…”

“Kiss me before I go.”

That low, magnetic, utterly shameless voice reached straight to the bone. Yunque’s heart gave a sharp, helpless shudder.

She suddenly understood — with perfect clarity — why some wealthy women are willing to spend money at hostess clubs, seeking out the company of young, beautiful men. The experience of this kind of beauty in close proximity really was…

But she was far, far more fortunate than any of them.

Because what she had — was the best, most precious Lu Rangchen in the world.

No amount of money could ever buy that.

The thought hit her with a sudden, tender ache.

Yunque’s emotions surged past what she could contain. She wrapped her arms around Lu Rangchen and closed her eyes — and leaned up to kiss him first.

She didn’t know how much Lu Rangchen had longed for her to be the one to kiss him.

Longed for it so desperately he hadn’t dared to wish for it even in his dreams.

And yet here, in this moment, it was happening for real.

Perhaps loving someone deeply is what it takes to feel that — the resonance of two souls vibrating in perfect unison.

In any case, in this moment, the one who was melting and lost was Lu Rangchen.

He cupped the back of her head, as if afraid she would pull away even by a fraction, and kissed her back with the full force of everything he felt — pressing this kiss to its very deepest.

By the end, they had breathed all the oxygen between them into each other.

Yunque, lips warm and flushed, finally drew back and ended the kiss.

The color in her face was soft and rosy with something like shy warmth.

Her breath came unevenly. “Satisfied now?”

Lu Rangchen threw his head back with a bright, genuine laugh, and in that low, rich voice he managed to produce an answer that was almost insultingly breezy: “That’ll do.”

…She honestly wanted to hit him.

A sudden competitive streak flared up in Yunque. She leaned forward and bit him — right on the throat — in a fit of rare and entirely unprecedented childishness.

This must be one of the strange powers of being in love.

It can turn a person into a completely different version of themselves — the way a man as composed and coolly mature as Lu Rangchen would privately come to her with soft, coaxing words; the way someone as outwardly composed as Yunque would do something this ridiculous to him.

And yet both of them fell helplessly, hopelessly into it — as though enchanted.

Even the sharp edge of pain, it seemed, had gone sweet.

Lu Rangchen hissed at the bite, his hand going instinctively to his throat — and then, without even meaning to, he laughed.

But before he could say a word.

He felt Yunque wrap her arms around his neck, her face flushed, her voice soft and quietly dangerous: “I’ll be waiting for you tonight.”

She pressed her lips together, simultaneously haughty and utterly guileless, and delivered her warning: “Just wait. I’ll make you regret it.”

A beat of absolute silence fell over the room.

Lu Rangchen stared at her, stunned into disbelief. Two seconds passed — and then he started laughing so hard his shoulders shook and wouldn’t stop.

Yunque: “…”

Her ears had gone red enough to be steamed. She pounded his shoulder with considerable force. “Stop laughing!”

…

Because of that.

Lu Rangchen ended up leaving several minutes late.

It was Yunque who eventually coaxed and persuaded him out the door.

And yet once he was gone, it didn’t stay quiet for long. The insufferable man kept messaging her the entire way there.

Lu Rangchen: 【Get ready. I’ll be looking forward to seeing exactly how you plan to make me regret it tonight.】

Yunque: “…”

She deeply regretted making bold declarations to him.

Now she was well and truly committed to a course of action she hadn’t fully thought through.

Though she wasn’t entirely bluffing him either. Not long after he left, Yunque actually went and looked through the wardrobe — wondering if there was something nice she could wear for Lu Rangchen that evening.

She hadn’t quite landed on anything when Lu Rangchen suddenly sent her a link.

To a post on Zhihu.

Yunque blinked.

She couldn’t recall ever knowing that Lu Rangchen used Zhihu.

And the title of the post — well, it was a little melodramatic: “Do men actually stay hung up on their exes for years and years after breaking up?”

…What was the meaning of this?

Yunque was briefly puzzled. She sent Lu Rangchen a question mark.

Lu Rangchen: 【Didn’t you just let me read your diary?】 Lu Rangchen: 【This is me returning the favor.】

Yunque: “…”

She sat still for a few seconds, and then — as if something fell into place — she raised her hand and tapped the link open.

And there she found a user named Chen., who had answered the question two months ago —

“I can tell you definitively: yes. Because I’m the one who never moved on.”

Her heart gave an involuntary, startled lurch.

Yunque’s fingertip scrolled down, and she found the text below the dividing line.

“I met her in 2013. I remember it clearly — we were at the same school, different classes. She was the quiet type. Gentle-looking and soft, pleasant at first glance — but look again, and you’d notice she was cool and contained, hard to read, not easy to get close to. My first strong impression of her was at a bus stop. It was a coincidence — I was just there, and so was she, in her school uniform with the school badge pinned to her shirt. I thought she was almost absurdly earnest. No one else in the year wore that badge, but she did — and it suited her. The bus came and she was still asleep. I reached out and woke her. The next time we crossed paths, it was outside her classroom. I was looking for someone to pass something along, and there she was. And after that — mutual friends, the most predictable route possible — and I remembered: she was the one who had been sneaking glances at me during morning exercises. Looking back, I was actually pretty restrained around her during school. Not because she was — because I was. I’d lived pretty wild up to that point, but by the time I met her, I’d settled down. So I couldn’t just push myself into her space — I didn’t want to mess with her studying. Mainly though, I didn’t know she liked me. When you’re young, your ego is enormous. I didn’t try to make anything explicit between us. I was too proud. I just left it. I went back to the capital. She stayed in Nancheng. That was that. Later — through a coincidence — a friend told me she’d liked me for a long time. Maybe it was fate. By then I’d been thinking about her constantly. Even if I acted like I’d forgotten all about her, whenever I saw something good, I’d quietly put it aside — thinking maybe someday I’d give it to her. And then that friend became the reason. Because of what he said, I chose her university. Decent double first-class 211. Good for my tennis. That’s what I told myself. That’s what I told my family. But when I got there, the moment I saw her — I knew that wasn’t it. I went there to see her. Because I couldn’t let go of her. Couldn’t forget her. The few months we were together after that were genuinely happy. She was emotionally steady, almost never lost her temper with me. Good figure, and more beautiful than before. Sometimes other men would notice her when we were out — and every time, I’d step in front of her without expression. She’d give me this bewildered little look, not understanding why I suddenly seemed irritated. What else would it be. Jealousy. There was one thing that wasn’t quite right though — she was a bit stubborn. Didn’t like opening up to people. Whatever she was feeling, she’d rather swallow it alone than say a word to me. Anyway, I just hovered around her. Kept hovering. I even skipped several tennis team trials. My family gave me an earful. Said: you went there to play tennis, didn’t you? Looks like you went there to chase a girl. (laughs) I was young. Got scolded and didn’t care. We just kept dating like that. The kind of dating where you’re thinking about marriage — except in reality we were only first years. A few months in, her birthday came. I wanted to celebrate it with her, but then something happened with both our families. Our families knew each other. What happened, I won’t say here. But that winter was a nightmare. I understood that she had her reasons. But I still wanted to be with her, even if it meant throwing everything else aside. The outcome was bad. I tried everything that year, but she wouldn’t look back. And not only that — she ended up with another man. Honestly, I hated her for a while after that. Hated her enough that I needed medication to sleep at night. And lying awake, I’d think: did she ever really love me? Did she ever really like me? Is the man she’s with now better than me? It was a miserable, obsessive stretch of time. Eventually I made it through — but making it through only meant making it through the physical pain. On the surface, everything went back to normal. But you know — you know you’ll never be able to fall for someone else like that again. It can’t be helped. She went too deep in me. Deep enough that as long as she’s still out there somewhere, some thread inside me will still tremble for her. Maybe that’s just human nature at its most stubborn. She was the one who walked away first — and I still want a future with her.”

Author’s note: A good, filling chapter, yeah?~~~（hands on hips）