Chapter 17

The rest of the drive passed in silence, the car quiet as an empty tomb. Only their faint, indifferent breaths drifted through the dead air between them.

Nan Qi held her tongue, gripping the wheel and speeding ahead.

Even in the morning rush-hour snarl, she carved a path with expert maneuvers, shrugging off the curses hurled from rolled-down windows by irked drivers who grazed past.

This was nothing like before, when she’d wrack her brains for fun topics to chat about with Bo Ranying, cracking jokes to win her smiles and stretching out the drive as long as she dared. All so she could arrive at work buoyed by a morning full of contentment.

But Nan Qi’s lingering frustration had killed any such impulse now. She made no effort to prolong their time together.

Instead, she pulled up to the Linxi Dance Troupe—where Bo Ranying worked—twenty minutes early.

Her face a blank mask, Nan Qi unlocked the doors. A chill radiated from her, her voice flat and toneless. “We’re here.”

Bo Ranying stayed slumped in her seat, unmoving.

She pulled out her phone on instinct and glanced at the time. It felt like a lifetime had passed.

Sure enough, they were way ahead of schedule, just as she’d figured.

She turned her head, propping her porcelain-pale chin on one outstretched arm. Sunlight flickered through the window, catching in her clear eyes as they studied Nan Qi’s cheek with meticulous care.

Her gaze was soft, laced with curiosity and confusion.

She was searching that cold, impassive face for some clue.

Nan Qi felt the weight of her stare and tensed up instinctively. She always took such pains to present the perfect image around Nan Qi—poised and elegant at every moment, the better to draw her notice.

But what if Bo Ranying didn’t care?

In that earlier instant, Nan Qi had felt it keenly: all her painstaking efforts, brushed aside without a second thought. Bo Ranying could shove her away without hesitation.

Her attitude had hit like a bucket of ice-cold water dumped over Nan Qi’s head in the dead of winter, sending a bone-deep chill through her entire body.

Ranran was so aloof. How long could Nan Qi’s hopeless infatuation possibly last?

A flicker of self-mockery crossed Nan Qi’s eyes.

She forced herself to relax, slumping her shoulders against the leather seat. She flicked a few curly strands of hair over the faint flush creeping up her ear and met the gaze with icy detachment. “You should head to work.”

Bo Ranying didn’t budge. She saw right through Nan Qi’s forced composure.

That cool, shadowed face couldn’t hide the grievance, the resentment, the concern bubbling beneath.

She was laying her anger out plain as day.

All to prod Bo Ranying into making it up to her—quickly.

Bo Ranying didn’t see the big deal, though. She hadn’t meant to pass Nan Qi’s business card to Tang Lian. She’d already apologized, after all.

She’d just smooth down those ruffled feathers later.

Little Qi wouldn’t stay mad for long.

Bo Ranying was confident she had Nan Qi’s moods all figured out.

She drew in her stomach with a soft huff of breath—two quick ones. Nan Qi had floored it the whole way, braking only at crosswalks, her aggressive starts and stops sending Bo Ranying’s heart into wild palpitations that matched the rhythm.

The seatbelt dug painfully into her chest.

The drive had been bumpy and harrowing. Bo Ranying had frowned the entire time, watching Nan Qi’s stony expression in the rearview mirror. It was a far cry from those hazy memories of riding along relaxed, binge-watching shows while calmly popping in her colored contacts.

Worlds apart.

Bo Ranying was startled by Nan Qi’s temper, so she’d checked her out the moment they parked. Sure enough, a hint of regret shadowed her features. She still cared.

A little more coaxing, and it’d be fine.

Bo Ranying didn’t think the hiccup was worth dwelling on.

She unbuckled her seatbelt. Before Nan Qi could pull away, Bo Ranying leaned over, her pale, soft palm pressing gently to Nan Qi’s forehead to gauge her temperature.

Nan Qi: “…”

Her whole body bristled with instinctive rejection, a barrier snapping up. She was starting to resent these belated shows of concern from Bo Ranying.

After a moment, Bo Ranying withdrew her hand and touched her own forehead.

“You’re running a slight fever. Hang on—I’ll grab some medicine for you. We can’t take a cold lightly.”

Her tone was earnest, gravely serious, as if Bo Ranying’s health were a matter of utmost importance.

Nan Qi blinked, caught off guard.

Bo Ranying gave her hair a natural, comforting pat—like soothing a skittish pet—then twisted back to snatch her bag and hop out to buy the meds.

One foot was already out the door when Nan Qi snapped back to herself.

Her eyes fixed on the glimpse of Bo Ranying’s snow-white calf peeking from the hem of her French warm-caramel midi skirt. The tulle swayed teasingly, stirring something dark and tangled deep in Nan Qi’s chest.

It was like a cool breeze whispering through a summer night—felt for an instant, gone before she could grasp it.

“No need—”

Nan Qi’s refusal came calm and steady.

A pang of regret twisted inside her.

After all these years, Bo Ranying was still the brightest splash of color in her youth.

One second. Two. The conviction solidified, thoughts clamoring to the fore:

You couldn’t hold onto the wind. Once they’d crossed paths, it was time for a polite goodbye.

“Huh??” Bo Ranying turned back, utterly baffled by Nan Qi’s refusal to play by the usual script.

Nan Qi added gravely, “The law firm’s swamped. I’m in a rush.”

Bo Ranying: “?”

The same woman who always insisted on “dropping her off on the way” every day had shown up twenty minutes early—and now claimed she was the one in a hurry?!