“That…” Gazing at Yan Mian’s retreating figure, Ning Yan made no effort to hide her curiosity. “You two—”
“Friends,” Zhu Lexing replied before asking, “What was that you mentioned earlier…”
An intimate Alpha relationship.
Would Yan Mian really say something like that?
Zhu Lexing couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
Just then, Yan Mian approached. She didn’t glance at Zhu Lexing but called out directly, “Ning Yan.”
Anyone with eyes could tell she was addressing “Silence is Golden”.
But as a drama-loving Beta, Ning Yan didn’t mind one bit. “Yan Mian really said that this afternoon—you’re here to celebrate her birthday, right? I’ll get out of your hair. See you tomorrow, Mianmian!”
Watching the Beta’s departing back, the two of them fell into silence.
It was quite a while before Zhu Lexing spoke. “Didn’t she say she only had an hour off?”
Yan Mian nodded.
Zhu Lexing slapped her forehead. “Come on. We’ll be late if we don’t hurry—”
Yan Mian had no idea what “late” meant in this context.
But she followed quietly behind Zhu Lexing anyway.
Yan Mian’s failure to ask why she was there completely caught Zhu Lexing off guard. In her imagined script, Yan Mian would have questioned her presence right away upon meeting, they’d chat briefly, then head off to celebrate the birthday. Happy ending for everyone.
Yet Yan Mian stayed utterly quiet, the silence dragging Zhu Lexing back to the frosty days before they’d warmed up to each other. She didn’t like the association. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Ning Yan, she…”
Yan Mian kept her eyes forward, the building projections reflecting in her gaze. She only looked ahead. “What she said…”
Zhu Lexing went on, “She’s not going prematurely gray, is she?”
Yan Mian: “…”
It had never crossed Yan Mian’s mind that Zhu Lexing would bring this up now.
She’d only mentioned it offhand during their first phone call. Why did Zhu Lexing still remember?
Zhu Lexing, however, voiced her suspicions. “She obviously dyed it but won’t admit it, so she made up some nonsense. Did the teacher actually buy that?”
No sooner had she said it than Zhu Lexing realized she didn’t know if the teacher had believed it—but Yan Mian clearly had.
Zhu Lexing felt mortified.
Yan Mian said nothing, just looked at her, which only made it worse.
Perhaps sensing the awkward atmosphere, Yan Mian let out a soft breath.
For no apparent reason, the fingers she’d been clenching tightly in her sleeve relaxed a fraction.
She gave Zhu Lexing a helpless look. “Maybe.”
The topic dropped, but neither spoke again. One stayed silent, the other unsure what to say.
Zhu Lexing stole glances at Yan Mian’s expression—nothing to read there.
Without mind-reading powers, she couldn’t guess Yan Mian’s thoughts and ended up spiraling through good scenarios and bad. Like, maybe Yan Mian was mad… but that didn’t make sense. Or maybe thrilled, though her blank face didn’t match joy at all.
The mental drain was exhausting Zhu Lexing.
Tortured by the System for days, she decided to take a symbolic step forward, tossing the ball into Yan Mian’s court to let her taste the same torment.
Mustering her courage, Zhu Lexing parted her lips. Under Yan Mian’s calm scrutiny, she asked softly, “Um… why aren’t you asking why I’m here?”
Months ago, Yan Mian could never have imagined describing Zhu Lexing as “aggrieved.”
But that was the strongest emotion she sensed from her now.
Aggrieved, pitiable—traits that didn’t fit an Alpha’s image—suited the Zhu Lexing before her perfectly.
Yan Mian felt a softening in her chest, like a breeze had brushed it. After a pause, she said, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
Zhu Lexing had been waiting for Yan Mian to ask, Yan Mian for Zhu Lexing to volunteer. With neither speaking up, silence was only natural.
“But it doesn’t matter if you don’t,” Yan Mian added with a smile. “Zhu Lexing, the reason doesn’t matter. You’re here, and that’s great.”
Yan Mian’s words swept away everything Zhu Lexing had wanted to say.
She could only look away, deciding to save the big stuff for later.
Yan Mian had still been puzzled about their destination.
But halfway there, upon spotting the Ferris Wheel’s dazzling high-altitude projection, she guessed most of it.
Amusement park.
Yan Mian had never been to one.
Surrounded by people who never brought up such places, she’d assumed she didn’t crave them. Only now, trailing behind Zhu Lexing and beholding the brilliant castle, did she realize otherwise.
She wanted to come here, too.
Zhu Lexing checked her watch and breathed a long sigh of relief.
Thank heavens. A little more delay wouldn’t hurt.
The park was nearing closing time, yet crowds lingered, most awaiting the closing fireworks.
Zhu Lexing had watched plenty of real-time videos beforehand and mapped out the route. Once inside, she hesitated. “Um… there are a lot of people. Do you want to—”
She hadn’t even finished when Yan Mian, who’d frozen in place, snapped out of it. She pressed her lips together and took Zhu Lexing’s hand.
Her palm was ice-cold.
Zhu Lexing asked instinctively, “Why didn’t you wear more layers?”
“It was hot during the day,” Yan Mian replied.
The excuse shut Zhu Lexing down. She couldn’t argue, so she sighed and led her to the Ferris Wheel base.
It had just finished a rotation, mostly occupied by couples.
Zhu Lexing felt out of place amid them alongside Yan Mian. She avoided looking, but Yan Mian’s gaze darted between the pairs before settling on Zhu Lexing’s face.
Zhu Lexing couldn’t take the scrutiny. “…What?”
Yan Mian asked, “Why do we have to ride this one?”
Of course, it was because when this Ferris wheel batch reached the highest point, they could see the fireworks show that Zhu Lexing had lovingly spent a fortune custom-ordering—
But she couldn’t say any of that right now.
Zhu Lexing could only reply gravely, “Because it’s the safest.”
Yan Mian glanced up at the Ferris wheel towering in the sky. She reached out and pressed her hand to Zhu Lexing’s forehead.
Perhaps her movement was too sudden for Zhu Lexing to react. Or maybe they had grown so familiar with each other that neither shied away from such gestures anymore. By the time Zhu Lexing snapped back to attention, Yan Mian had already pulled her hand away.
A number of onlookers nearby were watching them, and friendly chuckles rippled through the crowd.
Zhu Lexing felt her cheeks burn. “What was that for?”
“…Not warm,” Yan Mian declared flatly. “No fever.”
Zhu Lexing blurted out on instinct, “I haven’t asked you yet—what did Ning Yan mean about that ‘close Alpha friend’ of yours…?”
Yan Mian paused. She blinked, and the aloof demeanor she’d been cultivating melted away.
“She was just talking nonsense,” Yan Mian said.
Zhu Lexing crossed her arms. “I don’t buy it.”
Yan Mian nodded. “Then don’t.”
Zhu Lexing: ?
Why doesn’t the female protagonist stick to the script?!
Her frustration must have shown plainly on her face, because Yan Mian hesitated before adding, “Don’t tell me… you don’t consider us friends?”
Zhu Lexing: ?
What kind of tactic was this? Since when had she ever said otherwise?
“I never said that!” she shot back at once. “Is that what you think?”
Yan Mian shook her head. “Of course not.”
By then, they had reached the front of the line. Zhu Lexing bought their tickets, and the two of them stepped into the cabin. Soft music was playing inside, but Zhu Lexing’s mood was still low, so she reached over and switched it off.
Yan Mian turned it back on.
Zhu Lexing switched it off again. She shot Yan Mian a look, figuring that would end the childish tug-of-war.
But Yan Mian met her eyes squarely and flipped it on once more.
Seconds later, Zhu Lexing turned it off again.
This is ridiculous, Zhu Lexing thought. We’re fighting like little kids.
Finally, Yan Mian gave in with a sigh. “Zhu Lexing. What I meant was… we are friends. And friends are close, obviously.”
Zhu Lexing stammered, “Y-you… There’s a huge difference between regular friends and close friends, isn’t there? What about Li Nian?”
Yan Mian replied, “Li Nian and I are close friends too.”
Zhu Lexing had to concede that made sense.
The attendant secured the door, and the Ferris wheel began its ascent.
Truth be told, Zhu Lexing had never ridden one before. Her everyday life kept her far too busy for leisure like this. She had never imagined that someday she’d share a Ferris wheel cabin with someone else—sitting together in the night, waiting for fireworks to light up the sky.
As they rose higher, Yan Mian’s gaze drifted to the window and stayed there.
She wondered quietly what was going through Zhu Lexing’s head. Did she have something to say? Was she planning to stay silent the entire ride?
Yan Mian wasn’t even sure anymore what she wanted: for Zhu Lexing to speak up, or for them both to remain quiet until this strange encounter drew to a close.
The faint rasp of a zipper cut through the hush.
Zhu Lexing had tried to be discreet, but Yan Mian noticed right away. She fell silent for a long moment.
In Zhu Lexing’s palm lay a sleek silver box.
She offered it to Yan Mian. After a few beats of quiet, Yan Mian accepted it.
Yan Mian opened the box. It was lined with soft white feathers, cradling a pristine white watch. The band was etched with countless moons, while the face glittered with stars, radiant and alive—like the sun and moon frozen forever in its delicate mechanism.
She looked up, stunned.
“Uh…” Zhu Lexing’s nerves suddenly spiked. She’d forgotten most of her rehearsed lines and had to wing it. “I was supposed to take you around the amusement park first and give it to you at midnight. But your teacher’s so strict, I…”
“…I know I wasn’t exactly a good person before.” Admitting the original Zhu Lexing’s misdeeds was too much for her, so she skirted the issue. “And who knows about the future.”
After all, once she returned to her own body, no one knew if this one would die or if the real Zhu Lexing would reclaim it—not even her.
“But right now, at least,” Zhu Lexing said, “I think I’m a decent person.”
She cringed inwardly at her own words. What am I even saying? This is mortifying—
Zhu Lexing bit her tongue to stop herself, then yanked the conversation back on track.
“Anyway, long story short—I hope you’ll accept this gift.” She met Yan Mian’s eyes earnestly. “Happy birthday, Yan Mian.”
I hope you’re always happy. Always full of joy.
The cabin hung in perfect silence.
In that moment, Yan Mian’s first impulse was to turn the music back on.
The Alpha’s usual chill had vanished entirely. Her voice was earnest, almost hesitant—like she was terrified of rejection, brimming with unease.
It was too quiet. Her breath came quicker now; she struggled to steady the emotions roiling inside her.
Wasn’t a good person before. Not sure about the future. But decent now.
Yan Mian had sensed something off about Zhu Lexing long ago. She tried to hide it, but her kindness always shone brighter than the random bursts of pettiness and entitlement. Most telling of all: the old Zhu Lexing never would have grown so close to Qiao Qiao and the others.
Still, Yan Mian’s suspicions remained just that—a hazy outline in her mind. She longed for the truth but shrank from seeking it out. She cherished her life as it was, wanted no disruptions, and above all didn’t want to jeopardize the fragile peace she’d found with Zhu Lexing.
So, even though Song Yun had hinted at her in every conceivable way, Yan Mian had never given a direct response.
Until this moment, when Zhu Lexing’s words confirmed all of Yan Mian’s suspicions. The truth of her guesses struck her as utterly absurd.
In other words, every bit of coldness she had shown before had been directed at someone who wasn’t Zhu Lexing at all?
In that instant, Yan Mian thought of countless things.
The Zhu Lexing who had left tissues for her before departing; the Zhu Lexing who had instinctively grabbed her hand and shielded her; the Zhu Lexing who had held her hand, always walking ahead while reassuring her that she had nothing to fear.
Yet the person standing before her now wasn’t Zhu Lexing—and had inexplicably shouldered all of that Zhu Lexing’s past misdeeds.
Yan Mian suddenly recalled the countless times this person had hesitated on the verge of speaking, only to pause briefly before uttering words that clashed entirely with the mood.
She had once assumed it was sarcasm, or perhaps some veiled contempt.
But looking back now, she realized with hindsight that the other had likely been trying to comfort her for real, only to find the words impossible to say.
The goodwill had come so abruptly, so earnestly—like she was actually loved by someone.
Yan Mian’s gaze lingered on her own reflection for a long moment, silent.
Zhu Lexing assumed she was about to refuse and said, dejectedly, “You…”
Yan Mian finally spoke, her voice hoarse and indistinct. “Where did the money come from?”
Zhu Lexing replied, “I bought the box with money I earned myself.”
The more intense the emotions ran, the clearer her mind became.
Yan Mian had intended to cut straight to the chase and demand the truth from Zhu Lexing. But given all the illogical things the other had done—and that uncertain remark from moments ago—she suspected something was preventing Zhu Lexing from speaking freely.
Voicing everything outright might even put Zhu Lexing in jeopardy.
Yan Mian drew a deep breath. “Why a watch?”
Zhu Lexing answered honestly. “Because the watch… cost a little more than the box.”
Zhu Lexing had agonized over Yan Mian’s birthday gift for ages. Stationery was the last thing Yan Mian needed; if anything needed replacing, it was just accessories. Zhu Lexing knew full well that no gift beat cold hard cash—she had even dreamed of buying a whole house. But she needed the money for that first.
In the end, she remembered that watch that had been stolen and sold off earlier. The money recovered from it was in Zhu Lin’s hands, and Zhu Lexing had taken it back without a second thought. Combined with most of the Original Host’s savings, it had bought this watch.
Zhu Lexing had thought Yan Mian’s hands were beautiful from the moment they first met.
Listening to Zhu Lexing’s explanation, Yan Mian felt a profound sense of reassurance such as she had never known.
She wasn’t “Zhu Lexing.” She was someone a million times better—sincere and kind.
“…It’s too valuable,” Yan Mian said, biting her lip. “Thank you.”
She had no idea what to call her now; perhaps this wasn’t even her real name. Suddenly, all of Yan Mian’s prior feelings seemed pointless, and she lowered her gaze.
Zhu Lexing offered a bewildered, clumsy reassurance. “D-don’t cry. It’s just a watch. Once I start making money, I’ll buy you ten, a hundred more—”
She reached out tentatively to pat Yan Mian’s back in comfort. But Yan Mian surged forward without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Zhu Lexing’s waist. Zhu Lexing froze, breath catching as the lily of the valley fragrance from the girl curled around her nose. She felt a soft brush against her neck.
It felt just like… a standoffish kitten she had patiently nurtured for so long finally flicking its tail, choosing to draw near of its own accord.
Strange as it was, Zhu Lexing didn’t mind the sensation one bit.
“Thank you,” Yan Mian said again.
Fireworks erupted in that instant with a boom, blossoming across the night sky and lighting up both their faces.
Zhu Lexing couldn’t see Yan Mian’s expression, but her clothes remained dry—no tears. The realization that Yan Mian wasn’t crying let Zhu Lexing exhale in relief. In the glass’s reflection, though, Yan Mian caught sight of her own face, touched with the faintest smile.
The display lasted nearly three minutes. Only then did Zhu Lexing realize this wasn’t the custom fireworks show she had ordered at all! Fury boiled up inside her—how could that shady contractor renege like this!
Sensing the subtle shifts in breathing from the body in her arms, Yan Mian hugged a touch tighter, unconsciously letting her lily of the valley scent envelop Zhu Lexing once more. She murmured softly, “What’s wrong?”
Zhu Lexing felt soothed despite herself but was too embarrassed to explain. She stammered, “Um… let go of me first.”
Yan Mian eased her grip. But as she pulled away, her cheek brushed Zhu Lexing’s ear almost instinctively.
“It’s hot,” she whispered right by Zhu Lexing’s ear before finally releasing her.
The flush on Zhu Lexing’s cheeks had spread down her neck.
An Alpha’s ears were their second-most sensitive spot after the nape of the neck—what was Yan Mian doing!
How could an Omega get this close to an Alpha!
Zhu Lexing immediately launched into a stern one-two-three-four lecture, hoping Yan Mian would keep her distance from Alphas from here on out.
In the past, Yan Mian would have fixed her with a puzzled stare that faded to calm after a few seconds.
But this time, Yan Mian simply watched her with a smile the whole way through, replying to everything with a soft “Okay.”
Zhu Lexing wondered what had gotten into her.
【I probably didn’t let anything slip, right?】 It was only now that she thought to check with the System. 【Did Yan Mian’s favorability suddenly shoot up?】
If she had slipped, Yan Mian would have been furious. But aside from acting a bit odd when she accepted the gift, everything had stayed within Zhu Lexing’s plan.
【No.】
The System’s flat reply left Zhu Lexing at a loss for how to feel.
No change… Did that mean Yan Mian wasn’t happy with the gift?
At least she had accepted it.
Zhu Lexing felt a pang of regret but breathed a little easier all the same.
Only then did she remember to contact the Amusement Park staff. The moment she unlocked her phone, a dozen or so messages flooded the screen.
The two that really caught her eye were these.
One was from Qiao Qiao—99+ notifications. The latest read: 【I confessed】
Another one was a post Yan Mian had reposted a few hours earlier.
—【Repost this Lucky Star.】
Zhu Lexing didn’t know which one to tap on first, but she ultimately decided to deal with the amusement park issue beforehand.
Before she could do that, however, this fireworks display had already reached its finale.
In little more than ten seconds, bursts of fireworks bloomed one after another, resembling thousands of shooting stars plummeting from the sky.
Colored flames suddenly erupted from the Ferris wheel itself, and Zhu Lexing heard a chorus of thrilled screams and cheers.
She instinctively glanced out the window—
【YANMIAN
Happy Birthday
Happy Every Day】
Zhu Lexing knew that commissioning custom fireworks was far too flashy, so she hadn’t used Yan Mian’s full name—to keep idle netizens from digging into it out of boredom.
Just then, the Ferris wheel crested its highest point, the fireworks illuminating her face in a radiant glow.
Zhu Lexing snapped back to attention and turned to Yan Mian. The omega wasn’t watching the fireworks at all; her eyes were fixed solely on Zhu Lexing.
Their gazes met, and Yan Mian made no move to look away first. Several seconds passed before she gave Zhu Lexing a small smile and finally turned toward the window.
The Lucky Star really did work, but the source of her good fortune wasn’t some vague superstition from an online post.
It was Zhu Lexing herself, right there before her eyes—shining brighter than any star in the sky.
