In the afternoon, Shen Wanqing returned home while Lu Zhixia headed to work.
Yan Menghui broke from her usual demeanor. Not only did she show goodwill toward Lu Zhixia, but she also apologized for their earlier friction.
Lu Zhixia wasn’t one to hold grudges, so she let it go without much fuss.
That afternoon, Yan Menghui received collaboration materials for twenty-three global projects. Lu Zhixia needed to sort them out for her as quickly as possible.
This time, Yan Menghui didn’t set a strict deadline—just “as soon as possible.”
Lu Zhixia worked straight through until evening when Yan Menghui came over herself. “Eat first,” she said. “Then we can do overtime.”
“President Yan, you go ahead,” Lu Zhixia replied. “I’ll join you in a bit.” Once the door closed behind her boss, Lu Zhixia mulled things over for a long moment before opening WeChat.
Shen Wanqing’s LT Software profile had been offline all afternoon. Lu Zhixia sent a tentative message, but got no reply.
She threw herself back into work for a while, but her worry gnawed at her. Unable to hold out any longer, she dialed Shen Wanqing’s number.
No one picked up.
Lu Zhixia let out a dejected sigh. What on earth was Shen Wanqing doing? Had she fainted or something?
Her imagination spiraled. The smart home was so vast and empty—what if no one found her collapsed somewhere?
She hurriedly gathered her materials, clutched her laptop, and hailed a cab straight to Cloud Water Manor.
This time, she knew the drill. There was a recognition panel on the left side of the door, and Shen Wanqing had already added her to the system.
Once inside, she spotted the little electric cart nearby and drove it with practiced ease toward the main hall.
The house was empty. How strange.
Lu Zhixia stood in the doorway. The bed was unoccupied. She set down her work items and checked room after room.
She wandered in circles for what felt like ages before somehow looping back to the start, still with no sign of Shen Wanqing.
Just then, her phone rang—Jiang Menglai calling to ask what was going on.
Lu Zhixia was baffled, but Jiang laid it out plainly: word of her meltdown at Time Magazine had gotten out. At the very least, Jiang had heard about it.
Sure enough, the one thing you couldn’t trust in this world was people.
Lu Zhixia asked Jiang Menglai to help track down the source and explained the situation.
Jiang Menglai got it right away. “I knew you wouldn’t blow up for no reason.” She offered a few comforting words before changing the subject. “That rental area near your place—what’s the going rate like?”
Jiang’s job had transferred her to the main station, and commuting from home was a hassle. She was thinking of renting something closer.
They chatted about it at length until Lu Zhixia suddenly remembered something. “Hey! Qin Zheng has a master bedroom available. Want to rent it?”
Jiang got in touch with Qin Zheng, and it worked out perfectly. They were acquaintances, and the price was much lower than Jiang had expected.
“Awesome,” Jiang Menglai laughed over the phone as she thanked Lu Zhixia. “I’m moving in today. You free? Help me with a few things, and we can grab dinner after.”
Lu Zhixia sent the five sorted files to Yan Menghui, promising to finish the rest by Wednesday.
Yan Menghui replied with a simple OK and nothing more.
Suddenly, Lu Zhixia’s days felt smoother. She waited a good while for Shen Wanqing, but she never showed.
As the sun set, the room lights flickered on automatically. Lu Zhixia called again—no answer.
A hollow ache settled in her chest, leaving a bitter taste.
She had laid it all out: she was pursuing Shen Wanqing, that she liked her. Yet Shen Wanqing’s response had been muted at best.
And really, there was no reason for her to report her every move. After consoling herself like that, Lu Zhixia drafted an email to the mysterious inbox and left Cloud Water Manor.
Jiang Menglai’s place was in a suburban villa, but in the complete opposite direction from Lu Zhixia’s home—like night and day.
Not having a car was such a pain. Fortunately, she had some investments maturing tomorrow. She planned to buy one.
The cars she liked were out of reach, and the cheap ones held no appeal. While helping Jiang pack and move, they debated her options.
Jiang had a luxury ride herself—a Rolls-Royce Phantom worth nearly ten million.
Lu Zhixia wasn’t broke. Her investments added up to eighteen million or so, scraped together penny by penny.
They ran the numbers. “With the families joining through marriage—from the wedding photos to the banquet—I’m on the hook for five million,” Lu Zhixia said. “I’m not ungrateful, but it stings. Shen Wanqing’s just too loaded.”
Jiang Menglai laughed outright, teasing her. “You’re really set on paying her back? She won’t take it, you know.”
Lu Zhixia hated owing favors—or money—even more. Once the debt was cleared, she could pursue Shen Wanqing on equal footing.
Shen Wanqing stayed silent, and Lu Zhixia found her mind drifting.
Downstairs at her building, she ran into her mother, just back from the art gallery. Her mom gave her an appraising once-over. “I went home to wait for you. Think about what you need to come clean about.”
After helping lug things upstairs, a chat with Qin Zheng revealed the kicker: Lu Zhixia had trended online.
A photo had captured her standing below the stage, hands gripping the chair arms, leaning in close as she spoke to Shen Wanqing.
Jiang Menglai leaned in close. In the photo, Shen Wanqing was tilting her head back slightly, her jawline elegantly perfect and stunningly beautiful. Lu Zhixia was leaning down over her, head lowered in an enveloping posture that carried a powerful sense of impact.
“Looks pretty good,” Jiang Menglai said honestly. Qin Zheng said nothing, just pointed at the text on the screen: Top-Tier AO Pair from a Wealthy Dynasty · Brimming with Sultry Ambiguity.
It was all too clear they were spinning this into a romance. Qin Zheng took it personally and grumbled, “This is outright defamation. With all these retweets, we could sue their asses.”
Jiang Menglai glanced at Lu Zhixia and nudged her shoulder. “Hey! You’re not even done looking at one photo?”
Lu Zhixia didn’t care. She grabbed her luggage and said, “Let’s unpack already. I’m starving.”
Jiang Menglai pushed her suitcase along as they headed inside. Qin Zheng’s brows furrowed slightly as she left a comment below: They’re sisters, not lovers. Please don’t make shit up.
That evening, none of them felt like cooking, so Jiang Menglai ordered takeout.
Rich people’s takeout came straight from five-star hotels, apparently reserved for select customers only.
While waiting for the food, Lu Zhixia headed back home. Yan Fanghua shot her an irritated look.
Lu Zhixia felt her stare and asked helplessly, “Is it because of the Hot Search?”
“Oh, so you know you trended?” Yan Fanghua’s phone buzzed again. She tossed it over. “Take a look. The Shen Family’s been calling me nonstop like they’re on shift duty. You’d better clear this up for me right now. What the hell’s going on?”
Then Yan Fanghua brought up how Lu Zhixia had thrown a tantrum at Time Magazine. Lu Zhixia listened in stunned silence.
“Do you have any idea Time Magazine and the Shen Family are strategic allies? Who do you think you are to piss them off?” Yan Fanghua had clearly verified it by phone, though the version she’d heard was hilariously skewed. “They just saw Wanqing there and asked a casual question. If you didn’t want to answer, don’t. Why blow up?”
Lu Zhixia let her mother ramble on until she was done, then confirmed, “You finished? Can I talk now?”
She laid out the whole story from start to finish, stressing that Shen Wanqing had only gone with her as a tagalong. Getting worked up, she said, “Shen Wanqing already said no to the interview. I kept repeating it too. They snapped photos on the spot, wouldn’t delete them when we asked, kept yapping excuses, and refused to apologize. I’m the one being nice by not suing!”
“You want to sue them?”
“Damn right!” Lu Zhixia snapped, furious. Courtesy before force—if you can’t follow through, pay the price. “I don’t give a shit about her ties to the Shen Family. Filming Shen Wanqing without permission? That host had zero class, kept cutting her off. Rude as hell!”
She kept saying “Shen Wanqing” over and over. Yan Fanghua couldn’t help recalling Lu Zhixia’s earlier joke. Her eyes burned with intensity as she said, “Little Xia, listen up. Even if our alliance marriage isn’t formalized yet and it’s just a partnership on paper, Shen Wanqing is nominally your big sister. Watch yourself from now on.”
She didn’t spell out what to watch, but Lu Zhixia pressed, “Watch what? What shady shit have we done? Your alliance marriage has nothing to do with me! Partnership, sure—why drag marriage into it?”
“You—!” Yan Fanghua fumed. “How are you this hopeless, kid?”
“Hopeless?” Lu Zhixia sneered. “I think I’ve been too damn well-behaved my whole life. Didn’t bother raising me as a kid, and now you wanna play parent? Too late!”
She was all prickly scales—no one could touch her if she didn’t allow it.
Lu Zhixia stormed toward the door, but Yan Fanghua grabbed her. “Post on Weibo and clear it up. Now.”
“Clear up what?” Lu Zhixia scowled, clearly pissed. “They spew one rumor and we have to debunk it? Why? They want the truth? Fine, tell ’em to ask me to my face. I’ll smash their shitty cameras!”
She was bristling with fury, eyes blazing. Yan Fanghua knew her temper—she’d follow through.
Yan Fanghua relented. “Just post on Weibo. That big a deal?”
“Nobody tells me what to post on my Weibo!” Lu Zhixia shot back defiantly. “I’m not doing it. Not for the king of heaven or his old man!”
She slammed the door on her way out, leaving Yan Fanghua so mad she nearly passed out.
That little brat—gave her a stomachache.
Lu Zhixia stormed downstairs in one go and stood by the roadside, lighting up a cigarette and taking a hard drag.
Just then, the Mala Tang vendor passed by and called out, “Bringing a date for some Mala Tang?”
Lu Zhixia grinned and waved him off. Once he was gone, she fished her phone from her pocket.
She hesitated for a few seconds, then dialed. It was busy.
She had a sneaking suspicion Shen Wanqing was dodging her on purpose. Thinking back to her confession that morning—maybe because of “I like you,” Shen Wanqing was avoiding her?
Her head drooped, nose stinging. She swiped viciously at the weeds under the tree roots and muttered bitterly, “Fuck it. If I ever confess first again, I’m a dog!”
Qin Zheng’s call came in, asking where she was.
Lu Zhixia had no appetite for food. “You guys go ahead and eat,” she said offhandedly. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’re unhappy,” Qin Zheng said, her heart aching for her. “You need to eat properly. What do you feel like? How about some mala tang?”
“It’s raining outside.” Lu Zhixia was fine under the tree, but the light rain along the roadside had dampened the ground. “Go on and eat. Really, I’m good.”
All the unhappiness of her youth could be soothed away with a single bowl of mala tang.
Even greater sorrows could be chased off with a box of popping candy.
And if a trace of bitterness lingered, one old popsicle was enough to wash it away, leaving her happy once more.
But now that she was grown up, neither mala tang, nor popping candy, nor old popsicles could fill the void in her heart.
She missed Shen Wanqing. How pathetic she was—Shen Wanqing was avoiding her, yet she couldn’t stop yearning for her.
As a child, she’d thought medicine was the bitterest thing in the world. Now she knew better: longing was bitter, and the ache of unreturned longing was the worst of all.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it.
It buzzed again. She pulled it out and saw it was Shen Wanqing calling.
Her spirits soared, the dark clouds over her heart scattering before a burst of sunlight. Lu Zhixia snatched up the phone.
Neither of them spoke, as if they were simply listening to each other’s breath.
Lu Zhixia’s eyes burned. The more she dwelled on it, the more aggrieved she felt—too aggrieved to utter a single word.
“Little Dog.” Shen Wanqing’s voice was gentle as she said her name, and Lu Zhixia’s tears came spilling out.
She stayed stubbornly silent, but from the other end came that voice, soft as water. “Does Little Dog miss Big Sister?”
She wiped at her tears, speechless. Shen Wanqing seemed to sense it and asked suddenly, “Is Little Dog crying?”
It was as if she’d been stabbed right in the chest. Lu Zhixia exploded. “Why didn’t you answer my calls? You ignore mine but pick up for everyone else! I just told you I like you—is that any reason to hide from me? Shen Wanqing, say something!”
Still fuming, she yelled even more fiercely. “I was so worried I ran all the way to your house, and you weren’t even there! Where the hell were you? I’m telling you, I’m furious—absolutely furious. Unless you show up right in front of me this instant, I’ll be even more furious!”
“Little Dog’s being so loud,” Shen Wanqing said with a soft, lingering laugh.
She was shouting on purpose; otherwise, her crying voice would give her away.
Then came Shen Wanqing’s whisper, light as a breath. “That fierce side of yours is adorable.”
Hearing that voice—so gentle, like a soft breeze—brought fresh tears surging forth. Lu Zhixia tilted her head back to wipe them away and finally dissolved into quiet sobs.
She sounded just like a child who had endured some terrible wrong, hiccuping through her tears, unable to get a word out.
She was heartbroken. Her very first confession, and it had ended like this.
The more she thought about it, the sadder she became. She started to wail openly, drawing surprised glances from passersby.
A pair of high heels came to a stop before her—shoes studded with diamonds, custom-made and one of a kind in all the world.
Lu Zhixia thought of her red, swollen eyes and bolted upright, ready to flee.
But a hand seized her wrist. In the next instant, she was pulled into a warm embrace, and a rose-gold umbrella descended overhead, shielding them in their own little private world.
Shen Wanqing cupped her face in both hands and coaxed her softly. “Be good, don’t cry.”
Lu Zhixia only cried harder. Helpless, Shen Wanqing planted a kiss on her forehead, rose onto her tiptoes, and sealed her lips.
