Yin Chi’s touch made Fang Nianchen feel an electric jolt of discomfort, a numbing sensation spreading from her feet to the tip of her heart. She quickly retreated a step, wanting to put some distance between them.
Yin Chi seemed to have anticipated it. The moment she stepped back, Yin Chi grabbed her wrist.
She yanked her, forcing her to press close.
“After not seeing each other for so long, did you miss me?” Her tone carried a teasing lilt. Even knowing the response wouldn’t be what she wanted, she just wanted to see Fang Nianchen’s composed facade crack—it was amusing just thinking about it.
As she spoke, her grip tightened.
She wanted to see just how deep this person’s pretense ran, and to what extent she could push her to drop the mask.
“Yin Chi-jie.” Unexpectedly, Fang Nianchen’s tone was even, unflustered by the sudden move. “Could you let go first? It hurts.”
With that, she grimaced slightly, showing a pained expression.
Yin Chi froze, then let out a “heh” before bursting into laughter, her shoulders shaking.
“Cough cough…” Yin Chi laughed until tears came, choking a little before stopping.
She released her iron grip on Fang Nianchen’s hand and took off her sunglasses, holding them in her hand.
Looking up at her again, her gaze turned serious: “Fang Nianchen, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you? Yunqi rules say get off at six, but does that extra hour of overtime even pay?”
“HR work is just busier.”
“You’re lying.” Yin Chi stated it firmly. “You knew if you didn’t pick up, I’d come find you. Don’t lie to me—I know you.”
“You already know everything, so why ask me?” Fang Nianchen’s voice was soft, but her words sharp as a needle popping a balloon.
Yin Chi was at a loss for words, anger flaring in her beautiful eyes.
She just couldn’t handle Fang Nianchen.
Whether it was that indifferent air or her lukewarm tone, everything pissed her off.
It was like smashing a solid bronze turtle with all her might—nothing, not a single flaw.
She was much younger than her, yet carried this excessive maturity. That was exactly why she felt Fang Nianchen was different from everyone she’d met.
At first, she’d approached Fang Nianchen just to see her make a fool of herself, thinking the girl was utterly fake, forcing an adult maturity that erased her youthful innocence—not cute at all.
The fake could never become real; one day, she’d slip up.
Later, her curiosity and probing into Fang Nianchen overrode all the negativity.
After half a year of contact, she realized Fang Nianchen wasn’t putting on an act. Her reclusive nature and years of habits had shaped her personality—everything about her.
The more they interacted, the more care she received from Fang Nianchen—warmth that reached her heart. Yin Chi’s view of her completely changed.
People the same age as Fang Nianchen struck Yin Chi as utterly stupid; she couldn’t stand their extremism and naivety. She preferred Fang Nianchen’s composure and craved her concern even more.
Being taken care of by someone younger gave her an odd sense of accomplishment, like her taste had finally improved.
Who knew this little one wouldn’t care now—instead, she just kept making her mad.
Yin Chi shot her a shallow glare, keeping it restrained so her poise wasn’t ruined: “We’ve met, so let’s eat. I’ve booked a place.”
“Now?”
“What else? You some big shot needing a day’s notice, or should I send someone to formally invite you?” Tired of dragging it out, Yin Chi lost patience, her tone sharp as she ordered, “Right now.”
Fang Nianchen smiled faintly and agreed: “Alright.”
The Prussian blue McLaren GT crouched behind Yin Chi. She opened the door, gathered her skirt hem, and got in.
Her flashy personality hadn’t changed a bit—the massive roar of the sports car starting drew stares from passersby.
Finding their gazes too prying, Fang Nianchen didn’t dawdle. She lowered her head slightly and slipped into the car.
Before she could even buckle her seatbelt, Yin Chi floored it. Fang Nianchen was thrown back by the inertia and hurriedly fastened it.
Even inside, the roar of the massive machine was deafening. Fang Nianchen didn’t like riding in supercars; it always shook her heart into a panic.
But Yin Chi seemed to revel in it, enjoying the thrill of taming the beast. The irritation from Fang Nianchen’s earlier retort faded as she gunned the engine forward.
The floral dress didn’t match her aggressive driving at all. Fang Nianchen thought she should be in a Hong Kong film triad boss’s trench coat or a secret agent’s combat gear.
But she had to admit, Yin Chi’s deliberate contrasts always left a deep impression.
They hadn’t gone far before traffic jammed up as expected. The blue car crawled slowly amid the sea of black and white vehicles, looking dejected.
Yin Chi’s lips were flat, no hint of a curve. She rolled down the window, breathing in the not-so-fresh air, unwilling to make small talk.
After a while, with no movement, she casually pulled a cigarette from her pocket, bit it between her lips, flicked open the lighter with a crisp “ding,” and lit it with her thumb scraping the flint.
“Cough…” Fang Nianchen coughed lightly into her elbow, cracking the window a sliver.
“Choked?”
“It’s fine.” Fang Nianchen’s throat itched faintly; speaking made her want to cough again, so she shut her mouth quick.
Seeing her stifled look, Yin Chi chuckled: “Never seen someone with such a people-pleasing personality. If you get lung cancer from secondhand smoke, don’t blame me.”
“It wouldn’t be that easy, right?” Fang Nianchen asked sincerely.
“Asking me? I don’t know, but smoking’s definitely unhealthy.” Yin Chi smoked slim ladies’ cigarettes, thin ones. A few puffs finished half, and she stubbed out the rest in the ashtray.
Fang Nianchen picked up on it: “You know smoking harms your health, yet you smoke so fiercely.”
Not many kept an ashtray in a sports car, let alone a pile of butts.
Few around her smoked, and none with Yin Chi’s heavy habit.
The first time she’d seen Yin Chi smoke was right after arriving in the UK. Days of rain, and Yin Chi lingered on the balcony, refusing to come in. Worried she’d catch a cold, Fang Nianchen went out to find her—only to see Yin Chi propping her head, puffing away.
Actually, that was Yin Chi’s first time too. She’d lit it tremblingly, barely overcoming the nausea, still clumsy—couldn’t even flick ash, just letting the wind take it. Someone approaching startled her; she choked on an uneven breath, coughing up tears.
That practiced look now must’ve come from two years of persistence.
“Some things, you just can’t help. Stressed or tired, I light up a couple—it even improves my mood a bit.” Yin Chi rested her arm on the door frame, head propped as she tilted to look at her. “Dating’s good for body and mind, but no one’s dating me.”
The final “ya” came out playful from her lips.
Catching the implication, Fang Nianchen turned, their gazes colliding, lashes fluttering: “No one you like?”
“Hmph.” Yin Chi’s scoff was like a solid iron lump sinking into sponge, denting it hard. She steadied her voice, pitching it up: “Just two years apart, and your skill at playing dumb has leveled up. Do I not date because I don’t want to? You probably know the answer better than me, Nianchen.”
Her voice twisted on the last two syllables, dipping into ambiguity, sinking deep.
Fang Nianchen wouldn’t delude herself that someone had been hung up on her for so long, but she sensitively caught the hints.
The intimate address seemed to pull memories further back, but she didn’t want to dwell, suppressing the thought.
Her gaze was calmer than a windless lake: “Got it.”
Under traffic cop direction, the car finally inched forward. Yin Chi fell silent, focusing on driving.
Ten minutes later, they arrived. It was North City’s top Western restaurant, membership and reservation only. Yet the high barrier didn’t deter the wealthy; even on a Monday, it was packed.
The waiter led them to a window seat.
“Miss Yin, tonight’s wine pairings total five: the 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon from Chateau Latour and…”
“Enough, just handle it—no need to report.” Yin Chi had no patience for a long list of topics she didn’t care about. She wasn’t deep into red wine; listening wouldn’t change anything, just waste time.
“Understood.” The waiter bowed respectfully and left.
The restaurant had only twelve two-person seats around a central open kitchen, spaced far apart so guests needn’t worry about disturbance or privacy.
The solemn atmosphere made Fang Nianchen uneasy—she’d never gotten used to it.
She twisted open the sparkling water on the table, moistening her throat. Like every awkward silence, she sipped slowly.
“Why’d you suddenly return to the country?” Yin Chi cut straight to her biggest question.
Fang Nianchen’s departure felt like a decision made overnight. When she returned home, all she saw on the table were neatly arranged keys and a letter.
At first glance, it seemed Yin Chi thought Fang Nianchen was playing some childish elementary school game. She mocked her immaturity right away—what couldn’t be said face-to-face? Writing a letter in this day and age? So outdated.
But when she opened the letter, she had the impulse to tear it to shreds, as if that could somehow negate the fact of Fang Nianchen leaving without a word.
The one point that made Fang Nianchen worthy of forgiveness was that she hadn’t gone missing. When Yin Chi called, she would tell her that she was already back in the country and not to worry—the letter was just in case the call didn’t go through.
She had calculated exactly when Yin Chi would get home, even accounting for the possibility of flight delays.
The entire plan was flawless, seemingly considerate of others’ feelings, but the result was utterly infuriating.
If you added in her refusal to tell Yin Chi where she was, it was adding insult to injury.
“I don’t like it there,” Fang Nianchen set down her glass of water and explained slowly. “The weather’s terrible—raining all year round, cold and damp, no sun to brighten the mood.”
London on a sunny day was a natural colorful canvas, but when washed out by rain, it looked decayed and gloomy, like being trapped in a cage all day. Stay too long, and your mood plummets to rock bottom. Of course, it wasn’t just the city holding her captive—there were people too.
She figured no one wanted to hear such melodramatic excuses, so she picked the most reasonable answer.
“That’s not what I want to hear,” Yin Chi said, seeing right through her bland excuse and shaking her head lightly. “You’re avoiding me.”
At this point, she no longer needed answers from Fang Nianchen. Fang Nianchen was easy to read—once you grasped her thought patterns, you could predict her ideas.
Whatever Yin Chi thought or believed now would inevitably become the “right” answer.
Sure enough, Fang Nianchen instinctively denied it: “No…”
“Not even a little? Not one in a thousand, one in ten thousand?” Yin Chi pressed aggressively. “Can you swear that not even a tiny bit of it is because of my confession to you?”
Fang Nianchen fell silent. Her light brown eyes gleamed under the overhead light, and her hands on the table clenched slightly into fists.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “If you insist on the truth… yes, there is, but it’s not really about you.”
Whether it was a big deal or not was obvious from the start. Saying this was just nostalgia—she didn’t want to expose it.
“I should’ve never told you,” Yin Chi sighed with a smile. “Someone my age should have some self-control. If I hadn’t confessed, I could’ve kept you by my side and felt at ease. Not like now, worrying every day that you’ll get swept away by someone else.”
Fang Nianchen glanced at her, clearly disagreeing.
Yin Chi raised a brow. “What? You think after graduation, your parents won’t keep leaving you in my care?”
Hearing her say “care” so matter-of-factly, Fang Nianchen finally couldn’t hold back: “I’m the one taking care of you.”
Yin Chi and Fang Nianchen’s first meeting wasn’t a pleasant experience for either of them.
—
There were still a few months until her nineteenth birthday when Fang Nianchen set off for the UK.
