After leaving the company building, Fang Jingcheng couldn’t shake off the gloom.

To maintain his image as the strict, impartial director, his brother Fang Siyu would undoubtedly put forth harsher demands on the field today. His team, a crew of sycophants, was skilled at applying workplace pressure, and who knew what tricky questions they might throw his way.

But, failure wasn’t really that terrifying.

Back in school, he had already become accustomed to “special treatment”—relegated by teachers to the “leisure zone” at the back of the classroom, or playing mobile games with his supervisor during his internship to “build rapport.” Living under his brother’s shadow, constantly facing people’s backhanded “special treatment,” had become his norm.

People had long whispered behind his back, saying he was only “talented” because of his family background.

But so what? With money and power, even if people held him in disdain, they had no choice but to address him with a polite “Young Master Fang” or “Little Fang.”

…It was just some silly campus competition. There would be more chances later on; he didn’t need to waste another thought on that cold-hearted, frail brother of his!

But then, there was Xia Fu. Just like his brother had warned, she was an innocent bystander dragged into these muddy waters. With no connections of her own, she would inevitably face a storm of rumors.

She’d already been under enough pressure from Bao Zhiwei; now, would she also have to carry the blame of “messing around with some wealthy second-generation playboy,” abandoning the “right path”?

Would Xia Fu start resenting him because of people’s malice?

Fang Jingcheng quietly clenched his fists in his pocket and urged the driver, “Hurry up, I have things to take care of this afternoon.” He wanted to leave this oppressive place as fast as possible, to return to Xia Fu, to confirm her feelings with his own eyes.

The seats at the café were ridiculously expensive, so Xia Fu, whenever she was alone, much preferred the “Literature Reading Section” at the library. Rows of tall, iron bookshelves stood on the brown wooden floor, their military-green paint resembling towering tropical rainforest trees, while the varied book spines looked like fine leaf veins. If one followed the call numbers book by book, they could trace this field of study all the way back to its roots in history.

The latest trend was to take notes on a tablet, and with this area practically empty at this hour, Xia Fu had a small square table by the window all to herself. The afternoon sun filtered through the sheer white curtains, illuminating the floating dust particles in the air. The old smell of ink lingered between the shelves, creating a relaxed atmosphere.

The keyboard’s illuminated keys would flash in different colors, which looked cool at first glance but became a bit distracting over time.

Xia Fu nudged her laptop farther away and wrapped her hands around her glass. It was a cheap find from a nearby supermarket—a frosted khaki metal lid, a transparent glass body, thin as a layer of paper. When filling it with hot water, it felt scalding to the touch, and by the time she got back to her seat, she’d have to pinch her earlobes to cool down.

But the heat had its perks. In winter, it was a convenient hand warmer, and now, it was a perfect steam mask for her eyes. Xia Fu closed her fingers around the glass, letting her warm palms rest against her cool eyelids.

Her tense muscles found a moment of relaxation, and as the blood flowed more freely, there was a gentle ache that almost brought tears to her eyes.

It felt so soothing, like sinking into a soft, dark mattress. She buried her face in her hands, releasing a contented sigh.

When resting, people tend to drift into calming thoughts, and as Xia Fu closed her eyes or opened them to gaze at the flashing keyboard, Fang Jingcheng’s face lingered in her mind.

He hadn’t messaged her since lunch, only reaching out three hours later to ask, “Where are you now?” She wondered where he was now and how he was holding up.

With these questions circling her mind, Xia Fu couldn’t help but glance toward the library entrance. Coincidentally, in the time it took her to wonder, Fang Jingcheng had already quietly entered the vintage reading room.

Because she’d told him she was between shelves 11A and 13C in the Applied Mathematics section, he was counting the labels on each shelf, following the “leaf veins” in search of her.

One hand gripping the green iron shelf, his fingers curled gently against the aged book spines, while his other hand rested obediently along the seam of his pants. From a distance, he gazed toward her, an unreadable expression on his handsome face, like a lost child in a rainforest or a creature creeping out from the shadows of the bookshelves, using its beauty to charm an unsuspecting student.

…Had he actually been scolded?

It was the first time Xia Fu had seen Fang Jingcheng looking so pitiful, and this vulnerability was far more captivating than his usual aloofness.

After all, she couldn’t cheerfully congratulate others on their family happiness. Her experiences only involved arguments with her parents, followed by licking each other’s wounds like injured little animals.

An odd impulse made her extend her hand toward the silver-haired figure.

“Fang Jingcheng, I’m over here,” Xia Fu called softly.

Was her desire to talk to him born out of the satisfaction that “even someone perfect like you can feel down,” or was it simply because she cared and wanted to cheer him up? She couldn’t figure it out.

Either way, the effect was good. Fang Jingcheng’s mood visibly lifted after her invitation, his lips curving into a bright smile that seemed to light up the shadows.

Xia Fu’s outstretched hand erased any last doubts in his mind.

The way she hid her eyes with her hands like an otter was adorable, and the way she focused on her studies after a rest was so serious. He knew all along that Xia Fu wasn’t like him—a good, sweet kid.

But so what? Just by secretly watching her like this, his desires ballooned beyond mere confirmation of Xia Fu’s feelings; his conscience disappeared in an instant.

He’d always been selfish. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have persistently tried to win her over just because he noticed her uneasy tears, inviting her to eat together, always attempting to soften her stance.

He wanted to sit right beside her—and now, she had invited him over… he wouldn’t give Xia Fu the chance to dislike him.

Fang Jingcheng quickly strode over, responding to her call, “Xia Fu,” his voice light and filled with a smile, like a leaf falling on a lake, stirring ripples in her heart.

It was a bit loud for the “Reading Room.”

Xia Fu held a finger to her lips, signaling “shh.”

Like a student being warned by a teacher, Fang Jingcheng pressed his lips together and gave her a playful “roger that” gesture.

He pulled out the chair beside Xia Fu, leaning close to her, his sea-clear eyes cautiously observing her expression. Then, he whispered softly, “Xia Fu,” in a hushed voice, like they were sharing secrets.

“I’m back—Is this volume okay now?”

The slightly drawn-out tone was basically a playful pout.

If he truly wanted to talk, they should just gather their things and head out to the cushioned sofas instead of sneaking around like this.

But Fang Jingcheng looked so naturally at ease. Xia Fu found herself momentarily captivated by his handsome face and, before she knew it, was already drawn into his rhythm. She lowered her voice, leaned toward him, cupping her hands like a tiny microphone, and mimicked his earlier tone in a soft whisper by his ear:

“All good—you’re back, and that’s what matters.”

Her breath lightly stirred his silver hair, bringing a ticklish sensation that made him chuckle. He tilted his head to gaze at her, a gleam of mischief dancing in his eyes.

She didn’t often get a chance to indulge someone’s playfulness, and as soon as Fang Jingcheng laughed, she realized she had unwittingly fallen into his trap.

Xia Fu lowered her gaze, looking at him up close. She could see the tiny peach fuzz on his face, bathed in the afternoon sunlight, a warm honey-brown that reminded her of a juicy peach. For a brief moment, she felt a strange urge to stroke or even nibble him.

Oh well, might as well just keep him happy…

“Well, since you’re here, shall we find a different spot to study?”