They played in the yard until dinner arrived, then returned indoors covered in snowflakes to gather around the table for the meal.

Miaomiao had expended too much energy today and started yawning halfway through dinner.

After eating, they let the food settle for a bit, and then Ming Can took him upstairs to wash up.

While she was drying his hair, his eyes were already tightly shut, his little mouth smacking as he leaned against Ming Can, sleeping soundly.

Ming Can carried him to bed, tucked him in, checked the bedroom windows and doors, and locked the floor-to-ceiling window on the second-floor balcony before slowly making her way downstairs in her slippers.

It was a little past 7 p.m., almost 8, and the snow outside was still falling tirelessly. The guys had ordered beer, dice, and a dice cup, clearly setting up for some drinking games.

The living room chandelier was off, with only a few soft, dim spotlights on. The TV played a slow music video, and the fireplace crackled with burning embers. The atmosphere was so cozy that even Ming Can felt it would be a shame not to have a few drinks.

Everyone sat around the living room’s tatami sofa, their eyes following Ming Can, silently urging her to join.

They had “kindly” saved her a spot right next to Chi Xiao, on the same sofa.

Chi Xiao had his elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on his phone, not looking up at Ming Can.

The light made his hair look jet black and slightly messy. He wore a thin hoodie over his T-shirt, the white collar peeking out, giving off a relaxed vibe.

Ming Can reluctantly walked over and sat down beside him. A faint scent of laundry detergent—mint and lemon—wafted over, pleasant and refreshing.

Of everyone present, only Chi Xiao had showered. He sat hunched over, a stretch of his neck visible, his skin as pale as snow, the vertebrae prominent.

Ming Can instinctively lifted her arm to sniff her sleeve. Thankfully, it didn’t smell.

On Ming Can’s other side sat Guan Ling Si. Sheng Nan Zhou leaned over her to pour Ming Can half a glass of beer, asking if she knew how to play the dice game where you bluff and guess the numbers.

“I think so,” Ming Can said, staring at the golden liquid in her glass. “Just to be clear, I’m not a great drinker.”

“No problem. If you lose, you can choose truth or dare first. If that’s too much, then you drink.”

The rules were universal, and Ming Can had no objections.

She had always been a serious person, untouched by romantic entanglements, and there was nothing in her heart that she couldn’t share. So, whenever she played this kind of game in the past, she always skipped the dares and chose truth. The questions her friends came up with to punish her were never difficult for her to answer.

Over time, her close friends started making rules that she had to choose dares, otherwise it would be too boring.

Tonight, Ming Can was surrounded by new friends. Even if they found her truths boring, they probably wouldn’t give her too hard a time.

With this strategy in mind, Ming Can felt a bit more at ease.

She lowered her head, her fingers lightly twisting the fabric of her pants.

The slow, lazy music played in the background, but for some reason, her heart didn’t settle. Instead, it felt like it was rising inch by inch.

She had a feeling that this gathering wasn’t going to be easy to get through.

The first round began. Everyone shook their dice and placed them on the table. Sheng Nan Zhou started by calling out a number, and the others followed in clockwise order based on their seating.

At the start, everyone was cautious, and the numbers called weren’t too high.

When it got back to Sheng Nan Zhou, he was practically begging to lose. He added five sixes to the previous call—thirty dice for six people, and he called seventeen sixes, which was absurdly high. Who wouldn’t call him out on that?

“I lose,” Sheng Nan Zhou said, finally getting what he wanted. “I choose dare.”

What a lunatic.

Guan Ling Si cursed under her breath, her cheeks involuntarily turning red.

Dares usually fell into two categories: either extremely embarrassing or extremely intimate. On a snowy night like this, stuck in a villa, it was hard to do anything too embarrassing in public. So, Sheng Nan Zhou was sure everyone would give him a particularly dare, which was exactly what he wanted.

Since Zhu Yida was the one who called him out, it was up to Zhu Yida to decide the punishment.

Zhu Yida, after all, had legitimately gotten into A University and was sharp enough to see through Sheng Nan Zhou’s little scheme.

Determined not to let him have his way, Zhu Yida said, “Brother Zhou, you have to carry Kuan Zai around the living room twice, in bridal style.”

Sheng Nan Zhou: …

The room erupted in laughter.

Chen Kuan’s name included the character “宽” (wide), and his body was indeed wide. He weighed nearly 200 jin (100 kg).

In front of his girlfriend, Sheng Nan Zhou couldn’t admit that he couldn’t carry him. He stood up like a man walking to his death, first kicking Zhu Yida, then walking over to Chen Kuan. The moment he tried to lift him, he nearly threw out his back.

After two laps around the living room, Sheng Nan Zhou returned to Guan Ling Si’s side, his body feeling like it was about to fall apart, his face utterly lifeless.

“What are you laughing at?” He pushed Guan Ling Si away. “There’s no love in this world. Go find another guy. You’ve broken my heart.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I won’t laugh anymore, hahaha…”

Chi Xiao looked up at them, feeling inexplicably irritated. His gaze quickly dropped again.

Ming Can was also laughing, one hand resting near her leg, close to him. Her slender fingers were as white and tender as peeled scallions, the knuckles lightly curling and then relaxing, revealing pale pink palms.

How could someone…

even have palms that were so irresistibly attractive?

Chi Xiao looked away, picked up his glass, and brought it to his lips without expression.

Ming Can glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Just now, when Sheng Nan Zhou carried Chen Kuan in bridal style, it had been hilarious. Even she had almost died laughing, but Chi Xiao hadn’t reacted at all. He sat there like an eternal glacier, stiff and silent, his mood clearly low.

From the moment Ming Can had sat down until now, he hadn’t said a single word to her.

Not that he had spoken to anyone else either, but wasn’t his current persona supposed to be her ardent pursuer?

What kind of pursuer was this?

Ming Can pursed her lips and looked away.

The next round of the game began.

Again, Sheng Nan Zhou started. This time, he didn’t dare mess around. After some thought, he called out a relatively large number to put pressure on the others, pushing the game into a heated state.

Zhu Yida and Chen Kuan were very cautious, only increasing the previous call by a tiny bit.

But even that tiny bit brought the game to the brink of decision.

Now it was Chi Xiao’s turn.

Chi Xiao was Ming Can’s immediate predecessor in the game.

Ming Can mentally calculated the probabilities. If Chi Xiao only increased the previous call by a small margin, there was still a good chance he could slip through without being challenged.

Everyone present was good at math, so it shouldn’t be hard to see that challenging her would be a safer bet than challenging Chi Xiao.

Ming Can felt like she was probably doomed this round.

She irritably grabbed her glass, only to hear Chi Xiao unexpectedly add two sixes to the previous call.

This was a bit risky.

The previous player had called eleven sixes, and Chi Xiao called thirteen.

Did he roll a lot of sixes? But Ming Can didn’t have a single one.

Ming Can decided to challenge him, but before she could speak, Sheng Nan Zhou jumped up first: “Challenge! Brother Xiao, you’ve slipped up. I didn’t see a single six.”

Everyone opened their dice cups at the same time and counted. There were only eight sixes in total!

Ming Can let out a long breath of relief.

She hadn’t gotten a good look at Chi Xiao’s dice earlier, and by the time she tried to check, he had already covered his cup and shaken the dice again.

Sheng Nan Zhou rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Good brother, truth or dare?”

Chi Xiao didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

He glanced down at his glass, as if already prepared to reject whatever dare they came up with and drink instead.

For some reason, even though Chi Xiao was the one being punished, Ming Can’s heart was in her throat.

Just drink, just drink. She thought to herself. You’re the aloof male god, the flower on the high peak atop the snowy mountain. Don’t stoop to playing mortal games like dares. It’s beneath you.

“Heh heh.” Sheng Nan Zhou rubbed his face, not needing to think before saying, “We’re brothers, so I won’t make it too hard. Just pick one of the girls here and confess your feelings.”

As soon as he finished, the room erupted in a chorus of meaningful whoops and whistles.

A few months ago, who would have believed that during this winter break, they’d be daring the famously icy, immune to the opposite sex Chi Xiao to such an intimate dare?

Ming Can’s hand, which had been clutching the hem of her shirt, tightened instantly, her nails almost tearing through the fabric.

Was this really “not too hard” or “simple”?

In the eyes of Chi Xiao’s roommates, since Chi Xiao had been pursuing Ming Can for so long, he must have already confessed to her before. Moreover, he had been pursuing her openly, not hiding his feelings. His affection was written all over his face, and even strangers could see it. Now, they were just asking him to confess again—not only was it not difficult for him, it was practically too easy.

For the person being confessed to, it was just a matter of hearing something they’d already heard before.

There were only two girls present, so the direction was very clear.

Sheng Nan Zhou even put his arm around Guan Ling Si’s shoulders, narrowing the scope further. “Friends’ partners are off-limits, got it?”

Outside, the snow on the roof rustled as it fell, the cold wind blowing diagonally, the shadows of the trees swaying in the white night.

Snowflakes drifted past the windowsill, peeking into the warm room from the cold night.

The people inside the room were also looking out at the snow.

After just a moment, Chi Xiao looked away. The changing light from the TV screen flickered like fireflies on his profile, mottled and flowing, outlining his sharp features.

His eyelashes were long, and his indifferent gaze followed them downward, presumably landing on his glass.

But he didn’t pick it up to declare that he was giving up on the dare.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, then slowly straightened up.

Ming Can also unconsciously sat up straighter. Her ears, warmed by the heater, seemed to hear the sound of falling snow from miles away.

Chi Xiao turned to look at her, their gazes meeting in midair.

Ming Can’s lips parted slightly. In his eyes, which shone like ice and snow, she saw her own reflection, abruptly appearing against the pale and clear background.

For some reason, she thought she saw a fleeting sense of relief in his eyes.

As if he was treating this dare as just a game, something to brush off casually.

Or as if, for him, taking on this dare was actually a long-awaited release.

“Ming Can,” Chi Xiao’s voice was low, his gaze steady, unwavering as he looked at her. Without any hesitation, he said, “I like you.”