Shi Zhi’s taste in looks was pretty straightforward.

She’d lived through too much chaos—her dad a violent, gambling drunk—so growing up, she gravitated toward guys with gentle vibes.

Refined, cultured types who, at a glance, seemed chill and well-mannered.

So when Fu Xiling asked, that’s how she put it: “Clean-cut, polite-looking, with a soft smile.”

Fu Xiling snickered behind her. “Basically Shen Jia, right?”

Pretty much.

Shi Zhi didn’t confirm or deny. When he pressed, “You sure you’re not kidding yourself liking that type?” she stayed quiet.

Looks might not be as reliable as she once thought.

That was her old take. If you asked her now, she’d have no opinion.

Compared to decoding guys’ faces, she figured digging into the companies offering her internships mattered more.

That night, they got along decently.

Shi Zhi was past the breakup blues and wasn’t big on drinking anymore. Back at the bar, surrounded by all those bottles, she never touched a drop.

Fu Xiling didn’t seem hooked on booze either. Somehow—who knows what sparked it—they ended up gaming in the living room half the night.

While hunting for controllers with him, Shi Zhi spotted a box in the storage room stuffed with trophies, certificates, awards—all that glory stuff.

Some were from contests Shen Jia had entered too.

Back when she video-chatted with Shen Jia, he’d shown off his shelf of trophies.

She’d been into her boyfriend then—studied them closely, figured out what competitions they were from, piecing together who he was.

Shi Zhi crouched by the box, inspecting one trophy.

Fu Xiling dug out a red controller, waving it in her face. “Quit looking. Your polite, clean-cut ex couldn’t beat me—total scrub, snagged second or third…”

She hadn’t touched a console in years.

Her aunt’s place had an old one—Street Fighter vibes—but her cousin hogged it.

It was his anyway. He didn’t share, and Shi Zhi didn’t itch for it.

She was busy helping at the hair salon—no time to play.

So going up against Fu Xiling—a quick-handed, sharp-minded gaming vet—she got wrecked. Lost every round.

She figured in his cocky world, anyone who couldn’t beat him was a scrub.

Cue her competitive streak flaring up.

Shi Zhi was smart, but Fu Xiling’s experience crushed her.

In-game fights? His character pounded hers into the dirt. Puzzles? He sniffed out clues faster. Racing? She ate his dust…

Hours later, she went dead quiet.

Fu Xiling, being a jerk, lounged on the sofa, munching fruit, still running his mouth. “How about this: say something sweet, and I’ll go easy?”

Shi Zhi stared blankly at the screen. A few seconds ticked by, then she flashed a dazzling smile his way. “Can’t do sweet talk—how about a kiss instead?”

That grin screamed scheme—like a trap, deep as hell, straight to the eighteenth layer of the underworld.

But a damn charming one.

Fu Xiling smelled a rat, squinting at her for a bit, but still ditched the controller and leaned in.

Didn’t even touch her—bam, took a kick.

She smirked. “I need you to go easy?”

He didn’t back off—lunged forward, grabbed her calf, yanked her over, and pinned her on the sofa.

Laughing into her neck, he teased, “Sore loser much?”

Then goaded, “Kiss me, and I’ll go full throttle—play you for real.”

“…You weren’t serious just now?”

“Nah, with you… why bother?”

Shi Zhi bet the part he swallowed was, “With a scrub like you, why bother?”

She couldn’t let it slide—sank her teeth into his shoulder. “Then get serious!”

They kept at it, bickering and gaming till dawn, before crashing in separate rooms.

Gaming’s got that addictive hook.

With a console dangling in front of her, Shi Zhi started getting picked up by Fu Xiling to hang at his place now and then.

Dinner together, a photo snapped for his family chat to fake some lovey-dovey vibes.

Then they’d park in the living room, trading jabs while gaming.

When he won, he’d rub it in. “A straight-A student like you sucking at games? Totally normal.”

Next thing, she’d ram his car off the track.

Leaning back, neck stretched, she shook her head, flicking stray hair out of her face.

Shi Zhi knew herself cold. “You got ‘straight-A’ wrong. I’m solid on the ‘A’ part—‘straight’ though? Nah, not my thing.”

With that, she blasted past the finish line, beating him.

“Why don’t you think you’re ‘straight’?”

“You just meet me or something?”

She’d never faked it with Fu Xiling.

He knew she’d played rich and meek to hook Shen Jia, knew the tricks she pulled to get back at her.

Knew she didn’t always keep her word, flipped moods fast, and sold out that street for 150 grand.

Still, he said, “That street? Don’t overthink it.”

Said it was a hot target anyway. Even if the shop owners knew a convention center and mall were coming, most wouldn’t last that long.

Big investors like his crew could wait it out—small fry couldn’t.

Business is hit-or-miss. Holding out till it boomed didn’t guarantee every shop would cash in.

“Different investor takes over, a few might profit—rest get squeezed dry.”

“Anyone else asking me would’ve demanded at least 500 grand.”

Shi Zhi wasn’t shocked by the number, just watched him quietly. “I get the logic.”

She just didn’t want to parade around as some saint like Shi Mei—too exhausting.

Fu Xiling leaned in, tucked her hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing her earlobe, then teasing it lightly.

Shi Zhi turned, kissing him.

They’d kiss sometimes.

Not planned—just a spark in a stare, both wanting it, no point fighting the urge.

Except once.

That night, after gaming and chatting about her interview that day, they stayed up too late. Minds lagging, they passed out on the sofa.

At dawn, Shi Zhi stirred, realizing they’d crashed on the carpet.

Her head was on his shoulder, his arm loosely around her waist, a guy’s tee draped over her legs—obviously his.

She shifted; he woke too, eyes shut, rubbing his neck. “Back to bed?”

All lights were off, just the controller’s RGB glowing faintly.

His voice was sleepy, half-dozing.

After a few seconds with no reply, he cracked his eyes open, meeting hers.

In the dim living room, he kissed her—soft, no heat, more a statement. “Back to bed.”

Weirdly cozy for no reason.

Shi Zhi blanked for a sec.

Her heart might’ve skipped, but her phone pinged—an email. The last interview company’s acceptance.

All her options lined up, decision time.

Fu Xiling’s 150 grand was fully paid.

That cash gave her wiggle room. After mulling it over, she dialed the number on Fu Qian’s card.

Fu Qian set a meet.

They sat in her bright, spacious office, red tea wafting.

Fu Qian said even her picks didn’t get to coast in an office.

“You’re with me, you start at the bottom—catering department under the group.”

Shi Zhi said, “Cool.”

Fu Qian eyed her, intrigued. “Not gonna ask why?”

No need.

No company hires people to sip tea.

Shi Zhi’s question was, “Why me?”

Fu Qian blew steam off her cup. “Gut feeling.”

Same vibe as Fu Xiling’s take.

Maybe bosses all had a mystic streak—first glances, second vibes.

The day Shi Zhi got her Xingrong Group badge, Fu Xiling called, asking where she was.

Just met Fu Qian’s people, she said.

“Find a spot to wait—I’ll come get you.”

“Heading to my school again?”

“Yup, fifteen minutes.”

She waited at a coffee shop, grabbed him an iced coffee—buy-one-get-one deal.

In the car, he took a sip. “What’s up, second cup half off?”

“Buy one, get one.”

He laughed, driving. “Figures.”

Fu Xiling hit B University a lot.

Shi Zhi half-suspected he had one or two regular hookups there.

She wanted a quiet life, no drama, always hopped out near the dorms to dodge them.

He didn’t care—kept tossing invites:

“Grabbing crawfish tonight, you in?” “Hot pot crew, coming?” “BBQ, you eating?”

Sometimes, she thought Fu Xiling was a mystery.

Did his “girlfriends” all get along, chilling at the same table?

She asked today.

Steering, he said, “We’re hitting up barbecue later—fresh beef. You in?”

“Last class this afternoon.”

“After?”

“Library homework—you guys eat.”

“Alright.”

He parked outside campus, walking in with her.

Shi Zhi had a tiny backpack, straps slung over one shoulder.

Her new badge dangled from it, swaying as she moved.

She asked where he was headed.

“Friend’s at the lab—I’m meeting him.”

They shared some of the route. Fu Xiling, curious, grabbed her badge to check it out, unclipped it, and hung it around his neck, teasing. “You always this cool in pics? Never smile?”

Why “always”?

Shi Zhi asked, “When’d you see my photos?”

“Plenty of times.”

“Like?”

“Your high school ID, citizen ID, library card, the ones I’ve sent to the family chat lately.”

True.

Had they gotten that close without her noticing?

She shot him a look, tugging the badge strap around his neck, but switched topics.

“Fu Xiling, if I find out you asked Fu Qian to hook me up with work, I’ll strangle you.”

Sun was blinding. He bent to match her pull, slipped off his sunglasses, and plopped them on her. 

“Me and Fu Qian aren’t tight. If you’re hinting I could boost your career, it’s not impossible—next event, I’ll flirt with Fu Zong?”

She smacked his arm.

“You study iron palm or something?”

Both holding matching iced coffees, they walked and messed around. Sensing eyes, they froze—perfect sync—looking up.

Shen Jia and Tao Jia were coming their way, faces sour.

The four passed each other.

Far enough away, Fu Xiling said, “So they’re officially a thing now?”

Shi Zhi didn’t reply.

She’d never weighed in on it—like it didn’t register. She hit her classroom building, tossed his sunglasses back, and went in.

After class, she finished elective homework at the library, dug up grad thesis topic stuff, and stayed late.

On the way back, she grabbed dinner.

Two months since dumping Shen Jia.

Seeing Shen Jia and Tao Jia—the “perfect Jia duo”—together? Hard to pin the feeling.

Definitely not skipping over to congratulate them.

Eating in silence, she scrolled Moments and spotted Fu Xiling’s icon.

Clicked in.

He’d posted five minutes ago.

Text:

Girlfriend loves this stuff—didn’t win these for nothing.

Photos: handpicked trophies and awards.

Pure mischief—deliberate as hell. He’d cherry-picked contests Shen Jia entered, flaunting all his first-place wins.

Topped it off with an @ to Shen Jia’s WeChat, “Senior Shen.”

Shi Zhi stared, cracking a soft laugh.

No wonder he called her “straight-A”—this guy was unhinged, darker than her.