Fu Xiling’s reaction was damn near instantaneous.

He didn’t even hesitate to drop his own question. The second Shi Zhi finished yanking his collar and venting, he’d already clocked why she was pissed.

Looking into her eyes, he answered quickly. 

“There’s no ‘always.’ No other girls touch my phone or answer my calls. Last night, I was with He Fancheng and the crew—phone was charging by the card table. He Fancheng picked up, Yao Yao spoke. It’s handled. Won’t happen again.”

All this time together, Fu Xiling always kept his word.

Back when Fu Xifeng stirred shit up at Shi Zhi’s school, she’d griped to him, annoyed.

He’d said something similar—“I’ll deal with it, no next time.”

And after that, Fu Xifeng never showed up in her life again.

So when he said “no next time,” it was gospel.

Still, Shi Zhi’s fire wasn’t out.

Fu Xiling tilted his head, stifling a couple rough coughs, and kept going: “How I am with you doesn’t mean I’m like that with anyone else. Besides you, no girl ever answered my phone.”

Sunlight poured in, warming the living room.

The light made everything bright, even his gaze—raw and honest.

Shi Zhi let go of his collar, starting to stand. “Who knows if that’s true…”

No way Fu Xiling was letting her go. His arm hooked her waist, pulling her back into his lap as he leaned back.

Her shoulder bag hit the floor, stuff spilling out with a clatter.

Neither cared.

They were close—intimate. The tension from minutes ago morphed into something flirty and charged.

He looked up, kissing her soft, soothing-like.

Weird thing was, all that wild, pent-up rage melted away under his gentle, lingering kisses.

If she’d come in swinging a sword for his head, now… maybe she’d just whack him with the sheath.

When her breathing got messy, Fu Xiling pulled back, switching gears.

He asked, “So, were you jealous just now?”

She didn’t answer, so he pressed on: “The one you like—it’s me.”

Not a question. Dead certain.

Shi Zhi paused for two seconds, didn’t argue, just fired back with the last of her spark: “So what if it’s you?”

Fu Xiling was sharp.

He didn’t waste time on that, wouldn’t drag it out with sappy crap like “when’d you start liking me” to kill the vibe.

What he asked was: “How do I cool you off?”

Shi Zhi had already found her fix. Looked at him, all haughty: “Kiss me.”

Fu Xiling let out a faint laugh.

He brushed kisses over her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks—landed on her lips.

Didn’t stop there—unbuttoned her shirt, popped her bra clasp.

Guy had a low fever and no sense of restraint.

If she didn’t clearly remember the doc coming, the needle marks on his hand, she’d swear he was faking it.

Her long hair stuck to her neck, damp with sweat.

In a daze, it hit her: So this is the guy I like.

Shi Zhi opened her eyes, wincing under the intensity, and hooked his neck. He leaned in, kissing her hard, wild.

Pace picked up, heart racing ‘til she could barely breathe, clutching his shoulders tight…

Afterwards, he took her to the bathroom.

Warm water filled the tub, steam rising. His shoulders were a mess of red marks—she’d done that. He sprinkled in her favorite fruit-scented bath salts.

Shi Zhi noticed his skin looked off—thinner spots flushed red: eyelids, ears, the web of his hand…

She reached out, touched his forehead—yep, fever again. Shot him a smug look, like, Weren’t you full of energy earlier?

His answer: “Didn’t you like it?”

She did like his heat—couldn’t deny it—but him calling it out like that…

She kicked him under the water.

Already wiped out, no strength left—her ankle got caught easy.

He rubbed her ankle bone. “Sold the bracelet?”

“Nope.”

Getting mad over some girl answering his phone, blocking him—that was her style.

Selling the bracelet? Didn’t fit. Timing was off too.

Fu Xiling was upfront—said he’d checked Wan Ran’s socials.

Someone asked in the comments if her bracelet was still up for grabs. Wan Ran’s reply: “Sorry, babe, already sold~”

Shi Zhi was beat, more wrecked than him. Propped on the tub’s edge, she pointed at the shower.

The diamond-studded bracelet hung on the shower gel pump, glinting under the spotlight.

“Probably Wan Ran’s marketing trick—showing off good sales to hook buyers.”

Fu Xiling coughed twice, so Shi Zhi cut the soak short, rushed him to rinse off and take meds.

Checked the instructions—some couldn’t go on an empty stomach. He ordered takeout.

Past four p.m.—not lunch, not dinner. Neither ate much.

Halfway through, it clicked for her: “Aren’t you supposed to avoid booze, smokes, and spicy stuff when you’re sick and on meds?”

“Maybe.”

“Then why’d you get Sichuan food?”

He didn’t answer, just said, “Shi Zhi, wanna date?”

To her, dating Fu Xiling was high-risk.

Not just ‘cause of potential side chicks—most of it came from her.

Back with Shen Jia, she’d acted all in—full trust, full vibes…

Fake. Her real liking capped at fifty percent.

Even at fifty, when it went south, she’d still felt let down, hurt.

One thing she knew clear as day.

With Fu Xiling, her liking ran deeper—way more.

She’d figured that out comparing it to her last go-round.

If it’d been Shen Jia burning up last night?

With a doc around, she’d play concerned, maybe feel a pinch of worry, then bounce to her own stuff.

If it was Shen Jia already half-checked-out emotionally?

She wouldn’t give a damn.

Doc or no doc—his problem.

When they split, Shen Jia stood under her dorm ‘til he got heatstroke, face pale as he left. She didn’t care.

But Fu Xiling…

He stirred up too much in her—threw her off, pissed her off, made her lose it.

That alone? Big hassle.

He hooked her fingertips. “Still not sure?”

She didn’t play coy, tackled it straight: “Feels like dating you’s a gamble.”

“Nah, that’s in your head.”

“You like me?”

“Yeah. Don’t tell me you can’t tell.”

She looked at him.

Fever had him wincing, brow red from pinching it himself, still ladling her soup.

She said, “Let’s do it.”

He glanced up. “Sure?”

“We’ll split if it flops. I hate risks—really, really hate ‘em. But right now, I kinda wanna try with you. Mood’s decent.”

He started laughing—laughed ‘til he coughed.

Coughed ‘til his ears went red, then stopped, looking at her dead serious. “No risk dating me. You’ll see.”

Deal sealed, Shi Zhi figured this was wrapped up for now. Pulled out her phone to sort her next moves.

Fu Xiling poured himself warm water, took his fever meds, leaned over to peek.

Arm on her chair back, he bent down, warm breath by her ear. After scanning, he teased her for being heartless.

“Your boyfriend’s still sick, and you’re bailing already?”

“I’m not a doc—what’s the point of staying?”

“Company. I’m weak.”

She was mid-payment for the flight, typing her card PIN. “But you just went two rounds.”

Guy behind her went quiet, cleared his throat, pretended he didn’t hear.

“Got loose ends abroad—gotta say bye to An, treat my team, school’s got grad dinner and the ceremony…”

She paused, turned. “Even financial insurance has a ten-day grace period. You’re fresh on the job—don’t pull the ‘boyfriend’ card yet. You’re just an intern.”

He was weirdly chipper. “Intern’s fine.”

“That’s your ambition?”

“Mm, got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’s dating me feel?”

“It’s been what, an hour?”

“One hour, twelve minutes.”

She actually answered. “…Not bad, I guess.”

This intern had some nerve—cupped her jaw, kissed her. “Xiao Zhi, you’re kinda cute.”

“Didn’t I tell you before? Call me that again, and I’ll throw hands.”

Booking done.

She set her phone down, lunged to bite him—he dodged and bolted.

They tussled on the rug by the sofa.

Keys, charger, stuff from her bag got knocked around. Lipstick rolled under the couch. Fu Xiling said it again, dead serious: “I like you.”

Flight was 10 p.m.—two more hours, then she’d hit the airport.

He grabbed his phone, pulled up the ticket page, said he’d go with her.

Doc said the IV needed three days minimum.

Them together? No self-control—his fever’d get worse, guaranteed.

“Don’t come.”

She didn’t ask about the ring, didn’t ask if he had others around.

They’d been bed buddies.

The couple thing kicked in this afternoon—she wasn’t about to dig up old dirt out of nowhere.

Plus, she’d just blown up over Yao Yao answering his phone.

“Fu Xiling, I’ve got five days to wrap up abroad. After that, I’m back. In that time, you clear out any messy side stuff. If you don’t, we’re done.”

Leaving, she slipped the bracelet back on, refused a ride from a guy spiking back to thirty-eight-plus degrees, booked a car herself.

He cradled her face with both hands, kissed her light. “Safe trip, girlfriend.”

She napped on the plane—over ten hours, woke up just as it landed.

Busy as hell—stayed up finishing work she’d dropped nursing him, then hit school.

Second night abroad, she found the ring.

She’d just come from the grad party—eating, drinking, chatting with classmates ‘til midnight.

Back at her apartment, standing at the door, digging through her bag for keys.

Mid-search, on the phone with Fu Xiling.

His voice came through her earbuds. “Home yet?”

“Yeah, looking for my keys.”

“In that hidden pocket maybe?”

“Nah, I never put stuff there.”

He sounded offhand. “Really? When your bag spilled at my place, I swear I saw something in there.”

Human emotions are weird sometimes.

Before, they’d go weeks without seeing each other, barely talking when busy—never bugged her.

That night, a little buzzed, she suddenly missed him bad.

Couldn’t see him, just hear him.

Annoying.

She insisted, “Nothing’s ever been in that poc—”

Stopped short—her fingers hit cool metal.

Warm spring night abroad, she couldn’t find her keys but pulled a ring from her bag.

Looked like the one he’d worn—similar style, just with extra diamonds compared to the guy version.

She slid it onto her middle finger, leaned against the door, checked it out by moonlight. “When’d you get the ring?”

“Before I came to see you last time.”

Mixed with his words, background noise—foreign chatter.

Her heart jumped, a hunch kicking in. “Fu Xiling, where are you?”

“JFK airport.”

She couldn’t help it—had to push back. “Didn’t we say five days, then I’d come back?”

Guy on the line played it coy. “Business trip.”

“Bull. Your projects are all domestic—what business here?”

“You saw my iPad schedule?”

That fever night, she couldn’t find cooling patches—went old-school, soaking towels in cold water.

Pain in the ass—had to swap ‘em every ten minutes.

Sleepy as hell, she grabbed his iPad from the living room to watch something, stay awake.

No passwords on his devices—same shadow-pic wallpaper as his phone.

Swiped it open, saw his schedule—and an open social app.

Shen Jia posted a pic with Tao Jia, captioned “Best Jia Combo.”

Fu Xiling, probably in a mood, took a jab at Shen Jia—middle of the night, commented, “Heh.”

She didn’t bring it up.

He must’ve hopped in a cab—spoke foreign to the driver about an address, then to her.

Chuckling soft, he said, “Five days is too long. Couldn’t wait…”