While Fu Xiling called his B Uni buddy, Shi Zhi got an email from Fu Qian and handled some quick work.

She faintly caught him laughing. “How about that chuan chuan xiang spot next to your school? Didn’t you rave about it? Or should I book a place I know?”

Whatever the other side said, he kept chuckling. “Got it. Shi Zhi loves spicy too.”

They set it for dinner.

Shi Zhi asked if he wanted to swing by the hospital to check on his uncle.

He showed her his phone—some relative had snitched, sending a pic of Fu Xifeng, face bruised and swollen, crying by the bedside.

“Not a good time. Later.”

Saying this, Fu Xiling lounged in the bedroom’s armchair, head down, typing on his phone. She asked what he was up to; he said work stuff needed replies.

Mid-sentence, as Shi Zhi passed by to grab a bra from the nightstand, Fu Xiling reached out, yanking her onto his lap with zero good intentions.

She practically tumbled into him, long hair slipping off her shoulder. The rocking chair swayed, her hair swaying with it.

Even their stacked shadows wobbled on the floor.

Fu Xiling’s brain was sharp—memory freak-level. He knew the phone’s 26-key layout by heart.

Multitasking pro.

Right hand up, thumb still tapping out a message and hitting send, while he leaned in, hands on her waist.

Just as he was about to kiss her, Shi Zhi pulled back, clamping his neck with her hand. “How long you known her?”

No need for details—he’d get it.

He finished his reply, tossed the phone onto the bed nearby, and said casually, “Seven, eight years.”

He kept his eyes on her as he spoke, Adam’s apple bobbing—pretty damn flirty.

She frowned but didn’t say more, starting to get up.

No way he’d let her slip away after getting her this close.

Fu Xiling held tight, and they tussled on the rocking chair.

She reached, he grabbed her wrist. She bit his shoulder, he kissed her ear.

It spilled onto the bed, turning into a steamy tangle…

Evening rolled around, and they drove to B Uni.

Shi Zhi had a finance book in the car, flipping through it, only tossing Fu Xiling a couple words now and then.

They hit a jammed road—stop-and-go traffic. Staring at tiny text too long strained her eyes.

Rubbing them, she said, “Tell me about your friend.”

Fu Xiling played nice and actually started talking.

Said his buddy, a PhD at B Uni, was usually swamped. Getting him out for dinner on short notice was all thanks to Shi Zhi’s “face.”

Oh, so now it’s her getting the credit?

Shi Zhi snapped the book shut, letting out a cold huff.

He went on—back in grad school, the guy’s headspace was so off he nearly got an eating disorder, dropped a ton of weight.

That’s why Fu Xiling kept showing up at school, basically babysitting him through meals.

Real deep bond, huh.

Shi Zhi’s fingers tapped the hardcover, a sarcastic snort escaping.

They barely made it through an intersection before the light turned red, but ahead, a line of cars stretched out.

No clue if Fu Xiling was too hyped to see his friend—he was totally blind to her mood and kept going. “His last name’s Zhou. Lately, we’ve been calling him Zhou Boshi…”

Shi Zhi latched onto “we,” asking all casual-like, “He’s met your other friends?”

“Yeah, He Fancheng and them all know him.”

Traffic stalled again, stuck behind a row of red taillights. Shi Zhi couldn’t take it, smacking him with the book, annoyed as hell. “Fu Xiling, shut up.”

“Didn’t you tell me to talk?” Two more whacks followed.

Fu Xiling cracked up, slumping over the wheel, a sly glint in his eyes. “You really jealous?”

Shi Zhi threw his own line back at him—“She’s not worth it”—earning an even bigger laugh…

They pulled up to the chuan chuan xiang joint. The parking lot was packed.

Took a full loop to find a spot.

Fu Xiling backed in one-handed, the other free to squeeze Shi Zhi’s neck. “Business is popping. Didn’t you always wanna try it? Eat up later.”

She was too pissed to care.

Shi Zhi flat-out ignored him.

Place was legit busy—twilight settling outside, but inside, the glass windows glowed, packed with people.

Smelled good too—fresh, spicy vibes hit as soon as they stepped out.

At the entrance, a guy in a short-sleeve POLO shirt, giving off old-school cadre vibes, waved at them.

A few meters off, dim streetlights—couldn’t make out his face or expression. Shi Zhi first thought he was some eager parking attendant.

Then the guy jogged over, grinning ear to ear. “Xiling, Shi Zhi, you’re here!”

Fu Xiling smiled. “This is Zhou Boshi. Full name, Zhou Lang.”

Shi Zhi blinked, caught off guard. “Your friend’s a guy?”

Zhou Lang looked even more shocked. “What? Does my name sound girly? No one’s ever said that…”

Shi Zhi caught on quick.

No wonder Fu Xiling had been smirking all day—he’d been waiting to see her make a fool of herself.

She kept it cool, smiling at Zhou Lang. “My bad, I got it wrong.”

Then, low and fake-sweet, to Fu Xiling, “You change outfits a bunch for a guy friend?”

Fu Xiling—who’d blown out his hair and spritzed cologne—stifled a laugh. “Didn’t wanna embarrass my girlfriend.”

One voice in Shi Zhi’s head: Oh, you’re good.

Zhou Lang had no clue what was up, arms wide, ushering them in all chipper. “Shi Zhi, Xiling says you love spicy too. You gotta try this place…”

In the lobby, a waiter carried a pot of oil-slicked broth past. The crowd parted to let him through. Shi Zhi seized the chaos, glancing back at Fu Xiling.

Her look screamed, “You’re in for it”—like that first time at her uncle’s bar, when she’d wanted to shut him up for good.

Fu Xiling, hands in pockets, trailed behind, already grinning. The spicy air hit him, turning it into a coughing laugh.

He thought, I’m screwed. This won’t be easy to smooth over.

But he didn’t expect that after two work calls at the table, Shi Zhi and Zhou Lang were already chummy.

Shi Zhi was a looker—soft smile, no ice queen vibes, super approachable.

Plus, she was a science grad, studied abroad, sharp as hell. Usually, she didn’t bother, but if she wanted to chat someone up, it was a breeze.

Zhou Lang was clueless.

He’d never seen Shi Zhi pre-college—first impression stuck at “Shen Jia’s little princess girlfriend.”

Later, he’d caught her strutting across campus in a black slip dress, all swagger, toting two textbooks like weapons, stone-faced under the summer sun.

Zhou Lang had told Fu Xiling back then—Shen Jia’s ex was so pale, she practically glowed.

He didn’t think much of it, figured her style switch was breakup fallout.

Shen Jia changed too—moping around, screwing up, getting chewed out by his advisor in front of everyone.

Zhou Lang was stubborn—rest equaled regression, nearly worked himself to death in grad school.

Noticing Shi Zhi and Shen Jia was a rare detour.

If he wasn’t worried Fu Xiling might corrupt some good girl—or get hurt himself—Zhou Lang wouldn’t have cared about campus gossip like “who’s dating” or “who split.”

Bottom line, Zhou Lang was a straight shooter.

He’d had doubts about Fu Xiling and Shi Zhi for two reasons:

One, Shen Jia was petty—might come after Fu Xiling.

Two, Shi Zhi getting close to Fu Xiling out of nowhere, not dating right away, might’ve been using him to get over Shen Jia—could hurt Fu Xiling.

But now, Fu Xiling was all giddy in love. First video call with undergrad roommates post-relationship, he couldn’t stop grinning.

The youngest asked, “Bro, something good lately?”

Fu Xiling ducked his head, licked his lips, smiled. “Nothing big, just dating someone.”

“Nothing big”? “Just”? Guy was happier than when he’d won first place in undergrad competitions.

Zhou Lang figured, happy friend’s what counts—extended that warmth to Shi Zhi.

Shi Zhi was easy to vibe with, patient, smiling as Zhou Lang rambled about college-days Fu Xiling.

“Xiling’s super loyal. Our dorm leader got jumped on the court—ankle swelled up like an elephant leg.”

“You don’t even know—without Xiling stepping in, those punks wouldn’t have apologized.”

She smiled through tales of Fu Xiling’s food runs.

“Man, I was so intense back then—thought flunking grad school meant no future back home. Stressed out, dropped weight like crazy.”

“Xiling kept showing up, dragging me to eat, stocking my dorm with snacks.”

Zhou Lang went on and on—Fu Xiling this, Fu Xiling that.

Chat flowed, and before he knew it, he’d walked into Shi Zhi’s good-girl trap.

She slid the topic over, asking about his PhD research.

Zhou Lang lived for academia—lit up talking his field, going off even more.

They hit it off. Fu Xiling coughed twice from the spicy skewers, and Shi Zhi didn’t even glance his way.

He quietly grabbed two mineral waters, sipping, squinting at her.

Place was near B Uni—tons of students eating.

Maybe some sports club thing—tables around them packed with guys in athletic gear.

No need to look—eyes were on Shi Zhi.

She ate skewers, lips deepening, all striking and gorgeous.

Even Fu Xiling, three years by her side, felt the urge to kiss her—let alone randos.

When he chugged a bottle and chucked it into the trash with a clack, honest Zhou Lang piped up.

Red oil speckled his glasses. He took them off, wiping with an alcohol wipe. “Hey, Xiling, why you chugging water? Eat more—this crispy meat’s not spicy.”

Shi Zhi glanced over slow, brows screaming “revenge on the spot,” but her move was sweet—grabbing him a skewer of numbing-spicy beef with pickled peppers.

Fu Xiling was totally outmatched.

Dinner dragged on.

Zhou Lang was stoked—genuinely happy for Fu Xiling, saying Shi Zhi wasn’t at all what he’d worried about. Great girl.

After goodbyes, he rushed off to video-call the dorm leader and youngest, updating them.

Shi Zhi, played like that, was pissed at first. But thinking it over, she hadn’t lost her edge.

Plus, Fu Xiling’s “friend of years” was a dude, and the skewers were bomb.

Her mood was decent—pretty good, even.

Only Fu Xiling, who didn’t love spice, watched his friend and girlfriend yak all night, even planning a next time for shui zhu yu.

Post-dinner, he clammed up in the car.

They’d planned a concert—tickets from a violin buddy. Niche stuff, not their thing, just convenient near B Uni with no other plans, killing time.

On the road, Shi Zhi typed on her phone. Fu Xiling figured he’d break the ice. “Work?”

She said airily, “Replying to a senior.”

He asked who this “senior” was. She said a guy from her study-abroad days—now a postdoc, big talent, real impressive.

All night with doctors and postdocs—Fu Xiling felt his spot slipping.

At the intersection, he flicked the turn signal, whipped a U-turn.

Shi Zhi froze a sec, head tilting, eyes questioning.

He caught it, said, “Home.”

“No concert?”

Fu Xiling kept it smooth, driving. “Just remembered—I’ve never played that mouth-tearing-paper game. Teach me when we’re back.”