The young man had a small swirl on top of his head, with a strand of silver hair extending from it, rebelliously sticking up in the air. Pressing a fingertip gently against it and swirling it slowly, it felt like the outermost layer of a dog’s fur—rough, dry, with a slight prickle.

But his hair was a beautiful silver, and with the cool air in the café, touching it felt like “licking” ice cream with her fingertips, with a faint, elusive cool sweetness to savor.

One taste just makes you want another.

The urge to bury her entire hand in his hair gnawed at Xia Fu, tempting her to lower her hand.

But because she was so focused on looking at him, she noticed that Fang Jingcheng, who had been resting quietly on the table, suddenly moved—his fingers twitched slightly, curling up a bit.

It was a small movement, probably just an unconscious response from his hand falling asleep, but it gave Xia Fu a good scare. She finally realized the risk of getting caught.

Luckily, Fang Jingcheng didn’t wake up. His breathing was steady, his pretty face burrowed deeper into his arms, ironically exposing even more of his head to Xia Fu.

But by then, her curiosity about his fluffy silver hair had faded. She was now scrutinizing the culprit that had given her a fright—his right hand, which was resting firmly over his elbow.

His nails were trimmed short, just enough to cover the fingertips, and their rounded shape gave off a clean impression. He wore irregular silver rings on his middle and ring fingers, but his index finger was bare, with a thin red line from a recent scrape that had just begun to scab.

She realized she’d been so focused on studying that she had forgotten to ask him if the bruise on his stomach still hurt.

Fang Jingcheng had helped her out a lot; how did she end up thinking about petting him while he slept?

This realization jolted Xia Fu’s conscience awake. She pressed her lips together and affectionately brushed her fingers over the wrinkles at his knuckles.

Might as well wake him up like this! If he asked, she’d just say she was checking his hand for injuries, conveniently showing her concern.

With that thought, Xia Fu called out his name with persistence.

“Fang Jingcheng.”

…

They say, “A man bleeds but never cries, and his knees touch gold,” as if pride were bound by gender.

Fang Jingcheng had only experienced head pats a few times as a child from older family members. After that, he’d been trained to let go of such tenderness, leaving “head pats” as something restricted to a haircut routine.

So, this spot was actually more sensitive than Xia Fu realized. Despite his easygoing appearance, he was the type who would tense his neck during hair washes to avoid fully resting in the barber’s hands.

At the moment he felt Xia Fu’s touch on his hair, he was fully awake.

His body was still groggy from an intense nap, leaving him temporarily unable to move, so his first reaction was just confusion.

Was Xia Fu petting his hair? And she was doing it like she would with a dog, carefully, as if unsure and overly cautious.

He should’ve acted like a leopard cat pouncing on a hamster, swiftly grabbing her mischievous hand and trapping it within his palm, then lifting his head with a playful smile to ask her, “What are you doing?” taking in her flustered look as a prize, savoring her accidental display of girlish affection.

But the price for that would be that Xia Fu might never get close to him again.

People say unintended actions show true intentions; he ought to be patient and wait for her next move.

With this thought, Fang Jingcheng focused on keeping his body relaxed, allowing him to feel the sensation on his head more clearly. It was hard to describe, like a feather lightly brushing his nose, tickling him just enough to make him squint his eyes and instinctively curl his fingers.

He really wanted to grab her hand, but at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling curious—what would she do if he kept pretending to be asleep?

To keep his face from betraying him, he took the chance to turn his head, burying his face further into his arms.

But Xia Fu’s courage was still too small. Startled, she quickly retreated, only lightly touching his injured index finger. The slow, gentle touch was like a cautious kitten licking a wound, with an obvious hint of guilt and remorse.

Her voice mirrored that same feeling, “Fang Jingcheng, Fang Jingcheng? Fang Jingcheng…” After calling his name a few times with no response, her voice dropped, sounding dejected.

“…I’m hungry.” Didn’t he promise that once dinner time rolled around, he’d wake up and take her to eat?

Her guilt quickly vanished as she began glaring accusingly at the “sleeping” Fang Jingcheng, deciding that if he didn’t react in one more minute, she’d pat his arm.

“Hm? Alright, I’m up.”

Seeing the serious look on her face, Fang Jingcheng dropped the act. He sat up slowly, rubbing his sleepy eyes. After taking in the soft lighting in the café, he exaggeratedly checked the time on his wristwatch.

“It’s already this late? Sorry, looks like I slept a bit longer than I thought.”

He was finally awake, and from his expression, it seemed he was genuinely groggy and hadn’t noticed her earlier actions.

Xia Fu carefully watched Fang Jingcheng’s expression and, seeing nothing suspicious, quietly breathed a sigh of relief, then explained, “You were sleeping so soundly. I even touched your finger, and you didn’t notice. Maybe you should take a rest day tomorrow? It’ll help your wounds heal faster, and I can review the material to prepare for our study session.”

Fang Jingcheng rejected Xia Fu’s suggestion immediately.

“Oh, you mean this?” He wiggled his injured right hand casually. “No big deal; it’s pretty much healed. As for the bruise on my stomach, I was able to ride my bike and carry a passenger today, so no problem there. I’ll just get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

With an air of nonchalance, he propped his face on his injured right hand, his eyes squinting playfully at Xia Fu as he added in a drawn-out tone, almost like he was pouting, “I still want to keep studying with you; two people are more efficient.”

Are you finally starting to be interested in me? If we study again and I end up asleep, what else might you try to take from me?

He was extremely curious about all of this.