The girl in his memory was always reserved and serene, rarely showing such a sharp edge. However, faced with this unexpected situation, Fang Jingcheng didn’t seem surprised at all. He looked at her motionlessly, his smile widening a bit.

“The restroom might smell a little; how about the lounge?”

There was a mix of helplessness and fondness in his gaze, the kind a man in love has when looking at the woman he cherishes.

When they had changed clothes earlier, Fang Jingcheng had already mentioned that, as a VIP of the shopping mall, he had access to a private lounge. A single call would bring someone to escort them to a suite where they could rest. If he wanted, no one could interfere with what happened inside. His initial intention was to have the store bring up clothes for her to choose from, saving them the hassle of walking around and wasting time. But he knew that men in his circle often had much more unsavory ways of using such perks.

Since Xia Fu had already made a casual request, he could naturally interpret her words however he wanted. But he preferred to leave the choice entirely up to her. His gentle attitude was more like that of a captive begging for the hunter’s mercy.

“Alright.”

She wasn’t yet used to giving commands and slowly clenched her fingers, wrinkling the white cotton of his T-shirt.

With a beep, the door unlocked, revealing a luxurious lounge. A comfortable, soft leather sofa sat before a marble coffee table, the plush, light-colored carpet underfoot, and a tall walnut cabinet stocked with various drinks.

Among all the furnishings, the most eye-catching was the enormous full-length mirror set in a diagonal corner of the room. Framed in metal, it clearly reflected every expression and movement, silently capturing every scene like a play.

Finally, they were alone.

In the mirror, the young man looked like a kid who had just finished a trip. He tossed his bag onto the table and extended his hands toward the girl.

“Want me to turn around? Or switch rooms?”

She stood there quietly and, in a soft voice, requested, “It’s just a shirt. May I look here?” Her bright eyes gleamed like a cat’s in the midnight light.

“Alright.”

He smiled helplessly again, as if he were a boy reluctantly heading to the bathroom under his mother’s watchful eye after a day of wild play. He moved slowly and clumsily, pulling at the hem of his shirt with blunt fingertips. As he tugged it up, the collar brushed past his ears, messing up his silver hair, tickling his cheeks.

He looked down and shook his head lightly. His muscles, exposed to the chilly air, tightened and began to heat up.

Xia Fu kept her gaze steady. She reached out her hand, her silent wait bearing an undeniable authority.

The mirror folded the space, pulling them infinitely closer, just like those unspoken nights when she still clung to his arm.

“Help me.”

“Don’t leave me alone to bear all this.”

Her gaze was like a soft hand pressing against his chest, embedding itself deep within his flesh and bones, gripping his heart. His body began to heat up, his neck and even his earlobes tinged with a brilliant, blushing pink.

It was his first time being asked by a woman to strip outside, and it was not as easy as he’d imagined.

Xia Fu surely liked him.

But this demand seemed more like childish indignation than genuine curiosity about his body. Because she’d worn a knockoff dress into the store he had chosen and been stripped of her cheap disguise, she wanted him to feel the same discomfort, to take off his own T-shirt right in front of her.

If she could completely give up her pride, they would’ve long ago passed the phase of shy kisses and clinging embraces, basking in a honeyed love. But then, perhaps, this love would come and go just as quickly. Maybe he didn’t even like her all that much.

I do care for Xia Fu.

Aside from money and looks, he wasn’t all that remarkable—his personality and integrity were hardly outstanding. But for her, he was someone she could rely on.

Fang Jingcheng felt a dark and twisted satisfaction.

“Here you go.”

He handed the still-warm T-shirt to her.

Receiving what she wanted, the girl finally smiled at him again.

“Thank you. I’ve been so tense preparing for the competition that I haven’t slept well these days. I might be better after this…”

“I’m glad I could help.”

Fang Jingcheng buttoned up his shirt with unhurried movements. He wrapped himself in the thin fabric as if he were embracing the girl he desired. He thought, someday she’ll let down her guard and fall into my arms. She was already slipping, and he would be there, arms open at the bottom of her descent.

This wasn’t going to end so simply.

…

Xia Fu had changed.

The most immediate difference was her appearance. Her once-dry, yellowed hair had become glossy black, her once-pale, thin cheeks now showed a faint blush. The girl who’d cycled through a few T-shirts was now occasionally seen in a light dress, walking alongside the young man on the plane-tree-lined path to the library. Like a flower wilting in a dark corner that had been transplanted to a bright spot, the beauty of this adolescent girl could no longer be ignored.

And her gardener was always by her side. Fang Jingcheng had practically been glued to Xia Fu, this lifestyle lasting for several months now. If, at first, there were justifiable reasons—like his leg injury or easing her worries about the stalker—by now, anyone could see the young man had other intentions.

One afternoon, Zhou Hongxia called Xia Fu to her office alone. At first, it was a regular guidance session. Xia Fu spoke up first, bringing up some issues with her modeling or difficulties with her paper, and Zhou Hongxia offered explanations, pointing her in the right direction for her next steps.

After the guidance session, the two fell into the usual teacher-student chat. Zhou Hongxia rested her chin on her interlaced fingers, smiling as she looked at Xia Fu’s new dress. “You’ve become more beautiful recently. Are you in love? With Fang Jingcheng?” she asked affectionately, as if speaking to a beloved junior.

Contrary to Zhou Hongxia’s imagined shy response, Xia Fu’s face showed no embarrassment at the sweet, romantic topic. After a brief daze, she shook her head slightly, replying in a hesitant voice, “No, we’re just teammates.”

But when she mentioned his name, the flicker in her eyes betrayed her shaken resolve.

It was hardly surprising—he wasn’t exactly a gentleman, with a face blessed by nature and a well-off family to back him up.

But Xia Fu was different. Her skin, her hair, her clothing, even her gestures—all of it revealed her background as soon as she walked into a meeting room. Zhou Hongxia admired her for seizing her rare opportunities and was pleased by her progress in poise and conversation, but she also harbored a faint worry.

Xia Fu was young and simple-hearted. From her experience as a teacher, the more these youthful feelings were suppressed, the more they tended to intensify. All she could do was advise Xia Fu to stay grounded, so that even if things didn’t work out, she’d limit her losses.

“Sorry, it seems I misunderstood. Jingcheng may look charming, but his personality is rather unpredictable. It’s easy for girls to get the wrong idea about him.”

“Don’t lose focus. At least wait until the competition is over, when things settle down. Relax during the summer; there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Even if Fang Jingcheng got bored, she’d still be taken care of in the honors class.

Xia Fu picked up on the hidden meaning.

The teacher genuinely cared for her, and even knowing about her previous ghostwriting incident, she hadn’t punished her. Maybe she could share some of her worries with her.

I know I can’t relax. My family situation is terrible, and I’m studying hard and competing only to earn money to leave home. Even wearing clothes Fang Jingcheng bought is just to keep him happy, to keep him calm and focused on the competition.

How should I handle him? Will I be able to like him after the competition ends and my burdens lighten a little?

Countless questions surged in her mind, but when entangled with moral dilemmas, they became unspeakable secrets. Under such circumstances, personal feelings seemed trivial.

Xia Fu could only say what she was able to.

“Thank you, Teacher. It’s a crucial time, so I won’t let myself get distracted.”

Satisfied with her answer, Zhou Hongxia didn’t press further.

“It was just a casual question, nothing serious. I’ve been there myself, and I know you can distinguish right from wrong.”

Returning to the dormitory, Zhou’s advice didn’t weigh heavily on Xia Fu’s mind. After all, many people disapproved of this relationship: her roommate Ji Xiaowei, her occasional visitor Xu Sihui, and even Xia Fu herself.

Recently, her younger brother Xia Changqing had taken to chatting with her before bed.

Her parents had indeed borrowed money from Teacher Li. Not only that, they had taken Xia Fu’s graduation photo from S University’s gates home and put it up in their little snack shop beside her high school honor wall, making sure diners could easily see the “brilliant student” while checking the menu.

Xia’s family snack shop, near the school, mainly sold fried noodles, fried rice, and wonton dishes. The food was cheap, with decent taste, and was usually packed with students and parents. Their daughter, who went to school in S City, had become a golden brand for them. Some thought the boss must have done a great job with his daughter, so they’d eat there often, asking about the “meal plan for success in the college entrance exam.”

Stuff like ginseng pigeon soup, tofu carp soup, three-mushroom wonton—nourishing dishes Xia Fu rarely had the chance to taste herself—became the key to her exam success. While the diners adored these “smart food combos,” her younger brother couldn’t help but tease her with sour jokes.

“You’ve got a nice smile. You should smile more often. You have no idea how many aunties ask about you every day after that photo went up. Which teacher’s class are you in, did you go to any tutoring places—fine, whatever, they even ask creepy stuff like, ‘How old is the pretty girl? Does she have a boyfriend?’”

“Ask, ask, ask! So annoying!”

Before the picture went up, some older girls walking by even teased Xia Changqing for his good looks, chatting him up to see if he’d give them extra toppings on their orders. But now that everyone knew he was the aimless one, the tone of those little flirts was laced with mockery.

But recently, a new customer had appeared, bringing a bit of peace to Xia Changqing’s situation.

“Luckily, someone’s noticed my efforts. I’ve told you about this, right? Not far from our shop, there’s a new 4S repair shop. The owner, Brother Chen, always comes by to eat. He’s from the north, super cool, and that thick gold chain on his neck—super flashy.”

“I’m studying auto repair at vocational school, so I chatted with him a bit. He said, ‘Your sister’s impressive, but you’re no slouch either! Studying isn’t everything in life. Everyone’s got their path—maybe my talent lies in being quick with my hands and sharp in business!’”

Hearing that, Xia Changqing couldn’t help but agree. He had always dreamed of becoming a boss, which was why he’d once been swindled out of a lot of money by friends.

Now, he excitedly recounted Chen’s words, and Xia Fu could practically picture him gesturing wildly through the phone.

“Brother Chen said he started hustling in society right after middle school. He went from being that ‘bad student’ teachers talked down about to being the most successful guy at the graduation reunion, with finance majors working for him, even a junior accountant under him, all paying those bookish types!”

“Meeting him was fate. If I’m interested, I could even work with him—start as an apprentice, and maybe later run one of his chains, or even open my own shop. And who knows, maybe someday I could even pay you a salary. Mom and Dad are proud of me, saying I’ve got a benefactor. Just wait for the good news from me!”

Studying is useless?

Then what was it for, clawing my way out of that town through the college entrance exams, just to escape being a young dropout mom?

You’re going to pay me?

Why is it that someone so uneducated and lazy can just casually spout off dreams, brushing off my hard work as nothing, while our parents nod along and praise him?

Why? Why? Why?

It was good that her brother had found a real opportunity, and as his sister, she should have been happy for him. But every word out of his mouth only seemed to stab her, making her heart ache and scream inside.

What if he really did make it as a boss? What if he actually ended up better off than her?

Why him? Why always him?

No, no. I won’t lose. I absolutely have to stand out, to live an even brighter, more successful life.

Clearly, her brother was just daydreaming; life isn’t about competing with someone. But Xia Fu couldn’t shake the feeling of dread over his “good fortune.” Those dark thoughts clung to her, hissing like a snake coiling around her mind.

They couldn’t share each other’s struggles, nor would they ever celebrate one another’s happiness. Like twins in a womb, they could only fight and tear at each other, yet blood ties kept them inseparably close.

At times like this, all she could do was close her app and look at Fang Jingcheng’s transfer records to comfort herself, imagining a future where she’d escape the “womb” that was her home.

In less than two months, Fang Jingcheng had slipped over a hundred thousand yuan into her account under various pretexts. Her roommates had once said that a boy’s affection could be measured by his money and time, and he had undoubtedly given plenty.

But could this hazy relationship really be called love?

She had never felt her parents’ love; at most, she was a tool for their old age. She did the same in her daily life, working diligently and exchanging knowledge or labor for survival.

Just a useful tool…

Lying in the dark, Xia Fu touched her body through the thin T-shirt, feeling the weight of her own existence, aware of the difference between herself and him.

The image from the lounge was still vivid in her mind: his neck was thicker than hers, with a visible pulse and an Adam’s apple that bobbed as he lifted his head. His chest was broad, with tattoos visible only in places everyone could see, while the parts hidden by his clothes were smooth and clean, with a pink, candy-like hue.

He was a completely different existence from her, yet undeniably charming.

And would this poor, fragile body of hers be the reason she could make money? Thinking too deeply about these things only made her head hurt.

She could only hope that the upcoming modeling competition would arrive quickly, so that once it ended, maybe she could put an end to this endless tension.