Chapter 44.1

A light breeze stirred her dress, carrying a faint fragrance.

Chen Jubai loosened his collar, his peach blossom eyes betraying a whirl of unspoken feelings. After a moment, he looked back at the building and said in a low voice, “Song Wei of Class 1, Grade 10—who didn’t know you?”

“Really? I wasn’t that famous, was I? Wasn’t it you who was the talk of the school?” she asked.

He shook his head, ignoring her second question. “Yes, you were well-known.”

“So, you knew me?”

His gaze met hers, laden with complicated emotions. “You don’t remember at all?”

His serious tone unsettled Song Wei. Had she forgotten something? Did they know each other in high school? Why couldn’t she recall anything?

Fearing she might say the wrong thing, she cautiously replied, “It’s been so long…”

Chen Jubai smiled faintly. “Yes, it has been.”

But he remembered. Looking at her, he began, “You stayed on campus during lunch but went home in the evenings. Your dorm was on the first floor, second room to the right.”

Song Wei’s eyes widened. “You…”

He took her hand, his voice calm yet firm. “Let me finish.”

“I know this because on the first day of school, the wheel on your suitcase broke, and I helped you carry it to the dormitory.”

“You sat by the window in the third row during the first semester of Grade 10. I was in Grade 12. Our route to the cafeteria passed your building. One of my dorm mates had a crush on you and would drag me to stop and look every time.”

“He once wrote you a love letter. I helped him write it.”

“During the opening flag ceremony of the second semester, you gave a speech titled Seize Today, Strive for Tomorrow.”

“Our classroom was on the sixth floor of another building. From the windows, we could see the sports field. One semester, your PE class was on Wednesday afternoons. You seemed to enjoy volleyball the most.”

“You participated in an English speech competition. The theme for the school-level contest was ‘Technology Changes the Future,’ and you won second place. I remember you looking at the first-place certificate with envy.”

“The day you won first place in the math Olympiad, it rained heavily, and lightning struck the tallest tree in the school.”

Flooded with memories, he recalled countless details. Though their paths were parallel, never intersecting, they had always run alongside one another, extending forward into the future.

With a sincere gaze, the man continued, “Song Wei, you’ve said my feelings for you are all flash and no substance, but I’ve never felt that way. I didn’t know you’d come here today and hadn’t planned to bring this up. But standing here now, I feel I should say it.”

“These might seem like small things, but I believe they prove that my love for you has deep roots. This flower is unshaken by wind or rain—it thrives and flourishes.”

Song Wei’s mind was a chaotic blur, leaving her momentarily speechless.

Her eyes glistened as emotions welled up.

And then, she remembered.

In the 30-year history of Nan’an Middle School, lightning had struck only once. It happened the day she won first place in the math Olympiad. Song Gao Yi had teased her, saying even the heavens were celebrating her victory.

The only time she had ever come in second was in that English speech competition. Afterward, she poured herself into improving her English, to the point where Yang Yingqiu often worked overtime just to avoid practicing English conversations with her.

She didn’t truly love volleyball—it was merely an opportunity to slack off.

…

On the first day of high school, Yang Yingqiu had been too busy with freshman orientation to help her. After dropping her off, she left immediately. When Song Wei tried to move her luggage, the suitcase broke. She was about to look for help when someone appeared.

The man standing before her now began to merge with the image from her memory. But no, back then, Chen Jubai had been thinner, with barely any flesh on his cheeks.

The start of the school year had been hectic, so she hadn’t thought much about that moment. She soon immersed herself in her studies, and their brief encounter quickly became a distant memory.

Occasionally, classmates would mention the “male idol” of the senior class, but she had never connected him with the boy who helped her that day.

Song Wei stood frozen, tilting her head to look at him. “Didn’t you ask for my contact information back then?”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

He had contacted her once, but she didn’t remember. That didn’t matter now—he hadn’t reached out again. “Song Wei, we were strangers at the time. Besides, a year later, I had to prepare for my college entrance exams.”

Song Wei felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry—I don’t remember.”

Chen Jubai took two steps closer and gently wrapped her in his arms, his hand softly brushing the back of her head. “It’s okay. You weren’t obligated to remember.”

He repeated, emphasizing, “That’s why, Song Wei, my feelings for you aren’t baseless. Our flower blooms on a sturdy tree trunk, one that can’t be broken. It will bear fruit and thrive endlessly.”

Buried in his embrace, Song Wei nodded, her voice muffled. “Yeah.”

It had been nearly ten years since high school, yet he remembered it all so vividly.

Memories she had forgotten became the foundation for many of his actions: his candid gaze on their first blind date, his repeated initiatives, his willingness to accept her abrupt marriage proposal…

The gears of fate hadn’t stopped; he had paused them himself, stepping into her life.

Song Wei thought, perhaps the emotional blankness of her first 26 years was heaven’s way of asking her to wait—to give him the chance to appear.

Her heart swelled with emotions she couldn’t articulate. All she could do was hold him tighter.

The bell signaling the end of class suddenly rang. The quiet campus came alive with chatter and the scraping of chairs. Soon, groups of students began descending to the first floor.

Song Wei quickly pushed him away, but he reached out to hold her hand again. She pulled back, whispering, “The students are watching. It wouldn’t look good.”

Chen Ju Bai chuckled but didn’t insist. “Do you think today’s high schoolers are so innocent?”

“Still, it’s not appropriate.”

“Alright, no hand-holding.”

As they walked toward the small auditorium’s parking lot, students on foot and on bicycles passed by in twos and threes, their laughter and playfulness filling the air with youthful energy.

The mood had lightened. Song Wei mused, “I never dated anyone during my school days.”

“Neither did I.”

Song Wei looked up at him. “Why? Didn’t anyone chase after you?”

“They did, but I wasn’t interested.”

“Wow, such high standards, Mr. Chen.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes, very high.”

Although he hadn’t said much, Song Wei couldn’t help but smile as she teasingly asked, “So, were you secretly in love with me back then?”

Chen Ju Bai paused, silent for a long moment. Then, meeting her eyes, he answered with certainty, “I think so. Yes, I was.”

The answer wasn’t unexpected, but Song Wei’s smile widened. She reached out and lightly hooked her pinky finger around his, swinging it gently like a shy schoolgirl in love.

Chen Jubai glanced down at their intertwined fingers, a doting smile on his lips as he allowed her playful gesture.

A passing student glanced back at them, whispered something to a friend, and they both turned to look again. Embarrassed, Song Wei’s face flushed under the cover of night.

The summer evening breeze was delightful, carrying the faint fragrance of small flowers blooming on either side of the path.

The school, shielded from the hustle and bustle of society, felt like a fortress where children could enjoy their youth. Even as adults, they felt relaxed here.

Stopping beside the car, Song Wei turned to him and asked, “Chen Jubai, are we back together now?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it a bit too fast?”

“It’s because we’ve been working together to face and resolve our issues instead of avoiding them. Naturally, our conflicts have unraveled.” Lowering his gaze, he added, “But the three-month probation I mentioned still stands.”

Song Wei laughed. “A three-month trial period?”

Chen Ju Bai raised an eyebrow. “Something like that.”

“Who starts a trial period after signing a permanent contract?”

“A marriage isn’t a permanent contract; it’s just signing the agreement. According to labor laws, a probation period for a permanent contract can’t exceed six months. But I’d like a lifetime contract. You can set the probation period—if three months isn’t enough, we can extend it.”

Song Wei chuckled. “You really know your stuff.”

“I’ve done a bit of studying.”

“In that case…” Her smile brightened. “We’ll see how I feel. I’ll decide when you get permanent status.”

“Alright.”

…

When they arrived home, the car was parked in the underground garage.

As soon as Chen Jubai unbuckled his seatbelt, he leaned over, cupped her face, and kissed her. Song Wei pushed him lightly but couldn’t move him, so she let him continue.

After being apart for two days, the kiss was unusually passionate. His tongue urgently sought hers, impatient and eager.

The air quickly grew heated. Song Wei began to feel overwhelmed. “Mmph… let’s go inside…”

Realizing the situation, he paused and leaned against her chest to catch his breath.

Song Wei chuckled, “Why are you in such a rush?”

“How could I not be?”

“…”

His impatience was evident. Once upstairs and inside the apartment, he kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t just a kiss—his hands joined in as well.

But after a short while, he pulled back slightly, his gaze fixed on her collar. “This outfit of yours…”

The neckline of her dress featured intricate hand-stitched embroidery and delicate butterfly clasps. She’d struggled with them herself when getting dressed earlier, so it wasn’t surprising that he couldn’t undo them.

Hanging onto his neck, Song Wei smiled slyly, her eyes sparkling. “Do you like it?”

“I do.”

During winter, she typically wore plain down jackets to work, and in spring and summer, she opted for loose blazers. At home, comfort was her priority. Rarely did he see her in form-fitting dresses.

Song Wei’s delicate features and petite frame exuded a gentle charm. Yet, she wasn’t frail. The fitted dress, reminiscent of a cheongsam, perfectly showcased her figure. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to describe her as curvaceous.