This place was originally Fu Xiling’s home, and the wine was something he brought over too.

Whether his “nobody asked me out” was a load of nonsense or not, Shi Zhi had no way to refuse him.

What, was she supposed to stop the guy from coming back to his own house?

Shi Zhi stepped aside from the entrance hallway, holding the bottle of red wine, and turned toward the kitchen. “I haven’t cooked yet.”

Fu Xiling asked her, “What were you planning to eat?”

“Tomato scrambled eggs with white rice.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup, that’s it.”

Fu Xiling changed into slippers and stepped inside.

As he passed by Shi Zhi’s side, he casually grabbed her wrist and took the red wine bag from her hand.

“Forget cooking. I’ll order takeout. It’s a traditional holiday, after all—gotta have some sense of ceremony.”

Shi Zhi’s family ties were pretty thin, and she didn’t have any warm holiday memories to speak of. She also couldn’t quite wrap her head around the rich people’s obsession with “ceremony.”

Especially when the delivery guy rang the doorbell and dropped off a whopping five oversized black paper bags—she almost thought Fu Xiling had invited a bunch of friends over to celebrate together.

Fu Xiling carried those bulging bags, skipping the dining table entirely, and headed straight for the living room.

The bags were torn open, and he pulled out tin foil containers, setting them on the coffee table. The aroma wafting out smelled like something straight from a fancy restaurant.

“Let’s eat here.”

Fu Xiling grabbed two wine glasses and plopped down on the carpet, leaning against the sofa as he started opening the red wine.

Looks like he didn’t call anyone else over?

Shi Zhi sat down beside him, tilting her head to watch Fu Xiling uncork the bottle.

Back at the bar during slow hours with no customers, Lao Qian had taught Shi Zhi and the others all sorts of ways to open wine.

She and Wan Ran had even tried heating a red wine bottle with a flat iron—wait ten minutes or so, and the softened cork would pop out on its own.

Fu Xiling didn’t mess around with fancy tricks. He used the most basic method—a seahorse knife.

His hands were good-looking.

The moment he pulled the cork out, the shape of his knuckles and the faint blue veins popping up on the back of his hand stood out even more. Pretty sexy.

Shi Zhi stared for a couple of seconds before looking away.

For some reason, being alone with him at night always made her feel a little restless.

Fu Xiling took a sip of water, his lips glistening, looking very kissable.

His lips parted slightly as he said to her, “The chef at this place was hired from overseas. Their steak’s pretty good—you should try it…”

Shi Zhi didn’t catch the details, her gaze drifting back to the little bead on his lip.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a splash of fiery red that clashed with the room’s decor—roses Fu Xiling had just brought.

That bouquet of roses snapped Shi Zhi back to her senses.

As she took the steak Fu Xiling handed her, she subtly shattered the night’s flirty vibe, kicking off the first real topic: “Any news about Shen Jia lately?”

The steak’s center was a tender pink, the buttery richness blending with black pepper in a mouthwatering aroma.

Shi Zhi picked up a piece with her chopsticks and popped it into her mouth, a little distracted.

She wasn’t sure if Fu Xiling picked up on the hidden meaning behind her question.

He just replied casually, “Haven’t heard anything special. At least her Moments feed is pretty lonely—half an hour ago, she was still in the lab looking at data. No holiday plans with Tao Jia.”

Fu Xiling grabbed his phone, pulled up Shen Jia’s Moments, and handed it to Shi Zhi.

Since their breakup, Shen Jia had only posted once, about half an hour ago.

It was clearly a photo taken in the lab, no caption.

Shen Jia wasn’t the type to post often on Moments.

Usually, it was just pics from trips or cute animals—like her friend’s two border collies or the tabby cat downstairs from her dorm…

Back when Shen Jia was chasing Shi Zhi, she’d posted a late-night study pic once.

The next day, Shen Jia called Shi Zhi and said, “I was so wiped out yesterday, couldn’t even drag myself up for breakfast, but I wanted to see you.”

Knowing her habits, Shi Zhi immediately clocked that this latest post was aimed at some guy—hooking up with Tao Jia was only a matter of time.

But her heart didn’t even ripple. She glanced at it once and set the phone back on the coffee table.

The convo kept circling around Shen Jia—

“You’ve got Shen Jia on WeChat. Why didn’t she show up to that pool party last time?”

“Any event I’m at, unless there’s an elder around, Shen Jia won’t come.”

“What about Tao Jia?”

“Tao Jia’s not in our circle. Her dad’s not into business—think he’s some liberal arts professor, vice dean at a pretty top-tier uni. I forget the details.”

After that villa trip in the suburbs, they hadn’t talked about Shen Jia or Tao Jia again.

Even in the days right after Shi Zhi’s breakup, she hadn’t gossiped this much.

Tonight’s blatant “something’s off” vibe was screaming, but Fu Xiling acted like he didn’t notice anything fishy, eating leisurely and chatting like it was no big deal.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

When Shi Zhi kept digging about Tao Jia, Fu Xiling suddenly let out a soft laugh.

A quiet one.

He pressed his lips together, looking at Shi Zhi with amused curiosity—like he’d seen through her but wasn’t calling it out outright. “Why not just ask how I met Tao Jia while you’re at it?”

“Violin.”

Shi Zhi had guessed this, and Fu Xiling raised a brow, surprised. After a second, he said, “You saw my violin?”

Living at Fu Xiling’s place, Shi Zhi had indeed spotted a few violins tucked away in the closet.

Tao Jia played violin too.

Back then, Shi Zhi had just wondered if maybe that’s how they’d met.

“We had the same violin teacher.”

Parents always had some “hoping their kid becomes a dragon” vibes.

When Fu Xiling was in elementary school, his eldest uncle brought it up at a family dinner—said he’d met a famous violinist, retired from some big orchestra.

The uncle wanted Fu Xifeng and Fu Xiling to learn violin, refine their tastes or whatever.

Fu Xifeng gave up early, refusing to stick with it.

As for Fu Xiling, he was the “either don’t start or go all in” type.

Plus, after reading Sherlock Holmes as a kid and seeing the main character play violin, he got a little hooked and stuck with the teacher for years.

He first met Tao Jia in his second year of high school.

That’s when Tao Jia started lessons with Fu Xiling’s teacher. The old guy didn’t like moving around, so students went to his house.

Their lesson times were back-to-back—one finished, the other started—so they ran into each other a lot.

Add in the occasional exams or competitions where the teacher took them along, and they got to know each other over time.

“Tao Jia’s way better than me. I just messed around with it.”

In all these old stories—whether it was Shen Jia and Tao Jia, or Fu Xiling and Tao Jia—their tangled connections didn’t stir Shi Zhi’s heart one bit.

She just wondered:

While they were learning violin, what was she doing?

In her second year of high school, Shi Zhi lived with her aunt.

Her aunt ran a hair salon, and Shi Zhi often helped out—washing customers’ hair, sweeping up clippings, mixing dye…

One time, her aunt’s little brother swiped some cash to go goof off, and when her aunt noticed the money was gone, he pinned it on Shi Zhi, claiming he’d seen her take it.

Of course, her aunt trusted her own son wouldn’t steal over some random niece.

They rummaged through Shi Zhi’s desk drawer, found some scholarship money she hadn’t saved up yet, and decided it was case closed—no chance for her to explain.

That day, Shi Zhi came home from school and silently listened to her aunt and uncle hurl nasty words at her.

They wouldn’t let her eat dinner, told her to go to her room and “reflect.”

The room was dead quiet. She could hear the three of them eating outside.

Her uncle probably gave the kid some ribs: “Qiqi, don’t learn from your cousin. Stealing is bad, got it?”

Shi Zhi sipped her red wine, quietly thinking:

People really are worlds apart…

Fu Xiling was extra chatty tonight.

Like he’d picked this day to come over for drinks with zero ulterior motives.

No matter what mood-killing topic Shi Zhi threw out, he rolled with it. She mentioned her ex, and he’d chat about her ex too.

He even asked if she’d ever spent Valentine’s Day with Shen Jia.

“Nope.”

This year’s February 14th, Valentine’s Day, Shi Zhi had just started dating Shen Jia.

The bar got busy with the holiday rush, and Shi Zhi worked till nearly 2 a.m., finally shooing out the last customer.

In the snowy winter night, she locked the shutter and checked her phone—Shen Jia had messaged her.

Something like “Happy holiday, girlfriend,” probably.

“That’s it.”

“She sent you one message, and that’s all?”

“Yup.”

Maybe Fu Xiling thought her Shen Jia saga was boring as hell too, because he offered to show off his violin skills.

Shi Zhi didn’t get the reaction she’d expected and started wondering if she’d overthought it all.

When Fu Xiling came back with the violin, Shi Zhi stood in the living room, arms crossed.

She sized him up, not saying a word.

Today, she wore a cropped tee that showed her navel, low-rise sweats revealing a tight waist and faint ab lines.

Fu Xiling walked up, stopping less than a meter away.

His gaze was deep. The tip of the violin bow in his hand brushed her waist.

So light, almost gentle as it slid upward.

Shi Zhi shivered, her breath catching for half a second.

Their eyes locked—tangled, with a hint of cool defiance.

Both saw something stubborn and dangerous in the other.

The bow reached her collarbone.

It traced along her neck, up to her earlobe.

He stepped closer, using the bow to lift her chin. “You think I came here tonight to mess with you like this? Testing if I’ll stick to our deal?”

Shi Zhi swatted the bow away, frowning. “I just can’t figure out why you’re helping me.”

He’d noticed every word she said circled back to Shen Jia, but he only suspected she was testing his commitment to their agreement?

Did Fu Xiling really have no other motives?

Was it seriously just to snap a pic of her for the family group chat now and then?

Fu Xiling didn’t answer.

He slouched onto the sofa, lazily fiddling with the violin for a moment before starting to play.

It was Shi Zhi’s first time watching someone play violin up close.

This instrument was wild—Fu Xiling usually had this untamed vibe.

But when he played, he was elegant.

Elegant, yet with a sly edge, like he could toy with anyone if he felt like it…

After the piece, Fu Xiling dropped the flirty moves entirely and even started chatting with Shi Zhi about her job.

They just sipped wine—didn’t even finish the bottle—and left tons of food uneaten.

While cleaning up, Shi Zhi stared at Fu Xiling, exasperated. “Why’d you order so much?”

Like he’d never eaten a full meal before—steak wasn’t enough, he got fish and lamb too. Pasta wasn’t enough, he added pizza.

“You can reheat it in the x oven tomorrow.”

Shi Zhi said, “Fu Xiling, I can move out the day after tomorrow.”

School started soon, and the dorms opened in two days. She’d head back first thing. This was probably their last dinner together.

Fu Xiling wasn’t fazed. “That’s why I said, might as well make it a little fancy.”

What he didn’t say:

That piece he’d just played was called Can’t Help Falling in Love.

Falling helplessly into love.