Before moving out of Fu Xiling’s place, Shi Zhi first went to meet HRs from two different companies.

The two companies were pretty far apart, spanning districts, which made it a hassle.

She had to switch between buses and subways. On the way back, the bus got stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, taking nearly ten minutes just to clear a red light.

It was evening by the time Shi Zhi made it back.

To save time, she didn’t bother turning on the lights or AC. She did a quick sweep for forgotten stuff, grabbed her suitcase, left the keys at the entrance, and got ready to bounce.

Fu Xiling’s front door had a multi-lock—password, card, or key.

The day she moved in, he’d told her the code. Shi Zhi acted like she didn’t hear it and stuck to using the key.

She didn’t just know his door code—she knew his bank card PIN too.

Even crazier, Fu Xiling didn’t like carrying cards when he went out—just his phone. His bank card, including the one she knew the PIN for, sat in a storage box at the entrance.

To Shi Zhi, this was straight-up weird and mind-boggling.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Fu Xiling was a rich kid, after all—a juicy target for anyone with shady intentions.

How could he be so chill about leaving himself wide open to outsiders?

Lost in thought, the “juicy target” strolled in, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

They met at the entrance, staring at each other like, what’s up?

Fu Xiling seemed surprised she was still there. He gave her a quick once-over and nailed it. “Went to interviews? More than one?”

“You figured that out too?”

“If nothing held you up, you’d have been gone ages ago.”

He was right. Without the interviews, she wouldn’t have stuck around till evening.

He was sharp.

That sharpness often made Shi Zhi feel challenged, sparking her competitive streak.

So she shot back, “No interviews.”

Fu Xiling, with an unlit cig between his lips, grinned and didn’t call out her stubborn lie. “You look good in a white shirt.”

Another girl might’ve nodded shyly, muttering a “thanks”;

Or gotten flustered under his gaze, looking away with a quiet blush;

Or maybe, used to compliments, just said something chill.

But Shi Zhi? “Don’t pick a fight.” It cracked Fu Xiling up.

The white shirt was for the interviews.

The weather outside was muggy as hell. After the interviews, Shi Zhi rolled the sleeves to her elbows and undid a few buttons, showing the black tube top underneath.

Walking back from the bus stop, lugging her stuff, she’d worked up a sweat—shiny beads clinging to her neck.

She grabbed a couple of tissues, tilted her head, one hand gathering her hair, the other wiping the sweat.

The dusk light was a grayish-orange mix, casting Shi Zhi’s blurry shadow on the entrance wall, all hazy and soft.

She had no clue how hot she looked right then.

Fu Xiling’s eyes followed the tissue in her hand—along her sharp jawline, slender neck, delicate collarbone…

Her sweat-dampened hair tips were like an ink-dipped brush, gorgeous as hell.

He didn’t light the cig, just tucked it behind his ear. “Big rain tonight. Looks like we’re just in time. Want a ride back to school?”

Shi Zhi didn’t say no.

Their deal wasn’t done yet—Fu Xiling still owed her 150,000 for info, and she had to play along for the occasional photo op.

As long as there were no Qixi dinners or roses, they could vibe just fine.

Shi Zhi asked, “Got a key to the bar?”

“Nope. What’s up?”

It hit her last night while packing—she’d left her library card at the bar and hadn’t grabbed it.

She wanted to swing by, but she’d already handed all the keys back to her aunt.

Fu Xiling made a call after hearing her out. “I’ll get a flash delivery. They can bring the keys.”

Phone on the counter, speaker mode on.

His employee said no need for the hassle—already off work, close by, could drop by in half an hour. “Boss, I’ll bring it over.”

“Thanks, catch you later.”

Call ended, screen went dark.

Fu Xiling headed toward the closet. “Gonna change. We’ll head out soon.”

They were closer to the bar and got there first.

It’d only been a couple weeks, but the street looked even more rundown and lonely.

Lots of shops had cleared out.

Old light signs stayed dark, shuttered doors plastered with random flyers.

Between the bar and the little diner next door sat an old chair.

A castoff from the diner—back when business sucked, the owners would sit there, chatting about random family stuff.

Now, just a broken branch rested on it.

Shi Zhi waited in Fu Xiling’s car for the keys. He stepped out first, saying he had a call to make.

The two HRs she’d met today told her to wait for a callback.

No clue how it’d turn out.

Mulling over the interview questions, she glanced up and caught Fu Xiling standing a few meters away, lighting a cigarette.

The ember flickered.

He looked like a total punk with the cig, phone to his ear, grinning at whoever he was talking to.

Shi Zhi’s mind was still on the interviews, but her eyes landed on him.

She watched him hang up, lean against a pole, fiddle with his phone, then look up and lock eyes with her.

Fu Xiling probably misread it, thinking she had something to say.

He exhaled his last puff, snuffed the butt, tossed it in the trash, and walked over.

Thunder rumbled outside—sounded like rain was coming.

Shi Zhi caught a shadow in her peripheral vision, darting toward the bar’s back alley.

Probably a stray cat, dog, or magpie from around here.

Fu Xiling didn’t get in, just stood by the car. “Staring at me?”

“You’re overthinking it.”

“Then…”

He paused, then guessed, “Thinking about the interviews?”

Shi Zhi hated being read like that. She bristled, ready to snap back, when his employee rolled up.

The guy hopped out with a keychain. “Boss, I’m here. Keys are all yours.”

Shi Zhi got out, took the keys, and went to unlock the door.

Just half a month, but the shutter’s bearings were rustier. Her first tug only lifted it a palm’s width.

Frowning, she geared up for another try when Fu Xiling walked over, chatting work with his employee while giving her a hand.

The shutter was rusted bad—barely got to a meter before it wouldn’t budge.

Fu Xiling was about to keep going, but she stopped him. “It’s enough to get in. Too high, and it might not come back down.”

Shi Zhi slipped inside, found the switch by feel, and flipped on the three spotlights above the bar.

The setup was the same, untouched—just dustier, coating the tables and chairs.

Fu Xiling and his guy stayed outside, talking a bit away about the street’s future, sketching out business plans.

Shi Zhi crouched behind the bar, digging through a junk box in the cabinet.

Under bottle openers, prize caps, and lighters, she found her library card quick.

Footsteps rustled closer.

She froze.

Not Fu Xiling or his employee—she could still hear their muffled voices outside.

These steps were sneaky, creeping in from the back door…

A thief?

Shi Zhi reached for the liquor shelf behind her—should’ve been stacked with beer—but it was empty.

She reacted fast, switching gears, grabbing an empty foreign liquor bottle. As the figure bolted for the front, she hurled it.

The bottle shattered by their feet. The hunched shadow jolted, straightened, and sprinted—crashing into the half-raised shutter with an “ow!” before sprawling on the ground.

The quiet street made the breaking glass loud as hell, catching Fu Xiling’s attention.

His long legs ate up the distance. He ran over, pinning the guy who’d just stumbled to his feet.

His employee jogged up too, helping hold him. “What’s going on, boss? A thief? Should we call the cops?”

Fu Xiling didn’t answer, looking into the bar instead.

Only the bar counter was lit, the bulbs dim. He called, “Shi Zhi, you okay?”

“Fine.”

Shi Zhi stepped out with her card, squinting under the streetlight. She recognized the guy they were holding. “You?”

Some jerk who’d caused a scene at the bar before.

Tried to skip the bill, got caught by Ling Ling, made a huge fuss, and smashed two glasses.

Still cocky as ever, sporting a swollen forehead. “I didn’t steal anything! This is slander! Slander! You need proof to call the cops!”

No one paid him any mind.

Fu Xiling kept his eyes on Shi Zhi. “Know him?”

“Made trouble at the bar before. I called the cops on him.”

The employee gripped the yelling guy tight and dialed the police.

The dude’s protests got louder, face red, neck bulging—like he was really innocent.

Even the employee hesitated, glancing at Fu Xiling and Shi Zhi.

Those two? Cool as ice in a crisis.

Shi Zhi had checked before coming out—the guy climbed in through the back window.

“Call the cops. Back window’s pried open. Big stuff’s probably fine, but the liquor’s definitely short. I’ll check more.”

After the call, the employee stuck around.

He was nothing like Fu Xiling—glasses, bookish vibe.

Good-hearted too, trying to reason with the ranting suspect. “Quit yelling. The cops’ll check nearby cameras. If you didn’t steal, they won’t pin it on you…”

Maybe the guy was too unhinged—screaming nonstop, flailing to break free with zero chance.

When Shi Zhi came back out, the employee was still wrestling him, looking at her and Fu Xiling, pointing to his temple and mouthing:

This guy nuts or what?

Fu Xiling said, “Ignore him.”

He stepped up to Shi Zhi. “Good thing I came back with you.”

That was it, though—topic shifted. “Give me your bank card number. I’ll transfer the money tomorrow.”

Teasing her, “Or you prefer cash?”

They were mid-chat when—

The employee yelped, “Hey!” then shouted, “What’re you doing!”

It was a split second.

Fu Xiling turned. The guy had broken free, eyes wild, swinging the old chair from outside.

Aimed right at Shi Zhi.

Too close—Fu Xiling didn’t think, just spun and took the hit with his back.

It happened too fast.

Shi Zhi was still holding his phone, half-typing her card number.

Sensing danger, she was already shielded by Fu Xiling.

She snapped her head up. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t even grunt—just rolled his shoulders like it was nothing.

As the employee wrestled the guy down, yelling for the cops who’d just arrived, Fu Xiling kicked the chair aside and went over to explain.

The employee was all in on catching the thief.

Shi Zhi, facing away, didn’t see where it hit—assumed the guy was weak, didn’t hurt him.

Fu Xiling’s poker face sold it too.

They both bought it.

A few raindrops fell, barely wetting the ground—thunder loud, rain weak, nothing like the forecast storm.

After talking to the cops, Fu Xiling brushed past Shi Zhi, casually snagging his phone back.

It wasn’t till he dialed 120 that she noticed the cold sweat on his neck.

“Fu Xiling, you…”

He shushed her with a finger.

Then slung an arm around her shoulder, leaning some weight on her elbow, voice soft. “Just borrowing a bit of support.”

Call connected, he told the emergency operator, “Hit to the back of the head. Yeah, hurts a lot, dizzy, kinda nauseous…”

He stayed calm the whole time.

Shi Zhi’s face darkened as she listened, getting worse by the second.

When he hung up, she couldn’t hold back, rare panic slipping out. “Fu Xiling, he hit your head?”

He’d smoked earlier but kept his distance—his cig smell was faint now.

Squinting, he paused a couple seconds, then lifted his elbow off her shoulder, ruffling her hair.

“Might pass out, but probably just a concussion. Don’t worry. I’ll have Xiao Cheng drive you back to school later—I’m heading to the hospital.”