Thunder rumbled a few more times.

This sudden mess left Shi Zhi’s last memory of that street tied to Fu Xiling—

The ambulance’s warning lights flashed, painting the rundown street in flickers of cold blue.

A raindrop landed on Fu Xiling’s lashes. He blinked, then slowly opened his eyes, the water sliding along the crease of his eyelid into the corner.

Lashes drooping, lips pale, voice slow and weak, he murmured, “I’ll hit you up later.”

Medics peppered him with questions about symptoms, helping him lie down in the ambulance. They strapped a vitals monitor to his arm, and the doors shut.

The caught guy shivered in front of the cops, too scared to keep yelling, stammering out his confession.

Said he got greedy when he saw the nearby shops clearing out.

He’d snuck in a few times—small-time guts.

Just nicked stuff like booze, drinks, lighters, potted plants. The priciest haul? Frozen beef from the diner next door’s fridge.

Fu Xiling’s employee was dead serious. Shi Zhi couldn’t say no, so Xiao Cheng drove her back to school.

If the dorm auntie hadn’t stopped him, Xiao Cheng might’ve hauled her suitcase upstairs too.

Back in the dorm, Shi Zhi called Fu Xiling. One of his buddies picked up.

They’d met at the pool party.

The friend said Fu Xiling, before his head CT, told him to reassure her if she called—no big deal.

“Emergency folks here know him. His parents and uncle are around. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

By 11 p.m., the drizzle turned into a downpour, slamming the dorm windows, twisting the outside world into a blurry mess.

Fu Xiling called back.

He sounded perkier, even joking, “Light concussion, couple days in the hospital, and I’m good. Honestly, staying in’s overkill, but what can I say—us rich folks are scared of dying.”

Shi Zhi asked, “Your family still there?”

“Yup, glued to me. Tomorrow my second aunt, cousin, and little uncle are coming too.”

His family had seen her pics—she couldn’t show up at the hospital. “I’ll visit after you’re out, then.”

September hit, and Shi Zhi started her senior year.

Fourth-year schedule was chill—five classes a week. She’d get random pics or texts from Fu Xiling, learning he’d been dragged back to his parents’ place post-discharge, living the pampered recovery life.

He’d tease that in the Fu family’s eyes, he was a pitiful guy outshined by school.

Girlfriend too busy studying, boyfriend in the hospital, and still no TLC from her.

Shi Zhi fired back, “You short on caretakers over there?”

“Nah. They’re over-the-top. If I didn’t see my annual checkup reports, I’d think I had something terminal.”

While Fu Xiling recovered, Shi Zhi hit up two first-round interviews, two second-rounds, and one final.

After one second-round, she was the last out, walking the same path as the HR and department manager. On the way to the elevators, they ran into a higher-up from the company.

A woman—curly hair, sharp, gorgeous.

Spotting Shi Zhi, she asked out of nowhere, “Here for the second round? What’s your name?”

“Shi Zhi.”

“Oh, right, Shi Zhi.”

The woman kept staring into Shi Zhi’s eyes, reaching over to pluck a stack of resumes from the HR’s arms.

She flipped through, found Shi Zhi’s, and said, “You’re not on the final interview list.”

That was basically code for “the decision’s made, you’re out.”

The HR opened her mouth to stop her, but the woman’s assistant shot a look, and she clammed up.

Shi Zhi clocked it all, staying cool.

The woman explained they’d had a meeting—three people would move to the final round, and one would get the job.

Shi Zhi’s name wasn’t in the mix. She was just a warm body today.

Shi Zhi stepped into the elevator. “Got it now, thanks.”

The woman followed her in. Her team took another lift with the assistant.

Just the two of them in the box.

“I don’t agree with their call. Finance might not need you, but wanna work with me?”

She extended a hand. “I’m Fu Qian, GM for the Zhongbei region.”

From the moment Shi Zhi saw her, hearing everyone call her “Fu Zong,” she’d had her suspicions.

Shi Zhi asked, “Can I get a business card?”

Her response threw Fu Qian off a bit. Fu Qian handed one over, stepped out as the elevator hit the floor, and clicked away in her heels. “Think it over, hit me up.”

The card was crystal clear.

Good thing it wasn’t the “Fu” Shi Zhi had in mind.

She was still mulling over the job—plenty of options out there.

Fu Xiling beat the HRs to the punch, calling first.

His lazy voice drifted through the phone. “Didn’t you say you’d visit once I’m out? Not to nitpick, but you’re kinda flaking here.”

“You’re home?”

He chuckled, “Yup,” then asked, “Coming?”

Shi Zhi said, “About an hour.”

“Cool, I’ll wait.”

Before hanging up, he added, “No fruit or flowers—house is overflowing. Just come help me eat some.”

Fu Xiling swore his injury was minor, but he’d been cooped up at his parents’ for over ten days. Shi Zhi wasn’t totally sold, worried he couldn’t get around. At his door, she punched in the code herself.

Stepping in, she was hit with a fruity-floral scent.

Flowers, fruit baskets, and supplements packed the living room. Fu Xiling lounged on the carpet, back against the sofa, game controller in hand.

No weakness, no exhaustion.

His phone was on speaker nearby, some guy’s voice going, “…Alright, boss, I’ll swing by at 8 a.m. tomorrow for your signature.”

“Mm, hang up—hands are full.”

He must’ve heard the door, glancing at Shi Zhi with a spark of a smile.

The call cut off, and he waved her over. “Come sit.”

Not only did he look fine—no trace of sickness—he was living a life gods would envy.

Shi Zhi gave him a few extra looks. “You really good?”

“Yup.”

“Anything still off? Need a follow-up at the hospital?”

The projector screen showed a rainforest. His character rode some beast through it. “All this sudden concern’s got me kinda flattered.”

Shi Zhi frowned, annoyed. “I’m asking you something.”

He took her scolding with a grin.

Tossing the controller, he said his family’s private doc had checked him for a week—no issues, no need for more scans.

Then he dragged over a big black box, ripped off the decorative ribbon, and pulled out some imported fruit. “Sit, I’ll fix you some.”

He didn’t let Shi Zhi lift a finger—cut pink pineapple, washed sunshine rose grapes and white strawberries.

Skipped the dark-red cherries entirely.

At the pool party, sitting by the edge with a fruit platter, he hadn’t offered her cherries either.

Dating Shen Jia, Shi Zhi had slapped a “loves cherries” label on herself.

Everyone bought it—even Ling Ling and Wan Ran would grab her some now and then.

Seemed like Fu Xiling was the only one who noticed she didn’t like them.

Shi Zhi munched on fruit, flipping through the gift cards.

Lots of female names signed them, plus a deep blue tulip bouquet from Yao Yao.

She teased, “Pretty popular.”

Fu Xiling dodged that one. “Since you’re here, help me with some ointment?”

“What ointment?”

“Doc prescribed it—daily use, maybe for blood flow or bruising. Hard to reach myself.”

Shi Zhi scanned the coffee table, then the sofa—no sign of anything ointment-like. “Where is it?”

“Bedroom.”

He got up. Shi Zhi set down her fruit fork and followed him.

The master bedroom curtains were drawn, blocking all sunlight, dim as hell.

He flicked on the bedside lamp, handed her the tube, and peeled off his short-sleeve shirt. In just a black tank, he faced away. “Still bruised?”

It’d been ten days—the bruising had faded a lot.

His right shoulder was a yellowish-green patch, some hidden under the tank.

Shi Zhi tapped his back with the tube. “Take it off.”

He yanked the tank off with one hand, tossing it on the bed.

The yellowish-green stretched from his right shoulder down his spine.

Shi Zhi dabbed some ointment on her fingertip, spreading it over his trapezius—careful, serious, following the tube’s “apply evenly to affected area” to a T.

Way different from the private doc’s technique—no deep rubs for absorption.

Too light.

Like a feather brushing his heart, stroke by stroke.

Fu Xiling caught on.

He turned, grabbed her wrist, and grinned. “Pretty petty, huh? Still hung up on that bow thing?”

Shi Zhi didn’t answer, eyes on him, smearing the leftover ointment on his skin—one swipe, two, three…

Slow and deliberate, straight-up teasing him.

Back when they designed the place, the bedside lamp was more for vibe than light—soft and hazy.

Not that the lamp was to blame.

This close-up staring, plus touching, neither of them could hold back much.

Fu Xiling pressed her shoulders down with some force, sitting her on the bed.

He snagged a chair from the side, slick as hell, and plopped down across from her.

Still gripping her wrist, he pulled her closer.

The chair scraping the floor sounded like it flipped a memory switch.

Shi Zhi met his eyes. “Fu Xiling, why’d you block that chair for me that day?”

“Thought you’d hold off asking forever.”

His logic was simple—said it was just instinct. In a split-second like that, no one decent would dodge and let the girl next to them take the hit.

“That’d be too scummy.”

Shi Zhi didn’t comment or dwell, moving on like it was a checklist. “The roses really just a random buy?”

“Yup.”

He even raised three fingers to swear. “Vendor was struggling—helping out.”

Shi Zhi nodded, last question up. “Did you pull strings for my job?”

“Nope.”

The whole Q&A, they never broke eye contact—tension building like a dam about to burst.

Questions done, Shi Zhi went quiet, the warm yellow light reflecting in her eyes.

Fu Xiling got it. “Can I kiss you now?”

Didn’t even wait for a yes—pulled her hand to his chest, the other lazily cupping her neck.

Tilted his head, and went for it.