Shi Zhi’s computer was an ancient model.

When it ran, the buzzing noise could almost rival the range hood at Fu Xiling’s place.

Writing a thesis on it could make it hot enough to burn your hand, and it lagged like crazy.

As for Shi Zhi herself, she wasn’t exactly patient with electronics and had zero vanity about them. She always figured as long as it worked and didn’t mess up her real stuff, it was fine.

Fu Xiling watched this and felt annoyed on her behalf.

But he couldn’t just buy her a new one outright.

Shi Zhi had this quirk—she hated owing people favors.

Phrases like “no reward without merit” and “take only what’s earned” might as well be carved on her forehead, guiding her through life.

In Shi Zhi’s eyes, only the money she earned herself counted as real money. No matter how much cash someone else had, she couldn’t be bothered to care.

If this were ancient times, she’d probably be one hell of a righteous official.

Fu Xiling decided to tinker with her junky computer.

Clean out the dust inside, swap in some thermal paste, upgrade the RAM and SSD…

But the damn thing still took a full half-minute to boot up. As the desktop slowly loaded, he didn’t see much else—just a pile of study-abroad documents sprawled across it.

Fu Xiling was, of course, caught off guard.

Wait, she was prepping to go abroad?

A rush of frustration hit him.

Fu Xiling turned his head and coughed a few times. He reached for his cigarette pack, then remembered Shi Zhi would be back from work soon. Irritated, he crumpled the pack into a ball and chucked it into the trash.

Shi Zhi hated the smell of smoke—hated it real obvious. Passing by some old chain-smoker reeking of tobacco, she’d scrunch her nose without even thinking.

When it came to little things like that, her emotions were always upfront, black-and-white.

But on the big stuff, her thoughts got harder to read.

Like this going-abroad thing.

They’d been seeing each other a ton lately. Fu Xiling was crashing with her three or four days a week, sleeping in the same bed, and she hadn’t dropped a single hint about it.

He shot her a WeChat message.

Sent it, then held his phone, waiting for a reply.

A while back, Fu Xiling had a college roommate reunion. Two buddies who lived out of town happened to be in the city on business at the same time, so they dragged Zhou Lang along for a meal.

They ate spicy crayfish.

Fu Xiling messaged Shi Zhi from the table, asking if she wanted him to pack some to-go for her.

Shi Zhi didn’t reply for ages.

He’d been holding his phone, glancing at it more than usual, and the dorm’s big bro caught on quick.

Four years in the same room—who didn’t know each other inside out?

Big Bro asked, “Fu, you got something going on?”

Zhou Lang, wiping his glasses nearby, let out a vague “hmph.”

The youngest in the dorm blinked innocently: “Zhou-ge, aren’t you satisfied? Fu-ge’s been coming by to feed you all the time lately. You’ve finally put on some weight since summer—ain’t it nice having him close?”

Zhou Lang said, “Is he really just here to feed me?”

After all, Fu Xiling used to be ice-cold about romance stuff, rocking that “wise men don’t fall in love” vibe. Now that he was showing some signs, they were bound to grill him.

Back then, Fu Xiling had just recovered from an injury—a mild concussion. He’d stayed at his parents’ place for a while and had only recently moved back.

Things with Shi Zhi were going good. They’d hang out playing games, always hugging and kissing.

But that was it.

Plenty of kissing, plenty of hugging, yet he couldn’t spark even a flicker of romantic feelings in the girl.

So Fu Xiling said, “Met someone I like. Haven’t caught her yet.”

Big Bro, chatty after a few drinks, was all too eager to play love guru, tossing out advice left and right.

“Fu, when you chase someone, you gotta use your strengths. Flex that cash power!”

Fu Xiling said, “She hates rich people.”

“Then confess—go straight for it. If that doesn’t work, just dote on her every day, all sweet and caring. That’ll seal the deal.”

Fu Xiling said, “Won’t work. She’d block me.”

“Then go romantic! Buy her roses—ninety-nine of ‘em. If that flops, go for nine hundred ninety-nine. Red ones, bold, to show her how you feel.”

Fu Xiling hung his head and laughed for a while: “Don’t screw me over.”

“You’re this good-looking, brain’s sharp as hell—your face and smarts should Ascending the throne of laughter, Big Bro and the youngest were floored—never heard Fu Xiling talk about a girl like this, let alone go on and on.

Zhou Lang was even more stunned: “You’re into Shi Zhi, huh?”

Fu Xiling said, “Who else could it be?”

“No way, she’s so quiet and good—did Shen Jia mess her up or something? How’d she get this cool all of a sudden?”

Fu Xiling’s smile faded, brow furrowing: “Can you not mention Shen Jia’s name with hers?”

Zhou Lang shot back, “Sure, then stop coming to me for meals.”

That wasn’t happening.

Shi Zhi’s brain worked in wild ways. She was convinced Fu Xiling was a player and that most of his friends were girls.

Whenever Fu Xiling reported his plans, saying he was meeting “a friend,” he never specified guy or girl.

Then Shi Zhi would fill in the blanks herself, giving him this half-smirk, half-flirty look that oozed charm.

That one look.

Fu Xiling ate it up. From then on, he stopped mentioning friends’ genders, letting Shi Zhi guess whatever she wanted.

By the end of the meal, Big Bro raised a glass to wish Fu Xiling luck: “You’re killing it in business, handling huge projects like the old street deal. Can’t catch a girl? Use some of those eight hundred tricks of yours!”

Oh, Fu Xiling used his tricks alright.

And it did earn him a tiny bit of Shi Zhi’s warmth—

She made fifteen grand off him, then treated him to a “buy one, get one free” iced coffee.

That “venting” at the roommate dinner was all in good fun.

He just wanted to show off a little—brag about this girl who kept him on a leash, driving him nuts.

It was the same vibe as sending Shi Zhi’s pics to the family group chat.

Fu Xiling was pretty confident in himself. He wasn’t dumb—he could tell Shi Zhi was interested in him.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t ride a beat-up secondhand scooter to pick him up in the middle of the night. With her old temper, she’d have slapped him into next week.

But Fu Xiling wasn’t trying to mess with her on purpose.

His birthday? Didn’t care much either way. What he wanted was to say “happy birthday” to Shi Zhi and give her a special one.

Her birthday went fine.

She was happy, even let him hold her while she slept. But her mood flipped faster than a page turn.

Kissing him before bed, then waking up ready to “talk.”

Shi Zhi slept well—lazy eyes, red lips, white teeth, hair spilling over his bed.

Gorgeous.

Fu Xiling realized he liked her at twenty-three, just a few months back. Now, turning twenty-four at his birthday, it hit him—things were getting rough. He was falling too hard.

He looked at her.

Even with all the physical closeness, Shi Zhi didn’t show the nervous shyness of someone into a guy. She was still guarded.

So Fu Xiling switched up the convo—no feelings talk.

She needed a business partner? He’d be that. Needed a bed buddy? He’d be that too.

He had time to spare.

Shi Zhi liked their setup, dropped her guard, and started flirting again.

Even said, “Once I figure it out, I’ll help you too.”

That line kept Fu Xiling up two nights straight.

He bolted upright in bed at midnight, raking his hair back, staring into the dark, asking himself, “Am I under a spell or what?”

Last time he’d thought that was in the hospital.

His parents were there, even his uncle. He was lying in bed, waiting for the doc to check his CT scan and give the verdict.

Doc said mild concussion. Everyone finally breathed easy.

His uncle said, “Next time, don’t play tough. Safety and health come first. Forgot all those safety lessons we got you as a kid?”

“Nope, didn’t forget.”

In his head, Fu Xiling was thinking:

Good thing it’s not bad. With Shi Zhi’s no-debt personality, he wouldn’t even know how to explain it to her.

Then, in that disinfectant-stinking hospital room, he laughed at himself.

Felt like he really was bewitched.

That day, Fu Xifeng got dragged along by their uncle too, sulking at the hospital.

Seeing Fu Xiling laugh, Fu Xifeng sneered, “Did that hit knock Xiling stupid or what?”

Then that idiot Fu Xifeng caught a slap from their uncle—right on the back of his neck.

Fu Xiling never bothered with Fu Xifeng’s constant “dog-mouth, no ivory” jabs.

Later, when he cut ties with Fu Xifeng, it was to warn him off bothering Shi Zhi again.

No elders around, Fu Xifeng poked anyway: “What’s up? Can’t handle your fake girlfriend getting hit up? Scared we’ll all know you’re playing games with a sham?”

Fu Xiling flicked his lighter, lit a cigarette, and gave Fu Xifeng a cold side-eye: “She thinks you’re annoying. Try saying one more word to her—see what happens.”

Shi Zhi’s patience had limits.

When they first teamed up, she’d laid it out: no matter how jealous his flings got, they better not show up at her school.

Fu Xiling didn’t have flings.

But Fu Xifeng couldn’t show up at B University either, or Shi Zhi would pin all that mess on him.

After his birthday, he and Shi Zhi didn’t see much of each other—both busy. So Fu Xiling got careless.

At his little uncle’s place, he heard about an Xingrong Group contract needing delivery. He stopped the assistant, stood up, and said he’d take it.

Didn’t think much of it—messed with his hair, changed, spruced up, and peeled out in his sports car.

Just hoping he might “bump into” Shi Zhi.

Then, one wrong move, and Shi Zhi misunderstood him.

That line—“You figured out Shen Jia just fine when you were with him, but with me, you can’t be bothered…”—shouldn’t have slipped out.

It was impulsive, but damn if it wasn’t straight from the heart.

Shi Zhi went harder.

After hanging up on him a few times, she fired off a message—

“Shen Jia’s my ex. What about you?”

That line nearly killed Fu Xiling. He cursed under his breath and chucked his phone onto the couch.

Next day, friends had a get-together planned forever ago. Calls kept coming, hounding him to show.

Phone kept buzzing—not once was it her.

Fu Xiling went to the hangout pissed off, didn’t drive, hitched a ride with a buddy.

Got in, pulled a knit bucket hat over half his face, and slumped in the car, brooding with his eyes shut.

Another friend was in the car too—three of them swinging by to pick up Yao Yao.

It’d gotten cold out.

Fu Xiling hadn’t checked the forecast, just threw on a leather jacket. His buddy razzed him: “All style, no warmth, huh?”

He said, “Not cold. Cools me off.”

Car rolled into the villa district. Yao Yao dashed out, yelling “cold cold cold cold” as she dove into the back seat.

Known her since forever, all tight—his friend teased, “Whoa, Yao Yao, what’s up? Nose running? Looking rough!”

Yao Yao grabbed tissues, blew her nose, wiped her hands with a wet wipe, then lunged at his friend’s neck: “You wanna die? You’re the rough one—I just got a Thermage last month!”

They bickered in the back.

The choked-out “hey hey hey” and “what girl doesn’t look bad after ten minutes in freezing wind—why’re you guys so late” complaints floated up.

Driver buddy explained, “Fu Xiling was late. We waited for him.”

Yao Yao seemed to just clock Fu Xiling was there. Her voice softened, and after a quiet stretch, she cleared her throat: “Fu Xiling, Shi Zhi coming today?”

Fu Xiling didn’t answer.

Driver buddy gloated, “Don’t bring it up—fought with his girl, pissed her off, and she’s still ignoring him.”

Fu Xiling stared out the window, blank-faced. Minutes later, he snapped, “Pull over.”

“What’re you doing? Skipping the hangout?”

Fu Xiling unbuckled, got out, tossed the hat onto the passenger seat, and didn’t look back: “Going to apologize.”

He rode a hard-seat train with Shi Zhi all night.

Felt like, after all this time, he was finally stepping into her life for real.

Before the apology, he’d been stewing over her text.

Full-on “yeah, yeah, I’m just a fling—can’t compare to your precious ex.”

Nearly tossed that Hetian jade string she left by the bed into the trash.

But on the train at dawn, he opened his eyes and saw Shi Zhi holding porridge and instant noodles, carefully stepping aside for an old lady in the aisle.

Her hair was long now, soft over her shoulders and back. She hadn’t rested well—looked tired.

She asked him, “Which one you eating?”

Fu Xiling locked eyes with her and had a thought—

If you had to marry someone in this life.

He’d pick Shi Zhi.

Going back with her brought them closer, sorta.

Maybe not romantically, but Shi Zhi had to feel something to open up about her family.

“She’s got aggressive tendencies. Later, she was sent here—closed ward. We can visit once a week.”

That’s what Shi Zhi said.

“If she hadn’t met Lin Xiaoping, hadn’t married, hadn’t had kids. If she’d chosen work back then, I think she’d be a lot happier.”

That too.

Fu Xiling had seen Shi Zhi stand in the snow, quietly staring at the “Mental Health Center.”

So he got it—if Fu Qian laid out a career plan Shi Zhi respected, no matter how tough, she’d go for it.

Fu Qian and Shi Zhi clicked too well.

Fu Qian had the skills and the grit. Shi Zhi, even green in the workplace, was sharper and smarter than tons of old-timers.

Fu Xiling knew clear as day: working under Fu Qian was how Shi Zhi would get what she wanted, chase her career ambitions.

When he’d called Zhou Lang about upgrading the old computer, Zhou Lang asked, nosy as hell, “Not to butt in, but what if Shi Zhi never gets a boyfriend?”

Fu Xiling was eyeballing a repair tutorial online, stubbed out his cigarette, exhaled slow, still kinda chill: “Dunno. Guess I’ll wait and see.”

Zhou Lang wasn’t sold on them, muttering that Shi Zhi’s deal was too messy—Fu Xiling couldn’t handle her. If he wanted love, he should switch targets.

But Fu Xiling stuck to his line—

“Who else could it be?”

Some feelings, though, were like a cough—hard to hide.

Hearing she was going abroad, Fu Xiling was legit torn up. Worried she’d pull a ruthless move—sleep with him, then bolt, cutting him off clean.

Thinking it over, he figured he couldn’t blame Shi Zhi.

Didn’t have the heart to, either.

She’d had her soft moments—back when she dated Shen Jia, she was so attentive.

Knew Shen Jia liked blue accessories but wore light colors. Knew he loved cherries.

Remembered his birthday, what contests he’d entered, what awards he’d won…

All those little efforts proved she cared.

With a life like Shi Zhi’s, trust in love was already shaky. Then she bet on Shen Jia.

Shen Jia was a dog—screwed her over, landed the final blow, and smashed whatever tenderness she had left to dust.

So yeah, blame Shen Jia.

Phone buzzed.

Fu Xiling saw Shi Zhi’s “yeah” reply and mentally tacked another mark against Shen Jia.

Annoyed or not, he kept fixing the computer.

By the time Shi Zhi got back from work, Fu Xiling was parked on the couch, handing her a file.

He said, “Checked for you—Fu Qian’s short on people for real.”

One of Fu Qian’s hand-picked execs stabbed her in the back, selling out Xingrong Group.

Fu Qian knew, obviously. All that “forgive and redeem” talk was just a play to keep things steady. Truth was, she didn’t have the right replacement.

Shi Zhi skimmed the files, asked Fu Xiling, “What’s your take?”

“You picked right. You’re smart, good at your job. Study abroad under Fu Qian’s plan—she won’t shortchange you. The ones our family sent out for top training? They come back to big paychecks.”

Fu Xiling lounged on the couch, tone all casual-like: “But I got a question.”

“What question?”

“MBA’s two years. After you go next year, you planning to swap bed buddies?”

Shi Zhi kept her eyes on the docs.

Tons of internal group info she couldn’t touch at her level.

She read hard but still fired back, “No plans for that yet—why would I swap?”

“‘Cause it’s far.”

Shi Zhi finally looked up, frowning: “Fu Xiling, you can’t afford a plane ticket?”

Fu Xiling stared at her for a beat.

Then he cracked up—big, bold, damn good-looking. When he stopped, he pulled a baffled Shi Zhi into his arms: “I can afford it.”