Chapter 12

Snowflakes drifted silently onto the canopy of the umbrella, creating a secluded world beneath it.

Her heartbeat quickened with each thump. She could feel the warmth of his fingers brushing her cheek, accompanied by a faint, crisp scent of wood.

Chutong stared blankly at Shao Yihuai, unable to respond in any way.

His deep, dark eyes held a focus that made one feel utterly captivated.

Shao Yihuai brushed her cheek lightly and smiled. “…Are you stunned?”

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, exuding a profound sense of purity and depth. His handsome, refined features seemed to exist in this snowy night solely for her.

Chutong hurriedly shook her head, though her mind was racing with unrelated thoughts: his eyes carried a quiet warmth, and when he looked at someone with a gentle smile, it made them feel like the most precious treasure in the world.

“Your face is cold.”

He glanced at her with a smile and reached behind her. Sensing his approach and the intensity of his presence, Chutong instinctively shifted to the side. Shao Yihuai’s smile deepened. “I’ll open the car door.”

“Oh, okay.”

She took a few steps sideways, her face flushing from her startled reaction.

Shao Yihuai handed her the umbrella, opened the car door, and bent down to retrieve a scarf.

Before the warmth on her cheeks had faded, a shadow passed before her eyes, and a soft, furry object was wrapped around her neck. Shao Yihuai held both ends of the scarf and gently pulled her closer. She took two steps forward, the distance between them suddenly erased, nearly falling into his embrace.

Panicked, she lifted her head.

Shao Yihuai wrapped the scarf snugly around her neck several times, and half her face hid within it, concealing her burning, flushed cheeks.

Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribs, and the crisp scent emanating from him filled her nostrils, making her shiver.

Shao Yihuai grasped the umbrella handle, and she released her grip.

“Feeling better?”

Chutong nodded slightly, averting her gaze in embarrassment.

Yet, even so, she could clearly feel his gaze upon her cheek.

He raised his hand, pressing down the edge of the scarf with his fingertip to lift her chin. Chutong had no choice but to turn back to look at him.

This time, his eyes fixed on her lips, steady and intent.

Her lips were thin but full, warm and moist like herself, radiating a gentle, inviting allure.

Despite the biting cold of the light snowfall, Shao Yihuai was unexpectedly reminded of the awakening of spring—the stirring of life and the earth’s vibrant desire that filled his heart.

Suddenly, panic surged within Chutong. Was he about to kiss her?

Just as she thought this, his gaze slowly rose to meet her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered lightly, as if scorched by the heat, and she wanted to look away again but found herself frozen.

Her heart seemed ready to burst. Then, his lashes lowered calmly, as if retracting all overflowing emotions in an instant.

He said quietly, “…Let’s go. I’ll see you off.”

His tone was steady, betraying no hint of anything unusual.

They shared the umbrella, walking from the parking lot toward the west gate.

As they moved, their shoulders brushed several times against the arm he held aloft with the umbrella. Chutong couldn’t help but turn her head to look at him—from his profile, to the contours of his shoulder and arm, and finally to his hand gripping the umbrella handle.

Her heart pounded wildly. Trying to appear casual, she lifted her hand and gently grasped the fabric of his coat at the elbow, inching closer to him.

Such a light touch was like a kitten tentatively reaching out to its owner, and Shao Yihuai barely paused.

The walk was short, yet Chutong had never experienced such a journey that made her heart tremble with both excitement and nervousness.

The first snow of the season blanketed the city that night.

Snow also settled softly within her heart, layering it with a thin, quiet softness.

Time felt both swift and slow until they finally reached the school gate.

Shao Yihuai stopped and said, “Give me your phone.”

Without hesitation, Chutong unlocked her phone and handed it over.

He opened the contacts and typed in a string of numbers, then looked up at her. “Call me if you need anything.”

Chutong bit her lip gently and nodded.

As she took back her phone, a new message popped up. Her fingers accidentally opened it—it was from Shang Yunmeng, who loved photography. Whenever they worked part-time together, she would snap candid shots of Chutong, often capturing her unaware, with a nostalgic film-like quality.

Shao Yihuai glanced down at the photos.

Just as she was about to exit, he softly said, “Send them to me.”

“...Then you have to open AirDrop…”

She felt a sudden flush of embarrassment.

The photos transferred quickly, and Shao Yihuai looked up again, glancing at their path.

Zong Liangzhi, ever sharp-eyed, had long sensed the subtle tension between the two and had been trailing nearby with takeout boxes. Upon catching his boss’s glance, he hurried over.

Shao Yihuai accepted the food boxes and handed them to Chutong. “Dinner. Take it home.”

He even thought of such a small detail.

Chutong accepted the meal, almost about to say thank you but stopped herself.

Shao Yihuai handed her the umbrella as well. “Go on home.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, his gaze deep and focused, more intense than gentle.

She whispered softly, “…I’m going then,” pausing, “…be careful on your way.”

He smiled lightly and nodded.

With a shoulder bag slung across her body, holding the food boxes and umbrella, she walked inside the school gates and couldn’t help but glance back.

Shao Yihuai still stood in the snow.

One hand held the phone at his side, the other tucked in his pocket. His black long coat contrasted sharply against the vast whiteness. A dim yellow streetlamp glowed not far behind him, and beyond that, the hazy city neon lights shimmered.

Even across the distance, his striking profile was hauntingly handsome.

The whole scene was like a timeless photograph she would treasure forever in her memory.

The west gate was the closest to the dormitory. Halfway through, apparently from her racing heartbeat, Chutong broke into a run through the snow, as if by moving she could ease the joy and fluttering in her heart.

Reaching the dorm stairs, she hurried up as the dorm supervisor called out, “Be careful! It’s snowy—don’t slip!”

Chutong smiled brightly. “Okay!”

Her smile was radiant, as if it could melt the snow into sunshine. The supervisor looked at her again, recognizing her as the much-admired young lady from the Chinese department. “Back from a part-time job again?”

Chutong sometimes returned late on weekends from part-time work and had asked the supervisor to keep the door open for her.

“Yes!”

She smiled even more brightly. “I’m heading up now, Auntie.”

“Go ahead, go ahead.”

Opening the door to room 202, a warm breath of heat greeted her.

Unusually, only Ding Xue was in the dorm.

Tao Ge and Jin Ranran’s spots were both empty.

Chutong placed the food boxes on the desk, removed her scarf and coat, and changed her shoes.

Ding Xue had been chatting with friends on voice messages, peppering her speech with exaggerated, mean-girl American-style expressions. She ended the voice message and glanced contemptuously toward Chutong’s spot.

But her gaze faltered midway, disbelief making her look again. The more she looked, the more absurd it seemed. Her eyes widened as she asked sharply, “Are you involved with that He guy?”

Chutong was puzzled.

“No, wait,” Ding Xue continued, talking to herself, “That He guy probably doesn’t have the ability. Who is it then? Liu Hao?”

Chutong had no idea what nonsense she was spouting.

Ding Xue pointed at the food boxes. “Who ordered this for you?!”

Chutong followed her gaze to the meal container: a three-tiered cylindrical wooden box, reminiscent of those seen in palace dramas, adorned with a dark red “Fu” character outlined in gold.

Antique and elegant, exquisitely crafted.

With the prevalence of excessive packaging, such fine workmanship was rare.

“...What’s wrong with this meal?” Chutong asked calmly.

“It’s from Fu Ji! They only serve eight tables a day, never open for delivery. Only a few special guests qualify—” Her voice halted abruptly. “Are you sure this isn’t fake?”

“Maybe it is.” Chutong showed no concern and didn’t argue.

Ding Xue remained suspicious, but the style didn’t seem counterfeit. She had once seen a situation where a prominent young master in their circle hosted a late-night gathering. When everyone got hungry, he personally ordered delivery from Fu Ji.

She remembered how impressed everyone was.

The wealthy and powerful loved exclusivity; everything—food, clothing, possessions—had to reflect status and exclusivity.

Inside the three-tier box were a layer of crystal dumplings and four dishes—two meat, two vegetables—though she couldn’t name them. Both presentation and taste were exceptional, and the food was well kept warm, even a bit hot.

Chutong ate the meal with special care until it was completely finished.

Afterward, she methodically prepared textbooks and materials for the next day’s classes and briefly reviewed for her tutoring session that night. Then she grabbed a towel and went to shower.

Only in this private space could she calm down and reflect on everything that had happened today.

Ding Xue’s strong reaction to the meal box suggested it was from a restaurant not open to ordinary folks.

That made sense—Mr. Shao represented the Zhuoyi Group, and their daily lifestyle was on a different level.

After her shower, she found Ding Xue examining the meal box closely at her desk. Hearing her footsteps, Ding Xue turned and said, “It’s real!” Her tone was one of certainty, as if having judged it herself.

She leaned against Chutong’s desk, arms crossed. “Who ordered this for you? Who are you involved with?”

Chutong remained composed. “It’s just a restaurant. Is it really worth such a fuss?”

Ding Xue’s expression stiffened, and she snorted coldly. “...You haven’t seen much of the good stuff, but you talk big. I just asked Liu Hao—he said he didn’t order it for you.”

“Do I have to report everything to you? Miss Ding, haven’t we always minded our own business?”

Chutong’s voice was soft but carried a hint of coldness. Her steady gaze made Ding Xue feel a bit guilty.

Ding Xue was momentarily speechless, then frowned and scoffed, “…You think I enjoy dealing with your nonsense? I’m just worried you’re scheming to worm into our circle. It’s disgusting.”

“Your circle,” Chutong smiled faintly. “If I really were trying so hard to get in, wouldn’t someone on the inside, like you, know about it just by asking around?”

Ding Xue’s face darkened.

Chutong had turned her own words against her. But if Chutong really had hooked up with some young master or big shot in their circle, wouldn’t they end up attending the same events?

She scrutinized Chutong with a calculating look.

Chutong had just finished showering, dressed in a nightgown. Her skin was fair with a natural flush, her figure slender yet curvaceous, her strikingly beautiful features framed by clear, fox-like eyes that could captivate souls.

She was so hard to win over, yet countless people pursued her desperately just for a glance. If she truly started “trying hard,” no one could resist.

Ding Xue’s feelings mixed jealousy and disdain. She sneered, “...What’s there to be smug about? Even if you use your looks and figure to climb into our circle, you’d just be a worthless plaything.”

Chutong ignored her. Ding Xue repeated, as if to emphasize, moving closer and raising her voice, “Remember that? You’d only be a worthless plaything!”

Having said her piece, she seemed satisfied and floated back to her own desk.

Growing up in a single-parent household, Chutong was well-versed in survival skills and knew that rigidity breaks easily. She always dealt with others lightly and flexibly, avoiding conflict when possible, and never letting others’ words or attitudes affect her.

Today was no different. Ding Xue’s antics were just “helpless rage” in her eyes, not worth a response.

Unexpectedly, not long after, Liu Hao sent a message.

[Liu Hao: I heard someone ordered you delivery from Fu Ji?]

Mr. Shao was thoughtful and had ordered her dinner for her, nothing more. Why did Ding Xue and Liu Hao react so strongly?

[Chutong: No.]

She replied evasively, puzzled. She casually searched online but found no trace whatsoever of Fu Ji.

At that moment, she had yet to realize she had stepped into an unknown circle.

—

“Sir, shall we return to Manhe?”

“Mm.”

The Maybach cruised steadily on the Third Ring elevated highway. Zong Liangzhi glanced at the rearview mirror toward the backseat multiple times, seeming hesitant to speak.

Shao Yihuai didn’t open his eyes. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“Ah,” Zong Liangzhi responded quickly, choosing his words carefully, “Sir, that young lady…”

Shao Yihuai remained silent.

Zong Liangzhi glanced at him again through the mirror. His eyes were closed, hands folded over his crossed legs, expressionless, yet emanating a heavy, oppressive aura.

Most of the time, he was refined and measured. In truth, that was merely his calm, unreadable mask. Those close to him knew that when silent, he could be intimidating without reason.

In this moment, he was completely different from how he had been with the young lady.

“...Should we arrange a place for her to stay?”

Zong Liangzhi tentatively asked.

He had clearly seen the interaction between his master and the young lady. Although the master never “looked after” women, the circle’s custom was well known. The first step was always to secure property for them.

After a long pause, Shao Yihuai lifted his lashes and glanced at him emotionlessly. Zong Liangzhi said no more.

The Maybach entered the underground garage at Manhe. Zong Liangzhi opened the door for him and said, “Sir, take care. I’ll pick you up early tomorrow.” Shao Yihuai said nothing and walked away.

Watching his back, Zong Liangzhi shook his head slightly. After all these years, this was the first time he felt utterly unable to read his master’s thoughts.

—

That night before sleep, Chutong folded the scarf carefully and put it away in the wardrobe. She wiped the black umbrella’s fabric dry of melting snow and stored it on the lower shelf.

Lights out, she lay in bed, still feeling a dizzy, unreal sensation.

Mr. Shao hadn’t said anything explicit, but surely he meant to be with her, right? After all, he had brushed her cheek with his fingertip, and that look in his eyes—no matter how naive she was, she understood the implication.

Thinking of this, her cheeks warmed again. To distract herself, she pulled her phone from under her pillow to set an alarm. Unlocking it, a message appeared on the screen.

[Shao: Rest well.]

Her heart fluttered instantly.

The number saved in her phone was simply “Shao.”

Her cheeks flushed even more as she buried herself beneath the covers. The soft glow from the screen illuminated her beautiful face. After careful thought, she replied:

[You too, good night.]

That night, Chutong had her first vivid dream.

In the dream, Shao Yihuai kissed her forcefully.

Even in the dream, she found it strange. In her eyes, Mr. Shao was gentle; his kiss should be tender and full of warmth. How could it be so commanding?

But she had forgotten something she once read: sometimes, the scenes in dreams are projections of others’ desires toward the dreamer, rather than reflections of the dreamer’s own feelings.