Chapter 2

The man’s gaze lingered briefly on her face, indifferent yet courteous, offering a slight nod as a greeting.

Chu Tong nodded faintly in return, then averted her eyes.

Her dazed expression was surely obvious, yet the man seemed entirely unaware.

Of course, a man like him had likely encountered all kinds of women, and had long grown accustomed to various obsessive and admiring glances.

“The professor hasn’t been sleeping well lately; she probably just got tired today and fell asleep while getting a massage,” the housekeeper explained, sensing the two belonged to entirely different worlds and that there was no need for formal introductions. Seeing Chu Tong standing there, she turned to the man and said, “Professor Chen cherishes her students; her home is always bustling with visitors. Mr. Shao, would you like some late-night snacks? I just made some wontons yesterday, and since it’s the beginning of winter today, a warm bowl would be perfect.”

“No, thank you. I should be going,” Shao Yihuai glanced at his watch, then raised the book in his hand with a smile. “Please tell Professor Chen that I’m taking this book with me.”

His voice was low and measured, neither hurried nor slow.

Chu Tong quickly assessed him inwardly: Mr. Shao was gentle but not approachable—this civility was merely a form of downward compatibility from a person of high status.

The housekeeper agreed and reluctantly tried to keep him longer.

From her choice of words, it was clear Mr. Shao was likely a friend’s son of Professor Chen.

Chu Tong felt it was time for her to leave, but the air between them felt like an invisible barrier; she found no opportunity to interject.

As the man approached the foyer, she turned to retrieve her coat from the rack and took her scarf in hand.

When her fingers brushed against a men’s long coat hanging nearby, she noted the fabric was clearly expensive—stiff and well-shaped.

She glimpsed herself in the mirror.

High-top canvas shoes, deep blue high-waisted loose jeans, a fitted black inner layer, and her hair tied in a low bun—she looked like an ordinary university student.

Compared to the imposing and noble Mr. Shao, they truly belonged to two different worlds.

The housekeeper was attentive to him, then went to fetch a cup from a desk and intercepted his path, handing him some tea. “Though the glass greenhouse has heating, it’s not as warm as inside. You’ve been sitting so long; have some hot tea to warm up.”

Shao Yihuai accepted and drank.

Seizing the moment, Chu Tong finally found a chance to speak with a smile and a soft voice. “Auntie, the video Professor Chen asked for is ready. Please let her know—it’s scheduled for release tomorrow.”

Perhaps because she spoke, Shao Yihuai’s gaze naturally fell on her again.

Her voice was clear and gentle, her face strikingly beautiful with a fox-like sharpness in her eyes.

Her beauty was arresting.

Her obedient manner was likely a specific mode she adopted around elders; beneath those eyes glimmered a keen vitality.

“Oh, good,” the housekeeper replied, then turned to Shao Yihuai. “Sir, Professor Chen said madam will be visiting the weekend after next. Will you have time to come and stay a while?”

Shao Yihuai calmly withdrew his gaze as if he hadn’t seen Chu Tong at all, answering lightly, “There’s an exhibition then; I’ll be tied up.”

He handed the tea cup back and headed toward the foyer.

Chu Tong stepped aside, putting on her coat and scarf, stealing a glance at the mirror during the process.

Through the mirror, she saw the man putting on his long coat—his posture relaxed yet elegant, his proportions perfect, even this simple movement was pleasing to the eye.

She could have slipped away silently—since the housekeeper had made no move to acknowledge her—but after dressing, she stepped down to the foyer, turned back with a slight nod, and then opened the door to leave.

Winter had settled in; the night air was biting cold. She buried the lower half of her face deep into the scarf.

She wore a black long coat with a subtle check pattern, looking thick but of unknown fabric, offering little protection—the wind cut through the gaps like fine blades.

The warmth from inside just moments ago felt like an illusion.

Now it had vanished completely.

With hands tucked deep into her coat pockets, she walked just a short distance against the wind when suddenly the door of the Maybach’s driver side swung open from within. The driver, dressed in a suit, bowed slightly in her direction before opening the rear door.

She paused briefly. Behind her, the faint sound of men’s leather shoes approached with the wind. Instantly she realized this must be Mr. Shao’s car, and the footsteps likely his.

Her mind raced for a moment, but the pause was short. She continued forward, restraining the urge to look back.

The sound of the door closing.

The car started moving.

Shao Yihuai leaned back in the rear seat, the book "The Collected Works of Lü Bicheng" resting on his long, slender fingers.

Inside the old residential complex, the driveway was narrow, with piles of unknown discarded items here and there. The car crept slowly, the dim yellow streetlights and that graceful figure drifting past the window in slow motion.

Her slender figure, clad in an oversized long coat, still appeared delicate. Her thick hair was tied at the nape of her neck, arms folded as if shivering from the cold.

Tonight was indeed cold.

For a fleeting moment, Shao Yihuai considered asking the driver to stop, perhaps to offer this young woman a ride for a stretch.

But the thought was extinguished before it could take shape.

Others called him a gentleman, but giving someone a ride—a small kindness—was already beyond mere courtesy; it was almost thoughtful.

He would not do it.

Not for a girl he barely knew, with whom he had only a brief encounter and not even her name.

The Maybach moved slowly, but the distance between Chu Tong and the car inevitably grew until it disappeared around a bend.

Chu Tong tightened her grip on her bag strap and turned the corner, only to find silence ahead—just the dim streetlights and piles of roadside debris.

—

At the university, the undergraduate Chinese Department was divided into four majors. All four roommates in dorm 202 came from the Chinese Language and Literature major. In the first semester of their sophomore year, there were few major courses, so to excel, one had to be self-disciplined and read extensively to enrich their knowledge.

In the dorm, except for Ding Xue, the other three came from small towns and still maintained the study habits from high school. On weekends, they either stayed in the library or participated in activities. Chu Tong, who had some part-time jobs, was often busier than the others.

Walking alone back to the dorm from the library at night, she often found herself recalling the evening she met Mr. Shao at Professor Chen’s house.

What kind of work did he do?

He mentioned an exhibition—was it a commercial trade show?

He didn’t look like a businessman.

An artist? A scholar? Neither seemed quite right.

Where would he be on such a cold, quiet late autumn night?

Was he accompanied by anyone? Family, or perhaps a girlfriend?

Or maybe he was already married.

Chu Tong racked her brain but couldn’t recall if he wore a wedding ring.

A cold wind blew past, and she turned away, shrugging her shoulders.

In this biting chill, she suddenly realized she was indulging in wild fantasies.

Perhaps in everyone’s life, there is someone like this: a crush as distant and unattainable as the moon, a fleeting encounter with no continuation.

Chu Tong smiled bitterly to herself.

She didn’t even have the luxury to indulge in the melancholy of a momentary infatuation. She had to study hard and work tirelessly.

Tuition, living expenses, she wanted to pursue graduate studies in the Chinese Department on Hong Kong Island, and she wanted to buy a small house for her mother—all of which required money.

Thinking this, she took out her phone and opened WeChat.

Her phone had been on Do Not Disturb in the library, but now she saw a new message from Meng Jie:

“Tong Tong, are you free next weekend? One of my girlfriends had to go back to her hometown last minute, so a spot for the exhibition etiquette job opened up.”

Despite the cold, she quickly typed back:

“I’m free! Thanks, Meng Jie! Big hug and a kiss.”

She had met Meng Jie at a part-time etiquette job during her freshman year and had kept in touch ever since.

Besides working as an etiquette hostess, Meng Jie also recruited people for such events and took a commission. When the pay was decent and the work easy, she would invite Chu Tong along since she was always short on money.

Chu Tong once joked that Meng Jie was like her little piggy bank, to which Meng Jie just laughed and called her silly.

“Meng Jie: It’s a two-day, one-night gig in the suburbs. Remember to inform the counselor ahead of time.”

“Chu Tong: Okay.”

“Meng Jie: You agreed so readily—still short on money?”

“Chu Tong: Always, so call me if you find more gigs.”

“Meng Jie: Beautiful girl, when will you wake up? If you picked any one of the rich admirers chasing you, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”

Chu Tong smiled unconsciously.

During her year and a half at university, she took almost every kind of part-time job during breaks and weekends—e-commerce modeling, tutoring, etiquette hosting—varied but all chosen by her own volition.

Some self-proclaimed talent scouts approached her, inviting her to be an online celebrity or performer with promises of bright futures. But without formal training, her only asset would be her looks. And relying on looks was like getting involved with those rich boys—once trapped, one could never be free.

She only wanted to earn money honestly with her own hands.

She didn’t reply immediately. Probably sensing her thoughts, Meng Jie sent another message:

“Meng Jie: You say that, but I understand you. No backing, no connections—your beauty is more of a burden.”

“Meng Jie: You’re actually a good, simple girl.”

Only then did Chu Tong find the right words to reply:

“Chu Tong: I’ll be 20 after the New Year, no longer a little girl.”

Meng Jie sent a string of laughter emojis and said:

“Meng Jie: Then I’ll pre-book your 20th birthday dinner! I’ll treat you to a big one at Rong Ji, how about that?”

They bantered for a while.

Back in the dorm, after putting down her phone and bag, Chu Tong organized the books needed for tomorrow’s classes and packed two sanitary pads in her bag. She was going to Professor Chen’s house to help edit videos and expected to stay at least two to three hours, so she needed to be prepared.

After showering, several new messages from Liu Hao appeared on her phone.

Not surprising.

Lately, he had been relentlessly pestering her, and no matter how she refused, it was useless.

Sitting on her chair, she stared at the screen lost in thought.

Meng Jie called her simple, and Chu Tong could only half agree. Her goal was indeed simple—to live a stable life and see the world. But life kept throwing people like Liu Hao and Ding Xue at her, forcing her to learn how to feign indifference and soften her demeanor just to survive.

Helping Professor Chen edit videos was no different; she couldn’t deny that part of her was trying to curry favor.

—

Thursday.

It had rained all day. By nightfall, the rain had eased. Chu Tong took bus 368 to Professor Chen’s place.

As usual, the housekeeper came to greet her. “Professor Chen is waiting in the study. Miss, just leave your umbrella here,” she said, pointing to the hollow umbrella stand by the entrance.

Chu Tong thanked her and glanced over. There was already a large black straight-handle umbrella in the stand, its presence strong and solid, with a warm wooden handle carved with a character she couldn’t quite make out.

She placed her transparent umbrella carefully in another corner of the stand.

When she took off her coat and reached to hang it on the rack, her fingers trembled slightly upon touching a black men’s long coat hanging there. Her heart skipped a beat.

Could that be Mr. Shao’s coat?

She followed the housekeeper through the living room toward the interior.

Turning the corner, she saw the half-folded screen that separated the semi-open study from the living room. Professor Chen sat behind a huanghuali desk, adjusting her glasses and looking up. “Chu, come sit.”

Chu Tong nodded.

No sign of the man.

She followed the etiquette of a guest, refraining from looking around, pulled out a chair, opened the video editing software, and began to work.

“Your senior has been on leave quite a while; next week you’ll have to help again,” Professor Chen said.

Chu Tong smiled and nodded obediently.

The housekeeper brought another armchair and placed it beside the screen opposite the desk. Professor Chen wrapped herself in a blanket and settled in, picking up a book to read.

As Chu Tong clicked and dragged the mouse, a deep voice suddenly sounded nearby. “What’s wrong?”

Startled, she trembled.

Professor Chen noticed the disturbance and laughed. “Scared? There’s someone by your side. Forgot to tell you.”

Following the voice, Chu Tong looked to the side and saw that the desk’s side was a movable screen, not a bookshelf.

The semi-transparent six-panel silk screen was embroidered with a complete painting of green bamboo. Behind it, a figure sat on the sofa—the side profile revealed broad shoulders and a slender figure, unmistakably Mr. Shao from before.

He seemed to be on a phone call.

Beyond, the window panes framed the night rain falling softly outside.