Wen Yifan made an unconscious sound, her gaze returning to the drink. Only then did she notice something amiss.
She had always been like this when dining out—letting others make the arrangements, unbothered by being the last to choose. Usually, whoever was ordering would at least politely ask for her preference, even if only as a formality.
She had never encountered a situation quite like this with Zheng Kejia, who so directly demonstrated that Wen Yifan was someone who could be treated casually. Someone whose preferences didn't matter.
Wen Yifan had never cared much about such small matters. Even now, she couldn't say it felt wrong, exactly. But strangely, in this moment, an odd sensation stirred in her chest—something she couldn't quite name.
She licked the corner of her lips and lowered her eyes to the menu, as if hiding something.
The restaurant didn't offer many dishes. The menu was a single folded page encased in plastic film, drinks listed in the lower right corner of the back. Besides the common beverages available everywhere, there were a few special drinks unique to this establishment.
Wen Yifan scanned the options, but nothing caught her interest. "You choose. I'll just have water."
Sang Yan had already heated the bowl and chopsticks, pushing them toward her with practiced ease.
"You don't want to add anything else?"
Wen Yifan nodded, staring at the bowl and chopsticks now in front of her, and handed the menu back to him.
Sang Yan poured water into her cup while roughly scanning both the menu and the dishes already ordered. In the end, he didn't add anything, casually returning the menu to the center of the table.
After a brief lull, the table's energy picked up again.
The others chatted intermittently, occasionally directing a few words toward Sang Yan. Mostly gossip, with the occasional work-related topic woven in. Wen Yifan didn't know any of the people they were discussing, nor did she understand much about their field. She didn't strain to follow, simply sipping her water slowly.
A realization struck her suddenly.
So Sang Yan had declined the company dinner to have this meal with her?
At this thought, Wen Yifan's gaze drifted toward Sang Yan, only to meet Zheng Kejia's eyes instead. The girl's expression seemed somewhat uneasy, tinged with embarrassment, as if someone had said something pointed to her.
Wen Yifan shifted her gaze, landing on Sang Yan's profile.
Noticing her attention, Sang Yan glanced over quickly. "What is it?"
"Nothing." Wen Yifan lowered her head and continued drinking her water.
But Sang Yan kept watching her, and suddenly he smiled. "Hey, don't try to brush it off."
"Hm?"
His dark eyes gleamed with light, carrying a matter-of-fact tone, as if this gathering had nothing whatsoever to do with him. He tugged at his lip slightly, voice nonchalant. "This meal doesn't count."
…
As dinner drew to a close, Wen Yifan excused herself to the restroom.
She emerged from the stall and turned on the faucet, washing her hands while studying herself in the mirror. Lowering her eyes, she retrieved her cushion foundation and lipstick from her bag. Just as she was about to touch up her makeup, she caught Zheng Kejia entering the restroom in her peripheral vision.
Zheng Kejia's steps faltered momentarily before she approached, taking the spot beside her at the sinks.
Wen Yifan continued her actions, beginning to retouch her makeup with steady hands.
Zheng Kejia appeared to have come only to wash her hands. She squeezed some soap and took the initiative to speak. "I didn't expect to run into you here today. So you know our manager?"
Wen Yifan offered a noncommittal "Mm."
"Just now, my colleague told me they thought I wasn't showing proper respect to the manager by treating someone he brought so casually." Zheng Kejia's brow furrowed slightly, her voice dropping into a complaint. "I didn't mean it that way. Aren't you usually fine with anything?"
Wen Yifan used her fingertip to carefully correct some lipstick that had smeared beyond her lip line.
Zheng Kejia pressed on, "I was just thinking not to waste it, since it had already been ordered."
"Then why didn't you drink it yourself?" Wen Yifan's response came casually, almost absently.
Zheng Kejia found herself momentarily without words. "I don't like it. In the past, you always—" She caught herself mid-sentence, pivoting. "Can you help explain to the manager for me? I'm afraid I've offended him and won't pass my internship."
Wen Yifan smiled. "You're overthinking it."
"But I'm just worried, you know? Just help me say something." Zheng Kejia retrieved her own lipstick, her voice taking on a coy tone threaded with envy. "By the way, is the manager pursuing you?"
"…" Wen Yifan felt genuinely puzzled about how this situation could be so thoroughly misunderstood. "No."
"So he hasn't started pursuing you yet? Are you two in the ambiguous stage? Anyway, he must be interested in you. I was originally planning to pursue him—tall, handsome, cool, rich, and my superior…" Zheng Kejia's lips formed a pout. "But seeing you two like this, I think I'd better give up. I don't want to chase after someone only to fail after putting in so much effort. My conditions aren't bad either."
Wen Yifan paused in her ministrations. "He's interested in me?"
"Do you even need to ask? Are you deliberately trying to make me feel bad?" Zheng Kejia's exasperation was palpable. "He treats you so differently from everyone else. Although I hate to admit it, with your face, I don't stand a chance."
Wen Yifan fell silent, seemingly pondering something deeper.
"Forget it, it's not that big a deal." Zheng Kejia smoothed her hair, giving herself a graceful exit. "I'm not interested in such a grumpy face anyway. If we were together, I'd still have to coax him. I definitely should be the one being pampered."
Wen Yifan had finished touching up her makeup. She started toward the door. "Mm, I'm heading back first."
"Let's go together." Zheng Kejia followed.
Wen Yifan found herself still mulling over what Zheng Kejia had said, the words circling in her mind.
As they walked, Zheng Kejia remembered something. "Hey, let's add each other on WeChat. I've been wanting to contact you for a while, but you never responded to my friend requests."
Wen Yifan remained silent.
"How long has it been since you last contacted Mom? She's been in a bad mood lately because you've been ignoring her." Zheng Kejia's tone shifted. "The state of your relationship is mainly my fault. You shouldn't blame her."
At this, Wen Yifan found it almost amusing. "Then why should I add you on WeChat?"
Zheng Kejia's brow creased. "I just want to talk things through with you properly."
"There's nothing to talk about," Wen Yifan said softly.
"Do you have to be like this?" Feeling she had been nothing but pleasant yet received only coldness in return, Zheng Kejia's frustration bubbled over. "It's not that serious, is it? You're her biological daughter, yet you're not as good to her as I am, her stepdaughter."
"Indeed." Wen Yifan smiled, her words carrying a double edge. "You're more like her biological daughter than I am."
Zheng Kejia quickly caught the implication woven through those words. In an instant, all her bravado evaporated. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged.
To be fair, Wen Yifan didn't harbor particularly strong feelings toward Zheng Kejia.
It was impossible for her to like the girl, but she couldn't claim to hate her either.
After all, she had always felt that although Zheng Kejia was the catalyst, the true culprit was Zhao Yuandong's repeated inaction. Her mother's willful blindness.
Two girls from the same blended family, yet with completely divergent personalities.
It was as if fate had created a fork in the road here, sending them hurtling toward entirely different destinies.
Wen Yifan had fallen from heaven into mud, rejected by her new family, living a cautious existence dependent on others' goodwill. From that point forward, she no longer possessed the privilege of being spoiled. She competed for nothing, fought for nothing, terrified of making even the slightest mistake.
The girl before her, conversely, basked in her father's boundless affection, while her stepmother treated her as tenderly as a biological daughter. She had never experienced hardship—even her troubles were sweet.
At this age, she remained a little princess who couldn't read social cues to save her life, utterly lacking in emotional intelligence.
They were almost back at their seats.
Wen Yifan lowered her voice, delivering one final observation. "So she hasn't lost anything, has she?"
"…"
"Doesn't she still have a daughter?"
The moment she reclaimed her seat, Sang Yan turned his head, eyes sweeping over her. "All done?"
Wen Yifan nodded.
At her confirmation, Sang Yan stood. "Then let's go." He glanced at the others, tone casual. "You guys continue eating. We have something else to do, so we're leaving first."
"Wait!" The guy with the perm shot up immediately, phone already in hand. "We haven't taken any photos yet! Come on, let's take a few. Otherwise, we won't have anything to post on WeChat Moments later."
"…"
Sang Yan appeared faintly impatient but sat back down regardless.
Wen Yifan leaned close to his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "Should I step aside then?"
"Step aside for what? Sit properly." Sang Yan's glance was sharp. "Do you know what your role is?"
"Hm?"
His tone wasn't entirely serious, words slightly drawn out. "To make me look good."
"…"
Wen Yifan didn't bother arguing. She straightened in her seat, gaze fixed on the camera. Her expression settled into calm neutrality, wearing the practiced smile she typically reserved for photographs. After roughly ten seconds, the guy with the perm lowered his phone.
"Alright, we're done."
The words had barely left his mouth before Sang Yan stood.
Wen Yifan offered polite goodbyes to the others and fell into step behind Sang Yan. She glanced at the time. "Are we going home now?"
They exited the restaurant.
Sang Yan's gaze drifted toward the small shopping complex next door. "Let's watch a movie."
He didn't ask for her opinion—as if certain she wouldn't refuse—and made the decision unilaterally. Wen Yifan paused for a moment, then responded naturally, "What movie are we watching?"
Sang Yan handed her his phone. "You choose."
Wen Yifan scrolled through the recently released films. Quite a few options, all with respectable ratings. She read through the descriptions, hesitating between a disaster film and a horror movie.
At this moment, Sang Yan asked suddenly, "You don't get along well with your stepsister?"
Wen Yifan continued deliberating while answering honestly, "No."
Sang Yan had never witnessed this "person without a temper" having a contentious relationship with anyone. "Why?"
"Because we're from a blended family." Wen Yifan's answer was brief, almost evasive. Then she immediately redirected, handing him the phone. "This disaster movie and this horror movie—which one do you want to watch?"
Sang Yan studied her for several seconds without responding.
Wen Yifan still didn't continue the previous topic. "Which one do you want to watch?"
She looked up then, meeting his gaze before quickly lowering her eyes again.
Sang Yan remained silent for a beat longer, then casually glanced at the options. "The disaster movie."
"Okay, I'll choose the seats. Do you want to sit in the back?"
"Mm."
The topic seemed successfully diverted.
Wen Yifan felt a flutter of relief, no longer dwelling on the mess that was her family. She was about to click on the ticketing page for the disaster movie when she suddenly recalled how Sang Yan had chosen it—without hesitation, immediate and definitive.
Then Wen Yifan remembered: he was afraid of ghosts.
She hesitated momentarily, then exited and clicked on the horror movie instead.
Whether bewitched or driven by some reckless impulse, Wen Yifan's subsequent actions were executed with suspicious smoothness. When she reached the payment page, she handed the phone to him with a perfectly straight face. "Done."
Sang Yan suspected nothing. He entered the payment password without even looking at the screen.
Wen Yifan had selected the nearest showtime—only half an hour away. They proceeded directly to the cinema floor, collected their tickets, and waited outside the theater to enter.
During this interval, Sang Yan glanced at the movie tickets. Noticing the title, he paused. He pulled out his phone to cross-reference with the purchase record, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "You bought the horror movie?"
"…" Hearing this, Wen Yifan feigned examining his phone. After a few seconds, as if only just realizing: "I seem to have bought the wrong one."
Sang Yan turned his head to look at her directly, eyes carrying unmistakable scrutiny.
Wen Yifan met his gaze, her expression displaying zero guilt.
After a prolonged moment, Sang Yan let out a meaningful "Oh."
The feeling was uncomfortably similar to being caught red-handed. Wen Yifan's previously calm composure rippled instantly. Once the initial deflection had passed, regret began seeping in gradually. After all, thinking seriously about it, this was something Sang Yan genuinely feared.
It didn't seem very considerate of her.
With this realization, Wen Yifan suggested, "Why don't we buy tickets again? I'll transfer the money to you."
"No need," Sang Yan said flatly.
Just then, they began checking tickets for entry.
The guilt in Wen Yifan's heart became increasingly pronounced, as if a heavy stone had settled on her chest. After sitting down, she hesitated repeatedly before finally calling out to him. "Sang Yan."
"Speak."
"If you get scared later—" Although the outcome remained the same, Wen Yifan's purpose in making this proposal now wasn't quite as impure as her initial motivation. "I can protect you."
Sang Yan's expression registered slight bewilderment. "What the hell."
Wen Yifan licked her lips, saying nothing more.
Several seconds elapsed. Connecting cause and effect, Sang Yan seemed to finally grasp the full picture. He laughed outright, shoulders and chest trembling slightly as if finding it extraordinarily amusing, the sound emerging as faint, breathy exhalations.
In the dim lighting, Wen Yifan could even faintly discern the dimple at the corner of his mouth.
She felt inexplicably mortified. "I just bought the wrong one…"
"Alright." Sang Yan barely suppressed his laughter, speaking with deliberate slowness. "I underestimated you."
At that precise moment, the movie began to play.
Wen Yifan pretended she hadn't heard, raising her eyes to fix on the screen.
The entire film lasted an hour and a half.
Occasionally, during key moments, Sang Yan beside her would suddenly lean close to her ear, voice emerging breathy, nonchalant, and infuriatingly smug. "So scary."
"…"
Or he would murmur, "What? Still not coming to—"
He deliberately stopped there, rephrasing with obvious implication. "Protect me?"
Throughout the entire movie, Wen Yifan felt as if she'd seen everything yet absorbed nothing. In any case, she couldn't recall a single plot point afterward, her mind endlessly replaying Sang Yan's words that seemed simultaneously challenging and flirtatious.
She couldn't even determine if Sang Yan was genuinely scared or not.
On the drive home, Wen Yifan's thoughts circled back to Zheng Kejia's words.
Although Wen Yifan had previously sensed that Sang Yan seemed to treat her somewhat differently, she'd also worried this was merely wishful thinking on her part. But from an outsider's perspective, it apparently held true.
It genuinely seemed that Sang Yan harbored feelings for her.
Which meant the intuitions she'd been experiencing recently probably weren't pure imagination.
Through the reflection in the window, Wen Yifan caught sight of her curved lips.
She blinked but made no effort to suppress the smile.
After arriving home, Wen Yifan remembered the group photo taken at the grilled fish restaurant. Before retreating to her room, she took the initiative to ask, "Can you send me that photo we took today?"
Sang Yan was sprawled on the sofa, attention on his phone.
Hearing this, he turned off the screen with studied casualness. "I don't have it."
Wen Yifan nodded, not pressing further.
…
The following day, Wen Yifan went to work at the company.
The moment she powered on her computer, Su Tian arrived and habitually inquired about progress.
Bringing up this topic again with Su Tian, Wen Yifan felt marginally more confident than before. But she remained uncertain about next steps, so she decided to solicit advice from this self-proclaimed romance expert.
Su Tian stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Then it seems about time to confess, right?"
"…Is it that fast?" Wen Yifan hedged.
"It's not fast," Su Tian reasoned. "It's just dating, not like you're immediately getting married or anything. If you're still worried it's just your imagination, you could also wait for him to take the initiative?"
Thinking of how she'd evaded the topic when Sang Yan asked questions yesterday, Wen Yifan simply shook her head.
Su Tian found her attitude somewhat peculiar. "Why do I feel like you're particularly cautious about this 'king of ducks'? You always seem to be overthinking everything."
Wen Yifan smiled faintly. "Do I?"
"Yes." Su Tian's tone turned encouraging. "You don't need to think too much. It's just dating! It's not a big deal!"
Wen Yifan made a sound of acknowledgment and resumed typing on her keyboard.
"I know."
Between the two of them, it seemed only the thinnest membrane remained unbroken.
Wen Yifan didn't fully understand what she was panicking about.
Perhaps it was not knowing whether he still minded the past, and not knowing how to broach her history—the parts she desperately didn't want to mention.
Or perhaps it was not knowing whether breaking through would result in genuine closeness or permanent, irrevocable estrangement.
So even though she longed to take a step closer, she preferred to retreat for now. To preserve what they had.
She only hoped that the time spent with him could be extended because of this careful hesitation.
Two weeks later, Wen Yifan suddenly received notice to embark on a business trip to Beiyu City. A tunnel collapse had occurred without warning, resulting in heavy casualties and losses. Once the incident broke, it sparked heated discussions online, the controversy spreading rapidly.
Wen Yifan immediately returned home to pack her luggage.
Since it was a rest day, Sang Yan happened to be home.
Observing her hurried movements, Sang Yan immediately intuited the reason. Before she departed, he took the initiative to ask, "Going to Beiyu? When will you be back?"
Because follow-up investigations would be necessary, Wen Yifan couldn't say with certainty. "Probably two or three weeks?"
"Oh."
Uncertain whether she could return before his birthday, Wen Yifan wanted to say something but didn't dare make promises she might not keep. She picked up her luggage and walked to the entrance. Just as she was about to descend to meet Qian Weihua, Sang Yan suddenly called out, "Hey."
Wen Yifan turned back.
"Come back soon." Sang Yan's tone managed to sound both serious and casual simultaneously. "I have something to tell you."
"…" Wen Yifan stopped, turning back fully to look at him. "Can't you say it now?"
"If I say it now—" Sang Yan played idly with his phone, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile. "I'm afraid you won't be able to focus on your work properly."
…
Wen Yifan climbed into Qian Weihua's car, finding Mu Chengyun already occupying the back seat. She greeted them both, fastened her seatbelt, then found herself absentmindedly dwelling on Sang Yan's words.
She felt that with him saying something like that, she'd be even less capable of concentration.
Wen Yifan flipped through her phone briefly, then set it down with finality.
The drive from Nanwu to Beiyu would consume roughly three hours. Darkness was encroaching, and fearing Qian Weihua might grow fatigued, Wen Yifan had arranged to take turns driving with him. She decided to rest first.
Not long after closing her eyes, her phone vibrated.
Wen Yifan retrieved it and noticed a red notification dot on her contacts' new friends list. She tapped to open it and, predictably enough, found Zheng Kejia again. She was about to exit when she suddenly registered the note Zheng Kejia had included.
[Sending you photos from the gathering.]
Wen Yifan considered for a moment, then pressed accept.
The other side immediately sent a string of ellipses. […]
Zheng Kejia: [I've tried to add you hundreds of times with no response, but you accept instantly when I mention photos.]
Zheng Kejia: [You're so materialistic.]
Half a minute elapsed.
Zheng Kejia sent five photographs.
The background remained consistent across all of them—apparently captured in rapid succession by the guy with the perm.
Wen Yifan opened them to examine more closely.
In the photos, her hair fell casually over her shoulders, her oval face appearing small as a palm, her skin pale as paper. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes would turn down slightly, softening her striking features.
Sang Yan, seated beside her, wasn't looking at the camera. He was quietly observing her from the side, the corner of his lips curved ever so slightly.
Wen Yifan's breath caught.
She swiped through to view the remaining four photographs.
Five photos total.
Spanning approximately half a minute.
In every single image, Sang Yan never once looked at the camera.
He was looking at her.
Only at her.
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
