Lian Yue had always walked beside Shen Tinglan.
Since the day she first stepped into the Shen household at three years old, she had clung to his hand, her world quietly revolving around him. Back then, he would ruffle her hair, wait for her to catch up, and protect her from the slightest harm. To her, he was warmth, safety, and the steady calm in a world she couldn't yet understand.
But now, at fifteen, Lian Yue was no longer the timid child trailing after him. She had grown—beautiful, poised, and exceptionally intelligent. Like Shen Tinglan, she had skipped several grades, now standing beside him not just as someone he once looked after, but as his academic equal.
At least, that was what she had hoped.
Today, the school corridors were abuzz with chatter. As usual, whispers followed her wherever she went.
"Lian Yue and Shen Tinglan again…"
"She's always chasing him."
"He barely acknowledges her."
Lian Yue heard them, but her steps didn't falter. Her eyes scanned the crowd ahead, settling on the tall figure walking toward the exit, expression calm and detached. Shen Tinglan's dark eyes didn't drift from the path, nor did he slow when he noticed her.
She hurried to match his pace. "Tinglan-ge," she said softly.
He glanced at her briefly. "You'll be late."
That was all. No smile, no warmth. Just those three words, distant and impersonal.
Still, she smiled. "Then I'll walk with you. We're going the same way, after all."
He didn't answer, nor did he stop her. For Lian Yue, that small allowance was enough.
The two of them walked in silence. The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, casting their shadows side by side, yet to her, the distance between them felt impossible to close. She glanced at him. His gaze was steady, forward, as if she wasn't even there.
She missed the days when he used to look at her with something other than polite detachment.
During lunch, she tried again. She had spent the morning preparing a simple bento box, carefully selecting his favorite foods. She waited for him by the bench near the courtyard, the place they used to sit when she was younger.
When he approached, she stood. "I made this," she said, holding out the box. "You haven't eaten, right?"
He paused, his gaze flickering briefly to the box, then to her face. "You don't need to do this."
Lian Yue's smile wavered, but she steadied it. "I wanted to."
Shen Tinglan's expression didn't change. "Don't do things that will make others misunderstand."
Her fingers tightened around the box. "I don't care what others think."
"But I do," he said quietly, and turned to leave.
She stood frozen, watching his back as he walked away, the warmth of the lunch fading rapidly in her hands.
"Yue'er."
She turned to see Song Yan standing nearby, his expression unreadable.
"You're still trying," he said gently.
She forced a smile. "I don't know what you mean."
Song Yan sighed. "You think if you stay close enough, you'll matter to him the same way he matters to you."
Her heart clenched. "Is that so wrong?"
"No." He looked at her for a long moment. "But sometimes, trying harder doesn't close the distance—it only makes it more painful."
Lian Yue said nothing. She couldn't. Her throat felt tight, as if even breathing would make the tears she fought so hard to suppress spill over.
That evening, she returned to the Shen estate as usual. It was the only place that had ever felt like home. Liu Yuyan greeted her with a warm embrace.
"Yue'er, welcome home," she said, brushing Lian Yue's hair back gently. "You've grown so beautiful."
Lian Yue smiled faintly. "Thank you, Aunt Liu."
"You're not just a guest here, you know," Liu Yuyan continued. "You're the daughter I never had."
Lian Yue's chest tightened. She wanted to feel happy, wanted to believe she still belonged, but Shen Tinglan's cold eyes haunted her.
Later that night, as she passed by his study, she paused. Through the slightly ajar door, she saw him at his desk, the soft light casting shadows across his face.
Summoning her courage, she knocked gently.
"Tinglan-ge," she called.
He didn't respond, but she stepped inside anyway, standing quietly.
"I miss how things used to be," she said, her voice trembling. "Can't we go back to that?"
A long silence.
He looked up, his gaze meeting hers. There was no anger, no harshness—only calm detachment.
"You've grown up, Lian Yue. Things change."
She took a step forward. "But why does growing up mean pushing me away?"
He stood, placing a careful distance between them. "Because you feel things you shouldn't."
Her breath caught.
"I'm not a child anymore," she whispered.
"I know," he said, quietly. "That's why we can't go back."
The door closed softly behind her as she stepped out, her hands trembling at her sides.
She had climbed every mountain just to walk beside him. But now, standing so close, he had never felt farther away.