Alone in the great hall, Bai Yeqing finally allowed the mask to slip. The servants dismissed, the iron control faltered. He sagged into an armchair, the lines of exhaustion etched deeply around his eyes, now shadowed with genuine pain.
Xingchen watched from the upstairs landing, a dull ache tightening in her chest. After a moment's hesitation, she descended the stairs silently, slipping into the kitchen.
…
"Here."
Her soft voice pulled him from the brink of sleep. He opened heavy lids to find her standing beside the sofa, her face a pale, worried oval in the dim light. A steaming mug was pressed into his hand. Warmth seeped from the ceramic, chasing a sliver of the chill inside him.
"Medication today?" she asked.
"Done. Dr. Fu checked in."
"…Are you alright?" Her gaze flickered towards his bandaged torso.
A curt nod was his only reply.
He sipped the water. Xingchen gathered her resolve. "I waited up. To say thank you."
He looked up at her, his gaze steady but unreadable. "For?"
Before she could answer, her phone buzzed sharply in her pajama pocket. She pulled it out, surprised. Yu Zenan?
"One sec," she murmured to Bai Yeqing, turning slightly as she answered. "Why so late?"
"Couldn't sleep. Missed your voice," came the familiar, breezy reply.
Xingchen couldn't help a small smile. "Cut the crap."
"Bet you're grinning ear to ear right now. Too thrilled to sleep."
"How'd you know?"
"Genius me knows why you're thrilled too."
"Oh really? Enlighten me," she challenged, skeptical.
"Got your job back, didn't you?" Zenan's voice dripped with smug satisfaction. "Told you, talent like yours? Foreign Ministry practically begged."
Xingchen froze.
"How… how do you know that?"
A low chuckle vibrated down the line. "Use your head, Starry. Who else would pull those strings?"
"So… it was you?"
An affirming hum echoed in her ear. Understanding dawned, cold and abrupt. Instinctively, her eyes darted sideways to Bai Yeqing.
So…
Delusional. Again. Of course he wouldn't intervene for something so trivial.
A sharp pang of disappointment cut through her, followed by a wave of relief. At least she hadn't finished that thank-you. Spared that particular humiliation.
"What are you?" she pressed, forcing lightness into her tone, the bitterness a sharp tang beneath. "How can you swing something like that? As my potential blind date, I deserve to know who I'm dealing with. Might sell me off next time we meet."
Her focus was entirely on the phone, oblivious to the sudden glacial shift in the air beside her, the weight of a stare sharpening like ice shards at the words "blind date."
Seems the date went exceptionally well.
Planning to date seriously? Or… marriage?
Bai Yeqing's knuckles whitened around the mug.
"Ha!" Zenan's laugh boomed. "Tell you what. Our date in eight days? Meet me then. Gomes Golf Course. Or give me your address, I'll pick you up bright and early for breakfast."
"Gomes? Fine. Eight days."
"Sweet dreams, Starry."
"Night."
Hanging up, Xingchen's mind raced. Zenan's identity? A divorced high school teacher? Granny's intel was way off. That man reeked of spoiled privilege.
A sudden, sharp clatter shattered the quiet. She spun around. Bai Yeqing had surged to his feet. His mug slammed onto the coffee table with jarring force. His face was granite, jaw clenched tight enough to crack, eyes dark and stormy.
Xingchen flinched, bewildered. What did I do?
He stalked towards the stairs, his back rigid, radiating an arctic chill. She followed silently, keeping pace a few steps behind. Even in the dim light, she could see the strain etching his movements, each step upward seeming to cost him dearly.
Reaching her door, she paused, watching his retreating figure. Uncertain, she turned the handle.
"Xia Xingchen!"
His voice, low and hard as flint, cracked through the hallway. He'd turned, piercing her with a gaze heavy with something she couldn't name – anger, disdain, cold fire.
She froze, spine straightening. "What's wrong?"
He bridged the gap between them in one long stride. Suddenly, he loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her whole in the hallway light. Before she could react, his fingers closed under her chin, pivoting her face upward to meet his. His eyes were twin pools of frozen midnight.
"What taste do you possess?" he demanded, his voice a low rasp.
"Taste? What—"
"A divorced high school teacher?" The words were laced with venomous incredulity. His grip tightened infinitesimally. "Are you so utterly desperate for a man that you'd leap at the first warm body that offers?"
Desperate.
First warm body.
Each syllable was a shard of ice, scraping against her eardrums, piercing straight to her core.