The air in Shanghai didn't just hit me; it welcomed me with a humid, heavy embrace that smelled of roasted chestnuts and rain-soaked pavement – a scent I had memorized from travel blogs and late-night binge on Chinese dramas back in Chicago. For four years, I had carried this city in my head like a secret, my bedroom walls plastered with maps of the Bund and calligraphy practice sheets that never quite looked right. Now, standing on the curb of the Pudong airport, the violet gold haze of a Chinese summer wasn't just a dream; it was the atmosphere I was finally allowed to breathe. My chest ached with the kind of gravity you only feel when a "someday" finally becomes a "now." I adjusted the strap of my carry-on, my heart hammering a frantic, happy rhythm against my ribs. I was a thousand miles from the windy city, standing under a sky that felt older and vast than anything I'd ever known, and I was ready for every single syllable of it.
I pulled a crumbled piece of paper from my pocket; the ink was slightly blurred from the humidity of the terminal. Lin Xuan. I practiced the tones of his name a hundred times in my bedroom in Chicago, my tongue tripping over the 'x' sound until it felt like a prayer. He was my assigned "Peer Cultural Ambassador" – a title that, in my head, involved shared tea and long walks through the Yu Garden. I scanned the sea of drivers and families holding cardboard signs.
My eyes skipped past the frantic energy of the crowd until they snagged on a boy leaning against a sleek black sedan. He didn't look like an ambassador. He looked like a statue carved from moonlight. While everyone else in the terminal was wilting under the July heat, he looked entirely untouched. His white button-down was crisp, his dark hair swept back with effortless precision, and his gaze was fixed firmly on his phone. He wasn't looking for me. In fact, he looked like he was actively trying to exist in a different dimension. I took a deep breath, adjusted my heavy backpack, and stepped forward, my heart doing a nervous little dance.
This was it.
The first person in my new life.
"Excuse me?" I started my Mandarin carefully pitched to the first tone. "Are you…Lin Xuan?" He didn't look up immediately. He finished whatever he was typing, his thumb sliding across the screen with icy deliberation, before finally lifting his eyes. They weren't warm. They were the color of a winter lake – sharp, clear, and utterly unimpressed. "You're late," he said.
His English was flawless, stripped of any welcoming inflection. He didn't take my bag. He didn't offer a smile. He simply looked at my frizzy hair and my oversized suitcase as if I were a particularly difficult math problem he'd been forced to solve.
"I…the flight was delayed," I stammered, my rehearsal greeting dying on my lips.
"Clearly." He turned on his heel, not waiting to see if I was following. "Let's go. I have a thesis to finish, and I wasn't told I'd be babysitting a tourist."
The interior of the sedan smelled of expensive leather and a faint, crisp scent of sandalwood– cold, clinical, and sophisticated. As the door thudded shut, the roar of the city was instantly severed, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt like a third passenger sitting between us.
Lin Xuan didn't speak. He didn't even look at me as he pulled the car into the flow of traffic with a terrifying, effortless grace. His hands on the steering wheel were steady, his fingers long and pale against the dark leather. He drove the way he spoke, with a surgical kind of precision that left no room for error. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying to reconcile the boy beside me with the dream I'd carried for four years. Outside, Shanghai was a neon-drenched fever dream. We blurred past soaring skyscrapers wrapped in digital dragons and narrow alleys where laundry hung like prayer flags over steaming noodle stalls. It was everything I'd imagined– the gold, the grit, the ancient pulse–but inside the car, it felt like I was trapped in a moving refrigerator.
"I really appreciate you picking me up," I said, my voice sounding painfully loud in the quiet car. "I know it's a long drive from the airport to the dorms." He didn't even blink.
"The university requires it. Don't mistake obligation for hospitality." His words were like little shards of glass. I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting the strap of my bag.
"Right. Well, I'm Allie. But I guess you saw that in my file. I've been studying Mandarin since I was fourteen, so if you want to speak Chinese, I'd love to–"
"I prefer efficiency," he interrupted, his gaze fixed on the elevated highway. He spoke English with a mid-Atlantic accent that was smoother than my own.
"Your Mandarin will be slow, accented, and likely incorrect. I have no desire to spend my afternoon translating basic nouns. You are here to study; I am here to ensure you don't get lost before the first day of classes. That is the extent of our 'partnership'."
I looked away, a hot flash of embarrassment creeping up my neck. I watched the reflection of the city lights dance across the polished dashboard.
He was the top of his class, the "Ice Prince," the boy who held the keys to the world I wanted to belong to, and he looked at me like I was a smudge on a pristine lens. As we crossed the Nanpu Bridge, the city opened– a glittering expanse of light reflecting off the Huangpu River. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I stole a glance at him, hoping to see a flicker of shared wonder, but his profile was a granite silhouette.
The bloom was going to be a lot slower than I thought.
The car glided through the gates of East China Normal University, the tires crunching over gravel that sounded like breaking glass in the sudden stillness of the campus woods. As the sedan slowed, the modern skyscrapers of the city skyline were replaced by the sloping, traditional tiled roofs of the dormitories, framed by weeping willows that dipped into the canals.
Lin Xuan didn't look at me as he put the car in park. He simply checked his watch– a silver piece that looked like it cost more than my first year of tuition. He let out a sharp, impatient breath.
"Out," he said. It wasn't a request.
As he stepped from the air-conditioned bubble of the car, the Shanghai heat hit me like a physical wall. It was thick with the scent of gardenias and damp earth. I felt instantly rumpled, my Chicago to Shanghai travel clothes sticking to my skin. I reached into the trunk for my suitcase, but before I could grab the handle, a ripple went through the students lingering near the dormitory entrance.
It was like a magnetic field shifting. A group of girls, dressed in effortless summer silks and high-end sneakers, drifted towards us. They were beautiful in that curated, untouchable way, but as they approached, their eyes weren't on the scenery. They were locked on the boy by the driver's side door.
"Lin Xuan! You're back early," one girl chirped, her voice shifting into a higher, sweeter register. "We were going to the café at the library. You're coming, right? You promised to look at my notes."
Lin Xuan didn't even turn his head. He was busy pulling my heavy, battered suitcase out of the trunk with a single, effortless motion. "I didn't promise anything, Chen Lu. And I am busy."
"But it's only four," another girl added, stepping closer, her hand reaching out as if to touch his arm. "The professor said–"
"That professor said you should study, not wait in parking lots," he cut her off, his voice like a sheet of falling ice. He didn't look at her hand; he looked through it. The girl froze, her smile faltering, her hand dropping back to her side as if she'd been burned by the cold radiating off him. He didn't care about how they felt. He slammed the trunk shut.
I stood there, feeling like a bright yellow highlighter mark on a black-and-white photograph. I was painfully aware of my frizzy hair, my oversized "Chicago" hoodie tied around my waist, and my wide, curious eyes. I felt shy. The kind of shy that makes you want to shrink into the pavement– but as the girls turned their judgmental gaze toward me, something else flickered.
They were looking at me like I was a piece of luggage he'd been forced to carry.
"Who is…this?" Chen Lu asked, her eyes scanning me with a mix of pity and annoyance.
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, but I didn't want to be a burden. I straightened my shoulders, offering a small, hesitant smile. "I'm Allie," I said, my voice soft but clear. I tried to use the Mandarin I had practiced so hard. "Wǒ shì měiguó lái de jiāohuàn shēng. (I am an exchange student from America.)"
My tones were almost perfect, soft and melodic, and for a split second, the girls looked surprised. I might have looked like a mess, but when I spoke, there was a glimmer of the girl who had topped her language classes for four years. I had a natural, quiet grace that didn't need designer silk to exist.
Lin Xuan paused, his hand on the handle of my suitcase. He shot me a glance, just a flicker, as if he was annoyed that I had even bothered to speak.
"She's a headache," Lin Xuan said in English, loud enough for everyone to hear, effectively shattering my small moment of confidence. "And she's my shadow for the semester. Don't get in the way."
He started walking toward the dorm entrance, dragging my suitcase behind him without a backward glance. I stood there for a second, the girls' whispers starting up behind my back like a hive of disturbed bees.
"Wait! I called out, running after him. "Lin Xuan, I can carry that!"
"You'll move too slow," he threw the bag over his shoulder while pulling the suitcase.
As we reached the heavy wooden doors of the international building, two guys were lounging against the stone railing. They were a stark contrast to Lin Xuan's rigid perfection. One was tall and athletic, spinning a basketball on his finger, while the other sat on the railing with a sketchbook, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed in the most stylish way possible.
"Look at this," the one with the basketball laughed, his eyes lighting up as he saw Lin Xuan's grim expression. "The prince is performing manual labor. Is the world ending?"
The boy with the sketchbook looked up, his eyes landing on me. Unlike the other girls in the car, his gaze was warm and brimming with curiosity.
"So this is the girl from Chicago? The one who's supposed to survive you the whole year?"
Lin Xuan stopped in front of them, his jaw tight. "Lu Feng, Gu Huashu. Meet the American. She's your problem too, since you're the only ones who can tolerate my 'babysitting' schedule."
Lu Feng, the basketball player, stepped forward with a wide, dazzling grin that felt like the first real sun I'd seen all day. "Don't mind him, Allie. He's been in a mood since 2012. I'm Lu Feng, and the brooding artist over there is Gu Huashu. You'll be classmates with him since you both are art majors."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. These were his friends. They were so…human. I looked from the friendly Lu Feng to the quiet Gu Huashu, and then finally back at Lin Xuan, who was already staring at the door as if he wanted to set it on fire with his mind.
"Nice to meet you," I whispered, feeling that shy bloom of excitement return.
"Don't get comfortable," Lin Xuan muttered, shoving the door open with his shoulder. "We have three levels of stairs, and I'm not carrying your luggage past the lobby."
The transition from the airport to the quiet sanctuary of her room was a blur of exhaustion and adrenaline. Lin Xuan didn't say another word as he hauled her suitcase into the lobby of the international student house; his silence was a sharp contrast to the lively energy of his two friends.
"Gu Huashu," Lin Xuan said, his voice dropping an octave as he addressed his friend, who was focused on his sketching. "You share her schedule. You take her and show her the grounds tomorrow. I have a lab to oversee."
He didn't wait for an answer. With a final, icy nod toward the door, Lin Xuan vanished back into the humid afternoon, leaving a vacuum of cold air behind.
Gu Huashu, however, was a different story. He shouldered Allie's smaller bag with a gentle smile. "Don't let him get under your skin, Allie. He's brilliant, but he's forgotten how to be a person. Come on, let's get you upstairs."
The dorm room was small but flooded with golden afternoon light. There were two beds, two desks, and two wardrobes. Allie's side was bare, but the next to her was even more so; the mattress was still wrapped in thin plastic, its future occupant a mystery.
"You're lucky," Gu Huashu remarked, leaning against the doorframe. "A single for now. I'll be back to walk you to the Grand Hall for the Welcome Assembly at seven. Sleep. You look like a ghost."
He was right. As soon as the door clicked shut, the jet lag hit her like a physical weight. The fourteen-hour time difference began to pull at her eyelids. Allie barely had the strength to kick off her shoes before she collapsed onto the firm mattress.
She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, the distant sounds of the campus – the hum of cicadas and the muffled chatter of students – fading into a hum.
When the alarm on her phone blared three hours later, Allie woke up disoriented. Her head throbbed with the dull ache of the time jump, and for a moment, she forgot she was in Shanghai. But then she saw the suitcase, and the excitement sparked again.
She didn't want to look like the "headache" Lin Xuan had called her.
She showered, the cool water shaking off the dregs of her nap. From the depths of her suitcase, she pulled out a dress she had saved specifically for this night: a mid-length, deep emerald silk slip dress that caught the light like the surface of the Huangpu River. Over it, she threw a delicate, cream colored lace cardigan.
She spent an hour on her hair and makeup – a rare luxury. She styled her hair in soft, polished waves that framed her face, and her makeup was minimal but luminous, a pop of berry-tinted gloss on her lips and a shimmer on her lids that made her brown eyes pop. When she looked in the mirror, she didn't look like the frazzled girl from the airport. She looked like a girl who belonged in a dream.
A knock at the door signaled Gu Huashu's arrival. When she opened it, the artist actually blinked, his charcoal pencil pausing over his sketchbook.
"Wow," he breathed, a genuine, appreciative smile spreading across his face. "Okay, Chicago. Maybe the Ice Prince will actually have to look at you tonight."
They walked through the campus, which had transformed under the moonlight. The Grand Hall was a masterpiece of colonial-era architecture, glowing with lanterns. Students were everywhere, dressed in suits and gowns, a sea of elite youth. But as Allie walked beside Huashu, heads turned. She wasn't just another exchange student; she was a vision of emerald green and quiet confidence.
At the base of the white marble stairs leading into the hall, a familiar figure stood waiting. Lin Xuan was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, looking every bit like an heir and a scholar. He looked untouchable.
Gu Huashu stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Allie's elbow to guide her toward him. "Mission accomplished," Huashu chirped, his eyes dancing. "One exchange student, safe and sound. And significantly better dressed than you, Xuan."
Huashu leaned in to Allie. "I've got to run and change – I'm technically supposed to be working the check-in desk. See you inside!"
Before Allie could protest, Huashu sprinted off toward the side entrance, leaving her standing at the foot of the stairs, three feet away from Lin Xuan.
Lin Xuan's gaze travelled from her sneakers to her eyes, and for the briefest, most microscopic second, his icy composure flickered. His eyes didn't just scan her; they lingered. But just as quickly, the wall went back up. He checked his watch, the silver glinting in the lantern light.
"You're on time," he said, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He offered his arm – not out of affection, but with the rigid formality of someone following a script. "Don't trip on the stairs. Everyone is already looking."
"Are they?" Allie whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Of course they are," he muttered, his eyes flickering toward the crowded hall. "I'm the one standing next to you."
"It's a good thing I wore sneakers…" Allie mumbled, looking down.
The Grand Hall felt less like a university building and more like a palace from a forgotten era. High above, crystal chandeliers cast a honey-thick glow over the polished mahogany floors, while a live string quartet tucked into a balcony played a soaring, classical arrangement of a traditional Chinese folk song. The music was a bridge between two worlds – elegant, complex, and heavy with history.
Lin Xuan didn't lead her into the room so much as he navigated her through it. He moved with a territorial grace, his hand hovering just an inch from the small of her back – never touching, but close enough that his presence felt like a protective, albeit cold, shadow.
"Stay close," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the clink of champagne flutes and the low hum of Mandarin. "The Dean's speech starts in five minutes. If I lose you in this crowd, I'll spend the rest of the night answering to the International Affairs Board."
The Dean, a man who looked like he was carved from ancient oak, stepped onto the podium. His voice boomed through the hall, a rhythmic tide of Mandarin that Allie tried desperately to follow. She caught words like friendship, future, and prosperity, but the nuances slipped through her fingers.
She felt a sudden, dizzying wave of jet lag. The floor seemed to tilt slightly, the room's heat intensifying under the weight of the silk and the crowd. She swayed, just a fraction, and instantly felt a firm, steady pressure on her elbow.
Lin Xuan hadn't looked at her, but his hand was there, anchoring her. "Breathe," he commanded quietly. "It's halfway over. Don't faint now; it would be a logistical nightmare."
Even his comfort was an insult, yet the warmth of his hand through her lace cardigan was the only thing keeping her grounded.
When the doors to the dining hall opened, the air changed. The scent of jasmine tea mingled with the rich, savory aroma of braised abalone and steamed sea bass. The tables were massive round carousels of white linen and gold rimmed porcelain.
Lin Xuan sat Allie next to him at a table near the front. She watched, wide-eyed as the "Lazy Susan" in the center began to spin, presenting a choreographed parade of dishes. There were crystal dumplings that looked like translucent jewels, stir-fried lotus roots, and a whole fish drizzled in a bright, sweet-sour glaze.
"Eat," Lin Xuan said, placing a small portion of greens on her plate with his own chopsticks before he even served himself. It was a gesture of polite host-duty, but he did it with clinical detachment. "You've been staring at the sea bass for three minutes. It won't bite back."
"It's beautiful," Allie whispered, her shyness returning as she realized the students at their table, who were all high-ranking members of the student council, were watching her. "I don't want to ruin the presentation."
"It's food, not a museum exhibit," he retorted, though he leaned in slightly closer to shield her from the curious stares of the group of girls across the table.
After the meal, the string quartet shifted into a waltz. The center of the hall was cleared for dancing, a tradition for the opening gala.
"Xuan!" A tall, sharp-featured man in a military-style suit approached, flanked by his parents. He was clearly from one of the families that rivaled Lin Xuan's in status. "The Dean mentioned you were hosting an American. I assumed you'd be too bored to stay for the dancing."
Lin Xuan stood up, his posture stiffening into something more formidable. "I am fulfilling my responsibilities, Zhao. My boredom is irrelevant."
"Well, since you're so 'busy' with your duties," the man said, his eyes sliding toward Allie with a predatory kind of interest, "perhaps the lady would like a dance? It would be a shame for that dress to go to waste sitting in a chair."
Allie's heart hammered. She looked up at Lin Xuan, expecting him to hand her off so he could finally be rid of her for ten minutes. Instead, Lin Xuan's grip on the back of her chair tightened until his knuckles went white.
"She's exhausted," Lin Xuan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy floor. "And she doesn't know the steps to this arrangement. I'll be taking her back to the dorms momentarily."
"I didn't ask you, Xuan. I asked her."
Allie felt the eyes of the entire room on her. She felt like a delicate bird caught between two hawks. She reached out, fingers grazing Lin Xuan's sleeve. "It's okay," she said softly, looking at the stranger. Allie felt the tension radiating off Lin Xuan like a physical chill. He was shielding her, yes, but he was also suffocating, and she could tell. After four years of dreaming of China, she didn't want to be a "logistical nightmare "or a "duty" tucked away in a corner. She wanted to take that burden off him, even if it was for ten minutes. "It's just one dance, I think I can manage."
Lin Xuan's jaw tightened so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. He pulled his arm back as if her touch had burned him. "Suit yourself, he murmured, his voice dropping several degrees. He sat back, his eyes turning to flint as he watched Zhao lead her towards the center of the mahogany floor.
Zhao took her hand with the practiced ease of a man who spent more time in ballrooms than classrooms. He kept a perfect, gentlemanly distance, but his eyes were far more intimate than his posture.
"You have quite the courage, Allie," Zhao murmured, his Mandarin smooth and melodic. When he saw her blink, he transitioned effortlessly into English, his voice a low, flirtatious purr. "Most people run when Lin Xuan starts radiating his "permafrost." How did a girl from Chicago end up in the clutches of the Ice Prince?"
"He's just…dedicated to his duties," Allie replied, trying to keep her steps light. She could feel the weight of Lin Xuan's gaze from the table, a heavy, silent pressure on her back.
"Duties," Zhao chuckled, twirling her expertly. He smelled of expensive cologne and confidence. "Xuan doesn't do 'duty'. He does perfection. But you? You're a variable he can't calculate. I like variables." He leaned in just a fraction, his gaze lingering on her lips. "If you ever find the dorms too cold, you should know that not every host in Shanghai is made of ice."
Allie felt a flush crawl up her neck. He was charming, undeniably, but it felt like a performance. A polished veneer that covered a man who collected hearts like trophies. She could read the "Playboy" energy in the way he looked at her, as if she were a shiny new toy.
As the song wound down, Allie looked back toward their table, her heart skipping a beat.
Lin Xuan was gone.
In his place stood Lu Feng and Gu Huashu. Lu Feng was mid-laugh, holding a plate of appetizers, while Gu Huashu was sketching something on a napkin. Lin Xuan hadn't just left the table; He vanished from the hall entirely.
The moment the music stopped, Allie stepped away from Zhao, her pulse quickening with a sudden, sharp spike of anxiety. "Thank you for the dance," she said breathlessly, not waiting for his reply.
She scanned the sea of silk and suits, her breath hitching. The hall that had felt magical moments ago now felt predatory. Without Lin Xuan's cold, steady presence, she felt like a target. Her eyes darted toward the exits, the fancy lights blurring into a dizzy swirl as the jet lag and panic began to collide.
"Allie! Hey, over here!"
Gu Huashu waved over her, his expression softening as he saw her pale face. She practically stumbled toward them.
"Where did he go?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Xuan?" Lu Feng popped a dumpling in his mouth, looking unbothered. "He hit his limit for 'socializing.' Said he had an early meeting and that we were in charge of getting you home. Typical Xuan – he's about as reliable as a blizzard when he's annoyed."
"He looked like he was chewing glass watching you dance with that snake, Zhao." Gu Huashu added, tucking his charcoal away. He reached out, gently patting her shoulder. "Don't worry. He's back to his icy self, probably brooding in the library by now. We've got you. Ready to head back?"
Allie nodded, casting a final lingering look at the door Lin Xuan had disappeared through. She felt a strange, hollow ache in her chest. She was glad to see these two, but Lin Xuan was the first person she met here. That was special to her. She was hoping to grow their friendship since he's responsible for her during this time in China.
"Hey, Gu Huashu…" Allie said softly, looking down as they walked out the door. "Am I really going to be a bother for him during my time here?"
"What? Xuan? You don't have to worry about that. He might seem hard to get along with, but he's a nice guy. He's probably the only one here that you can truly count on. Which is probably why he got stuck with you."
The cool night air of the campus was a sharp relief after the suffocating elegance of the hall. The path back to the dorms was lit by glowing stone lanterns that cast long, dancing shadows across the pavement. Allie walked between the two boys, her emerald dress rustling softly, but her mind was still back at that empty table.
"He's the only one I can count on?" Allie repeated, her voice barely whispering. "But he looks at me like I'm a broken calculator. Or a chore he forgot to finish."
Gu Huashu tucked his hands into his pockets, his gaze drifting up to the moon. "Xuan doesn't do things halfway, Allie. If the university asked him to be your guide, he'll be the best guide you've ever had – but he'll hate himself for caring enough to do it right. He's been 'the best' at everything since he was in diapers. Top marks, top of the social ladder, heir to a massive tech legacy. People have been trying to get a piece of him his whole life."
"Especially the girls," Lu Feng added, dribbling an imaginary ball as they walked. "You saw those girls at the car. To them, he's a trophy. To his family, he's a tool. He's spent twenty years building an ice fortress around himself just so he can breathe. Then you show up – all smiles and Chicago energy – and suddenly there's a crack in the wall. It scares him."
Allie hugged her lace cardigan tighter. "I didn't mean to scare him. I just wanted to say thank you."
They reached the dorm entrance, where the humidity seemed to settle into the silence of the trees. Gu Huashu stopped at the lobby desk, checking the guest log out of habit.
"Go get some rest, Allie," he said, kindly. "The jet lag will hit you again in the morning. And don't worry about the seminar tomorrow. I'll sit right next to you so you don't have to face the professor's rapid-fire Mandarin alone."
"Thanks, Gu," she said, offering a small, tired smile.
She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, her heels clinking rhythmically on the linoleum. When she reached Room 402, she hesitated. The hallway was quiet, but as she pressed her ear to the wood, she heard a faint sound from inside.
A zipper. The rustle of silk.
She pushed the door open slowly. The room was no longer empty. On the bed that had been bare hours ago, a set of designer luggage was splayed open. Expensive perfumes and high-end skin care bottles were already lined up with military precision on the shared vanity.
Standing by the window, silhouetted against the moonlight, was a girl. She turned around, and Allie's heart sank. It was Chen Lu, the leader of the girls from the parking lot.
The one who had looked at her with such pity earlier this afternoon.
Chen Lu didn't smile. She looked at Allie's emerald dress, then at her tired eyes, and arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
"So," Chen Lu said, her voice dropping into a cold, territorial simmer. "You're the 'headache' Lin Xuan must look after. I suppose this means I'll be seeing a lot more of him than I expected."
Allie stood frozen in the doorway. The "Slow Bloom" of her summer had just hit a sudden, unexpected frost.