Saturday, 9:12 p.m.A rooftop. One lantern swinging gently in the night breeze. The sky above Shanghai was a blur of stars, clouds, and neon.
Zhao Xinyi wasn't supposed to be here. Not really.
But she'd needed air. And space. And the one place where no one looked at her like she owed them her brilliance.
She leaned over the ledge, sipping from a warm paper cup of taro milk tea. Her heels dangled in the air. Her expression? Blank. For once.
And that's when she heard his voice.
"I didn't know anyone else came up here."
She turned. Zhou Yichen. In a sweatshirt and sneakers. Holding two drinks. Of course.
She blinked. "You're following me now?"
He raised a brow. "You texted the intern to send your presentation files 'to the rooftop witch.' That's a dead giveaway."
She laughed — a tired, half-hearted sound. "Busted."
He sat beside her without asking. Handed her a second drink — the one she always gets when she's upset. She didn't ask how he knew.
For a while, they didn't speak.
Then, quietly: "Why do you always walk away when people get close?"
She didn't look at him. "Because they never stay when they see the real me."
He turned to her. "I'm still here."
"Yeah. But for how long?"
Silence.
Then she spoke. Slowly.
"I used to date someone at my old job. Smart. Kind. Charming."She stared out over the city."Turns out he also liked stealing other people's work. Including mine. Took my campaign and pitched it as his. Got promoted. I got transferred."
Yichen stared. "That's—"
"I was the fool," she said, voice flat. "For thinking loyalty meant anything."
He didn't say "I'm sorry." He didn't offer clichés.
Instead, he asked: "What would you do if someone actually stayed?"
That caught her off guard. "I don't know. Panic? Bite them?"
He smiled. Then, gently: "Maybe don't bite me just yet."
She looked at him. Really looked at him. And saw it — that tiny crack in his armor too.
"Zhou Yichen," she said quietly, "are you being… nice to me?"
"God, I hope not," he said. "That sounds terrifying."
And for the first time in days, she laughed — real, bright, unguarded.
And for the first time ever, he didn't look away.