Ao Shan's smirk deepened. "Yeah," he drawled, voice lazy.
"The same one who nearly gave Fei Kuan a heart attack."
The other boy, stifled a laugh. "Man, that was gold. I swear, he almost tripped over himself running away."
"Over a pebble," Ao Shan murmured, tapping his pen against the desk. "Some nerves he's got."
"Fragile-looking girl too," his friend added, still snickering. "Guess appearances lie."
Ao Shan leaned back, arms crossed, eyes flicking briefly toward Xi Jiayi again. She hadn't looked their way even once—just sat there, quiet, eyes on the window.
Something about that stillness tugged at him—like a blade sheathed too neatly.
He clicked his tongue, smirk returning. "If Fei Kuan shows up and sees her again, he's gonna cry."
His friend chuckled under his breath. "Let's not tell him yet. I want to see his face first."
Ao Shan's eyes narrowed slightly, amusement flickering. "Yeah… that'll be fun."
At the front, Teacher Bai was writing something on the board, but Ao Shan's gaze flicked back to Xi Jiayi.
Her expression hadn't changed, but for a second—just one—he thought her eyes shifted toward him, cold and sharp, as if she'd heard every word.
The corner of Ao Shan's smile twitched. He straightened his chair.
The corner of Ao Shan's grin faltered. He exhaled softly and muttered under his breath, "...weird girl."
---
The restaurant was discreetly elegant — high ceilings, linen-draped tables, soft light glinting off polished cutlery. It was a place meant for people who spoke softly but made decisions that moved markets.
Qin Haoyu sat by the window, his posture composed, phone face-down beside his plate. Across from him, Feng Xinyue toyed idly with her spoon, her red-tinted lips curved into an easy smile.
"You're early," she said, eyes glinting with amusement. "I thought businessmen like you were supposed to make an entrance."
"I don't like keeping people waiting," Qin Haoyu replied evenly.
"Still the same," she mused. "Serious, punctual, and impossible to fluster."
He smiled faintly — polite, not warm. "I'll take that as a compliment, Miss Feng."
"Oh, come on," she said, leaning forward slightly. "After all these years, you're still calling me Miss Feng?"
"Old habits die hard," he said, gesturing for the waiter. "Shall we order?"
The use of her surname made her smile tighten. "Still so proper," she murmured.
The waiter approached; they placed their orders with practiced ease. Once the man retreated, Feng Xinyue rested her chin on her hand. "I saw your mother at the charity gala last week. She looked well. I was surprised you weren't there."
"Too much work," Qin Haoyu said simply.
When the waiter retreated, Qin Haoyu folded his hands on the table. "About the collaboration," he began, his tone courteous, "I've gone through the preliminary draft. If we finalize the terms this week, the signing can be scheduled for Friday."
She laughed softly. "Senior Haoyu, must we always start with business? The soup hasn't even arrived yet."
"It's why we're here," he said, voice still calm but firm.
Her eyes flickered. "Is that really all you think we're here for?"
He didn't rise to the bait. "That's the reason you proposed this meeting. I assume your father wouldn't want the Feng Group's reputation questioned for delaying negotiations."
Feng Xinyue tilted her head, the light catching on her earrings. "You really can't relax even for one meal, can you?"
Qin Haoyu gave a small, restrained smile. "When the company is stable, perhaps then."
The way he said it — quiet, unshaken — made her smile falter for a heartbeat. Everyone knew the Qin family was facing turbulence, but he spoke as though it were nothing more than weather to be endured.
She took a sip of her wine, searching for something lighter. "You used to be more talkative in college."
"You were a freshman," Qin Haoyu replied, tone even. "Your father asked me to make sure you didn't get lost."
She smiled, though her fingers stiffened slightly. "So you were just... doing a favor for my father?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No softness.
Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She quickly covered it with a light laugh. "I guess I really was a handful back then."
"You still are," he said mildly, glancing at the time.
Her laugh came quick, slightly breathless. "And look where that led us. Lunch after lunch, year after year."
"Business lunches," he corrected gently.
She leaned back, studying him — the clean lines of his suit, the quiet precision of every movement. He was the same as ever: courteous to a fault, impossible to read.
"You know," she said after a moment, her tone playful but her gaze steady, "people might misunderstand. You and I meeting like this so often."
He met her eyes without flinching. "You're engaged to Gu Jianhong. No one will misunderstand."