The problem with Mo Tian was that he kept appearing.
At breakfast, he materialized at Zhao Lingxi's table with a plate of perfectly arranged dumplings and a calm "Good morning" that somehow sounded like poetry. At lectures, he claimed the seat beside her before anyone else could blink. At the library, he found reasons to lean across her desk and point at passages in texts, his shoulder nearly touching hers.
And every single time, Lan Yue was right there. Pouring tea between them. Delivering scrolls that required Zhao Lingxi's "immediate attention." Standing so close behind her mistress's chair that Mo Tian would have to physically move her to get any closer.
It was completely professional behavior.
"You body blocked the Crown Prince three times yesterday," Tang Xiaoli said over breakfast. "Three. Times."
"I was performing my duties."
"You stepped on his foot."
"The corridor was narrow."
"It was a hallway wide enough for a horse."
"A small horse, maybe."
