Lin Lie strode out of the canteen. A cold draft slipped through the window cracks, and he stopped beneath the corridor eaves, tall and still.
His chest had not yet settled. Even his fingertips still carried the force from when he'd slammed his chopsticks down.
He murmured, low and hoarse, "Just now… was I overreacting?"
That scene in the canteen had been nothing like his usual composure.
Yet his mind kept replaying it—
Her laughing and chatting with that boy called "Ah Tang";
his hand on her waist, and she hadn't even noticed;
and then, moments later, her calmly eating the meat the boy had placed in her bowl.
The irritation in his chest tightened like tangled threads being pulled into a knot.
Lin Lie pressed his lips together, his brow drawing deeper.
"How can she not see that behavior is improper?"
"Or… does she simply not care at all?"
Then another possibility surfaced—sharp, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore.
—If he kept her at his side to learn, she wouldn't have the time… or the mind… to laugh with that boy again.
His fingers curled tighter. A dark current surged behind his eyes.
The thought made no sense. It was unreasonable.
And yet it lodged in his heart like a nail—one he couldn't pull out.
[Workshop Hall · The Next Morning]
Morning light poured through the high windows. The workshop was already alive with noise—
gears clinking, hammers striking, craftsmen murmuring in low voices.
Lin Lie stepped in from the corridor, his gaze as cold as ever. Everyone instinctively held their breath; only the sounds of tools continued, rising and falling.
In the corner, Ding Yuxuan was squatting on her heels, sorting a bag of tiny parts. She even hummed a little tune under her breath.
By now, she'd grown used to being sent off to "odd jobs," and was secretly plotting how to improve the mechanical bird she'd thought up yesterday.
Then a familiar, cool voice cut through the air.
"Ding Yuxuan. Come here."
She jerked her head up.
Lin Lie stood at the worktable, a scroll of blueprints spread open beneath his hand.
"From today onward, you will work with me."
His voice wasn't loud—yet it fell into every ear in the room.
The moment the words landed, the entire workshop seemed to freeze.
Hammering stopped. A small gear rolled across the floor, its faint clatter suddenly deafening.
Even hammers hung suspended midair.
People exchanged stunned glances.
Lord Lin almost never took anyone in, much less personally instructed them—let alone a girl who was always full of wild, fanciful ideas.
Whispers erupted in a tight, suppressed current:
"Wait—Lord Lin is letting her work at his side?"
"You're joking. I begged for ages and never got a chance…"
"Isn't she the one who's always daydreaming?"
"Tch, you don't get it. She's the workshop's little sun. Even Lord Lin has to warm up a bit under that light."
Some voices brimmed with envy. Others turned sour with bitterness.
Ding Yuxuan stood there blankly, stunned—until Tang Jun quietly poked her elbow. Only then did she snap back to herself.
"Me—me?" She pointed at herself, eyes wide.
Lin Lie gave a faint nod, his expression still stern. "Unwilling?"
"Willing! Of course I'm willing!" She answered so fast it practically tumbled out, her smile blooming immediately.
Inside, she nearly danced with triumph.
Ah Tang was right! "Playing hard to get" really worked!
Tang Jun, grinning at the side, gave her a discreet thumbs-up.
She hurried over, dropping her parts with a clatter, and stood obediently by Lin Lie's shoulder—practically glowing with excitement.
Lin Lie lowered his eyes. His gaze lingered on her brilliant smile, and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly.
—She probably didn't know that the real reason for this decision was…
that he didn't want to see her smiling as she leaned toward someone else again.
[By the Worktable · Afternoon]
Heavy blueprints were spread across the table. Components were laid out in neat rows.
Lin Lie sat at the head seat, long fingers precise and calm, every movement measured to the millimeter.
Ding Yuxuan was placed beside him. Her eyes shone as if she'd finally stepped onto the stage she'd dreamed of.
"This is the initial gear module," Lin Lie said quietly, drawing a few intersecting points on the diagram.
"If each tooth's angle is off by even half a degree, the entire mechanism will lose balance."
Ding Yuxuan nodded furiously. "Got it, got it!"
Despite her confidence, she'd mounted the piece backward—jammed tight and stuck fast.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, yet she still forced a grin. "I—I was just… testing it…"
Lin Lie's brow furrowed. He reached out and caught her wrist, turning it with a light, controlled motion.
Click.
The gear seated perfectly.
The warmth and pressure at her wrist made Ding Yuxuan freeze. Her ears reddened instantly.
Lin Lie withdrew his hand, his expression unchanged.
"Restless minds accomplish little."
His tone was cool, yet less cutting than usual—almost… restrained.
Ding Yuxuan stuck out her tongue, muttering softly, "Your mouth's still as sharp as ever."
But in her heart, she secretly rejoiced.
—This was the first time he'd taught her with his own hands.
At the nearby tables, craftsmen stole glances and traded looks, shock flickering in their eyes.
Lord Lin is actually guiding her by hand?
That kind of treatment… the entire workshop might have only ever seen it happen for her.
Lin Lie adjusted the gear and pulled back, but his gaze lingered on her anyway—against his will.
Ding Yuxuan had bent over the assembled parts, eyes bright as if they could spill light. She bit her lower lip, fingers flying as she traced along the mechanism.
"If we add a tiny hook here," she murmured, "wouldn't it save effort when it turns?"
Lin Lie's brow twitched.
In his disciplined designs, such "casual whims" were usually worthless.
Yet what she said… was strangely feasible.
—Her mind never followed rules.
—and precisely because of that, she often struck the very places he overlooked.
A faint, unfamiliar throb stirred in Lin Lie's chest.
In the past, he'd dismissed her ideas as childish imagination. Now, he was forced to admit—
Her instinct and his calculations might actually fit together into something whole.
He pressed the thought down and said evenly, "Master the foundation first. Then we can discuss improvements."
Yet his fingertip moved over the blueprint, and beside the spot she'd mentioned, he made a small mark—quietly.
A tiny hook.
Ding Yuxuan didn't notice. She kept working cheerfully, absorbed in her excitement.
Only Lin Lie knew—
For the first time, he was treating her "wild ideas" seriously.
[Workshop · Late Night, A Lone Lamp]
Night ran deep. Only one oil lamp burned in the innermost corner of the workshop.
Gears and parts lay scattered across the table. Blueprints sprawled open, ink lines swimming in lamplight.
Lin Lie sat in silence, fingertips rubbing the edge of the paper, eyes fixed on that small, unremarkable mark—
the hook he'd drawn for Ding Yuxuan earlier.
After a long moment, he reached for his tools.
Click. Click.
The gear turned, each sound crisp in the emptiness.
He tested it again and again, adjusting, refining—until his hands finally stilled.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
That small, impulsive idea of hers truly did make the rotation easier.
Lin Lie leaned back, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
Her face flashed through his mind—bright-eyed, thrilled beyond measure—along with that naïve, eager line:
"If we add a little hook here, it'll save effort, right?"
The corner of his lips lifted, almost without permission.
But he quickly pressed the expression away, returning to his usual cold severity.
—It's just coincidence.
—Most of her ideas are still immature. Not worth taking too seriously.
He told himself that…
while his hand continued to draw the improvement more cleanly, more completely—stroke by careful stroke.
The oil lamp trembled. His back remained solitary and rigid.
Yet in that night, the ink lines on the blueprint had already begun to carry her trace.
[The Next Morning · Inside the Workshop]
Sunlight filtered through the lattice windows. The workshop gradually filled with noise again.
Ding Yuxuan entered with a yawn, hugging a stack of wood materials as she prepared for another busy day.
At a glance, she spotted an assembled gear module placed on the worktable.
And there—on the gear—was a small hook groove.
The very idea she'd mentioned offhand yesterday.
"Huh?" Her eyes lit up. She dropped the wood at once and leaned in to inspect it.
With a flick of her fingers, the gear spun far more smoothly than before.
"It really saves effort!" she exclaimed, beaming. "Who's so clever? Someone actually made my idea real!"
A few craftsmen nearby couldn't hold back their snickers. Someone glanced toward the distance.
Lin Lie stood at another desk, writing something, expression cool and indifferent.
"Lord Lin made it," someone whispered.
"Wow!" Ding Yuxuan's excitement doubled. Hugging the gear like treasure, she ran over.
"Master Lin! Did you do this? Did you secretly test it last night? See? I told you my brain's pretty smart!"
Lin Lie's brush paused for the briefest instant. He didn't look up, only said flatly,
"I merely adjusted it in passing."
As if it were nothing.
But Ding Yuxuan didn't care about his stubbornness at all. Her whole face shone like sunlight, eyes sparkling as she grinned.
Lin Lie finally lifted his gaze, meeting her bright expression—
and his heart tightened subtly.
He coughed once and looked away.
"Don't get arrogant. It's only a small trick. Remember—foundation is everything."
"Yes, yes, yes~" Ding Yuxuan agreed readily, though she thought to herself:
He clearly approves—and still insists on acting cold.
She hugged the gear as if holding a precious treasure, smiling so wide it hurt.
Not far away, Lin Lie's fingers tightened—so slightly no one would notice—
pressing down the faint tremor rising in his chest.