[Secluded Park Path — September 15, 4:02 PM]
"Come with me."
Xiao Yue grabbed his wrist before he could respond.
Her fingers were cool from the early autumn air, but her grip was sure—the kind of grip that said she'd been rehearsing this moment for longer than he could imagine. She didn't ask. Didn't hesitate. Just wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled.
Lin Feng's feet moved before his brain caught up.
Wait—what—
She led him off the main path without looking back. Past a couple sharing earbuds on a blanket. Past a group of freshmen arguing about dinner plans. Past an elderly groundskeeper raking leaves into neat piles, who glanced up at them and smiled knowingly before returning to his work.
What's that smile supposed to mean?
There was no time to think about it. She was still pulling him forward, her grip never loosening, her pace never slowing.
The paved walkway gave way to older stone, cracked and uneven beneath his shoes. Then packed earth, soft with years of fallen leaves that no one had bothered to clear. The oak trees grew closer together here, their trunks thick and gnarled with age, their branches reaching toward each other like old friends holding hands.
I should stop. Ask where we're going. Take control of this situation like I've been trained to.
His legs kept moving.
Why am I just... following?
He'd talked his way out of interrogation rooms. He'd kept his composure with a gun pressed to his temple. He'd maintained cover identities for months without a single slip.
And now a girl half his size was dragging him through a park, and he couldn't form a single coherent objection.
What is wrong with me?
The sounds of campus faded with each step—laughter dimming, conversations blurring into murmurs, until all he could hear was the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and his own uneven breathing.
She found what she was looking for.
A wooden bench, old but sturdy, tucked into a natural alcove where the trees bent inward like curtains drawn for privacy. The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the gaps in the canopy, falling in soft golden patches across the worn seat. A few late-season wildflowers dotted the grass nearby, pale purple and white, swaying slightly in a breeze he couldn't feel.
Quiet. Secluded. The kind of place you'd only find if you already knew it existed.
She's been here before. Many times.
The realization settled in his chest, heavy and strange.
Xiao Yue finally stopped. Her grip loosened on his wrist, and for a moment her fingers lingered there—light now, almost hesitant—before she let go entirely.
She turned to face him.
Her expression had changed. The quiet determination was still there, but beneath it he could see something else now. A flicker of nervousness. A tremor at the corner of her lips.
She was scared too.
That made it worse somehow.
Then she placed both hands on his chest and pushed.
Not hard. Just enough.
He sat.
Like it was the only option available to him.
------------------------
Xiao Yue didn't sit beside him.
She stood there, close enough that he had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes. The late afternoon light caught the edges of her hair, turning the black strands almost amber at the tips.
But her eyes held no light at all.
They were dark. Deep. The kind of eyes that took everything in and gave nothing back. She watched him the way someone might watch a puzzle they'd spent years trying to solve—patient, intent, unwilling to look away even for a moment.
Lin Feng's mouth went dry.
Say something. Anything.
He parted his lips.
Nothing came out.
What is wrong with me?
He'd sat across from trained interrogators without flinching. He'd maintained cover for months in rooms full of people who'd kill him if they knew the truth. He'd kept his voice steady while feeding false information to men who could smell lies like dogs smelled fear.
This was a park bench. A quiet afternoon. A girl who barely reached his chin.
So why can't I breathe properly?
Xiao Yue tilted her head, just slightly. A small, curious motion—like a cat deciding whether something was prey or just interesting.
Then she moved.
She sat down beside him. Not at a polite distance. Not with space between them.
She sat close enough that her thigh pressed warm against his through the fabric of their clothes, close enough that he could smell something faint and clean on her skin—soap, maybe, or the ghost of jasmine.
Her hand found his before he could react.
Slim fingers sliding between his own. Interlacing. Settling there like they belonged, like they'd always belonged, like this was simply where her hand was meant to be.
Her grip was firm. Possessive.
She wasn't asking permission.
"We need to talk."
Her voice came out steady. Calm. Controlled.
This wasn't the ghost-girl who haunted the back row of lecture halls. This wasn't the shadow who watched from corners and vanished the moment anyone looked her way.
This was someone else entirely.
She's completely composed. And I can barely remember how to form words.
The novel had called seven-star heroines the most beautiful and intelligent women on the planet. Creatures of impossible grace, capable of toppling empires with a glance.
It never mentioned they could do this.
Reduce a trained intelligence officer to a mute idiot with nothing but proximity and eye contact.
------------------------
"Su Qingxue."
The name landed between them like a stone dropped into still water.
Xiao Yue's grip tightened on his hand. Not painful, but firm—a reminder that she wasn't letting go anytime soon.
"You chased her for four years."
Her voice was flat. Certain. She wasn't asking.
"Four years of cooking her breakfast before dawn. Four years of messages she never answered. Four years of devotion she scraped off her shoe like something unpleasant."
There was no accusation in her tone. No bitterness. Just facts, laid out one after another, the way a prosecutor might present evidence to a jury that had already made up its mind.
A breeze stirred the branches overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked twice and went quiet.
"And then today, you just... stopped."
She turned her body toward him, shifting on the bench until her knee pressed against his thigh. Those dark eyes searched his face with an intensity that made the skin at the back of his neck prickle.
"People don't change like that, Lin Feng."
Her thumb traced across his knuckles. Slow. Deliberate. Each pass sending a strange current up through his wrist, his forearm, settling somewhere in his chest.
"Not overnight. Not without reason."
She's right.
He stared at their joined hands—her pale fingers wrapped around his, her thumb still moving in that hypnotic rhythm.
From her perspective, it's impossible.
The original Lin Feng had chased Su Qingxue for four years. Four years of obsession. Four years of public humiliation. Four years of being the campus joke, the lovesick fool, the pathetic bootlicker who couldn't see what was right in front of him.
And then one morning, he woke up and just... didn't care anymore?
No rational person would believe that.
"So tell me."
Her thumb paused mid-stroke.
The question beneath the question hung unspoken: What happened to you?
I should have an answer ready. A smooth explanation. Something believable.
He was trained for this. Years of fieldwork. Countless interrogations on both sides of the table. He'd constructed cover stories under pressure, maintained lies for months without slipping, talked his way out of situations where a wrong word meant a shallow grave.
So think. THINK.
But Xiao Yue's eyes were still on him. Patient. Unhurried. Waiting like she had all the time in the world, like she'd spent five years learning how to wait.
And those eyes saw everything.
Every micro-expression. Every nervous swallow. Every lie before it even reached his tongue.
She'll know. Whatever I say, she'll know it's not the truth.
His training offered nothing.
His mind stayed blank.
------------------------
Lin Feng drew a slow breath. Held it. Let it out.
Think. You know how to do this.
"I woke up."
The words came out rougher than he intended—low and scraped raw, like he'd pulled them up from somewhere deep.
"After four years of chasing an illusion. Four years of being blind to what was right in front of me."
Good. Keep going. Form sentences.
"She never cared about me, Xiao Yue."
He felt his thumb move across her knuckles without deciding to do it—mirroring her earlier gesture, tracing the same slow path she'd traced across his skin.
"She cared about what I could give her. The money. The status. The attention." A dry laugh escaped him, bitter and quiet. "I was just a wallet with legs. A useful idiot who showed up every morning with expensive food and endless patience."
The breeze stirred again, carrying the faint smell of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke from somewhere beyond the campus walls.
"I was too stupid to see it. Too desperate to admit it."
Now the hard part.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers.
Every instinct screamed at him to look away. To study the bench, the trees, the patch of wildflowers—anything but those dark eyes that seemed to cut straight through skin and bone to whatever lay beneath.
Don't look away. Whatever you do, don't look away.
"But I see it now. Clear as day."
His voice steadied. Found its footing.
"When I look at her, I feel nothing. Not anger. Not regret. Not even disappointment."
He let the silence stretch for a moment. Let her see that he meant it.
"She's not even worth hating."
The words settled between them, suspended in the golden afternoon light. A leaf drifted down from somewhere overhead, spiraling lazily before landing on the grass near their feet.
"Does that answer your question?"
------------------------
Silence.
Xiao Yue's expression didn't change. She just watched him, those dark eyes processing his words, calculating something he couldn't begin to guess.
Is she going to accept it? Reject it? What is she—
"I don't believe you."
The words hit like cold water.
"What?"
"Four years of obsession doesn't disappear just like that in one morning." Her grip on his hand didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened. "I'm not naive, Lin Feng."
She saw through it. Of course she did. She watched me for five years. She knows—
------------------------
Silence stretched between them.
Then Xiao Yue shifted. Her free hand came up and pressed flat against his chest, right over his heart.
She could probably feel it pounding through his shirt.
"You're going to be my boyfriend."
Lin Feng's lips parted. "Xiao Yue—"
"You don't get to say no."
Xiao Yue's eyes had changed. The nervous flicker from earlier was gone, burned away by something fiercer. Something that had been building for years, finally breaking through the surface.
"I waited five years."
Her voice cracked on the last word. Just barely—a hairline fracture that sealed itself almost instantly, hardening into something sharper.
"Five years of watching you chase that woman. Five years standing in the shadows while you walked past me like I didn't exist. Five years of loving someone who didn't even know my name."
The hand on his chest pressed harder. He could feel the slight tremor in her fingers, the tension running up through her arm.
"I'm done waiting."
A breath.
"I'm done hiding."
Her palm flattened against his sternum, pushing just enough that he felt the pressure in his ribs.
"So whether you're over her or not—whether everything you just said was true or just pretty words—it doesn't matter anymore."
Her chin lifted. Her jaw set.
"Because starting now, you're mine."
The words landed like a verdict.
"And I'll make you forget she ever existed."
I should say something. Object. Set boundaries. Negotiate terms.
Lin Feng's mouth didn't move.
Why can't I argue? Why does every response die before it reaches my tongue?
She leaned closer.
He caught her scent again—soap and jasmine, faint and clean—and then her breath was warm against his cheek, her lips hovering over the same spot she'd kissed minutes ago.
"When I kissed you here..."
Her lips brushed his skin. Lighter than before. Deliberate.
"That was me staking my claim."
She pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes. Her face was still inches from his, close enough that he could see the faint flush spreading across her cheeks, the slight unevenness of her breathing.
She was shaking.
Barely. Almost invisibly. But he could feel it through her palm, still pressed against his chest.
She's terrified. Just as terrified as I am.
And somehow that made everything worse.
"Next time..."
A pause. The air between them felt thick, heavy, charged with something that made his thoughts scatter like startled birds.
Her eyes dropped to his lips. Lingered there. Then rose back to meet his gaze.
"...it won't be your cheek."
------------------------
Lin Feng had faced death.
Literally. In his past life. Multiple times.
He'd been tortured. Interrogated. Pushed to the absolute limits of human endurance. He'd kept his composure through all of it, maintained his cover, protected his assets, completed his missions.
So why...
Why is this girl on a park bench doing what enemy operatives couldn't?
His hands had moved on their own. He noticed them now, settled on her waist like they belonged there, like they'd always been there.
When did that happen?
She was close now. So close. Her scent—something subtle and clean, like rain on spring flowers—filled his senses. Her warmth seeped through the fabric of her clothes into his palms. The weight of her gaze pressed against him like a physical force.
I can't think. I literally cannot form coherent thoughts.
This has never happened before. NEVER.
Part of him—the trained part, the professional part—screamed at him to regain control. To establish distance. To think strategically. To remember who he was and what he was supposed to be doing.
That part was very far away right now.
Xiao Yue smiled. Small. Knowing.
Like she could see exactly what was happening inside his head. Like she'd expected it. Like she'd planned for it.
She's won. I don't even know what game we were playing anymore.
All I know is that she's won already.
------------------------
Neither of them moved to break the silence.
Somewhere along the way—he couldn't say exactly when—her head had found his shoulder. She rested there like it was the most natural thing in the world, like they'd done this a thousand times before instead of never.
The late afternoon light had deepened to gold. The shadows under the oak trees stretched longer across the grass. A faint breeze carried the smell of cooling earth and distant camphor.
The moment felt stolen. Perfect. Private.
Then—a shift.
It was subtle. Her body tensing against his, just slightly. A change so small he almost missed it.
Her eyes flicked to the side. The motion looked casual. Almost lazy.
But Lin Feng felt the difference immediately.
She saw something.
He tried to follow her gaze. All he saw were trees. Branches. Leaves trembling in the breeze. The sky bleeding from gold into soft orange at the edges.
There was nothing.
But Xiao Yue saw more.
A shape tucked among the branches of a distant oak. Small. Compact. The kind of matte black casing that didn't catch light.
A drone.
There you are, you incestuous whore.
Xiao Yue knew exactly who sent it. Who was watching through that lens right now, recording every second, capturing every touch.
A slow smile curved across her lips.
She didn't tell Lin Feng. She didn't point it out.
She didn't tense or pull away or give any sign that they were being watched.
Instead, she moved closer.
Both arms slid around him, pulling him in. She pressed her body against his chest—soft and warm and deliberate—and buried her face in the curve of his neck. Her breath fanned hot against his skin.
To Lin Feng, it felt like affection. Like she was savoring the moment, drawing it out, reluctant to let it end.
To the camera above, it was something else entirely.
Look at this.
She let her lips brush the sensitive skin just below his jaw.
Look at me holding him.
She felt his pulse jump beneath her mouth. Felt his breath catch. Felt his hands tighten on her waist—involuntary, instinctive, like his body had decided something his mind hadn't caught up with yet.
He's mine.
Lin Feng's jaw clenched.
Control. Maintain control. You've resisted interrogation. You've held cover under torture. You can handle a girl pressing against you in a park.
His hands stayed on her waist. He told himself it was to create distance. To establish a boundary.
He didn't push her away.
Breathe. Think. Compartmentalize.
But her lips brushed his neck again, and his fingers dug into her sides without permission.
Dammit.
Xiao Yue felt it all.
His tension. His struggle. The way he kept fighting even as his body betrayed him inch by inch.
Her smile widened against his throat.
Good Lin Feng. Let that incestuous whore step-sister of yours watch this. Let her see you trying to resist—and failing.
------------------------
Meanwhile, Lin Feng's cheeks had flushed a shade darker than before. A muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw—still clenched, still fighting for control he'd already lost. His breathing came uneven through parted lips, and his eyes… couldn't seem to decide whether to look at her or away.
The realization bloomed warm in her chest.
Five years of watching him from a distance. Five years of imagining what it might feel like to touch him, hold him, make him look at her the way he was looking at her right now.
The reality was so much better.
"You're cute when you're like this."
Cute? I'm a former intelligence officer. I've killed people. I'm not—
He opened his mouth, some attempt at recovering his dignity forming on his tongue.
She pressed a finger to his lips.
"Don't. I like you like this."
Then she stood. Smooth. Graceful. Like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just dismantled every defense he possessed in the span of ten minutes.
She dusted off her clothes with deliberate casualness, taking her time, letting him watch.
Lin Feng stared up at her, brain still rebooting, his thoughts scattered.
Xiao Yue glanced toward the trees where the drone had been perched.
It was lifting off now. Retreating. Mission accomplished.
Her smile sharpened into something predatory.
"I won't lose to her."
Quiet. Almost to herself.
Lin Feng caught the words. His brow furrowed.
"Her? Who—"
But she was already walking away.
She paused. Looked back over her shoulder.
That ghost-girl who had hidden in shadows for five years was gone completely. Vanished like she'd never existed. In her place stood someone else entirely—someone fierce, someone certain, someone who had finally decided to fight for what she wanted.
"No matter what happens tonight..."
Her eyes held his with an intensity that pinned him in place.
"Remember what I said."
"You're mine, Lin Feng."
"Mine alone."
She didn't wait for a response.
She turned. Walked away. Quick steps carrying her toward the park exit without a backward glance.
She disappeared around the corner before he could find his voice.
Lin Feng sat there on the bench. Alone. Shell-shocked.
What just happened?
What's happening tonight?
Who was she talking about?
Then it clicked.
Weiwei.
The dinner. The movie. 6:00 PM.
He fumbled for his phone. Checked the time.
4:47 PM.
...
I'm in trouble.
------------------------
[Campus Lake Path, 4:15 PM]
Long Tian and Zhang Yuting continued walking along the lake path.
Both still flushed. Both carefully avoiding each other's eyes.
First from their own near-kiss under the willow—the moment when their foreheads had almost touched, when her breath had mixed with his, when the world had shrunk down to just the two of them—before that damn frisbee ruined everything.
Then from witnessing that silver-haired couple's intimate moment under another willow. Two strangers locked in an embrace so intense it felt wrong to look at, like accidentally walking in on something private and sacred.
Double embarrassment stacked on top of each other.
The awkward silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of their footsteps on the stone path and the distant quacking of ducks on the water.
Finally, Zhang Yuting broke it.
"So... nice weather today."
Long Tian grabbed the lifeline like a drowning man.
"Yeah, really nice. Clear skies. Good, uh... visibility."
She laughed—a short, surprised sound. The tension between them cracked like thin ice.
"Good visibility?" A smile tugged at her lips. "What, you checking on your CEO duck again?"
He blinked. Then a grin spread across his face.
"Actually, yeah. He got promoted."
"No."
"Board of directors now. He's very busy."
"Stop."
"He had to let go of three pelicans last week." He shook his head, mock-solemn. "Downsizing. Economy's rough out there."
The laugh that escaped her was real this time—bright and loose, her shoulders shaking.
"You're so stupid."
"Hey, the ducks take their careers seriously. I'm just reporting what I see."
The awkwardness faded, replaced by that easy comfort they'd found throughout the afternoon.
They fell back into conversation, the awareness of what almost happened still lingering underneath like embers beneath ash, but manageable now. Acknowledged without being forced.
Their hands found each other again, now tighter than before.
------------------------
The sun was getting lower, the golden hour light spilling across the campus like honey.
Everything looked softer. Warmer. More beautiful than it had any right to be.
They'd circled most of the lake by now, walking without any real destination, just enjoying the moment, each other's company, the simple pleasure of not being alone.
Zhang Yuting checked her phone and blinked in surprise.
"It's almost five."
Already? It feels like we just started.
Long Tian glanced toward the horizon, where the sun hung fat and orange above the distant buildings. The female dormitory was visible now, a modern glass-and-concrete structure catching the fading light.
Neither mentioned it.
But both noticed.
Their pace slowed. Unconsciously at first, then deliberately. Stretching the walk out. Making it last. Neither wanting to reach that inevitable endpoint where the afternoon would end and they'd have to say goodbye.
She's walking slower. Is she...?
He matched her pace. Step for step.
I don't want this to end either.
They talked about nothing important. Classes tomorrow—the economics lecture neither of them was looking forward to. That one professor who droned on about supply curves like he was being paid by the hour. The questionable quality of the cafeteria rice and whether it was actually rice or some kind of elaborate prank.
Easy. Natural. Comfortable.
For once, no system thoughts invaded his mind. No calculations. No conquest mechanics running in the background, analyzing her reactions, optimizing his responses, treating her like a target instead of a person.
Just a guy walking with a girl he liked.
Not wanting to say goodbye.
------------------------
They reached the female dormitory building.
Modern architecture—glass and concrete arranged in clean geometric lines. The setting sun painted its surface in shades of gold and orange, transforming the utilitarian structure into something almost romantic.
Other students came and went through the main entrance. Other couples stood nearby, having their own goodbye conversations, stealing their own final moments before parting.
Long Tian stopped at a respectful distance from the entrance. Male students weren't allowed beyond this point. Everyone knew that.
Zhang Yuting turned to face him.
The fading sunlight caught in her dark hair, turning it auburn at the edges. Her face was soft in the golden light, her expression somewhere between nervous and hopeful.
She's beautiful...
"I had a really nice time today."
Zhang Yuting's voice came out quieter than she intended. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—a small, self-conscious gesture he'd never seen from her before.
"Me too."
The words came out before he could second-guess them.
The silence that followed stretched a beat too long. Both of them suddenly aware of their hands, the space between them, the fact that neither knew what came next.
The willow tree flickered through his mind. Their foreheads almost touching. Her breath warm against his lips. That charged moment before a frisbee ruined everything.
What would have happened if—
He didn't finish the thought. Didn't need to.
From the look in her eyes, she was wondering the same thing.
------------------------
Zhang Yuting bit her lower lip.
Just ask him. The worst he can say is no.
After everything today... just ask.
"Uhm… Would you..."
She hesitated. The words caught somewhere in her throat.
Come on.
"Would you like to get coffee tomorrow?"
The words came out too fast. She felt her cheeks warm but she kept going.
"There's a nice place off-campus I've been wanting to try. Cloud Nine Café. Their desserts are supposed to be amazing. We could go in the afternoon. Maybe around two? If you're not busy. If you don't have other plans. It's totally fine if you—"
"Yes."
Zhang Yuting stopped.
"What?"
Long Tian smiled. Not the careful kind. The real kind.
"Yes. I'd love to. Two o'clock. Cloud Nine Café."
"Really?"
"Really!"
Her whole face changed. The nervousness melted away, replaced by something bright and unguarded—a smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes.
Oh my god.
"It's a date then."
The word landed somewhere in his chest.
A date...
Neither corrected it. Neither wanted to.
A date! An actual date!
With a girl who actually likes me!
Long Tian's chest felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety.
------------------------
Something in Zhang Yuting's expression had shifted. Softer now. Lighter. Like a weight she'd been carrying had finally slipped off her shoulders.
"So… Umm… I'll send you the address tonight."
"I'll… I'll be there. Two o'clock sharp."
She hesitated at the dormitory entrance. Her lips parted, then closed again.
The willow tree. Their faces so close. What if she just—
But students streamed past them. A group of girls glanced their way, already whispering.
So she just waved—a small, self-conscious motion that didn't match the smile on her face.
"See you tomorrow, Long Tian."
"See you tomorrow, Yuting."
First name. No honorific. It slipped out before he could think about it, natural as breathing.
She caught it. Color rose to her cheeks, and her smile stretched wider.
Then she turned and walked toward the glass doors.
She glanced back once. Twice. Then three times.
He was still standing there. Still watching. Still grinning like he'd forgotten how to stop.
She waved one last time and disappeared inside.
Long Tian stayed where he was.
For once, he didn't want to be anywhere else.
------------------------
Long Tian finally turned to leave.
His steps were light—lighter than they'd been in months. Maybe years. The evening air felt perfect against his skin, cool enough to refresh, warm enough to linger.
He passed a couple arguing softly on a bench. A girl crying into her phone. A guy kicking a vending machine that had eaten his change.
None of it touched him.
That was really nice.
The thought felt strange in his head. Unfamiliar. Like wearing clothes that fit properly for the first time.
She's different.
Not different in the way heroines in stories were different—mysterious, unattainable, designed to be chased. Different in the way that mattered. She laughed when things were funny. Said what she meant. Looked at him like he was worth looking at.
When's the last time anyone looked at me like that?
He couldn't remember.
Her laugh. Her smile. The way she'd held his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way she'd looked at him under that willow, right before that stupid frisbee.
I want to see her again.
Somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, a system notification flickered.
[Zhang Yuting Affection: 68 → 72 (+4)]
[Tomorrow's date: High potential for advancement]
Long Tian let the system notifications fade.
In front of him, the campus pathway stretched ahead. Students drifted past in the late afternoon light, the sun hanging low, painting everything gold and amber.
Maybe things are finally changing for me.
Maybe I finally deserve something good.
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[End of Chapter 15]