[Lakeside Park — Parking Lot — September 16, 5:51 PM]
The silver sports car sat crooked in the small lot, angled across the lines with too much space on both sides.
Lin Weiwei killed the SUV's engine and stared at it.
That's Big Brother's car.
The same car she'd watched Zhang Tingting drive out of the parking garage forty minutes ago, and the same car neither she nor Xiao Yue had ever dared touch, let alone drive. It was parked like someone who was afraid of scratching it — both doors closed, nobody inside.
Beyond the parking lot, the park stretched out into darkening trees, with paths winding into woods that led down toward the lake. It was secluded and getting dark, the kind of place you bring someone when you don't want to be found.
Lin Weiwei's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
He refused to choose either of us. He left with her. And now he brought her here.
Beside her, Xiao Yue was already reading the screen. The RF signal pulsed steady — deeper into the park, past the tree line, somewhere near the water.
"Two hundred meters," Xiao Yue said. "Northwest. Near the lake."
Lin Weiwei was already out of the car. Xiao Yue's eyes lingered on the dashboard screen for a second longer, marking the signal strength, before she followed.
They went in on foot, following the signal through a narrow path into the trees. The park was quiet — no other cars in the lot, no voices, no joggers — and the only sound was their own footsteps, which were loud.
Embarrassingly loud.
Every leaf crunched underfoot, and every twig snapped like it was trying to announce them. Lin Weiwei's heel caught a root and she stumbled, grabbing a branch that shook an entire bush, and Xiao Yue stepped on something that cracked like a gunshot in the silence.
But neither of them noticed. They were too focused on what they might find ahead, and too afraid of what it might look like.
The signal grew stronger. Through the branches, the fading sky glowed orange and pink along the horizon, and the first city lights had begun to flicker in the distance. The ghost of the moon hung faint and pale above the treeline, barely visible against the last of the blue.
Then a smell reached them — cigarette smoke, drifting through the trees, thin and sharp in the cold that had started settling against their skin.
Lin Weiwei's steps slowed, and Xiao Yue's matched.
They reached the edge of the treeline and stopped.
A clearing opened up ahead, all grass and lake and the last of the sunset reflecting off still water. And there, in the middle of it, was Lin Feng — lying on his back in the grass with a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling upward into the golden air.
Zhang Tingting was sitting right beside him with her arms wrapped around her knees, close enough to touch.
For one terrible second, Lin Weiwei's mind went completely blank — and then the details registered. They were fully clothed, nothing out of place. He was staring at the sky, and she was watching him. The posture wasn't intimate; it was something closer to thoughtful.
But Lin Weiwei wasn't looking at postures anymore.
He smokes? Since when?
She'd lived with him in the same house, walked the same hallways, and never once had she smelled smoke on his clothes, his hands, or his breath.
And yet he was holding the cigarette like he'd been doing it for years — two fingers, practiced flick, exhale through the nose. That wasn't a first-time smoker; that was a habit she'd somehow never seen.
How did I not know this? How did I miss this?
Her body was already moving — one step forward, out of the trees, straight toward him. She was going to grab that cigarette right out of his hand and —
Xiao Yue's fingers closed around her wrist, and before Lin Weiwei could shake her off, Lin Feng's voice reached them — rough from smoke, quiet, almost to himself.
"What if the question is not the right question, and the answer is not the right answer?"
Lin Weiwei froze.
That's not... wait. That's not flirting. That's not sweet talk.
She looked at Lin Feng then at Xiao Yue, and Xiao Yue looked back. Neither of them blinked.
Wait… he's not talking about her. Is he… Is he actually talking about us?
Lin Weiwei's foot settled back onto the ground, and she eased into the shadows between the trees without another word. Xiao Yue released her wrist.
Both of them settled against the trunks, barely breathing, with their eyes fixed on the clearing. The breeze came off the lake toward them, carrying his voice and his smoke straight into the trees.
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[Lakeside Clearing — 5:58 PM]
Zhang Tingting's brow furrowed.
"What does that mean?"
Lin Feng didn't answer right away. He took a long drag, held it, and let the smoke drift upward in a slow stream. Then he shifted — pushed himself up onto one elbow, the cigarette dangling between his fingers, and looked at her.
"Today. At the café." His voice was still rough, but focused now. "You saw them. Qingxue and Yuting were both there with Long Tian. At the same time."
Zhang Tingting blinked. "Yeah..."
"Did they fight?"
"Fight?"
"Over him. Did they compete? Go at each other?"
She thought about it. The images came back — the café, the round table, Long Tian in the center with Su Qingxue on one side and Zhang Yuting on the other. Both smiling. Both touching him. Both perfectly comfortable.
"No," she said slowly. "They didn't. They were... cooperating? I guess? Sharing him. They weren't fighting at all."
Lin Feng tapped the cigarette, and ash fell into the grass. "Why?"
"Why?"
"Two women. Same man. Neither one fighting for him." He held her gaze. "Why not?"
Zhang Tingting opened her mouth, then closed it. She pulled her knees tighter against her chest and stared at the grass between her feet.
"Something was wrong with them," she said quietly.
"They were smiling. Both of them. The same smile. And their eyes were..." She trailed off and shook her head. "I don't know how to say it. They were too... happy? No, that's not right."
Her fingers picked at a blade of grass, tearing it in half.
"They didn't seem to care. Like, at all. About each other being there. About sharing." She tried to find the right words and couldn't. "It was like they forgot they were supposed to mind. Like… How can I best describe it… It was creepy."
She looked up at him, frustrated. "Does that make sense? I'm not explaining it well."
Lin Feng took another drag, and his eyes had gone very still. Somewhere across the water, a frog had started calling in slow intervals, and the first insects of the evening had begun humming in the grass around them.
Impressive. Heroines truly are smart. Smarter than I give them credit for. Tingting already saw it on her first try.
He'd seen it in the original novel a hundred times. That same smile, those same glassy eyes. Long Tian's proximity did something to women who stayed too close for too long — turned down something inside them like a dial until they stopped minding, stopped fighting, stopped choosing.
And I'm sure Weiwei and Yue had seen that too.
But if there is one thing I learned from this encounter, whatever Long Tian has, whether it's his protagonist halo or what, its effects on Tingting were minimal.
And that means it's not impossible to counter.
But still, to see its effects at a close distance…
Anyway… moving on...
He exhaled smoke toward the darkening sky.
"What about two women who aren't like that?"
Zhang Tingting looked at him.
"Smart," he said. "Thinking clearly. Fully themselves. No fog, no... whatever you just described. If those two women both wanted the same man — could they share?"
The sky had deepened from orange to a bruised purple while they'd been talking, and the city lights across the lake were sharpening into individual points — windows, streetlamps, the faint pulse of traffic signals.
Her answer came fast and flat.
"That's worse."
Lin Feng's cigarette paused halfway to his lips.
"If they're actually smart and they actually care?" Zhang Tingting shrugged, but her eyes were serious.
"Then… it's worse, honestly. Even I wouldn't want to share, and I'm nowhere near as smart as them." She shook her head. "I can't say for sure about them, Lin Feng. But if even I feel that way… I doubt they'd be okay with it."
Lin Feng's hand came down slowly, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers.
That's true. People are inherently selfish creatures. Even more so with their love interests.
Love interests…
Wait… interests…
Conflicting interests!
Interests can either be conflicting or aligning. And that's what happened in the observation room. And that's what happened in the hallway too!
In the hallway, they cooperated perfectly. United and seamless, because they were fighting me. Same enemy, same goal, same side.
But the moment I said I wanted both of them, the unity cracked. Because they weren't fighting me anymore — they were fighting each other, for something only one of them could have.
In the treeline, Lin Weiwei's fingers dug into the bark of the tree she was leaning against. Beside her, Xiao Yue sat perfectly still with her hands folded in her lap, but her jaw had tightened enough to cast a shadow along her neck in the fading light.
Neither of them spoke, and neither looked at the other. Xiao Yue's folded hands tightened against each other, and Lin Weiwei's breath had gone shallow enough that she could hear her own heartbeat.
But neither of them moved.
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[6:10 PM]
Lin Feng's cigarette had burned down to the filter. He stubbed it into the grass, pulled out another, and lit it. The lighter's flame threw a brief orange glow across his face before disappearing.
Night was settling in properly now. The sky had gone from bruised purple to a deep blue that was almost black at the edges, and the temperature had dropped enough that Zhang Tingting had pulled her sleeves down over her hands.
The moon hung brighter now, climbing above the treeline and casting faint silver edges on the grass between them.
He smoked in silence for a while. Then he turned his head toward Zhang Tingting.
"When I said I wanted both of them. In the hallway." A pause. The cigarette glowed. "What did that look like? From where you were standing."
Zhang Tingting was quiet for a long moment.
"I already told you," she said. "You sounded like a scoundrel."
"You told me what I sounded like. I'm asking what it looked like."
She pulled at another blade of grass, rolling it between her fingers. Her brow creased, and she opened her mouth twice before anything came out.
"It's like..." She stopped. Started over. "Okay, this is going to sound dumb."
"Tell me."
"It's like — you know when someone comes into a restaurant? And they order three dishes. Not because they're actually hungry for all three. But because they saw the table next to them getting one, and the table across the room getting another, and they just..." She gestured vaguely.
"They don't want to miss out. They're not thinking about how the food tastes. They're just ordering everything so they don't have less than everyone else."
She looked away, her ears going pink.
"That's a terrible comparison, I know. I'm not —"
"Keep going."
"There's nothing else." She shrugged, still not looking at him. "That's what it felt like. Not like you were... savoring anyone. Just like you were ordering the whole menu because you couldn't stand the idea of someone else getting something you didn't."
She risked a glance at him. "Sorry. I told you it was dumb."
Lin Feng didn't respond right away. The cigarette burned between his fingers, and a thin line of ash grew longer and longer before finally dropping into the grass.
She compared my love confession to a restaurant order.
Though... she's not wrong.
That's exactly what it sounded like. Not because I felt that way — but because that's what they heard. That's what it looked like.
Except that's not what I meant. I wanted them close to me. I wanted to protect them from Long Tian. I wanted us on the same side, to be in a unified front against the protagonist.
But still, optics matter. How I deliver my intentions is important.
Framing my intentions… my interests…
Wait. That's the problem. MY interests. What about theirs?
He could still feel Lin Weiwei's warmth pressed against his chest, her nails digging crescents into his back through his shirt. Xiao Yue's stillness — her palm flat against him, deliberate, careful, like she was afraid of pressing too hard.
It had been real. Both of them. All of it.
Exactly!
When I said I needed both of them, I framed it entirely around my interests.
Meanwhile, from their perspective, all they heard was what I wanted. Not what they'd get. It didn't even address their core concerns.
No wonder it sounded like a restaurant order.
"Okay." His voice came out quieter than he intended. "If that's what it sounded like — what would it have sounded like if it was real?"
Zhang Tingting's fingers stopped pulling at the grass, and her gaze dropped to her own knees and stayed there.
"I think..." She started, stopped. Chewed the inside of her cheek. "I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't be about you at all?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't actually know what that would look like. I just know what it didn't look like."
She trailed off, and the wind picked up just enough to ripple the surface of the lake and carry the cold across the clearing toward the treeline.
Listen to them. Hear their concerns. Address their needs. Give them what they want.
...That's it. That's literally it.
Lin Feng looked at Zhang Tingting. "So you're saying it shouldn't be about what I need. It should be about what they get."
"I think so…" Zhang Tingting tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked back out at the lake.
In the trees, Lin Weiwei's hand had moved from the bark to her own forearm, her nails pressing half-moon marks into her skin without realizing it.
Beside her, Xiao Yue's posture hadn't changed — still straight, still folded, still controlled — but her breathing had gone shallow.
Lin Weiwei's jaw tightened. She'd heard it — the way Zhang Tingting had kept putting herself in their place throughout the conversation. "Even I wouldn't want to share." "If I were in their shoes." And now, "it wouldn't be about you at all" — like she'd been thinking about what she'd want from him too.
Is she...?
Lin Weiwei's nails pressed deeper into her forearm.
Why does she keep putting herself in our shoes?
...Forget her. The real question is what does Big Brother actually want from me… from us, with that stalker bitch next to me?
I love him. I love him so much I'd do whatever it takes just to be with him.
But he doesn't love me the same way. Maybe he doesn't love me at all.
And from the sound of it… he's not even thinking about this as love. He's thinking about it like a problem to solve.
No. That's not the issue.
The question is why does he want us both so badly?
----------------------
[6:25 PM]
Lin Feng stubbed out the cigarette. Reached for another one, lit it slowly, and lay back with his eyes on the sky. His jaw was working like he was chewing on something he couldn't swallow.
"Tingting."
Something in his voice made her look over. "Yeah?"
"What do they want?"
"...What do you mean, what do they want?"
"Weiwei and Xiao Yue." He was still on his back, but his eyes had moved from the sky to somewhere past it. "Not what they want from me. What do they want for themselves? What would they do if I wasn't in the picture?"
Zhang Tingting blinked. Then let out a short breath that was almost a laugh.
"I — I have no idea."
Lin Feng turned his head toward her.
"I barely know your sister," she said. "We've talked, what, once? And the other one — Xiao Yue — I met her properly for the first time today." She spread her hands. "I don't know what they want. I don't even know what they study."
"She's my stepsister, and we're not blood related." Lin Feng corrected Zhang Tingting. "So, you watched them today. Both of them. What's your read?"
"My read?" She blew air through her lips. "Okay, your stepsister is... intense. Like, really intense. Everything about her is dialed up to eleven. And the other one is honestly kind of terrifying. She doesn't say anything and somehow that's worse."
She paused, thinking. Her fingers had found another blade of grass to destroy.
"I don't know what they want, Lin Feng. I really don't. But whatever it is, they've got way too much... everything... to just be fighting over a guy." She caught herself and winced. "Sorry. That probably sounded—"
Lin Feng's cigarette stopped halfway to his lips.
What do they want?
I don't know.
That's the wrong answer. That's always the wrong answer. In any operation, in any negotiation, in anything — if you don't know what the other side wants, you've already lost the initiative.
And I've been so focused on keeping them that I forgot to ask why they'd want to stay.
He lowered the cigarette slowly and stared at the ember.
I've spent every waking hour since I got here managing them. Positioning them. Keeping them from tearing each other apart. Keeping them from pulling away. Keeping them close.
Every move I've made has been about keeping them. Not about them.
The ember pulsed once, then dimmed. Somewhere out on the lake, a fish broke the surface, and the ripples caught the moonlight in thin silver lines that spread outward and disappeared.
"It didn't sound dumb at all," Lin Feng said quietly. "If anything, it sounded right."
Zhang Tingting looked at him, surprised.
In the treeline, Xiao Yue's hands had gone still in her lap.
What do I want for myself?
Her fingers twitched in her lap — the same reflex she had when solving equations, reaching for the next variable. But there was nothing to reach for.
What do I want if he's not in the picture?
She remembered the exact seat she'd chosen in every class they shared — always two rows behind him, one seat to the left.
Close enough to watch the way he wrote, the way he leaned back when he was bored, the way his hand moved through his hair when he was thinking. She'd memorized his schedule down to the minute. Five years of that.
Then yesterday morning, he finally saw her. He said her name. He took her out. She kissed his cheek.
And now she was sitting ten meters behind him in the dark with no idea what came next.
Her fingers tightened against each other in her lap.
Beside her, Lin Weiwei's breathing had changed — slower, deliberate, like she was holding something back. And Xiao Yue knew, without looking, that Lin Weiwei didn't have an answer either.
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[6:40 PM]
Lin Feng didn't ask anything else. He lit another cigarette — his fifth, maybe sixth, since they'd arrived — and lay back in the grass with his arm behind his head and his eyes on the sky.
Zhang Tingting sat beside him and didn't try to fill the quiet. She pulled at one last blade of grass, rolled it between her fingers, and let it fall. Then she just sat there, hugging her knees, watching the lake.
The night had settled in fully now. The stars had come out — not the scattered handful from earlier, but the deep field, thick enough to blur at the edges where the sky met the treeline. The lake had gone still enough to hold them, and the reflection was so clear it was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began.
A breeze came off the water and Zhang Tingting tucked her chin into her collar. Lin Feng didn't seem to notice the cold at all.
Neither of them spoke.
In the trees, Lin Weiwei sat with her back against a tree trunk, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the clearing without blinking. Beside her, Xiao Yue had drawn her knees up to her chest, her hands clasped tight around them.
Lin Weiwei's mouth opened once. Then closed. Her eyes burned, and she pressed her lips together hard enough to go white.
Ask me. Just — Big Brother, I'm right here, just ask me.
Xiao Yue's thumb was pressing into her own knuckle hard enough to leave a mark. Her breathing had gone careful and measured — the kind of deliberate rhythm you forced when everything inside you wanted to break it.
Just go, you incest whore. Storm out there. Drag us both into it. I'll follow you. I swear I'll follow you. But Lin Weiwei didn't move.
Lin Weiwei caught the glance and her jaw tightened.
Don't look at me like that, you stalker bitch. If you want to go so badly, move your own legs.
They sat in the dark, each against their own tree, hating each other, needing each other, and watching the same man from behind the same treeline. Lin Weiwei's arms tightened around herself. Xiao Yue's thumb pressed deeper into her knuckle. And the clearing didn't get any closer.
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[6:50 PM]
The moon climbed higher. The smoke from Lin Feng's cigarette drifted upward and dissolved. His eyes had been on the sky for a long time.
The cigarette had burned down to the filter again. He didn't light another. His hand came up slowly — fingers spread, rising toward the sky.
Toward the moon.
Zhang Tingting watched his hand go up and couldn't tell if he was reaching for something or just forgetting to put it down.
"Tingting."
"...Yes?"
"Has anyone been there?"
Zhang Tingting followed his hand. Past his fingers, past the last trace of smoke, to the bright disc hanging above them.
"To the... moon?"
In the treeline, Lin Weiwei and Xiao Yue looked at each other.
Then, slowly, both their eyes drifted upward — past the branches, past the leaves, to the same bright disc hanging above them all.
Lin Weiwei's brow furrowed.
The moon?
Beside her, Xiao Yue's hands unclenched in her lap.
The moon...
"Yes." Lin Feng's hand was still up there, fingers spread against the light.
"Has anyone been to the moon?"
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[Zhang Tingting] ★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (1-Star Heroine)
├─ Previous: 17
└─ Current: 12 (-5)
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[End of Chapter 32]