The plump, naturally round pearl without sharp edges emitted a soft glow, similar to a full moon.
There was a romantic legend that pearls formed from the moon goddess’s tears dripping into shells and condensing. At this moment, on the round table in front of Lu Yan Zhi sat all sorts of “moon goddess tears,” varying in size and color, but from their strung styles, one could tell they were women’s jewelry.
His childhood friend, who had come over on the weekend to hang out with his buddy, saw these pearls the moment he walked in. He casually picked up a string and wrapped it around his hand to look at it. “Why are you messing around with pearls? You got so many…”
Lu Yan Zhi lowered his eyes and replied concisely, “Giving them away.”
“You don’t need this many for that.” His friend muttered, his gaze glancing over and noticing the phone next to his buddy’s hand.
The phone screen was lit up, clearly showing some kind of ID with a portrait. The friend circled around for a closer look—it was a pretty girl. From the enrollment date, she should be a sophomore now. “These pearls are for this sister?”
Lu Yan Zhi tilted his head and gave him a sidelong glance but didn’t deny it.
“How’d you meet?” The friend couldn’t help thinking of his good brother’s in-game romance partner. “No matter what, this has to be better than your online dating nonsense. At least you know what she looks like—no risk of her deleting her contact and vanishing without a trace, right?”
He wanted to look a bit longer, but Lu Yan Zhi pettily flipped the phone face down.
“…” Tsk, no class.
In fact, contrary to the impression Song Fu had formed, Lu Yan Zhi wasn’t talkative at all. Even when his voice was in good shape, he cherished his words like gold, so he didn’t bother explaining much to his friend’s misunderstanding.
For instance, he skipped telling him that Song Fu was precisely his online romance partner—to avoid the guy making a huge fuss.
He had gotten the student ID photo from the butler because it was originally for selecting a tutor for Cheng Yuan, so they kept the photo to verify qualifications. It just conveniently provided Lu Yan Zhi with some info.
The student ID had plenty of basic details, including her birthday next month. He was pondering how to naturally give her the gift.
His friend sighed again, saying it was no wonder Lu Yan Zhi always ignored girls chasing him at school—he liked older sister types. Then he got to the main point of his visit. “In a bit, our guild is planning an offline meetup. Brother Lu, wanna come with me and join the fun? Meeting everyone IRL would be interesting. You could bring your romance partner along to meet too.”
He had already met her, so Lu Yan Zhi had zero interest in the meetup. “Not going.”
His friend hadn’t held out much hope from the start, knowing his buddy was always a lone wolf player, but he still sighed loudly. “What’s the harm in going for fun if you’ve got nothing better to do?”
“Who says I’ve got nothing to do?” Lu Yan Zhi repackaged the few strings of pearls he had selected.
His friend asked, “What then?”
Lu Yan Zhi’s phoenix eyes curved. “Go check on my little brother’s studies.”
His friend shivered, rubbing the goosebumps that suddenly popped up on his arms, hesitating. “You… good luck?”
Was he planning to mess with the kid?
It was an ordinary Thursday, a rare clear day lately. Though it still felt dry and cold, standing under the sun inevitably brought a sense of happiness.
Thursday had the most classes for Song Fu’s major, from early morning eight all the way to the afternoon, lugging books around and switching “battlegrounds” in the teaching building. Just as she was wondering which class would be best to slack off and sketch renovation designs, she got a familiar call from the Cheng Family’s Uncle Butler.
“Miss Song, are you interested in continuing as a tutor? Just math and Chinese is fine.”
“The pay would be double the previous rate.”
Song Fu had been about to agree outright, but that last bit made her hesitate. The Cheng Family’s tutoring fees were already way above market rate, and now doubling it felt like a pie from the sky that might actually be a bomb—they could hire two solid professional teachers for that. “Why double?” she couldn’t help asking.
The usually calm and steady Uncle Butler hesitated unusually. “Because… we’ll also need to trouble Miss Song to continue playing the role of fake girlfriend, so…”
So it included pay for being an extra. Song Fu got it. “I’m interested in continuing as Little Yuan’s tutor, but as for the doubled pay… thanks, but no thanks.” She nearly bit her tongue from the sharp turn in phrasing.
Would a money-loving side character turn down cash handed to her on a platter?
Of course not!
Even if her fake boyfriend was mostly a legendary figure who barely appeared, meaning she didn’t really need to act much—extra money was extra money, no reason to refuse—
Song Fu quickly realized the flaw in her thinking.
Question: After eight hundred tutoring sessions without bumping into him, why had the guy she only glimpsed by sheer coincidence at the birthday party suddenly started showing up so frequently?
The first time, she chalked it up to chance.
…
The tutoring was set for the same weekend afternoon slot as before.
Compared to last semester, the kid was clearly much more obedient now. The moment he saw Song Fu, he smiled sweetly at her like a little candy bean and called her sister, saying nice things.
“Sister, this is hot cocoa. Drink it.”
If she hadn’t seen the kid’s bratty, stubborn side before, Song Fu might’ve thought he was an angel. She didn’t forget her job, though. “Shall we prep and start class?”
The kid nodded eagerly, then recited like he was reading a textbook. “Brother said he has something to do, so he’ll be late.”
Song Fu had just opened the textbook and let out a puzzled “Hm?” She didn’t get why he needed to tell his family tutor that and brushed it off with a casual nod. “Got it.” Back to business. “Little Yuan, what problems have you been saving up lately?”
The kid pushed over his workbook. “This one!”
So Song Fu dutifully explained the problems. About thirty minutes in, the kid started fidgeting. She said, “Let’s take a ten-minute break then?”
The kid shot out like a cannonball, then returned a minute later with a tall figure in tow, yelling “Brother!” nonstop like an excited bunny hopping around. “Eat cake! Eat cake!”
Song Fu got a piece too, handed over personally by the youth. As she took it, her gaze inevitably fell on those beautiful hands—slender knuckles, porcelain-white as jade.
Song Fu once knew a painter with a weird temper who pursued beauty to a pathological degree, nitpicking everything. He finally found a model he liked but ditched her because her hands weren’t pretty enough. She thought these hands would meet his standards. Too bad the painter would never see them.
“Thanks.” Song Fu smiled politely.
The youth’s smile felt more genuine. “You’re welcome.”
It was clear the kid really adored his brother, clinging to his leg and refusing to let go. “Brother, are you staying home tonight?”
The youth ruffled the kid’s head but didn’t answer directly. “Go listen to sister teach.”
The kid wilted with an “Oh.”
Song Fu finished her cake and turned her attention back to the kid’s workbook.
At the time, she thought, what a coincidence, running into the brother again. Pretty thoughtful of him—buying cake for his brother and not forgetting her, the tutor. Her only slip-up was forgetting to return his umbrella. Who knew if she’d see him again, but he probably didn’t care about one umbrella. The others in the house likely had plenty too.
As class ended and she was leaving, Song Fu mentioned it. “I forgot to bring the umbrella last time. Can I give it back to Auntie later?”
The youth seemed to choke for a second, staring at her for a few beats before finally speaking. “That was a gift for you.”
Pretty weird, but rich people were like that, right? Song Fu blinked. “I have my own umbrella.”
The youth looked like he wanted to say more but held back. “…”
Song Fu was baffled.
Lu Yan Zhi was speechless.
Who knew who had complained about not having a boyfriend to give her an umbrella? “See you.”
Song Fu waved bye-bye.
…
And then.
They met again at the next tutoring session.
More precisely, in the days that followed, the two of them met at every single tutoring session.
During this time, spring arrived, and Song Fu’s outfits shifted from thick down jackets to lighter coats.
She couldn’t help but grow suspicious.
Had things gotten more harmonious in the family? It didn’t seem like it.
The Cheng Family villa was huge and luxurious, complete with an elevator, so stairs were rarely needed. But Song Fu had noticed on her first tutoring visit: the massive photo—or was it an oil painting?—at the staircase landing. She hadn’t gotten close enough to tell.
It looked like a family portrait with three people: a stern, serious father; a gentle, serene mother; and Cheng Yuan grinning widely—no sign of the youth named Shiyue. Even as simple decor, the only photo she’d seen of the youth and Cheng Yuan together was a single one.
Maybe because she had once been the extra one herself, Song Fu paid close attention to these details. But the youth himself seemed unbothered, or at least didn’t show any hurt on the surface.
“You can take the leftover cake after class to share with friends or eat as a midnight snack.”
Song Fu counted on her fingers—this was the fifth cake from the youth. She’d tried every flavor. “Thanks, but really, no need. We can’t eat that much…”
“Then take as much as you can eat.” The youth was very considerate. “Don’t worry about carrying it. I’ll go with you later.”
Song Fu rarely met someone so kind and enthusiastically hard to refuse—aside from the youth, the male lead had been less present lately too. She wasn’t great at handling pure goodwill like this and felt a bit dazed. “Together? Little Yuan wants to go dog-walking with you.”
As if to prove it, the kid immediately started fake crying.
Talk about timing—Mom came back right then and saw the kid hugging his brother’s leg, yelling “Come with me! Come with me!” She frowned hard, but her voice stayed soft. “Little Yuan, stand properly.” Then her gaze shifted to the other child, already half a head taller than her. “Let Little Yuan study with Teacher Song. We’ll talk in the study.”
The youth stood still, his expression cold. “No need.”
The woman at the door furrowed her brows tightly.
The kid, super sensitive to the mood, shut his fake-crying mouth ages ago and tugged Song Fu’s sleeve like he’d done something wrong.
Song Fu pressed her lips together, her gaze landing on the youth’s beautiful face—only to suddenly meet his eyes. She froze, and he promptly lowered his, saying listlessly:
“Okay, let’s talk.”