“How long has he been chasing you?”
Zhou Wenshu had prepared himself mentally, but Liang Jingchuan’s frank admission still shocked him slightly.
“Fair competition. You don’t mind, do you?” Zhou Wenshu asked.
“Not at all.” Liang Jingchuan smiled.
Zhou Wenshu nodded politely, then hugged his books and stepped down the stairs. He crossed the walkway and headed toward the gate.
After waiting a moment longer, footsteps sounded from inside the gate once more.
Liang Jingchuan turned to look. This time, the one who emerged alongside Lan Yan was a man around thirty-five or thirty-six, with an elegant demeanor. He must have been the master of the Yu Residence.
Sure enough, the man approached, extended his hand, and smiled. “My surname is Yu—Yu Wancheng. Please come in, Mr. Liang.”
Liang Jingchuan shook his hand. “I’ve heard that Lan Yan has been imposing on your household, so I came specifically to pay a visit and thank you for taking care of her, Mr. Yu.”
After an exchange of pleasantries, Yu Wancheng ushered Liang Jingchuan into the living room. The Yu Residence had a spacious and grand parlor that wasn’t used often. Informal gatherings like this typically took place in the living room.
Yu Wancheng instructed the servant to pour tea. Liang Jingchuan pulled a flat, long black gift box from the black bag he carried and handed it to Yu Wancheng, saying it was an ancient-style ink stick brought from back home.
Lan Yan’s eyes widened. She replayed the events in her mind from the beginning but couldn’t figure out when Liang Jingchuan had slipped this meeting gift into his bag.
That made sense, though. He was the type who always put on airs in social settings—he would never show up empty-handed.
Another round of idle small talk followed. On the two-person sofa, Lan Yan sat beside Liang Jingchuan, her elbow propped on the armrest, chin resting in her palm. Listening to the two socialites go back and forth, she inevitably grew bored and let her mind wander.
Liang Jingchuan glanced at her and was about to speak when Yu Wancheng spoke first. “I have a few young friends upstairs in the study looking at some paintings. Would Miss Lan and Mr. Liang care to join us and take a look?”
The Yu Residence was also a Victorian-era building. Its decor differed from the Nanyang style at Tungjia Hotel, leaning more toward traditional European.
They ascended carpeted stairs, turned a corner, and reached the study at the end of the hallway—a large room that took full advantage of the corner view.
Even before reaching the door, voices drifted out. A crisp, coquettish female voice complained about getting sunburned during today’s sea outing.
Yu Wancheng paused, pushed the half-closed door wider, and nodded for them to enter.
Lan Yan had lived at the Yu Residence for over a month and knew Yu Wancheng often had guests. But after she and Zhou Wenshu finished work, they went straight to the guest rooms in the side wing on the first floor to rest. She rarely crossed paths with Yu Wancheng or his guests.
Only every few days would Yu Wancheng have the housekeeper prepare a formal dinner. That was when she would see him at the table.
Inside the study were four people, either sitting or standing, all very young—around twenty years old.
The one lounging in what looked like the room’s most comfortable armchair was a strikingly bright and lively young girl with an especially lazy posture. Leaning against the armrest of her chair was a young man who resembled Yu Wancheng by about thirty percent.
Across from them, two other young people stood by the desk. One had porcelain-pale skin and was taller; the other had bronze skin and was more robust.
Yu Wancheng introduced them one by one. The young girl sitting was Liang Manxi, and the porcelain-skinned youth was Lou Jinxue—they were fraternal twins. The bronze-skinned youth was their childhood friend, Ding Yue.
The one next to Liang Manxi was his younger brother, Yu Jingzhi.
At this point, Lan Yan couldn’t help glancing at Liang Jingchuan. They exchanged a look, and she stifled a laugh.
Liang Jingchuan understood perfectly: Why wasn’t Yu Wancheng’s brother named “Yu Daqi”?
Amusement flickered in Liang Jingchuan’s eyes as he mouthed silently to her, “That’s rude.”
Lan Yan was slow at remembering names, and with so many strangers, she didn’t commit them to memory. She didn’t think she’d interact with them again anyway.
Liang Manxi, however, took an interest in her right away. She sprang up from the armchair. “Sister, you’re the doctor Big Brother Yu mentioned—the one who treats paintings, right?”
Lan Yan smiled and nodded.
“My dad is a doctor too, but he treats people. You work at One Corner Pavilion? Can I come visit sometime?”
“Sure.”
The hanging scroll was laid out on the desk. Yu Wancheng led them over to admire it.
Out of professional habit, Lan Yan first examined the mounting. “Was this painting mounted by Japanese craftsmen?”
Yu Wancheng heard her and gently nudged his younger brother Yu Jingzhi aside from her side to stand next to her.
“Yes. How did you tell, Miss Lan?”
“The backing paper is quite thick—that’s a Japanese habit. The lining paper behind the painting face is probably thick leather paper too.” Lan Yan leaned in for a closer look. “Leather paper is stiff and doesn’t conform well. During rolling and unrolling, it creates a lot of tension on the painting face. Over time, it can cause delamination between the face and lining—you can see signs of it here already.”
Yu Wancheng leaned down to inspect it and nodded knowingly.
“If you have time, Mr. Yu, you’d be better off having the painting remounted. Otherwise, damage to the face will make restoration tricky.”
Yu Wancheng nodded. “If Miss Lan has time, I’ll send the painting to One Corner Pavilion and entrust it to you.”
“I have to prioritize my current restoration work.”
“Of course. I’m in no rush.”
Lan Yan blinked.
The line was overly familiar—she immediately grew alert.
She quickly noticed a gaze fixed on her from across the way.
She looked up. Liang Jingchuan watched her, his expression somewhere between a smile and not, emotions murky in his eyes.
She suddenly felt uneasy. She unobtrusively stepped aside, stood quietly for a moment, then withdrew. She circled around the desk to the window, pretending to admire the frangipani tree outside while unconsciously rubbing the back of her neck.
These young people clearly weren’t the type to quietly appreciate ancient paintings. Soon enough, they grew restless and said they wanted to head to the billiards room.
Yu Wancheng put the painting away and asked Liang Jingchuan, “Do you play mahjong, Mr. Liang? Jingzhi is quite good. I can have him join to make a table…”
Yu Jingzhi’s gaze chased after the girl walking ahead. “No thanks. I’ll… I’ll play billiards with Axue. Have Ding Yue do it—he’s better at this.”
The bronze-skinned youth seemed indifferent. He stopped in his tracks, waiting for the others to decide.
Lan Yan said, “…I don’t play. Liang Jingchuan mentioned wanting to check out a bar earlier, so I’ll take him there. We won’t disturb you further, Mr. Yu.”
Yu Wancheng nodded calmly, betraying nothing.
Lan Yan didn’t look at Liang Jingchuan, but she guessed his expression was rather smug at that moment.
Ding Yue said, “Go to that one near Wangqiao Bridge. Great atmosphere. Tell them you’re friends of Ding Baoxing—they’ll give you eighty percent off drinks.”
Lan Yan asked, “Ding Baoxing is…”
“My dad.”
Ding Yue described the bar’s name and location in detail. Lan Yan smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Ding.”
Ding Yue nodded and quickened his pace to catch up with his friends.
Liang Jingchuan still carried the pain relief patches for Lan Yan. Toting them around was inconvenient, so he suggested visiting her room to drop them off.
Yu Wancheng saw them off downstairs without further insistence and returned to the study.
They crossed the long corridor to the side wing of the mansion, where expansive tropical trees loomed outside the windows, lending an even quieter air.
Lan Yan’s suite was at the end, with an L-shaped balcony corner all to itself.
The room featured floral wallpaper, a four-poster high bed, an antique vanity and wardrobe, and an adjoining bathroom with a clawfoot porcelain bathtub.
It resembled a European noblewoman’s bedroom. Saying it was better than Tungjia Hotel wasn’t an exaggeration.
Two doors separated the balcony: a glass door and an outer mosquito screen.
“Lots of bugs?” Liang Jingchuan walked over, opened the glass door, peered out through the screen, but didn’t step outside for fear of letting mosquitoes in.
“Not too bad. I keep mosquito repellent liquid going.”
“Room get humid?”
“I run a dehumidifier.”
He acted like a dutiful big brother, inspecting every corner as if worried such a nice suite still wasn’t good enough for her.
“The wardrobe hinge is a bit loose.”
Lan Yan couldn’t take it anymore. “…You’re so picky. I’m just staying at someone else’s house.”
“Arranging food and lodging is their duty.”
“My room is way better than Zhou Wenshu’s. He doesn’t even have a private bathroom.”
“So they gave you the best one.” Liang Jingchuan closed the wardrobe door and suddenly turned to face her.
Lan Yan sat sideways on the chair by the vanity at the bed’s head. At that moment, she nearly met his gaze in the mirror.
She didn’t respond, sensing it wasn’t a great topic to pursue.
Sure enough, the next second, he smiled and asked, “How long has he been chasing you?”
“…Who?”
“Who.” Liang Jingchuan repeated, his smile widening—not friendly at all, more like he was saying, you know it’s not just one.
“Yu Wancheng,” Liang Jingchuan said.
“…I didn’t know before today. Just found out.”
“You really are oblivious.”
“…Me, oblivious?”
“Not oblivious? He had to make it this obvious for you to notice.”
Lan Yan was speechless.
She mindlessly pulled open a drawer and closed it. The motion tugged at her neck muscles, sending a wave of soreness. She pinched it, stood up. “Are we still going to the bar?”
“Put on the patch first.”
Lan Yan paused.
Was all his attention focused on her?
She pulled over the black paper bag on the vanity, took out a box, opened it. Each patch was individually wrapped. She tore one open, and the strong scent of musk and menthol hit her.
She peeled back half the release paper and reached her arm behind her neck, fumbling for the spot.
A shadow moved in the mirror. Liang Jingchuan approached from the wardrobe at the foot of the bed.
Her movement stopped.
He stood behind her, reached out, and pinched the unpeeled half.
After a brief pause, Lan Yan’s hand dropped.
The pain relief patch adhered to her skin.
His breath fell too, like a swirl of warm mist.
“Who usually puts it on for you? Zhou Wenshu?” His voice was soft, emotion unreadable.
“…I do it myself.”
He seemed satisfied with the answer and fell silent.
He applied the other half, his fingers lightly pressing the corners to secure it.
Lan Yan’s fingers gripped the edge of the vanity, her breathing shallow and controlled. She made no sound, didn’t look up at the mirror.
Behind her, his breathing was clearly audible.
It was done. His hand dropped, but he didn’t step back.
A man who seemed like frost and snow up close still radiated body heat through his clothes.
The shampoo scent sharpened too.
Lan Yan’s heart tightened. She fought the urge to blink, worried even that would be too obvious, so she held perfectly still.
The next instant, Liang Jingchuan finally stepped back.
He slipped a hand into his shorts pocket and said calmly, “Let’s go.”
Not much time had passed, but every second felt intensely vivid, stretching it out.
Lan Yan murmured agreement, her fingers relaxing as she secretly exhaled in relief.
“Where’s the guest bathroom?” Liang Jingchuan asked.
“Across from the next room.”
“Got it.”
Liang Jingchuan turned, passed the foot of the bed, and left the room.
Lan Yan put the pain relief patches in the drawer, checked that the windows were secure, then followed him out. She turned off the light and locked the door.
She leaned against the wallpapered wall in the corridor and waited a moment. Liang Jingchuan emerged from the opposite bathroom, apparently having washed his face—water still clung to his skin and hair tips.
He didn’t look at her. “Let’s go.”
They exited the Yu Residence gate, back into the night breeze. Darkness had fully fallen, and the air carried an even richer scent of grass and trees.
The patch on her neck began to warm. She couldn’t tell if it was taking effect or lingering from some fingertips’ touch.
The bar wasn’t far, but Lan Yan opted to call a car—perhaps subconsciously avoiding another walk with Liang Jingchuan.
The bar hid in an alley behind a white Clan Jetties building, with a tech-retro vibe: graffiti art on the walls, vintage TVs in the window display.
A DJ spun tracks at the bar, underground psychedelic music. The place was packed with young people, shoulders bumping in the small dance area.
Lan Yan and Liang Jingchuan went up to the second floor and chose a table in the corner to sit down. It was probably the quietest spot in the entire bar.
After studying the menu for a while, Lan Yan ordered a house creation, a low-alcohol cocktail called Penang Sunset.
The flute-shaped champagne glass had colors layered from top to bottom: sunset orange on top and the ultramarine blue they had seen that evening below.
Lan Yan took out her phone, lifted her glass, and snapped a photo before she began to drink.
Liang Jingchuan said something.
The music was too loud, and she didn’t catch it, so she instinctively leaned closer. “What did you say?”
Liang Jingchuan paused for a moment, rested his arms on the tabletop, and leaned toward her as well.
It was a small square table, and in that instant, his face was right there, inches away. His pale skin was tinged with neon blue.
She could almost see the light spots in his pupils.
Liang Jingchuan said, “I said the outfit you wore the first time you went to a bar was very pretty.”
The music’s drumbeat pounded fiercely.
Lan Yan held her breath and bit down on the straw without thinking.
The orange liqueur slid past her throat, leaving a sweet, slightly burning sensation.
The first time she went to a bar was with Liang Jingchuan.
It had been an accident she strongly resisted at the time but was powerless to prevent—
After the Gaokao ended, all restrictions, including curfew, were lifted. The first thing Lan Yan wanted to try was going to a bar with Lu Ying.
She had put on makeup that day, changed into clothes she thought fit the bar vibe, and called Lu Ying before heading out to confirm the meeting spot. She let “bar” slip, and Lan Junwen keenly caught it.
So Lan Junwen asked Liang Jingchuan, who was in his room doing who-knows-what at the time, to take Lan Yan along.
She was naturally very unwilling. After going downstairs, she scowled at Liang Jingchuan and told him he could follow her, but he had better not interfere with what she drank or who she chatted up.
Liang Jingchuan’s expression was even worse than hers. Without any expression, he said, “You think I want to manage you?”
The bar had been recommended by a classmate, but clearly that classmate had no taste. Before she even stepped inside, Lan Yan was turned off by the cheesy slow dance music blasting from the speakers.
As she and Lu Ying hesitated between going in and leaving, Liang Jingchuan said, “Follow me.”
She was supposed to be an outstanding student in morals, intellect, physique, and aesthetics—how could he know bars like the back of his hand? At that moment, she felt a brief flicker of doubt. Later, she realized it must have been her ex-boyfriend, whose name she didn’t even want to mention now, who had taken him there.
That bar had the same vibe as this one today—rebellious yet refined—and she liked the music too.
She held the menu, exchanging glances with Lu Ying. A guy nearby seemed eager to offer advice. Liang Jingchuan, who had been watching from afar, walked over at that moment, took the menu with some impatience, asked about their tolerance, and recommended two drinks.
They weren’t duds. She still remembered the sour-sweet, refreshing taste to this day, though she didn’t know what base liquor it used.
When they were slightly tipsy, the two girls ran into the dance floor and hugged each other, dancing wildly and messily.
In one gap, she noticed Liang Jingchuan. He sat alone at the bar, holding a glass of amber liquid, occasionally glancing their way as if reluctantly playing the role of guardian.
They played until late at night and went home satisfied. After entering the neighborhood, she was still humming the music she had heard while dancing.
Liang Jingchuan always kept a neither-too-close-nor-too-far distance behind her.
“. . . Really? What was I wearing?” Due to the environment, Lan Yan had to raise her voice.
Liang Jingchuan’s gaze lingered on her face. He spoke slowly, item by item. “Black strapless top, black miniskirt, leather boots, choker, cross earrings.”
Spot on.
Lan Yan’s gaze flickered and dropped, fixing on the glass in front of her. She had drunk half of the ultramarine layer, and the two colors were slowly blending into a more brilliant gradient.
“Since when did you . . .”
Her voice was too soft, and Liang Jingchuan didn’t hear it. Almost instinctively, he leaned his head even closer. “Hm?”
His flawlessly handsome features were overwhelming in close-up.
“When did you return to the country?”
Liang Jingchuan chuckled lightly. “Am I in the way of your romantic prospects here?”
When he laughed, his breath brushed her nose tip.