So, when could they kiss?
Lu Yan Zhi pondered this question seriously and solemnly.
From summarizing the answers online, it seemed that around three months into dating was appropriate. That was way too long… But upon second thought, should he calculate the time he and Song Fu had been dating based on the game? In that case, the time was sufficient—far more than enough, even.
After the college entrance exam ended, the idle Lu Yan Zhi leaned on the sofa and casually flipped a page in the cookbook he held, his gaze fixed on the words “as needed.”
It was all about going by feel while seizing the right moment.
Just like with kissing.
Atmosphere could be artificially created too.
“Hello, just to confirm, are these the only items on the list to move?” The moving company employee, dressed in uniform, double-checked. For such a large house, the things to move wouldn’t even fill half a truck, and they were mostly small items like bags, clothes, and jewelry.
“Mm.” Lu Yan Zhi glanced at the packed items. “Just these.”
The other house had everything else.
Indeed, on the second day after the college entrance exam, Lu Yan Zhi had no intention of continuing to live in this apartment. He roughly screened options and found a house close to the university. Distance wasn’t the only factor; the layout mattered too. Too many rooms wouldn’t do—they’d live too separately, which was too convenient. Too few wouldn’t work either. A dedicated walk-in closet, study, family cinema, and gym were all essential.
He should have consulted Song Fu.
But Lu Yan Zhi didn’t.
It felt like if he asked, his eagerness to live together would be too obvious, making him seem impatient. Even though that was exactly the case.
If she wasn’t satisfied, they could just switch.
Lu Yan Zhi sent Song Fu the new address location: What do you want for lunch, hotpot or Japanese?
No reply.
He double-checked the time—it was right after her class ended.
Would sending another message seem impatient? He picked a cat emoji instead.
Then, in the fifth minute, a short voice message arrived: Okay, I’ll head back soon. Hotpot it is.
…
Song Fu was busy clashing with the original character’s trash family.
Had she underestimated their determination to squeeze money out of her? The demands kept escalating, always from unknown numbers. Ignoring unknown calls worked, but they might come up with other annoying tactics.
So, not long ago, after hearing examples of online loan scams, Song Fu rested her cheek on her hand and thought for a bit. Then she hired someone on a trading platform to make debt collection calls to her family.
“Hello, are you Song Fu’s parents? Your daughter borrowed fifty thousand from our platform and it’s overdue. Can you help pay it back?”
“What?!” The other side was as loud and rowdy as ever. “Borrowed money? Wrong number.” They hung up without hesitation.
Song Fu’s service was comprehensive—rotating calls paired with texts, similar scripts but with different platform names.
Over the past few days, she could tell they were getting reluctant to use unknown numbers.
But it wasn’t enough. Song Fu called them herself, claiming she’d been scammed, owed a ton of money, and was desperate. “I didn’t know he was a scammer. At first, he sent me money, but then it flipped—he kept asking me for cash, saying he was short on funds, investments were tied up, stuff like that. I didn’t get it, but he said he’d marry me if I helped, so I took out a bunch of loans for him. Then he vanished.”
“Are you an idiot?!” They flew into a rage. “Can’t even hold onto money!”
“I can’t pay it back now.” Song Fu tried to sound panicked. “Mom, can you send me some living expenses first? I need to eat…”
“Eat what? You have the nerve to eat?!”
The shrill voice made Song Fu pull the phone away.
“Do you know how much money you’ve cost the family?”
Song Fu shot back, “You can’t count shared family stuff on me too—those—”
She was rudely cut off. “The family won’t give you another cent. If you can’t survive, crawl back home, get married off. Your brother’s future bride price depends on you!”
The call was abruptly ended.
Song Fu arched a brow lightly.
“Did your family buy it?” Her roommate asked eagerly. She’d helped make some debt collection calls and gotten a huge kick out of it. “I say keep the calls going—don’t stop cold turkey, or it’ll seem too deliberate.”
“I’m planning to have them call for another month or two.”
As she spoke, Song Fu made another call, but it wasn’t picked up.
She pulled them out of the chat app blacklist, sent a message, and promptly received photos of a detailed ledger.
It even included the few eggs she’d eaten as a sick child.
Flipping through the photos, she saw how pitifully low the cost of raising her had been. The best things she’d eaten as a kid were just a few eggs—potatoes and pumpkins otherwise, barely any milk. And to top it off, charging one girl for shared family staples like rice and flour? Overkill.
No wonder in the plotline, even after truly getting scammed, the original character hadn’t wanted to go home.
She knew seeking help would only bring mockery and an arranged early marriage.
“I’m heading out first.” Song Fu tidied her desk simply.
Her roommate grinned. “They’ll probably leave the door open for you tonight too?”
Song Fu was puzzled. “I should be back by three or four.”
“Fine, go find that boyfriend of yours.” The roommate reminisced about her own early dating days—all lovey-dovey at first, but once they turned into slick operators, even blushing became rare. “Cherish it while it lasts.”
While hailing a cab, Song Fu noticed it wasn’t a restaurant address, but an apartment complex location.
A call revealed they’d moved.
Upon arrival, she was first dragged to a room. Lu Yan Zhi pushed the door open, his tone expectant of praise. “After summer break, move here. I’ll be right next door. Of course, if you want to room together…”
“I can’t live here during summer break.” Song Fu didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm, but it was the truth. “I lined up an internship pretty far from here.” Not even in the same city. “I forgot to tell you.”
Lu Yan Zhi was struck as if his soul had left his body. “…Like that, huh.”
He went silent for a few seconds, thinking of his planned cruise trip, gazing at the sea from the deck, the romantic kiss. “Do you have to go?”
“It was an opportunity I interviewed for myself, so… yeah.”
Song Fu bit her lip. “Sorry. With the college entrance exam over for summer, you probably planned to have fun, right?” But actually, it didn’t conflict. “You can go with friends; I’ll video call you.”
“No.” Lu Yan Zhi refused without thinking. “Wherever you’re going, I’ll go with you.”
The most crucial part of all his plans was being with Song Fu. Without that, the rest meant nothing.
“No worries—we can play together when you’re on break. Around the same time.”
Lu Yan Zhi deliberately showed understanding.
Even though the real him wanted to throw a tantrum, ask how much the job paid, tell Song Fu to just spend his money and depend on him.
But no.
He couldn’t act childish and unreasonable toward Song Fu, who liked older types.
Lu Yan Zhi was good at enduring.
He asked which city the internship was in, what the work involved, if it’d be tiring.
Song Fu answered each one, watching his micro-expressions and catching the hidden disappointment. She quickly added, “My exam schedule isn’t set yet. Before the internship starts for sure, I’ll have one or two weeks free. We can play then.”
Lu Yan Zhi’s eyes lit up. “Good.”
There was still a chance to salvage his romantic kiss plan!
He asked what she’d been up to at noon. Song Fu explained her family situation, tugging her lips. “They probably won’t call for a long while.”
She’d never brought it up proactively. Lu Yan Zhi only knew her relationship with them was bad. Now hearing it—especially that they were scheming to set her up for a blind date—his brows furrowed tightly. “Don’t ever go back.”
“Of course.” Song Fu agreed.
His brows didn’t relax. “So the internship is to pay them back for raising you? I can give it. Owing me is better than owing them—I won’t make you repay.”
Song Fu sighed.
Temptations were everywhere in her current life, impossible to guard against. “No, the internship has nothing to do with this. And I don’t feel bad about any money I owe them.” Lu Yan Zhi still didn’t get it. “The ones unhappy about this money are them, not me.”
“They brought me into the world; raising me is their duty. I’ll repay, but not now.”
Song Fu sat on the sofa and continued, “When they’re old, I’ll take responsibility too. Though it’ll trouble them a bit—sue me, and I’ll pay living expenses per court standards.”
“That’s fine too.” Lu Yan Zhi had no objection. He sat beside her, recalling how she’d been kicked out late at night, and grumbled, “Despicable. If you hadn’t had a backup phone, on a night that cold…”
It was despicable, but for Song Fu, this overt malice was easy to handle.
No sweet words as camouflage, yet the actions lacked any real affection. It made one want to cut ties, but hard to fully let go—like you were the heartless one, the villain.
Lu Yan Zhi kept talking, suggesting she change her number. He mentioned couple phone plans now, that he could get a new SIM too. “I even picked some profile pics.”
Song Fu realized he was trying to distract her. She paused, then smiled, planting a light kiss on that nonstop chattering mouth.
It was like hitting pause. Lu Yan Zhi stopped talking and stared at her dazedly, ears red enough to bleed. “Why kiss me out of nowhere?”
Song Fu blinked. “Do I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend?”
“Mm, no reason needed.” His dark eyes sparkled. He leaned down and kissed her again.
Deeper than the previous dragonfly-skimming kiss, his hand cradled the back of her head, devouring like he wanted to eat her whole—greedily savoring her sweetness, his hidden dominance and possessiveness fully exposed.