“More mature? Then, how about Zhou Jinyu? I feel like he’s interested in you too,” Xu Ke leaned in and said.

“I don’t think so.”

Wen Yan continued walking toward the dressing room with her flowers, Xu Ke beside her. They gradually passed by Fu Lanzhuo. Someone carrying a large cardboard box came from the opposite direction—the hallway was a bit narrow, so both Wen Yan and Xu Ke stepped aside to let them through.

After the person with the box had passed, Wen Yan, holding her flowers, walked past the figure not far away and kept moving forward.

…

“I’m heading off, Wen Yan. My parents are at the school. Military training is finally over—what a relief! Tonight went really well. Let’s grab a meal together sometime when we’re free.” Xu Ke had finished removing her makeup faster than Wen Yan—mostly because her phone had rung three times during the process. She was shoving her phone and water bottle into her bag as she spoke to Wen Yan.

“Okay. Stay safe on your way home,” Wen Yan said.

Xu Ke was a Yancheng local and went home every weekend. Tonight, her parents had come together to pick her up, and they’d called her three times like a death knell.

Once Xu Ke left, Wen Yan was alone in the dressing room. A few other girls had been there earlier—they were performers from the final chorus number—but she and Xu Ke had been the last to arrive at the dressing room and naturally the last to leave.

After removing her makeup, her face felt oily. There were wet wipes on the table—Wen Yan used one to wipe her face, planning to wash properly back at the dorm. She took off the hair accessories one by one. Since she’d used hairspray, even after removing all the clips, her hair wouldn’t fall naturally and looked a bit messy.

But the face in the mirror seemed unaffected—her features remained striking.

Wen Yan looked away from her reflection and slung her backpack on.

She felt a little dizzy as she stood up, then remembered she’d been too busy today. In the afternoon, she’d had to go over her lines and rehearse her stage blocking—there’d been no time for dinner. The dizzy sensation of being too hungry slowly crept into her head.

As she walked out of the dressing room, her limbs felt weak. Wen Yan tugged at her backpack straps and quickened her pace toward the exit. Probably low blood sugar—she needed to get something to eat soon.

People were still moving through the hallway outside the dressing room. A few classmates were carrying props. Wen Yan kept her head down, carefully maneuvering around them. A soft, crisp click sounded—something seemed to have fallen off her backpack and hit the floor.

Wen Yan stopped and turned around.

A tall figure had appeared behind her at some point. He bent down, quicker than she could react, and picked up the small object for her.

When he handed it back, Wen Yan noticed his hands were very beautiful—well-defined knuckles, clean and slender.

But her mind was more focused on food. She didn’t linger on the sight; she reached out and took it. “Mr. Fu.”

“Calling me ‘Mr. Fu’ now?” Fu Lanzhuo studied her face.

Wen Yan clenched the retrieved item in her palm—it was a fluffy little Rilakkuma, a gift from her mother.

She looked up, puzzled.

“Why is your face so pale?” She saw his brows furrow as he asked.

“Is it?” Wen Yan touched her own cheek. “Maybe I’m just tired today.”

And she hadn’t had dinner.

“Then head back to the dorm and rest early,” Fu Lanzhuo said.

“Mm.” Wen Yan nodded.

For the first time, Wen Yan truly understood what it meant to be ravenously hungry. She didn’t say anything more to Fu Lanzhuo. She turned and continued walking out—but suddenly felt the dizziness overwhelm her, and she pitched forward. A strong, solid arm caught her around the waist.

“Wen Yan.” She heard Fu Lanzhuo’s voice calling her name as she drifted.

—

Author’s Note:
Daily updates at 9:00 PM.

—

Chapter 5: Aurora – A Hint of Sweet White Peach

When she regained consciousness, Wen Yan found herself lying in an infirmary bed. Someone was pinching her finger—then pricking it.

It hurt. She frowned.

“She’s awake.” There was a female doctor in a white coat standing by the bed.

Beside the doctor stood Fu Lanzhuo.

He was tall and lean, dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, his expression cool and composed.

“2.7—her blood sugar’s too low. She must have gone too long without eating and expended too much energy, which caused the fainting. We’ve had several students collapse in the infirmary during military training recently. That’s it. Keep the cotton swab pressed for two minutes.”

“All right, I’ll do it.”

While the doctor spoke, Fu Lanzhuo walked over, took Wen Yan’s wrist, and accepted the cotton swab from the doctor to press against the puncture on her finger.

Wen Yan was disoriented, but after a moment of calm reflection, she understood the situation.

She must have fainted, and Fu Lanzhuo had brought her to the school infirmary. The finger-prick had been to test her blood sugar.

After a moment, the doctor brought over a vial of glucose. “Drink this.”

The small puncture on her finger had likely stopped bleeding. Wen Yan’s gaze shifted to Fu Lanzhuo. Sensing her eyes on him, he released her wrist and removed the cotton swab.

Wen Yan felt too weak to sit up on her own—Fu Lanzhuo had to lift her into a seated position before handing her the glucose vial.

Her cheeks burned. The glucose was so syrupy sweet it nearly made her pass out again.

But to “stay alive,” she forced down the entire vial.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll have something sent over.” Wen Yan had just finished the glucose when she heard Fu Lanzhuo speak. She looked up.

She was so hungry she didn’t actually want to eat, but she knew her stomach needed fuel. “I’ll just have some bread,” Wen Yan said. “I’ll buy some at the campus convenience store later.”

Fu Lanzhuo looked at her, paused for a moment, then said, “The doctor said you need to rest—and you should stay for at least half an hour of observation. I’ll go buy it for you. Don’t get out of bed. Wait here.” He turned to leave, took two steps, then came back. “Wen Yan. Let’s exchange contact information.”

Wen Yan’s hand, resting on the blanket, gripped the fabric tightly. She didn’t have much energy to speak. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out her phone as he’d asked.

Fu Lanzhuo took her phone and saved his number in it.

At that moment, Wen Yan inexplicably felt he was acting like a parent—but they weren’t even close.

It almost felt like a dream.

For someone to suddenly appear, caring about her health like this.

After saving his contact, Fu Lanzhuo left.

No sooner had he stepped out than the female doctor returned with a white blood pressure monitor. “Time to check your blood pressure. Feeling any better now?”

After drinking the glucose, she wasn’t as weak. Wen Yan nodded.

As the doctor measured her blood pressure, a gossipy look crept onto her face. “What’s your relationship with that handsome guy? Are you siblings? Or—are you his niece or something?”

“He’s really good-looking, and you’re gorgeous too—you must be relatives.”

“No,” Wen Yan replied.

“Then is he a teacher?”

“No.”

“Oh, I see—he’s your dad? Your dad is way too young!”

“…”

Wen Yan had expected the doctor might guess Fu Lanzhuo was her boyfriend… but when the word “boyfriend” popped into her head, she was startled too.

“Neither. We’re… just friends. Not relatives.”

In truth, they weren’t even friends—but if she said they weren’t close, the doctor’s gossiping spirit probably wouldn’t stop.

“Oh… friends.” The doctor gave Wen Yan a few more looks and finished taking her blood pressure.

“Blood pressure’s normal. Get some more rest, and make sure to eat on time from now on, okay?”

…

Fu Lanzhuo was quick—Wen Yan hadn’t waited long before he returned, but he was carrying a large bag full of things.

He walked over to the bed and, in silence, pulled items out one by one and set them on the nightstand.

Wen Yan gripped the blanket. “Why did you buy so much…”

“It’s not that much, really.”

Half a minute later, the nightstand was piled high with all kinds of snacks—chocolate, crackers, bread, hawthorn rolls, milk candy, cake, plus several bottles of milk and orange juice.

“…”

“Which one do you want?” Fu Lanzhuo looked at Wen Yan and asked.

Scanning the pile, Wen Yan pointed at the hawthorn rolls—they looked the most appetizing, and she liked hawthorn anyway.

Fu Lanzhuo picked up the hawthorn roll and handed it to her.

Wen Yan’s hair was very long—she hadn’t cut it since her third year of junior high; it reached her waist. As she bent her head to unwrap the hawthorn roll, her hair fell forward, covering half her face. She had changed out of the sapphire blue dress and now wore a simple cherry-pink cotton short-sleeve top. The exposed skin of her arms was a cool, unreal porcelain white. After unwrapping the roll, she tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her beautiful pale neck—and lower, even though the top was loose, the curves beneath were still distinctly full.

Fu Lanzhuo’s jaw tightened briefly as he averted his gaze from Wen Yan.

Outside the window, rain began to fall, pattering softly.

This seemed to be Yancheng’s first rain of September.

Wen Yan turned her head to look out, unable to help remembering the rainy day half a month ago—the scene was practically etched into her memory.

She remembered that Fu Lanzhuo’s jaw had been injured, bleeding. Her gaze shifted from the window back to his face.

Looking closely, there was a faint scar on the left side of his jaw.

Her chewing paused for a moment.

After finishing the entire hawthorn roll, Wen Yan reached out and tugged on Fu Lanzhuo’s suit jacket.

He turned around.

“Mr. Fu—did you get hurt anywhere else?”

The lamppost had fallen, shattering the roof and windows of the car. Those fragments must have sprayed through the air—they could have cut him elsewhere, like his neck or head.

“You mean that accident last time?”

Outside, the rain grew louder; the curtain billowed up in the wind.