“If we’re being precise.” Lin Fan stopped and turned, his ink-dark eyes reflecting the old butler’s silhouette. He was young, yet his winter-hard face froze any spark of defiance.
“Young Master, our man inside the Ouyang Clan only caught whispers, like wind through bamboo. What we’ve got is surface frost at best. So, on this…” The old butler’s voice thinned, then broke.
“On this what?” A chill rose first, then his brow tightened like a drawn bow. We finally had a crack in the wall; one slip now and some people would drown.
“We still can’t confirm anything. In the Ouyang Clan, this is sealed deep, like iron under mountain. If we force the dig…” His back bent lower, a reed in a storm. “I fear…”
“I fear we’ll lose another intelligence officer.” Lin Fan finished the thought, his tone like a blade sliding back into its sheath.
“Exactly, Young Master.” The old butler straightened, spine a taut string. “Some elders in the Lin Clan won’t back you charging alone. Throwing away a hard-won plant, just for a girl you care about—they call it a bad bargain.” His gaze was deep water, studying the boy now grown. This choice was a crossroad he’d watched him walking toward.
“People might call it childish, but the Lin Clan hasn’t withered to that point.” Resolve surged first, then Lin Fan moved again, steps crisp like drumbeats. “And after all we’ve done lately, that should shut them up.” His pace quickened, like a hawk angling into wind. “Send him. Have this dug clean. I want results—fast.”
“I’ll arrange it now.” The butler halted and bowed, one hand over his chest like a shield, watching Lin Fan vanish down the corridor like a lantern burning away into night. As the footfalls faded like rain, he straightened, hung his coat like a shed skin, slipped off his gloves, and sighed, “The Young Master is still the Young Master.” Then he, too, slipped into the room’s quiet like mist.
A plain white airliner crawled down the runway, its belly full of fresh grads and gray-templed professors, the cabin a river of luggage and low voices. In the last corner row sat a petite silhouette, alone in a whole line like a sparrow on an empty branch.
One glance said the rear seats were a quiet lake, and the rows ahead left room like open fields. Xiao Qianxue could ride wrapped in stillness, no ripples to touch her.
Engines roared like thunder under cloud, and the plane rose safely, a silver carp leaping the gate and carving a path into blue.
Under her hood, a strand of gold slipped free like sunlight through pine. A small hand propped a fine-boned face, and she gazed out. The clouds spread like a boundless white quilt, then shifted shapes like drifting paper cranes, tugging the mind to wander.
“Uh… big bro, I’m going.” Before boarding, a tall and a short stood face to face, their shadows crossing like two brushstrokes. “Mm. Stay safe on the road.” Lu Ke bent, palm cupping her porcelain-soft cheek, fingers playing with the gold near her skin like threads of dawn. His mouth tried to lift, but his eyes slid away like fish under reed.
“Don’t be like that. I’ll come back if I get the chance.” A brave sweetness rose first, then Xiao Qianxue let her golden eyes narrow like crescent moons. Her voice stayed honey, but a tremor ran under it like a thin string. He had held her through hardest winters; he called himself her brother, and she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Her smile thinned, a petal edged with frost.
“Here, your phone.” She pulled a pink iPhone from her backpack like a peach from a basket and pressed it into Lu Ke’s hands. “I probably won’t use a phone for a while, not until I’m truly safe.” A playful wink came like a flick of light. “It was mostly a game console anyway.”
“You…” He chuckled, a sound like warm tea in the throat, and ruffled her hair like wind through wheat. “I’ll wait. You remember my number, right?”
“Mm.” Heat bloomed first, then the gold-haired girl slipped in and hugged his neck, her lips landing a soft peck on his cheek like a cherry blossom drifting down. She shot back, face flushing like sunset.
“???” Lu Ke felt the softness flash and vanish, like a ripple on still water. His fingers went to the spot, as if holding a spark that had already flown.
“Strictly speaking, that was my first kiss—on a boy.” She grinned, a mischievous star winking, then turned and took the steps like a swallow. “Oh, the phone’s unlocked. I left a bunch of photos inside. When you miss me, look—but no weird stuff!” With her back to Lu Ke, Xiao Qianxue climbed aboard and slipped through the hatch like a bead into a box.
“!” Realization stabbed him like a needle, and his hand reached out, catching only air, a net thrown at cloud. He hurried to open the phone and slid to the album, where cute, vivid selfies bloomed like a garden. He had his own collection, but these felt rare as snow in summer. “Goodbye, Xue’er.” He turned, wiped his eyes like clearing dew, and disappeared into the airport’s flow like a small boat into fog.
“If a golden-haired girl asks to enter, bring her to me at once. Heard me?” Joanna drilled the maids again, the order a bell tolling through the house.
“Yes, Miss. We’ll do exactly that.”
“Hurry up and come, Xue’er… I’m dying here.” Joanna dove into her quilt like a seal into snow, her mind full of that gold-haired figure like a moon filling the lake.
“My lord, should we set another fallback? I fear sudden changes.” The ability-user spoke, voice like a wire under strain. “That strange second phase… even for me, it’s thorny.” Ouyang Si rolled a water sphere in his palm, a pearl of rain under his brow. His frown tightened like a knot. “Even with all our preparations.”
“My lord, what if we give Joanna…” The man paused, the rest a shadow already known. Ouyang Si’s gaze said he understood, a blade sheathed but ready. “It’s cruel, but it’s the surest backhand.” He nodded once, like a judge sealing a tablet. “Go prepare. I’ve got a feeling—she’s close.”
“As you command.”
“Xiao Qianxue, don’t blame us. If you must blame someone, blame Lin Fan.” The words fell cold as iron, and a darker gleam rose in Ouyang Si’s eyes like ice catching night.
