Xia Chuan opened his eyes to the same familiar ceiling.

His gaze still held a trace of confusion, as if he hadn’t fully woken.

After a moment, he decided to get up. He’d skipped his shower last night, and summer heat had left him reeking of sweat. A quick wash before school seemed necessary.

*Wait.*

As he tried to sit up, something pressed against his stomach. He looked down.

An unidentified object was curled there. Rubbing his eyes, he focused—it was Qian Yu, the daughter of the girl across the hall.

*How did she end up in my bed?*

He lifted her by the armpits. The sudden suspension didn’t wake her.

Watching Qian Yu’s peaceful sleeping face, Xia Chuan gently cradled her in his arms and stepped out. The door to Mo Yao’s room stood unlocked—just like his own. Small rooms like these had too few windows; in summer, leaving doors open was the only way to catch a breeze from the hallway. Thieves wouldn’t linger anyway—entering meant stepping straight into the room.

Without hesitation, he pushed inside. He hadn’t considered it a girl’s space before.

Mo Yao lay asleep on a mat spread over the floor. Her sleeping posture was awkward, almost comical. She wore only a thin tank top, likely from the heat.

Then Xia Chuan froze.

His eyes had drifted to the swell of her chest.

He swallowed hard. Shaking his head sharply, he forced his gaze away.

Once his pulse steadied, he reached out and tapped Mo Yao’s shoulder.

"Qian Yu, let Mommy sleep longer... I’m not due at work yet," she murmured, her voice childlike and soft. Her pretty face made his chest tighten.

"Mo Yao. Wake up."

He decided words were safer.

"Who...?"

Her sleepy eyes fluttered open. A blurry figure held her child.

*A kidnapper?!*

Instinct took over. Her fist slammed into Xia Chuan’s face.

"Ahh!"

He crumpled to the floor. The impact jolted Qian Yu awake, her groggy eyes blinking open.

---

"I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!"

Mo Yao clutched Qian Yu, bowing repeatedly to Xia Chuan.

He rubbed his throbbing cheek, glaring.

"Forget my face—what about Qian Yu? How could you leave your door unlocked? I don’t lock mine because I live alone. But you have a child! What if someone took her? What if she wandered off?"

"I’m sorry..." Her voice trembled.

Xia Chuan sighed. "Look... where’s her father? Maybe he should raise her. At least he’d be less careless than you."

"Father?"

Mo Yao’s expression darkened instantly.

"Yeah. What’s wrong?"

Xia Chuan sensed the shift too late.

"She has no father." Her voice turned icy.

"Did he... pass away? I’m sorry." The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"He’s not dead. Because he never existed." Her eyes grew distant.

"What do you mean?" Xia Chuan was completely lost.

"Oh, nothing. Really. I’m sorry about earlier. We’re busy now—please leave." She recovered quickly, but as Xia Chuan turned to go, he caught the faintest shimmer of tears at the corner of her eye.

*What’s her story?*

---

On the walk to school, Xia Chuan couldn’t shake thoughts of Mo Yao.

Her reaction to "Qian Yu’s father" had been too extreme. He’d always wondered how someone barely older than him was already married with a child.

The more he dwelled on it, the more it gnawed at him. He wasn’t usually this nosy—especially not over someone he’d just met.

In class, students clustered in groups. None included him.

He sank into his seat, lost in thought.

"Xia Chuan? Daydreaming again?"

Liu Yixia leaned over his desk.

"Huh? No, just... thinking." He blinked back to reality.

"Tsk. So broody at your age?" She feigned disapproval.

"Enough about me. How’s things with Senior Liu? How far have you two gotten?" Xia Chuan grinned, masking his true feelings. He hated discussing her crush on Liu Ziyang—it was the only way to hide his own feelings for her.

"When did you get so nosy?" Liu Yixia’s cheeks flushed at the mention of "Senior."

"Sorry~" He winked, though his heart ached. *This mask keeps me from losing my only friend.*

"Wait—what happened to your face?" She finally noticed the swelling from Mo Yao’s punch.

"Nothing. Got hit by a certain little troublemaker." He chuckled dryly.

"Troublemaker? Or a pretty new friend?" Liu Yixia’s face drew close, mischief in her eyes.

Her proximity stole his breath. He hadn’t even heard her question—just managed a dazed "Mm-hmm."

She didn’t react. *He’s always spacing out,* she thought.

"Need this brilliant strategist’s advice for your love life?"

"Pass. I’d hate to trouble you, oh wise one." He snapped back to attention, forcing a smile.

"Hah! I—"

The morning bell cut her off. She shot him a *This isn’t over* look before retreating to her seat.

*Xia Chuan exhaled slowly.* Every chat with her left him flushed and flustered. *Pathetic.*

He took a deep breath, pushed his feelings aside, and focused on class.

---

Time flew. School ended.

Liu Yixia headed to the student council. Xia Chuan lingered in the near-empty classroom before heading home.

Near his apartment, he realized—he had no vegetables.

He detoured to the market. Inside, he spotted a familiar figure.

"Sister Ying! Grocery shopping too?"

Wang Ying emerged, arms full of fresh produce.

"Xia Chuan. Perfect. I need to talk." Her tone was uncharacteristically serious.

---

Five minutes later, they sat in a bubble tea shop. Wang Ying slid a cup toward him.

"Treating me? How generous," Xia Chuan teased, reassessing his opinion of her.

"On your tab."

*...Ignore that last thought.*

"What’s up, Sister Ying?"

"How would you say I’ve treated you?" Her gaze was steady.

"Poorly. You never lend me money." He spread his hands innocently.

"*Seriously.*" She glared, but a smile tugged at her lips.

"Isn’t that how these talks start? ‘Remember my kindness? Now lend me cash’?" He batted his eyes pitifully.

"*Talk.*" Her patience thinned.

"You’ve been good to me." His voice softened. Alone in this city, Wang Ying was family—sharing food, fun, even lowering his rent as a student. "I consider you family."

"Good kid." She nodded, satisfied. "Then I need you to look after Mo Yao and Qian Yu."

"That’s it?" He frowned. *She dragged me here for this?*

"Not just ‘look after.’ I mean *care* for them. Be their live-in helper."

"You’re joking."

"No." Her face was stone.

"Why me?"

"Because... Xiao Yao’s had a hard life." She avoided his eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened?" This morning’s scene replayed in his mind.

Wang Ying hesitated, then sipped her tea.

"Picture this: a girl so beautiful, guys like you barely dared to glance her way. Popular kids always surrounded her. Top three in her class, every year. Friends everywhere—she was the center of their world. A wealthy family. She could’ve lived carefree her whole life. But the rarest thing? She was genuinely kind—to everyone."

Hearing this, Xia Chuan already knew the girl in the story was Mo Yao. Though puzzled why Wang Yin chose this way to tell it, he didn’t interrupt.

Xia Chuan wasn’t particularly shocked by Mo Yao’s past. In a looks-obsessed society, someone as effortlessly stunning as her would inevitably become a goddess.

“But her kindness made her too trusting. That’s how it happened.”

“What happened?” Xia Chuan cut in sharply.

“She was kind, but her friends—this world—didn’t repay that kindness. When someone’s too perfect, scum get jealous. They think, *Why’s she so blindingly flawless? So damn annoying?* So her so-called best friend tricked her over some petty grudge, handing her to a human trafficker. Pathetic, right? She’d trusted that girl with her life.”

Wang Yin’s laughter turned icy.

“Everyone assumed she’d gone missing. Until half a year later, they found her in a derelict shack on the city outskirts. Her eyes were hollow, her clothes in tatters. She looked utterly soulless. One glance told you everything.”

Listening, Xia Chuan’s chest tightened. He felt the grim shadow of human nature.

He hadn’t known Mo Yao long, but she’d struck him as polite, gentle, even a little timid. Nothing hinted at this buried past.

He could picture it: a pitch-black room, just two people. Every day, dread coiled in her stomach. Each time the man entered, hope died. Only her muffled sobs and his cruel laughter filled the darkness…

So utterly hopeless…

Xia Chuan suddenly remembered something. “What about Qian Yu—”

“Worse,” Wang Yin continued, ignoring his question. “When police found her, she was five months pregnant. They rushed her to the hospital. She wanted an abortion, but at five months? It could’ve killed her. The hospital refused—not out of care for *her*, but to protect their reputation if she died on their watch.”

“Her parents never showed up. Probably too busy saving face. A common sickness. Poor girl—even pregnant, she faced relentless media cameras alone. Just a child, trembling under flashing lights. Reporters only cared about headlines, not her broken state.”

“During pregnancy, she tried to kill herself. Repeatedly. Nurses always pinned her down, injecting sedatives.”

“Only after giving birth did she find peace. Maybe because, finally, someone existed who truly belonged to her.”

“She dropped out, left home, worked odd jobs. Only recently did she come to this city.” Wang Yin took another sip of milk tea, watching Xia Chuan’s conflicted face.

---

Walking home, Xia Chuan felt weighed down, energy drained.

Wang Yin had stayed behind to buy things.

For a moment, he’d doubted her story—it was *too* detailed for an outsider. But she’d explained: her cousin was the detective on the case. Xia Chuan fell silent; he’d met that cousin, a real cop.

Now, tangled emotions churned inside him—anger, pity, sorrow. But above all, admiration. Admiration for her courage to survive such horror.

*Such a girl.*

*Such a girl.*

*Such a girl…*

*If I can, I’ll do everything to help her.*

He reached his dorm building, climbed to the third floor.

Mo Yao’s door was slightly ajar again, light spilling from the crack into the dark hallway.

Standing before it, Xia Chuan hesitated. Opening this door meant goodbye to his free time. *Why not walk away? Like those doctors. Those reporters. It’s not my burden.*

*Should I really help her?*

The answer came instantly.

No hesitation. He pushed the door open, blinking against the sudden light. Inside, Mo Yao was battling a pork chop with a kitchen knife, sweat beading on her forehead.

Xia Chuan almost smiled—but the sound died in his throat. He steadied his voice.

“Stop chopping. Come eat at my place.”

---

After showering, Xia Chuan lay exhausted on his bed, replaying Mo Yao’s tearful apologies over dinner.

Today had been too much. Too many threads to untangle.

Weariness pulled him under. He drifted into sleep.

---

Darkness. Endless darkness.

Xia Chuan woke to a heavy weight pinning him down. Instinctively, he lifted the thing off his chest.

“You again?”

Qian Yu—the culprit—slept soundly even while airborne, absurdly adorable.

He meant to carry her back to Mo Yao’s room. But seeing her peaceful, drooling face, he couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Good morning, Qian Yu.”