Jianglai had no idea what Xu Ruobing was thinking. To her, the superstar’s current attentiveness seemed more like an attempt to make up for guilt—or repay a debt.
Watching Xu Ruobing stand guard like a knight beside her, Jianglai guessed the star probably believed personally caring for her proved sincerity. Yet Jianglai secretly wished Xu Ruobing would just hand her a bank card and say, "There’s 100,000 yuan here. Don’t get arrogant just because you saved my life." Weren’t most celebrities like that? Aloof and superior?
But Xu Ruobing showed none of that arrogance. To Jianglai, the girl was almost *too* easygoing. Even Jianglai—who’d never followed celebrities—now wanted to find Xu Ruobing’s dramas to watch. Of course, that fantasy about the bank card was just that: a fantasy. Helping out had been effortless for her. Besides, her sprained ankle barely affected daily life.
"Drop me off downstairs," Jianglai said as familiar buildings appeared outside the car window. "You can leave right after I get out. No need to wait."
Jianglai underestimated Xu Ruobing’s allure. Even with just her eyes visible—peach blossom-shaped, noble eyes that sparked endless imagination—people couldn’t look away.
"But I’m exhausted," Xu Ruobing lied smoothly. "Can’t you at least invite me up for a drink?" Their premium ride-hailing car had already provided two unopened five-yuan mineral waters. A twenty-yuan trip had ballooned to over a hundred just for the luxury service.
Jianglai opened her mouth to argue but swallowed the words. She lightly furrowed her brow, her voice trailing off weakly. "You’re impossible…"
Giving up on shooing Xu Ruobing away, Jianglai stared out the window, wondering if the ingredients in her fridge could feed three people. Job hunting had left her neglecting groceries lately. If not, she’d need to buy more.
When the car stopped at her apartment, Xu Ruobing stepped out but didn’t leave. She stood by the door, silently watching Jianglai waddle like a penguin. After Jianglai’s half-hearted protests, Xu Ruobing swept her up in a princess carry.
Jianglai had underestimated a girl’s strength. Assuming their similar weights would make it hard for Xu Ruobing’s slender arms to lift her, she instinctively wrapped her arms around the star’s neck. She even shifted slightly for balance, her cheek brushing against Xu Ruobing’s soft chest. Realizing her boldness, Jianglai’s face flushed crimson—like a cream-covered cake with a cherry on top, tumbling into someone’s arms. One dip of the head, and Xu Ruobing could’ve kissed her cheek.
Xu Ruobing almost teased her—but since stepping out of the car, a piercing glare had locked onto her from the apartment entrance. It felt like claws scraping bone, growing closer.
As Xu Ruobing gently closed the car door, a woman in a tailored suit approached. Moments ago, that hostile gaze had seemed to pierce through her. Now, the woman ignored Xu Ruobing completely, eyes fixed only on Jianglai in her arms.
Yingyu Chi. They’d met once before, distantly. Up close, her aura was sharp enough to cut.
"What happened to your foot?" Yingyu Chi reached out, ready to pull Jianglai into her own embrace.
Xu Ruobing almost resisted but slowly released Jianglai. A flicker of reluctance flowed through her like water through bamboo—hidden beneath an icy calm.
"And you are to Miss Jiang?" Xu Ruobing’s voice turned glacial, shards of frost lacing every word. Jianglai heard the anger but couldn’t grasp its source. Her thoughts scattered anyway—she was about to be carried like a child by her sister-in-law. The embarrassment was unbearable.
Jianglai wriggled free the moment she could, proving she could walk. Seeing her sister-in-law’s ankle—plastered with medicated patches—move freely eased Yingyu Chi’s worry.
"Just some swelling," Jianglai said. "Honghua oil will fix it." She sensed the tension thickening between the two women. Xu Ruobing watched them silently, her once-warm peach blossom eyes now cold as museum gems.
"Let me introduce you—this is my sister—" Jianglai avoided the term "sister-in-law" to prevent misunderstandings. But Xu Ruobing’s reply cut in like a thorn:
"Strange. Sisters usually look alike. Did she… grow too fast?"
Jianglai missed the jab, earnestly nodding to affirm her own youth. But Yingyu Chi wasn’t so forgiving. Weight, age, appearance—topics no woman took lightly. This masked, cap-hiding stranger had nearly called her old to her face.
Xu Ruobing didn’t back down. Jianglai looked fresh out of college, skin smooth as jade. At thirty, even with perfect skincare, Yingyu Chi—exhausted from a full workday—couldn’t compete. Fatigue clung to her like shadows.
