So… how did things end up like this?

The lush forest path lay hushed. Fallen petals dusted the ground, rustling softly beneath their steps.

Sunlight dappled through the leaves, illuminating the girl’s snow-white top and the boy’s brown short sleeves.

Leaning on each other, they moved in hesitant stops and starts.

Mo Xuan stared straight ahead, striving for calm—but barely dared to breathe. His hand steadied Yun Jiumo’s shoulder, supporting her arm while carefully avoiding skin contact.

Still, with every motion, her body brushed lightly against his. The warmth, the friction—each touch sent his thoughts spiraling, his steps wavering.

He’d always known Yun Jiumo’s body was supple; he’d seen her shift into any pose with effortless grace.

The infirmary wasn’t far, yet not close. At this sluggish pace, six or seven minutes stretched ahead.

Six or seven minutes of razor-sharp focus.

Since he’d helped her up, Mo Xuan hadn’t dared meet her eyes once.

Afraid even a glance might betray everything.

Yun Jiumo was no ordinary woman. Even after marriage, he’d never truly seen through her. She was like a still whirlpool—you could peer in, but all you’d ever find was unchanging darkness.

He’d planned to keep his distance this life. Who knew day one would bring a stray basketball straight to her? No choice. He made the mess; he’d clean it up.

Was some unseen hand guiding this? Was his rebirth part of a design?

Mo Xuan drowned his nerves in scattered thoughts.

…

Yun Jiumo kept her gaze lowered, quiet as a gardenia blooming in sunlight.

Her snow-white top hugged a healthy, graceful figure. Her full chest occasionally pressed against his arm—a gentle, fleeting squeeze.

Each time, he flinched back, as if dodging fire.

When his fingers had first closed around her wrist, a faint current had surged through her. Every cell thrilled.

Her body instinctively resisted rising—*just a little longer*.

But the thought couldn’t linger. If he sensed suspicion, everything would shatter.

So she rose obediently, feigning knee pain, giving him every reason to walk her to the infirmary.

His scent along the path left her dizzy. Twice, she nearly wrapped her arms around him from behind, coiled her legs tight—like a python claiming its prey.

*Not yet. Not yet. He is yours. No one will take him.*

Only one thing irked her: his silence. Not a word. Not a glance. As if the trees ahead held more charm than she did.

Another sidelong look. If she stayed quiet, this tension would last all the way to the infirmary.

She couldn’t wait.

“Mo Xuan?” Her voice, soft as spring water, carried the name she’d whispered countless times in her heart.

The boy jolted—drenched in ice water. His whole body twitched.

“H-Here! I’m here!” Too obvious. Yun Jiumo’s sharp eyes caught it: this wasn’t just fluster. Something deeper.

She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. A faint crimson glow stirred deep within.

Goosebumps prickled Mo Xuan’s spine. He glanced at her, steps faltering.

*What’s she doing? Why say my name? That look… she’s got something to say.*

*This is school—don’t do anything reckless!*

Memories flashed: gut stabbed, throat slit. Vivid. Even now, touching his neck made him flinch. Death had left its mark.

And Yun Jiumo had delivered it.

What hurt more than betrayal by the one closest to you?

The gentler she acted, the tighter fear coiled in his chest.

Had she always been this way? Or had she changed—and when?

He swallowed hard.

The girl, solemn moments before, suddenly laughed—a sound so bright it dimmed the blossoms around them.

“You seem awfully tense?”

“Haha—I’m escorting a girl for the first time! How could I *not* be nervous?”

Mo Xuan forced a smile, willing his trembling fingers still.

*Stay calm. Absolutely calm. Or she’ll notice.*

*It’s just the infirmary. Stop being a coward. So what if you got stabbed twice?*

Spotting the infirmary ahead, relief surged. He straightened like an athlete injected with adrenaline.

“Is that so?” Her brows curved like crescent moons. “You’ve never touched another girl?”

*Even if I had—I must say no!*

Mo Xuan shook his head wildly. “N-No! I’m honest! I’ve never even held a girl’s hand!”

Guilt burned hot on his face.

Yun Jiumo wrinkled her delicate nose. “Hmph. I saw you laughing with the class monitor. They patted you—and you didn’t dodge.”

“But I never patted *them* back!” Sweat beaded on his brow.

*Damn it. Of course she was watching me too.*

How did she remember that so clearly?

Did he matter more to her than he thought?

The thought tasted bitter.

“How’s your knee?” Mo Xuan pivoted fast, palms damp. *Don’t let her mood shift further.*

“Still a little sore.” She pursed her lips, eyes flickering, then leaned subtly closer.

Her body turned slightly. His arm sank into soft, resilient warmth.

Her faint fragrance washed over him. His steps faltered.

“Sorry—it was an accident. Won’t happen again…”

He babbled, eyes locked on the nearing infirmary. *A teacher must be there. Just one other person…*

*Almost there…*

Relief bloomed—then her hand seized his arm.

She stood straight behind him, expression cool.

Her slender fingers tightened around his arm, slow and firm—like a shackle.

“What’s wrong?” A cold dread coiled in his chest.

Yun Jiumo said nothing. Only pulled. An undeniable force drew him close.

Chest to chest.

Her gaze locked with his—sharp with irritation, disappointment.

“Mo Xuan,” she murmured. Leaves rustled down behind her.

“Why didn’t you switch seats with me during self-study today?”