“How are you getting home?”

“Walking, I guess. Even the bus is probably packed at this hour.”

“Want me to give you a ride? My family’s driver’s right over there.”

“No need—it’s out of your way anyway.”

“So you’re walking alone?”

“Yep. I’ve never walked home with anyone before.”

On the path toward the park gate, they exchanged casual questions and replies.

Yun Jiumo seemed in good spirits. She deliberately stayed a step behind Mo Xuan, positioning herself slightly to his right rear instead of walking beside him.

Truthfully, she preferred this over how he used to trail her.

A hunter always favors prey with its back turned—easier to strike, higher success rate.

A few times before, when she walked ahead of Mo Xuan, she’d distinctly felt a hot, almost predatory gaze sweep down her body: from the nape of her neck, along her spine, over her thighs, calves, ankles—leaving no inch untouched, like a full-body scan.

That look sent a faint thrill through her bones, tiny electric sparks tingling across her skin, nearly making her miss a step.

Her intuition was sharp. His gaze felt like greedy hands roaming her body—relentless, insatiable. Just imagining it made her cheeks flush with involuntary warmth.

She secretly wished he’d lose control, grab her from behind, claim her fiercely. But he always disappointed her—shyness? Something else? After a few glances, he’d look away at the scenery.

And just like that, the moment she craved would vanish.

Still, it was fine. At least it proved she held his heart alone. Though a little disappointed, Yun Jiumo was easily content. This thought lifted her mood again.

She moved like a silent stalking cat—neither pulling away nor stepping closer.

Her eyes locked onto the boy’s nape, so vulnerable. One strike, and she could knock him out cold.

But the street was too crowded. Lewd stares slid over her body, irritating her. Worse were the girls from other schools who passed by, stealing glances at the tall, handsome Mo Xuan, whispering, cheeks blooming pink.

And Mo Xuan—clueless—smiled back, relaxed and carefree.

*What are you looking at? Who gave you permission? He’s mine alone. One extra glance is sacrilege.*

For a heartbeat, she nearly lunged to grab his hand and drag him from this chirping sparrow’s nest.

Mo Xuan, walking steadily ahead, suddenly stopped. Lost in thought, Yun Jiumo didn’t react in time and bumped straight into him.

He stumbled.

His scent washed over her—a musky warmth that quickened her pulse, heat pooling low.

Years of training had forged a solid back. Pressed against it felt like leaning on a sturdy wall, strangely comforting.

Yun Jiumo almost wished someone would douse them in super glue right then—freezing them together forever.

Mo Xuan jerked away as if shocked, spinning around.

He hid it well, but she caught the flicker of panic in his eyes.

*Afraid of my touch? Or just unprepared?* She couldn’t tell.

The joy in her heart vanished. She forced an apologetic smile, hiding the fangs beneath.

“What was that?” Mo Xuan frowned, body stiff.

Yun Jiumo casually brushed her hair aside, thick lashes lowering, crimson lips pressed. “Just… spaced out for a second.”

“Sorry for startling you.”

“It’s fine.” He shook his head quickly—*Phew.* He’d braced for a rear attack. Not bolting was already impressive composure.

Bathed in sunset glow, evening breeze tousling her hair, the girl stood silently smiling, smoothing a stray strand. So poised she made passersby pause and stare.

“Well, I’m off.” Mo Xuan shouldered his bag, backing away with a wave.

“Bye.”

She raised a pale hand, waving gently.

“See you.”

He hopped across the street, vanishing into the crowd.

A black Porsche glided silently to her side. A young woman in a business suit stepped out, opening the door with a bow. “Miss.”

Yun Jiumo ignored her, gaze still fixed on where he’d disappeared, expression distant.

“Miss… follow him today?” the driver asked perceptively.

After a long pause, Yun Jiumo reluctantly looked away, her usual cool mask returning. She shook her head.

The driver bowed lower, silent.

“Let’s go.” Yun Jiumo slid into the car, voice icy.

“Yes, ma’am.”

...

By the time Mo Xuan reached home, dusk clung stubbornly to the horizon, fighting the encroaching night. Streetlights flickered on, gilding passing cars. The whole street shimmered.

His old neighborhood buzzed: an auntie hauling groceries up the stairs; an old man in a white vest and blue shorts leaning on his cane; a fresh grad saving rent; delivery riders zipping past.

The moment his foot touched the ancient stairs, a creak groaned beneath him. Mo Xuan always paused here, wary the rusted steps might collapse.

On his floor, fresh flyers plastered the pockmarked walls—plumbing ads, moving services, single-room rentals. In a corner, messy scribbles: *overnight rates* and a number. *Any guy would get it.*

*Hawking this here? Do they think we’ve got cash for that?* He snorted, trudging toward his door.

Pale cement floor littered with crumpled flyers. From a nearby window, sizzling oil and the rich scent of braised fish drifted out.

*Smells amazing. Must be cooked perfectly.*

Shaking his head with a sigh, he unlocked the door and kicked it open.

Silence. No trace of life.

Living alone was like retreating into a shell. however capable you were outside, here—no warmth, no breath of home.

He tossed his bag onto the sofa, pushed into the kitchen.

Just reborn today—no time to tidy. Two-day-old dishes soaked in the sink. Exhaustion washed over him.

*Too tired. Wash them tomorrow.*

He collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

*Dinner? Takeout again?*

No coupons. No income. Every penny counted.

*Plain rice with pickled radish?*

*Yeah. That’ll do.*

He rinsed the rice cooker, added a cup of rice, swirled it quickly. Since the sink was full, he headed out to dump the water—just as the stairs creaked again.

A girl in uniform, backpack still on, huffed under heavy grocery bags, cheeks flushed.

“Back already?” Mo Xuan asked. He knew Tian Sirui hit the market after school daily for cheap, fresh veggies.

Parents working far away. She held the whole household together—studying, cleaning, cooking. A whirlwind.

*If only Tian Yixuan would help. That lazy brat.*

“Mm.” She wiped her brow, offering a tired smile. Her eyes flickered. “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking rice.”

Tian Sirui’s worry showed. She remembered Mo Xuan wasn’t much of a cook—usually ate whatever was handy.

“I’ll have pickled radish with it,” he added with a wry, self-deprecating smile.

As he turned to leave, she called out, flustered. Avoiding his puzzled gaze, she looked aside and murmured casually:

“How about… dinner at my place tonight?”