Another day of nearly identical classes, a dull lecture, a brief ten-minute break. After using the restroom, Mo Xuan leaned against the railing, gazing blankly at the campus.

He used to think life was full of ups and downs—surprises and thrills around every corner, like a box of colorful chocolates where you never knew the next flavor.

His family’s bankruptcy taught him what "falling from heaven to hell" truly meant. He no longer spent recklessly; even grocery shopping required careful budgeting.

The psychological gap took time to heal. Relatives and friends who once crowded around him vanished as if into thin air, driving home the cold truth of human warmth and indifference.

Compared to that, this ordinary campus life—simple, quiet—genuinely offered him peace.

Even the life he later shared with Yun Jiumo after marriage couldn’t match this quiet comfort.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath of crisp air, and let his tension fade.

"Ooooh—you're late today~"

That sing-song voice? Mo Xuan knew instantly: Shen Bingjing was here.

He never understood why this girl always sought him out. Popular, surrounded by friends—yet the moment she saw him, she’d bounce over, grinning mischievously just to tease him.

So he kept his eyes shut, ignoring her.

Annoyed, Shen Bingjing hopped behind him and gave his shoulders two light pats.

Mo Xuan could no longer pretend not to notice.

"It's you," he murmured, cracking one eye open with a yawn.

"You're late too?" Before she could speak, Mo Xuan cut in—he knew her better than her own sister.

Shen Bingjing blinked, rolled her eyes, and shrugged. "My sister fell this morning. Scraped her knee. She said not to worry, but I bought medicine anyway. Got delayed."

"You could’ve explained to the teacher."

"Huh? Explain? Who does that these days?" She overreacted instantly, that cheeky smirk making Mo Xuan’s lips twitch.

"The teacher didn’t even let me talk—just told me to sit down and walk carefully."

"…Guess they really look out for you."

"Of course! I’m Class Six’s pet. Everyone dotes on me—they’d never scold me!"

She puffed her chest proudly. Her modest, bowl-shaped figure couldn’t compare to Tian Sirui’s, Yun Jiumo’s… not even her sister Shen Bingyao’s.

*No wonder she runs so fast,* Mo Xuan mused inwardly. *All thanks to physics.* He’d never say it aloud.

"Wait—your sister fell? But she’s always in a wheelchair?" With time to spare and Shen Bingjing lingering, Mo Xuan chatted idly.

At that, the girl fell silent. Leaning beside him on the railing, she gazed into the distance, delicate brows furrowed. "She… probably tried to stand. Didn’t make it this morning…"

Mo Xuan turned sharply, disbelief flashing across his face.

*Stand? This morning? Didn’t succeed? Does that mean… last night, Shen Bingyao actually stood up—and succeeded?*

Impossible. He remembered clearly: Shen Bingyao only managed to stand after high school graduation. Was this happening too soon?

Unaware of his tension, Shen Bingjing nodded eagerly. "You won’t believe it—last night, Jie stood on her own! Just for a moment… but it was so uplifting!"

"Tell me exactly."

"Fine, fine—no need to be so serious!" Startled by his intensity, she puffed her cheeks. "It was late. I got up for water. Passing her room, the door was open. She was still in her wheelchair. I was about to call her… then I saw her grip the handrail and rise. *Really* stand—straight as us now. I froze. I hadn’t seen her stand since the accident. She even tried stepping forward… but I burst in, startled her, and she sat right back down. I was so happy, chattering nonstop. She said her condition’s unstable—she wanted it to be a surprise once fully healed. But this morning… she tried again and fell before steadying herself."

Her eyes dimmed. Chin resting on the cold railing, slender shoulders slumped.

To her, it was regret. To Mo Xuan, it was a tremor.

*Is Shen Bingyao’s recovery accelerating?*

In his past life, she’d never hidden this from him. Her love had been painfully sincere: *"Let me stay by your side. I’d willingly be your servant."* If she’d say that… why lie?

Compared to Yun Jiumo—a whirlpool of secrets—Shen Bingyao, though fragile, was someone he instinctively trusted.

He remembered: the day she first stood in his past life, she’d rushed to share her joy. Only to find him on a bench, holding Yun Jiumo’s delicate hand, feeding her ice cream.

Perhaps that was when she began to unravel.

Now… standing earlier? A fluke? Or proof her healing was speeding up—and everything else with it?

Yun Jiumo’s shifting attitude. Shen Bingyao’s fragile mind. Tian Sirui’s fate. His own future.

His head spun. His gaze grew hazy.

Oblivious, Shen Bingjing pouted, murmuring wishes for her sister’s quick recovery. Mo Xuan glanced at her—suddenly pitying this innocent girl who believed healing meant happiness, unaware the nightmare ahead was woven by her own sister’s hands. And his own silence.

He sighed, straightening up to speak—

—and froze.

The corridor, usually whispering with breeze, fell deathly silent.

September air was still warm, but here, in this quiet corner, the chill felt unnatural.

A bone-deep dread seized him. As if stranded in a frozen wasteland.

All because of *that* gaze.

Yun Jiumo stood three meters behind them. Sleeves rolled, hands freshly washed—damp, slender, pink-nailed, exquisite as porcelain. Water droplets gathered at her fingertips, then fell.

*Drip… drip…*

She watched them. Rose-red eyes, deep as a frozen lake. No emotion. No ripple.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Only the falling drops echoed.

Drip… drip…