Lu Huai took a moment before stepping out of the bathroom.

Naturally, he turned on the faucet and flushed the toilet first—just to cover his tracks.

As if that’d really convince anyone he’d *actually* used it.

Truth was, his finger wasn’t even scratched badly—barely band-aid worthy. He wasn’t *that* fragile. Though emotionally? Yeah, maybe a little glass-hearted.

He tried walking out like nothing happened… but approval from the other party was non-negotiable.

One glance at the sofa, and there she was: Su Xiangrong propped against the backrest, chin resting on one hand, the other holding a half-bitten apple. Her eyes sparkled with unmistakable amusement.

“Young man~ Didn’t take you for the secretly flirtatious type!”

“You’re weird…”

Lu Huai mumbled, already ducking his head like an ostrich retreating to his room.

Su Xiangrong called after him, voice teasing:

“*I’m* weird? Shouldn’t it be a certain seventeen-year-old Mr. Lu—high school sophomore, head full of bizarre fantasies~~?”

Kuso!!

Su Xiangrong, mid-bite, watched Lu Huai freeze at his bedroom door—like a paused frame.

Then he spun around and marched straight back to the sofa.

*Wait… is he silencing me?!* She blinked. *Over an apple?!*

Next second, he stood safely across the sofa—cheeks faintly flushed, posture stiff, voice awkward.

“How… how was the apple I peeled?”

“Huh? Uh… okay? Honestly? Not great. Too much flesh gone, bits of skin left.”

She gave it to him straight. Still confused why he’d ask.

Lu Huai hesitated.

“…Do *you* know how to peel one?”

Su Xiangrong lit up.

“Now *that’s* my jam! Ever heard of Su Xiangrong—gold medalist of the Chuzhou Apple Peeling Contest?”

“I’ve never even *heard* of that contest…”

“*Exactly.* That’s why you fail. Wait—you wanna learn?” She took a crisp bite, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

If *any* guy asked, she’d call him unmanly. But Lu Huai? Suddenly… totally normal.

*Because I get to eat what he peels!*

He nodded reluctantly.

“…Trouble you.”

“You’re *actually* learning? Awesome! I’ll teach peeling *and* fancy cuts. Knife, please!”

He handed it over.

Su Xiangrong plopped cross-legged onto the sofa—shoes and socks long gone. Toes peeked between curled fingers.

*Why am I staring at her toes?* Lu Huai wondered. *Worried about post-outing odor?* But all he caught was apple sweetness… and a whisper of her perfume.

“Watch closely,” she said, guiding his grip. “Don’t brute-force it. Palm here, push smooth… See? Easy.”

Lu Huai nodded. “Can I try?”

“Go for it.”

He took the apple. She sat up, leaning slightly closer.

Strands of hair brushed his neck—soft as a girl’s teasing fingertips. (*…Why assume it’s a girl? Fine, imagine a burly dude. Whatever.*)

He mimicked the motion, but clumsy. Slow. Awkward.

“Like *this*—gently! Ugh, that chunk hurts my soul… *There!*”

She finally covered his hands—hers warm over his knuckles, guiding the blade.

“Push~”

Lu Huai’s brain short-circuited.

Heart hammered. *I know why she’s doing this. It’s just pity. Just impatience.*

But logic drowned under sensation:

Her voice, soft.

Her breath, sweet-warm against his cheek.

Like Hawaiian sea breeze—humid, gentle, *warm*.

A purely physical flutter. Instinct. Annoying. Human.

He glimpsed something tender in her eyes—then saw *his own* dazed expression reflected.

Her gaze flickered. Flustered.

She snatched her hands back.

“You… try alone.”

She slumped into the sofa, hiding her face, fanning her flushed cheeks.

“O-Okay…”

Lu Huai’s ears burned. Goosebumps prickled his arms. He stared hard at the apple, peeling with sudden focus—as if he’d *never* been distracted.

He improved. Smoothed out.

After a quiet stretch, Su Xiangrong murmured:

“Why’d you wanna learn this?”

Eyes locked on the fruit: “Just… a whim.” (*Yeah, right. “The Queen’s mission.” Sure.*)

“Huh. Guy learning to peel apples… trying to impress someone?”

“Wait—*you*? How’d *you* get so good?” he deflected.

She hugged a cushion, smiling softly.

“My grandpa peeled apples for me when I was little. Fun guy. Hotel chef back in the day—knew ‘playing card cuts,’ ‘rabbit cuts’… magic to me. Never thought to learn. Just ate.”

Her smile softened, tinged with nostalgia.

“Then… Alzheimer’s hit. He forgot names, faces… but never how to cut fruit. I begged him to teach me—afraid he’d forget that too. Eventually… I got better than him.”

Lu Huai stole a glance. Her smile held sadness, yes—but warmth too.

*Say something comforting.*

His throat locked. Understanding ≠ speaking.

So he whispered:

“What’s… the ‘playing card cut’?”

“Easy! No peel needed.”

She snatched a fresh apple, core flicked out cleanly. Sliced thin. Poked a toothpick through.

A flick of her wrist—

*Fan.*

Like a deck of cards blooming in her palm.

“Why do hotels do this?” he asked.

“Taste better?”

“Nope. Just costs more.”

“…”

Their eyes met.

Then—laughter, sudden and synced.

Still giggling, she grabbed another apple.

“Next: rabbit cut! Super cute—watch…”

Twenty minutes later—

*Knock knock.*

Yan Ningning entered, arms full of groceries. Seeing Su Xiangrong? Normal. Acceptable.

But Lu Huai? Statue-still on the sofa. TV dark. Staring at the table like it held secrets.

“He meditating?” Yan Ningning whispered.

Su Xiangrong winced. “Long story. Quick question?”

“Shoot.”

Yan Ningning crept behind Lu Huai—ready to startle him—

Then froze.

The table.

*Covered.*

Peeled apples. Carved rabbits. Neat spirals.

“Whoa. Raiding Apple HQ? What’d Jobs ever do to you?!”

Su Xiangrong sidled up, voice sheepish:

“…You wouldn’t happen to know how to make apple pie? Dessert’s… *slightly* overstocked.”

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