When Nangong Ruihui looked at Mu Yao again, her gaze had sharpened—as if Mu Yao were already hers for the taking.

Mu Yao slightly pursed his pink lips. *He… he’s a boy!* How could she talk about him like some courtesan… even mention “redeeming” him?

Still… this feeling? Kinda liked it~

*She really is a wonderful person,* Mu Yao mused.

Lately, Nangong Ruihui’s fountain pen had been acting up. At Yingshengya Academy, weekly penmanship class required writing freely without copybooks—submitted for grading that affected final scores. Too busy to buy a new pen off-campus, Mu Yao, as her “fiancée,” quietly decided to get one for her.

He’d seen her handwriting: crisp regular script, elegant yet never stiff. Teacher Wang Chuanqi had praised it publicly. The pen wasn’t broken—just inconsistent ink flow. Mu Yao couldn’t bear her beautiful characters being judged poorly because of a faulty tool. How would he feel if her messy writing still scored higher than his?

Two hundred meters from campus stood an upscale stationery chain. Mu Yao requested leave from Teacher Wang, who approved—after all, he was Nangong Ruihui’s fiancée.

Moeyu Stationery

“Hello~ Is anyone here? Meow?” Mu Yao tapped the counter gently. Empty.

“What’s up? Need stationery?”

The shop owner popped up from behind the counter, startling him—he’d been restocking.

“Um~ Any fountain pens to recommend?”

Overwhelmed by choices, Mu Yao’s “recommend” really meant “which are the expensive ones?” Cheap = bad. Expensive ≠ always good, but…

The owner laid out options: long-lasting, value picks, gift-worthy.

“Most customers here buy gifts. You too, young lady?” He saw right through Mu Yao’s tiny secret.

“Mm~”

“For your boyfriend?”

“Mm…” Mu Yao’s eyes drifted. “So the priciest is over eight hundred?”

“Yep. New model. Next tier’s around five hundred.”

Truth was, Mu Yao hadn’t checked his balance. Sister’s transfer was nearly gone. Contract added 500 yuan; one day as Nangong Ruihui’s maid earned 200. Total: just over 700. Couldn’t afford the prettiest one.

Even if he could—food money gone. She’d worry. Not worth it.

Just survive till month-end. Next month: photoshoot at Leji Entertainment. Money sorted.

“Um… wrap this azure-blue one, please.”

…

Evening self-study. Nangong Ruihui, swamped with student council work, almost ignored Mu Yao—but his troubled face made her pause.

“What’s wrong, Yaoyao?”

“Nothing…”

“Nothing? Your face screams ‘something’s wrong’!” She turned him to face her.

“Guess you saw through me,” Mu Yao smiled faintly. “I have a gift for you~”

“A gift? Not birthday, not anniversary—what for?”

Still, she leaned in eagerly. “Hand it over!”

Slightly flustered, head bowed, Mu Yao offered a delicate box tied with a vivid pink bow.

*So beautiful…*

Nangong Ruihui mentally kicked herself. Focus on the gift.

“Yaoyao, may I open it?”

“Mm~” He nodded readily.

His smile was forced. He hadn’t bought the ideal pen. A hollow ache deepened the more he dwelled on it. *My fault. If only I were capable.*

“Wow! So pretty! A fountain pen!”

Nangong Ruihui lit up like a child with a new toy. If not for “presenting as a boy” right now, she’d have kissed his cheek.

She cradled the azure pen, beaming, showing Mu Yao first—then turning to classmates behind, even tapping shoulders ahead.

“Ruihui, don’t~”

Mu Yao flushed. She’d announced it to the whole classroom like it was *hers*.

“Why not? It’s not shady,” she murmured, fondling the pen.

*So thoughtful…* She admitted she couldn’t match his care. The pen looked expensive.

Sometimes, imagining life as a boy, she’d think: *Having such a lovely, devoted fiancée… I’d wake up smiling.*

Drip… drip…

Tears traced Mu Yao’s cheeks—one, two, three. He collapsed onto the desk, sobbing openly.

*She reacted so genuinely… and I didn’t get the best one. I don’t deserve this.*

“Whoa, is Nangong Ruihui bullying Mu Yao again?”

“Snatched her pen and won’t give it back? Jerk.”

“Wanna punch him.”

Ignoring whispers, Nangong Ruihui leaned close, voice soft:

“Yaoyao… crying because I showed others? If you dislike it, I won’t do it again. Okay? Don’t cry~”

Mu Yao didn’t stop. He shifted, burying his face in her lap, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, weeping without restraint.