Early spring. Life stirred anew. Faint dawn light filtered through the frosted windowpane, casting the day’s first gentle glow.

Gu Zhi, wrapped in a wool coat, sat by the window flipping through her book page by page in the soft light.

After a while, her eyes grew sore.

She set the book down, gently pushed the window open. A crisp, tender breeze drifted in—carrying the fresh scent of grass and damp earth.

Birds chirped endlessly among the branches. Swallows returned for spring, searching for old nests. Gu Zhi faintly recalled feeding them once.

She’d once wanted a pet. But swallows weren’t meant to be kept—they came and went with the seasons. Cages couldn’t hold them. She disliked… such disobedient creatures. It defied what a pet should be.

She’d browsed kittens and puppies at the market. Then let it go. She wouldn’t stay here forever. Leaving them behind meant abandonment. And a pet left alone couldn’t survive. An owner who discards carelessly isn’t worthy of the title.

A dusty gust carried sweet, pure laughter from the garden. Gu Zhi’s gaze drifted downward: children darting through the woods, tiny feet crunching over thin spring snow, smiles flashing between green leaves.

They played tag. Laughter blended into monotony. They circled the boy at the center—laughing, jeering. He didn’t smile. A melancholy far too heavy for his age shadowed his face. Like a needle piercing her eyes. A sharp pang stirred her numb heart.

At eleven or twelve, children could be kind… or cruel. Taller boys wore twisted grins. Filthy words spilled from their lips, reaching Gu Zhi’s ears, stirring quiet disgust.

From the taunts, she pieced together: likely a single-parent home.

The boy—“it” in the game—stood motionless amid the jeers. At the slightest shift, they’d laugh and retreat, hurling more slurs.

He probably didn’t want to be “it.” But his frame was too thin, frail, undernourished. That sorrow seeped into delicate, almost effeminate features—stirring an uncanny gender ambiguity.

Helpless. Pitiful.

Watching him, Gu Zhi’s numb heart quickened. Warm blood surged through cold veins. Heat crept up her body. An unnatural flush tinged her cheeks.

Sympathy flickered. Resonance. Yet he seemed so fragile—so easily controlled, forever within her sight.

She swallowed thickly. A sickly glint touched her expression. No urge to intervene. One word from her could scatter them. But this was a show. Why end it before it began?

She *would* help him…

When he fell, bruised and bleeding from the chase.

When tears streamed from unbearable shame.

When despair drove him to the edge…

Like taming a pet: offer food at their weakest moment. They’ll remember. Prostrate themselves. Wag tails. Beg for favor.

She’d wait. Then step forward—gently stroke his head, dab medicine on wounds, soothe the pain, feed him sweet candies, let him curl into her arms. Until those obsidian-clear eyes held only *her*. Trust earned. Invaded. Confined within her palm.

A fleeting dark thought vanished. Gu Zhi’s smile remained gentle, warm.

Plans rarely held. Someone had broken in.

“Hey! You brats—what do you think you’re doing?”

A sharp, sweet voice halted the game. The boys stared at the sudden girl: large almond eyes clear and bright, cheeks puffed in adorable fury.

Her clean shoes sank into mud. Hands on hips, twin tails swaying, she shouted, “Scram! Don’t you dare bully my Xiao Yu—I’ll beat every one of you!”

Her presence alone made the boys retreat. Not from fear of strength—they outnumbered her, ganging up was their habit—but they dared not touch *her*. Step by step, they fell back, revealing the boy behind.

Huffing, she rushed over, seized his hand. Eyes swirling with anger and care, she checked him. Seeing no harm, she sighed in relief.

“You! Always getting bullied, never fighting back—so clumsy! Don’t just listen to Mom saying ‘fighting’s bad.’ Hit back hard! Then they’ll stop!”

“Muqing… I’m fine.”

He slowly pulled his hand free. No relief in his eyes.

“Ooh~ Su Yu, hiding behind a girl? Even a *man*?”

“Coward!”

“And He Muqing—a tomboy! So fierce! Bet you’ll never marry!”

Each taunt tightened his fists. Earlier insults barely moved him—he’d grown used to them. But now, flames of shame and fury flickered in his eyes. Ashamed for himself. Angry for her.

“Muqing. Let’s go.”

He took her hand again, pulling her away—shielding her from what came next. The only thing he could do.

…

“Hmph…”

A cold snort slipped through the closed curtains, lost in the spring chill. An icicle snapped from the eaves—shattered on the ground. The air grew colder still.