Conquer the other worlds with abandon, they've fallen in love with me!

Lin Yu did not answer. His expression remained calm and unreadable, but his eyes were bright, like the surface of a lake illuminated by moonlight in the dead of night, a gentleness that was hard to describe beneath the calm.

He lowered his head slightly and glanced at the person in his arms. She was wearing a light gray loungewear dress, her hair casually draped over her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed a light pink from the sudden fright.

He was still holding the rag in his hand, and he looked both funny and cute.

He held her and spun her halfway around, using his body to separate her from the freshly wiped table.

Because the rag was still dripping wet, he didn't want the water to drip onto the table. He didn't say this detail aloud, and Arya didn't notice it either. Her entire attention was focused on the fact that Lin Yu had lifted her from the chair, as casually as if he were picking up a cat, yet as solemnly as if he were holding a bride.

"Lin Yu?" Arya called him again, this time in a much softer voice, with a cautious inquiry. Her left hand was still gripping his shoulder, but her right hand finally reacted, extending the rag far out and placing it on the edge of the table to prevent it from wetting his back. Then she withdrew her hand, hesitated for a moment, and gently placed it on his other shoulder.

She was held in his arms, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, curled up against his chest. He could feel her body heat seeping through her thin loungewear, carrying the warm, damp feeling of someone who had just taken a shower. She could also feel the beating of his heart—steady and strong, rhythmic, unlike the steady heartbeat one would expect from someone who had just lifted someone off a chair.

"You still haven't answered me," Arya's voice was muffled, because she buried her face in his shoulder and was reluctant to lift it. Her ears were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, the redness spreading from the tips of her ears all the way down to the side of her neck, impossible to hide.

Lin Yu finally spoke. His voice came down from above her head, deep and calm, like a stone that had been washed by a river for a long time, making a warm echo in the quiet water.

"The table is wiped clean," he said.

Arya paused for a moment, then lifted her face from his shoulder, revealing a pair of wet, confused eyes.

"……so what?"

Lin Yu looked at her, his lips curving slightly. The curve was so small it was barely a smile, but Arya noticed it—she was always adept at capturing fleeting expressions on Lin Yu's face, like trying to catch the faintest starlight in the night sky.

"So," he said, "it's my turn to wipe it."

Before Arya could even process what those words meant, she felt Lin Yu carrying her and taking a few steps. She instinctively tightened her grip on his neck, her heart skipping a beat. She didn't know where he was taking her, nor did she know what "let me wipe it" meant, but—

She buried her face back in his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Music was playing from somewhere outside the window; the melody was indistinct, only the faint rhythm drifted in on the night breeze. The light from inside cast two shadows onto the wall, merging them into one.

The rag she had draped over the edge of the table sat there quietly, a drop of water slowly seeping from its fibers, sliding down the table leg and leaving a dark, thin mark on the wood grain.