Sweetie, don't look at him, kiss me.

"How I know is unimportant," Lin Qingmian said calmly but firmly. "What's important is that if you really release my information, then I will also release the evidence of your company's scheme to frame our competitors."

"When the time comes, will the buyer choose a designer with a 'plagiarism scandal,' or a brand that will stop at nothing to compete in the business world? Think about it yourself."

A long silence followed on the other end of the phone.

The setting sun outside the window was slowly sinking, bathing the entire corridor in a warm orange hue. Lin Qingmian leaned against the windowsill, watching the fading light on the horizon, waiting patiently.

After about a minute, Lin Qingqing finally spoke again, her voice filled with an unprecedented, almost collapsing exhaustion.

"Lin Qingmian." She called her name, her voice hoarse. "You won."

"I won't send those materials anymore. As for the cooperation... you can discuss it if you want."

Lin Qingmian held her phone and remained silent for a few seconds.

"Lin Qingqing," she said, "you can go now."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, don't come looking for me anymore." Lin Qingmian's voice was soft, yet carried an unyielding resolve: "From now on, you have your life, and I have mine. Between us, this ends here."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long time.

Then Lin Qingqing gave a short laugh, with a feeling that was hard to describe as either bitter or relieved.

"good."

She hung up the phone after saying that word.

The corridor fell silent.

Lin Qingmian took the phone away from her ear, looked at the call log on the screen, and let out a long sigh. The evening breeze blew in from the window, making the stray hairs on her forehead sway slightly. She raised her hand to tuck them behind her ear, then turned and walked towards the stairwell.

As they passed the classroom door, Yao Yingyu poked her head out and called out, "Mianmian! Want to go to the cafeteria together?"

"Okay." Lin Qingmian smiled at her. "Wait a moment, I'll put down my bag."

When I got home, Ji Linzhou was cooking in the kitchen.

Hearing the door lock turn, he leaned out and glanced at her: "You're back? Any news from Lin Qingqing?"

"Hmm." Lin Qingmian changed her shoes and walked in, standing at the kitchen doorway, watching the back of the man busy at the stove: "She won't use those things to threaten me anymore."

Ji Linzhou turned and glanced at her, a hint of approval in his eyes: "What did you say to her?"

"She didn't say anything," Lin Qingmian said, leaning against the doorframe, her voice languid and relaxed. "She just mentioned Chen Zhi Qiu's matter, and she chickened out."

Ji Linzhou chuckled softly, then turned back to continue cooking.

"Well done." His voice came through the steaming pot on the stove, carrying a calm and gentle affirmation.

Watching his busy figure, Lin Qingmian suddenly felt that the weight that had been pressing on her heart for days had finally been lifted.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her face against his back, her voice muffled: "Ji Linzhou."

"Um?"

What are we having for dinner?

"Sweet and sour pork ribs, stir-fried vegetables, tomato and egg soup." Ji Linzhou was being held by her, but his hands didn't stop moving: "Go wash your hands, get ready to eat."

Lin Qingmian lingered on his back for a few more seconds before letting go and obediently going to wash her hands.

The warm yellow light from the kitchen bathed the two of them, the pot on the stove was still bubbling and steaming, and the night outside the window was gradually darkening.

In the distance came the sounds of a spatula hitting the bottom of a pot and the gurgling of water from the tap as Lin Qingmian washed her hands. Together, they created an ordinary prelude to dinner for the two of them.

Ji Xingye has been very busy lately.

So busy was his manager a little surprised, saying it was the first time he'd been this cooperative since returning from abroad. One gig after another was scheduled: magazine shoots, variety show recordings, script readings—almost every day was packed full, with work continuing until late at night.

When his agent, Sister Chen, flew back to China from Los Angeles and saw him working himself to the bone, she just sighed silently and didn't say anything more.

She knew he was using work to numb himself. The girl who had lived in his heart for twenty years had married someone else, and he needed time to process it.

During a break in filming, Ji Xingye sat on a chair on set, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, lost in thought.

He rarely checks his phone anymore. He used to check Lin Qingmian's social media accounts several times a day to see what photos she posted, what songs she listened to, and whether she was in a good mood. Now he's unfollowed her, and his phone is only used for work and communication for him.

But some habits are still hard to break.

For example, every time he passed by the Imperial Cuisine Restaurant, he would still subconsciously slow down and glance at that familiar gate through the car window. For example, when he passed by a flower shop, his gaze would still involuntarily fall on that bunch of white lilies of the valley—Lin Qingmian's favorite flower.

He remembered the day of their wedding, when he sat far away in his car and saw her walk through the flower archway in her sunset-colored wedding dress.

When she smiled, her eyes crinkled, and she seemed more confident and composed than before. It was an expression he hadn't seen on her face in a long time.

When she was by his side, she was always nervous, afraid that he would be unhappy, afraid that his family would dislike her, and afraid that she would not do well. She was like a child carefully holding a fragile item, taking each step with trepidation.

But when she was by Ji Linzhou's side, she felt relaxed, at ease, and steadily supported.

As he drove away, he took one last look in the rearview mirror.

Under the flower archway, she was looking up at Ji Linzhou, her eyes shining.

That image lingered in his mind for a long time, so long that even after he had driven several kilometers, it still wouldn't leave him.

He finally realized that what she needed was never a "hero" who was far away and made her wait anxiously, but someone who could stand firmly by her side and lend a helping hand when she needed it.

What he couldn't give her, Ji Linzhou did.

"Hoshino, next match." Sister Chen's voice came from afar, interrupting his thoughts.

Ji Xingye snapped out of his daze, placed the now-cold cup of coffee on the table, and stood up.

"They're here."

Filming continued until after 9 p.m. Ji Xingye sat in the back of the van, resting with his eyes closed, when his phone vibrated beside him.

He opened his eyes, picked up the phone, and glanced at it. It was a message from Ji Xingqing: "Grandpa wants everyone to come back to the old house for dinner tomorrow night. Don't be late. Grandpa was already unhappy last time you didn't go."

Ji Xingye stared at the message for a few seconds, then replied with a single word: 【Okay.】

After putting down his phone, he closed his eyes for a while, then looked up out the window.

Outside the car window was the familiar night view of Fuzhou, where the lights of neon lights and streetlights intertwined, creating a blurry halo in the damp night air.

He recalled the scene when he took Lin Qingmian to climb the osmanthus tree at the old Ji family house to pick osmanthus flowers when they were children, the silhouette of her squatting under the tree picking up petals, and the way she looked up at him and smiled.

He closed his eyes, trying to banish those images from his mind.