After ninety-nine online romances, I finally met my ex in person when school started.

Zhu Xunchuan's foot injury recovered extremely quickly with the system's support, and he was able to get out of bed in just three days.

He didn't have the Jiang family or Dinghe Group's convoy escort him; instead, he quietly took a taxi and returned to Peking University discreetly.

10:00 AM, the lecture hall of the School of Humanities.

The lecture series "Chu Ci and Pre-Qin Literature" is in progress. The lecture hall is packed, with people even standing in the aisles. More than half of the male students are not there to listen to the lecture, but rather to see the youngest and most beautiful specially appointed professor at Peking University.

Fu Xinghe stood behind the podium. Today she wore a moon-white Suzhou embroidered cheongsam, the collar fastened tightly with a single knot button, her slender swan neck exuding an inviolable nobility.

At the slit of her cheongsam, her shapely calves, encased in sheer flesh-colored stockings, were faintly visible. A pair of silver stiletto heels perfectly accentuated her calm and aloof demeanor.

She held a pointer and was writing on the blackboard. Her handwriting was neat and upright.

Zhu Xun Chuan entered the classroom through the back door. He found an empty seat in the last row, rested his chin on one hand, and stared directly at the woman on the podium.

Almost the instant he entered the room, Fu Xinghe paused, his hand holding the chalk still.

She already knew he was being discharged today. In the past few days at the United Family Hospital, that counselor Gu, the eldest daughter of the Jiang family, and the richest woman in North China took turns crowding around ward zero.

As the daughter of a municipal party committee member and a professor at Peking University, her position was sensitive, making it impossible for her to engage in jealousy and rivalry like other women.

This resentment, which could only be suppressed in the dark, tormented her for three whole days.

Now, this culprit is sitting in her classroom with complete impunity.

Fu Xinghe turned around and tossed the chalk into the chalk box. She dusted off her hands, her gaze sweeping over nearly a hundred students before landing directly on Zhu Xunchuan in the last row. A fleeting hint of resentment and anger flashed across her cool eyes.

"Since some students are late, let's take this opportunity to review the key points of last class." Fu Xinghe's voice was clear and authoritative. "Zhu Xunchuan, stand up."

Hundreds of eyes in the room focused on Zhu Xunchuan.

The boys were gloating, while the girls stared at the legendary "first love" with shining eyes.

Zhu Xun Chuan stood up. He was wearing a simple black hoodie, his posture was upright, and a casual smile was on his lips.

"Please explain," Fu Xinghe said, resting one hand on the edge of the lectern and raising his chin slightly. "The deeper meaning of the line 'I think of my lord but dare not speak' in the 'Nine Songs' of the Chu Ci."

This is clearly a deliberate attempt to make things difficult. Undergraduates simply cannot access this level of in-depth analysis of ancient Chinese culture.

The audience was silent.

Zhu Xun Chuan did not hesitate. He looked directly into Fu Xing He's eyes, his deep, magnetic voice echoing in the quiet lecture hall.

On the surface, it's unrequited love. But at a deeper level, it's a transgression of boundaries with extreme restraint.

Zhu Xun Chuan paused for a moment. He looked at Fu Xing He's dignified face and slowed his speech.

"Despite being deeply in love, I am constrained by my status, rules, and even upbringing, and dare not express it aloud. I can only shed all my aloof and noble pretense in a secluded room, and use the most clumsy and awkward way to gain even a moment of indulgence."

After he finished speaking, the classroom fell silent. The students, bewildered but impressed, assumed this was some cutting-edge academic movement.

Fu Xinghe, standing on the podium, felt all the blood rush to his head.

"Deep longing", "secret room", "clumsy and awkward"... every word precisely hits the absurd boundary crossing that the two of them made in front of the rosewood bookcase in the No. 0 special exhibition hall of the National Museum a few days ago.

That was the most shameful and unconventional secret of her more than twenty years of life. Now, however, he had brazenly revealed it in front of hundreds of people, under the guise of academic discourse.

Fu Xinghe's ears instantly turned bright red, and even her fair neck flushed pink. Her breathing became slightly erratic, and she subconsciously tightened her grip on the pointer in her hand, her knuckles tensing with force.

"Academic deduction...is not for you to over-interpret." Fu Xinghe suppressed the tremor in his voice, trying his best to maintain the dignity of a professor. "Sit down."

For the rest of the class, Fu Xinghe didn't dare look at the last row again. His previously clear and organized handwriting even contained two mistakes.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

The students gradually dispersed. Fu Xinghe quickly tidied up her lesson plan, grabbed the folder, and hurried out of the classroom. She walked very fast, her high heels making a chaotic rhythm on the terrazzo floor of the corridor.

She returned to her private office on the third floor of the Faculty of Arts. As soon as she pushed open the door and stepped inside, a large hand reached out from behind her and pressed directly onto the heavy rosewood door.

With a bang, the door was locked from the inside.

Fu Xinghe gasped in surprise, the folder in her hand scattering to the ground. Before she could even react, Zhu Xunchuan was already pressed against her back, his arm encircling her slender waist, turning her around halfway and slamming her against the edge of the large mahogany desk.

"Are you crazy! This is the school office!" Fu Xinghe warned in a low voice, his chest heaving violently, the off-the-shoulder neckline of his moon-white cheongsam stretched into an astonishing arc.

"You know it's a school, too?" Zhu Xun Chuan braced his hands on the edge of the desk, completely trapping her between himself and the desk. He lowered his head, his nose almost touching hers. "Was it proper for a teacher to look at me like that, with those predatory eyes, on the podium just now?"

He was too close. That uniquely masculine aura, mixed with a faint smell of tobacco, instantly shattered Fu Xinghe's long-maintained calm defenses.

"I wasn't looking at you." Fu Xinghe turned her head away, stubbornly biting her lower lip. "Since you have so many female friends taking care of you at the hospital, why did you come back to my class? Aren't you afraid Teacher Gu will mark you absent?"

Sour. A strong smell of vinegar.

Zhu Xun Chuan smiled. He raised his right hand, pinched her round and delicate chin, and forced her to turn her head to look directly at him.

"Gu Qinghan is a counselor, and Jiang Yao is from the Northern Border. They each have their uses." Zhu Xun Chuan gently stroked her soft lips with his thumb, his voice deep and domineering, "But in my heart, the only place in this capital that makes me feel truly at peace is the vast expanse of starry sky."

A vast expanse of stars. That was her online dating name.

Those four words were like a spell. The resentment in Fu Xinghe's eyes instantly turned to water. She was by nature aloof and artistic, and she couldn't resist such direct and forceful words of love.

Zhu Xun Chuan didn't waste any more words. He lowered his head and kissed those two stubbornly trembling red lips.

There was no probing.

"Ugh..." Fu Xinghe let out a muffled groan. She instinctively placed her hands on Zhu Xunchuan's chest, trying to push him away, but the hard muscles she touched made it impossible for her to exert any strength.

Zhu Xun Chuan's left hand, through the extremely thin flesh-colored stockings, grasped her shapely and firm thigh.

All her reserve, pride, and the dignity befitting a daughter of a municipal party committee member melted away completely in this solemn office.

She closed her eyes, and her hands, which were pressed against her chest, slowly moved upwards until they finally wrapped around Zhu Xunchuan's neck.

The scent of ink from classical books mingled with the delicate fragrance of orchids emanating from her.

The pen holder on the desk was shaken off and rolled onto the carpet with a dull thud.