Yun Qing’s heart tightened, and she hurried out of the grand auditorium, rushing straight to Liang Xiheng’s parking spot.
She saw his car, but not him.
The car was still there, so he surely hadn’t left yet.
She calmly took out her phone and sent him a text.
—Xiheng-ge, where did you go?
When Liang Xiheng received Yun Qing’s message, he was still in the auditorium’s reception room talking with the principal.
The sparse room held only a tea table, with two calligraphy scrolls hanging on the white walls.
The principal’s voice was especially solemn.
“Mr. Liang, rest assured. The school will take this rumor matter very seriously. Once we investigate and uncover the truth, if it’s confirmed that one of our students did this, we will punish them severely and give you an explanation.”
Liang Xiheng’s gaze lifted from his phone screen, his voice cold and deep: “When it comes to rumors, the girl is the one who suffers the most.”
The principal hurriedly agreed: ”Yes, yes… As the school, we will protect our students and restore Student Yun’s good name. Rest assured, this kind of thing will absolutely never happen again.”
Liang Xiheng lowered his eyes, picked up his suit, and rose to his feet.
The principal nervously hurried after him, saying anxiously, “Mr. Liang, I apologize for the trouble this has caused you. The incident did take place on our school’s forum, and on behalf of the school, I offer you my apologies.”
Liang Xiheng stopped at the door and said coldly, “If it happens again, the Jingwu forum should shut down.”
The warning delivered,
he strode out of the reception room.
The principal was about to see him off but was stopped by Assistant Xu. “Principal Wang, this is far enough.”
…
Wave after wave of applause drifted out from the grand auditorium, making the night outside seem especially cold and desolate.
As Liang Xiheng came out of the main hall, he suddenly gave a quiet instruction: “When we get back, look into what ‘Yi Gu Qing Cheng’—the name they’re all praising—means.”
Assistant Xu nodded. “Yes, President Liang.”
Down the steps and around a corner, he caught sight of a delicate, radiant figure.
She was still wearing the dance dress from the stage.
The night wind was chilly, her arms and waist bare to the air, yet she simply stood there, her expression so calm it was as if, had he not appeared, she could have gone on waiting like that forever.
At the sound of leather shoes, Yun Qing instinctively turned her head, her eyes immediately brightening. “Xiheng-ge.”
Liang Xiheng stood before her and said gently, “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not long,” she said lightly. “You just went—”
Before the words could leave her mouth,
the man suddenly stepped forward and, with a natural motion, took hold of her wrist, leading her toward the car.
Yun Qing’s mind went blank for a moment.
She stared blankly at the place where their skin touched.
The man’s hand was slender and warm, but his palm wasn’t soft—especially the thin callus at the base of his thumb, which rasped distinctly against her skin.
And yet, it was as if something had seeped into her flesh and blood, so warm and comforting that she found herself sinking into it.
Before she could savor the feeling for long, he let go.
Yun Qing’s hand trembled uncontrollably. An indescribable emotion surged up in her heart, nearly drowning her entirely, making her want to grab hold of something—anything.
Perhaps the contact had simply been too brief, and that was what triggered this cascade of reactions.
The car’s ceiling light came on, and warmth silently spread through the enclosed space.
Yun Qing turned to look at him and, caught off guard, met his deep, gentle gaze.
He wore a clean, cool white shirt, long legs crossed as he leaned back slightly in his seat. From head to toe he was both refined and relaxed, his features so stunningly handsome that she simply couldn’t look away.
At this moment, she couldn’t quite tell whether she preferred his looks more, or the feeling of skin-to-skin contact with him.
Seeing the infatuation in her eyes, Liang Xiheng’s gaze deepened. “What is it?”
Yun Qing hurriedly came back to her senses.
She calmed herself for a moment, then asked gently, “May I take a look at your palm?”
Liang Xiheng studied that gorgeous, lively face of hers, then thoughtfully extended his hand toward her.
Yun Qing’s fingers curled slightly, and then she lifted his hand. With the pad of her index finger, she gently traced over the area between his thumb and forefinger, feeling it slowly, bit by bit.
She couldn’t figure it out.
Liang Xiheng came from a wealthy family and should have been pampered since childhood—how could there be calluses there?
And more importantly, this was just an ordinary hand. Why did it leave her unable to stop, provoking such an unhealthy reaction in her?
Liang Xiheng watched her contemplative expression with leisurely ease. “Discovered anything?”
Yun Qing’s thoughts stalled, and she looked at him calmly. “Your palm says you’ll be rich and honored, and live a long, peaceful life.”
Liang Xiheng raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Yun Qing pointed at the line running from the base of his thumb toward his wrist. “This life line of yours is very long, which means you’ll live a long time.”
“And the rich and honored part?”
“Aren’t you already rich and honored, Xiheng-ge?”
Liang Xiheng gave a faint smile and casually withdrew his hand. “Sweet talk.”
Yun Qing suppressed the faint tremor at her fingertips, not wanting him to see how pathetically she reacted to him.
In truth, she knew nothing about mysticism or palm reading. She’d only once seen classmates playing around with it and learned that the line was called the life line. That was all.
“You made me wait just to tell me this?” The man’s low voice carried a hint of languid indifference.
“Not just that.” Yun Qing smiled and returned to the matter at hand. “Xiheng-ge, what did you think of my performance tonight?”
She tilted her head, the dangling ornaments in her hair swaying gently, making her face look especially vivacious.
A pair of clear, peach-blossom eyes stared straight at him.
As if something had been stirred, Liang Xiheng’s eyes darkened suddenly, and warmth slowly spread through his chest.
A moment of silence.
His thin lips parted. “Was that smile on stage for me?”
His deep voice carried an unmistakable sensuality.
Yun Qing’s smile stiffened slightly, and a tingling sensation prickled across her scalp.
The whirling dance was, after all, a passionate, vigorous number—interaction with the camera and the audience was unavoidable, and her eyes and smile were supposed to be bright and alluring.
On stage, her focus had landed on him and him alone.
The way he asked, it was as if he were asking whether she had been flirting with him in front of the entire audience.
Her fists clenched slightly, and she turned her face away, unable to bear it.
Why, inexplicably, did she want to flee?
“Is that question so hard to answer?” Liang Xiheng pressed.
“No.” A faint flush crossed Yun Qing’s face, her heart suspended in midair. “I was interacting with you, and also expressing a kind of artistry…”
It had nothing to do with romance…
The words never made it out.
Looking at his noble, handsome face, Yun Qing’s words suddenly took a sharp turn. “Did you like it?”