October in Hong Kong was muggy and noisy. Under the scorching sun at eight in the morning, the air seemed to be tempered with flowing fire.
The subtropical maritime climate made the city’s seasons indistinct, with greenery and fresh flowers forever holding the upper hand.
On the sixth floor of the Tang Tai Kok dormitory at the University of Hong Kong, in the communal kitchen, a small pot on the induction cooker was boiling noodles, bubbling away. He Cheng added two eggs, waited for them to set, turned off the heat, grabbed a bowl from the overhead cabinet, and carried the pot back to Room 606.
Lu Qi lay in bed, blowing air with a small fan. The door opened from outside, and He Cheng deftly set the pot and bowl on the cramped desk.
“Get up and eat breakfast.”
Lu Qi had gastroenteritis and little appetite, but she couldn’t skip eating, especially since He Cheng had already cooked.
She weakly crawled out of bed and sat at the desk, waiting to be fed.
“So fragrant.”
He Cheng scooped out most of the noodles and placed them in front of Lu Qi.
She listlessly chewed on the noodles while scrolling through Instagram, stumbling upon a post from a female classmate from the same school, who had attended a high table dinner the night before in a little dress, clinking glasses amidst the revelry.
She sighed. If it hadn’t been for the sudden gastroenteritis yesterday, she could have attended this year’s high table dinner instead of letting He Cheng go in her place.
After He Cheng attended the dinner on her behalf, she recounted the details.
She summarized a few points.
—The only thing worth eating at the buffet was the steak.
—He Cheng gave a speech in her name on stage and was challenged by students at the dinner, but a gentleman in a white suit with an exceptional aura applauded from the audience to rescue her.
—A man named Zong Sheng invited He Cheng for a drink, and thinking someone was trying to pick on her again, she got scared and slipped away.
It all sounded rather unremarkable.
Lu Qi still felt a pang of regret.
She sighed again and set down her chopsticks.
Refusing to give up the gossip, she pressed on: “How handsome was the man who helped you out last night, really! Gosh, why didn’t you go thank him in person! Maybe you could have gotten his contact info, chatted, and fallen in love!”
He Cheng furrowed her brows, not looking up as she drank the last sip of soup, and corrected her: “Don’t talk nonsense. I have a boyfriend.”
“Maybe he just clapped casually.”
“Fine, fine, you have a boyfriend, but you could still save him for me!”
“I feel like I missed out on a fortune.”
“Why didn’t I crawl over there last night?”
Seeing that she still had the energy to wail and regret, it meant the gastroenteritis wasn’t that severe.
He Cheng smiled. Last night at the Repulse Bay auditorium, the man who had rescued her sat in the very center of the front row.
Though many in the audience exuded effortless composure, he alone stood out like the moon surrounded by stars.
Unlike the others who sat upright, he crossed his legs in a lazy, relaxed manner that didn’t seem sloppy, revealing an innate, born-with languid ease. Half of his brown tie was tucked into his white shirt inside his suit jacket, looking refined and gentlemanly yet carrying a hint of fragility.
With long fingers propping up his forehead, he listened attentively to her all-English speech, his naturally amorous peach blossom eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses fixed on her.
His eye sockets were deep, his thick, sword-like brows extended past his eyes, his nose bridge was high and straight, his pressed lips were on the thinner side, and his entire facial contour leaned toward a softer, more delicate beauty.
His looks and bearing were so superior that He Cheng had locked eyes with him for a few extra seconds before looking away.
A ringtone pulled He Cheng’s thoughts back—it was a video call from her boyfriend, Ye Yanzhi.
Although she and Ye Yanzhi had only been dating for two months in total, they had known each other since the first year of high school. Ye Yanzhi was also the son of her high school homeroom teacher, and he was now studying clinical medicine at a 985 university in the neighboring city of Huacheng, separated only by the Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macao Bridge.
Most of a medical student’s spare time was taken up by previewing, reviewing, and writing lab reports.
And He Cheng had only just entered the University of Hong Kong a little over a month ago, still adapting to the environment and studies. The two usually chatted on WeChat, but sharing their daily lives often meant they couldn’t reply to each other in time.
Only on weekends did they have time for video calls.
He Cheng quickly tidied herself up in front of the dressing mirror.
The light on the video was very bright, and the young man’s sparkling eyes and bright, white smile were dazzling and charming.
“Chengcheng.” His voice was clear and cheerful. “I just finished my morning run.”
“I’m having breakfast in the cafeteria now. I ordered your favorite pickled noodles, and while eating them, I thought of you, so I wanted to call you.”
Ye Yanzhi had always been very outgoing, saying whatever was on his mind. He Cheng knew him well and had heard plenty of sweet talk from him recently, but even now, across the screen, she still blushed.
She glanced awkwardly at Lu Qi beside her, who seemed to be scrolling on her phone but was actually eavesdropping with perked ears.
“Don’t be so loud. I’m in the dorm.”
“What’s the big deal? I just miss you so, so, so much.” Ye Yanzhi showed no sign of embarrassment.
“In two more weeks, we’ll be able to see each other.”
“You really don’t need to come over. Round trip is a considerable expense.” He Cheng felt that the way they were now—chatting on WeChat and occasionally video calling—was just fine, but Ye Yanzhi insisted on meeting once a month.
Coming from Huacheng to Hong Kong, the high-speed rail round trip cost over three hundred, and the bulk went to food, drinks, and fun—the two of them would probably spend around a thousand in total. For two college students, that was no small sum.
This was especially true for He Cheng—it was practically extortionate.
Ye Yanzhi’s family was reasonably well-off, and his parents transferred him money every month.
But he had his pride. He didn’t want to use his family’s money for dates, so he found a part-time tutoring job. His first paycheck would arrive in two weeks.
He’d already planned how to spend the money before it even hit his account.
“You promised last time—we’d meet once a month,” Ye Yanzhi said. “Don’t you dare spoil the fun.”
He Cheng frowned and let out a small sigh, then conceded with a reluctant “fine.”
Ye Yanzhi then asked why she hadn’t gone to see her sponsor yet.
Half a month ago, He Cheng had texted Mr. Zong, the man who had sponsored her for seven years, saying she’d brought local specialties to Hong Kong and hoped he would accept them.
He never replied, and He Cheng worried she’d been too presumptuous.
It wasn’t until yesterday that her sponsor finally responded, explaining he’d been abroad without that phone and hadn’t seen the message.
He sent a brief address.
Her sponsor lived very close to HKU—walkable from the university’s University Drive, though it would take over an hour. Taking Bus 15 from Central would be more convenient.
He Cheng explained, “It’s not far anyway. I’ll head over after lunch.”
The young couple chatted on video for over ten minutes before hanging up.
Lu Qi rested her elbows on the desk, cupping her face in her hands, completely forgetting she wasn’t feeling well. Romance really was more fun to watch when it was someone else’s.
But she had a question that puzzled her: “Why did you apply to Hong Kong University in the first place? That’s four years of long-distance.”
Why Hong Kong University?
First, because she knew the person funding her education was from Hong Kong.
Second, in the first semester of senior year, she’d accidentally learned that HKU recruited independently in mainland China and didn’t take up college application slots. After thinking it over, she texted her sponsor to ask what she thought about studying in Hong Kong. Her sponsor spent a whole day laying out the pros and cons of studying there, including the strengths of HKU’s programs, and added that if she came to Hong Kong to study, she’d be welcome to interview at his company after graduation.
She decided to try. During computer class at school, she applied to HKU, submitting her first and second mock exam scores along with recommendation letters. In January, she was invited to an online interview. It happened to be winter break, and Ye Yanzhi had returned to their hometown from university. He helped her record mock interview videos, pointing out issues with her expressions, pacing, and logic. It was only through his repeated corrections that she was able to nail the interview.
She even did the interview from Ye Yanzhi’s house, using his computer.
Her efforts weren’t wasted—she received her HKU acceptance letter at the end of June.
After lunch, He Cheng set off to catch the 15 bus.
Two pomelos sat in a red plastic bag, the handles cutting red marks into her index finger, the pain long since gone numb.
The higher the bus climbed into the mountains, the fresher and more open the view became.
At one in the afternoon, the sunlight was blinding and the air was stifling. He Cheng felt drowsy yet incredibly excited.
She had never met her sponsor.
Seven years ago, when she’d dropped out of school, her teacher and the village head had suddenly shown up at her door.
They patiently explained that a kind-hearted person from Hong Kong was willing to sponsor her through middle school and high school, all the way until she got into university.
It felt like a dream—a mysterious sponsor appearing out of nowhere.
From then on, she had books to read.
Over the years, her sponsor had sent her tuition and living expenses on time every month, and she’d lived up to the support, scoring excellently on every exam.
In the blink of an eye, she’d graduated high school and made it into HKU, arriving in the place where her sponsor lived.
She looked out the window again. Perhaps the sunlight was too fierce, mercilessly shattering into her eyes, and two clear tears silently traced down her cheeks.
Getting off the bus, she followed the map on her phone. The signal up in the mountains wasn’t great, and her secondhand phone was sluggish, the navigation unresponsive. She walked ten meters past her turn before hearing the off-route alert.
The winding mountain path offered a new view at every step, shaded by lush greenery. If she weren’t in a hurry to find the villa, He Cheng would have loved to sit down and enjoy the fresh mountain breeze.
Tourists were scattered along the road, and she finally spotted a security guard in front of one of the villas. He Cheng politely asked for directions.
The people living nearby were wealthy and powerful, their standalone villas perched on the most scenic spots of the mountainside.
The residence she was looking for was hidden in the densest part of the greenery, extremely private—no entry without an invitation.
Following the route the guard had given her, she walked for over ten minutes before spotting a guard booth. Above the entrance hung an entire array of cameras, radiating a cold, intimidating presence.
A black car had been stopped, and a staff member stood outside the door, speaking Cantonese to whoever was inside.
He Cheng couldn’t understand much, and the staff member completely blocked the driver’s seat, so she couldn’t see inside.
A moment later, the black car turned around and drove off.
The license plate was amusing: LOVE YOU.
The staff member turned and noticed He Cheng, asking what she was here for.
“I’m looking for Mr. Zong.”
Mr. Zong had indeed returned to the villa last night, but plenty of people wanted to see him. Every day, different people came with all kinds of excuses to visit. If he let everyone in, the villa wouldn’t have room to stand, and he’d lose his job on the spot.
He Cheng saw the staff member frown and quickly added, “I have an appointment with him today. Please let him know. My name is He Cheng—I’m the student he sponsors.”
The staff member, seeing her polite demeanor and bright, clear eyes—not at all like someone with ill intentions—dialed the internal line. Liu Jiabing answered.
“Uncle Bing, there’s a girl here who says she’s a student sponsored by Mr. Zong, and she has an appointment to meet him today.”
Liu Jiabing glanced toward the open door of the billiards room. Zong Xubai was chatting with someone, wearing a lazy, contented smile. He picked up a cue stick already dusted with chalk, bent over, his long fingers curving gracefully, the cue resting against his jawline as he leisurely lined up his shot and struck the ball.
Today, several journalists and radio station executives had come to the house. The radio station head, Chen Beitan, was a man of extraordinary status—someone who could throw his weight around even in Hong Kong. He had ties with Zong Xubai’s father, Zong Kaiyuan, and Zong Xubai regarded him as an elder, conducting himself with courteous, humble restraint.
Zong Xubai’s special assistant, Zhou Qiyun, had informed him of today’s schedule last night. He said, “Let her in.”
Past the first security checkpoint, the road continued its gentle uphill climb. A wide private driveway lined with camphor trees on both sides, elegant and imposing. Birds chirped crisply, flitting leisurely into the foliage. No tourists. Utterly quiet.
After another ten-plus minutes of walking, she reached the second checkpoint. This time, the staff inside didn’t stop her—they even nodded in greeting.
Before her eyes stretched a green lawn. At the end of the road, cream-white walls stood against a lush covering of ivy.
Rising from the elevated ground was a modern castle-like villa.
An ornate wrought-iron gate stood magnificent and solemn.
He Cheng rang the doorbell, and the small side door opened automatically.
Beyond the door, the path was paved with grass, extending all the way to the villa entrance. Around her, several Filipino maids bustled about, while an automatic sprinkler worked tirelessly.
Her feet crunched along the gravel path, the sound rustling as if something were treading on He Cheng’s heart. Her pulse quickened inexplicably.
Only now, truly standing here, did the stark divide between rich and poor hit her with full force.
What kind of status did Mr. Zong, her sponsor, hold? From her limited perspective, the only word that came to mind was “unreachable.”
The first floor was a parking garage.
He Cheng was stunned.
Just the first row alone held over a dozen sleek cars whose names she couldn’t even identify, parked in perfect alignment.
Behind them were four or five more rows, forming a neat, orderly matrix.
Different hood ornaments, yet all shared the same crystalline, translucent finish.
Looking closer, they were all made of diamonds shaped into butterflies, with smaller butterflies pieced together to form the car emblems.
The craftsmanship was intricate and lavish—clearly custom-made.
The diamond butterflies looked familiar. Where had He Cheng seen them before? She remembered attending the high table dinner yesterday, when a stranger had given her a blanket on the beach. It had butterflies embroidered on it.
The two seemed to be the same design.
The diamond car emblems were spectacular and exorbitant—angel wings in two different styles, shields with horses, shields with bulls, shields with an A, double R’s, a mountain, a crescent moon, BUGATTI…
The brilliance dazzled her eyes. It was enough to imagine the owner’s opulent arrogance.
The license plates were equally eye-catching.
Consecutive numbers—a treat for anyone with OCD.
[HK·ZHB5] [HK·ZHB6] [HK·ZHB7] [HK·ZHB8] [HK·ZHB9] [HK·ZHB10]
The garage wasn’t a garage.
It was more like an art collection hall.
Wealth dazzles the eyes. As He Cheng wondered which way to go, she happened to run into Liu Jiabing, who was heading out to greet guests.
He was momentarily taken aback, then recovered his composure. “You must be Miss He Cheng?”
He Cheng recognized this polite middle-aged man at once.
Yesterday evening, when she’d gone to the high table dinner and gotten her dress dirty, she’d washed it by the seaside near the Repulse Bay auditorium.
He’d come over and given her a wool blanket.
It had solved her immediate problem.
Her joy and surprise were written all over her face. She smiled shyly. “Hello, what a coincidence. I’m He Cheng. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”
Uncle Bing said courteously, “Just call me Uncle Bing. We’re fated to meet, it seems. Come, I’ll take you to see Mr. Zong.”
Mr. Zong. That sounded familiar.
Last night, someone named Zong had invited her over for a drink. Surely that wasn’t the same Mr. Zong.
Probably just a coincidence of the same surname.
Then He Cheng remembered how Uncle Bing had said yesterday that the blanket was given on his master’s instructions.
If Uncle Bing worked for Mr. Zong, then could the gentleman who gave her the blanket be Mr. Zong himself?
“Excuse me, was yesterday’s blanket also from Mr. Zong?”
Uncle Bing looked at her clear, moist eyes and said gently, “If it was useful to you, then the gift wasn’t wasted.”
“It was useful.”
He Cheng thought: Mr. Zong really is a good person. He gave her a blanket even without knowing her.
Liu Jiabing led He Cheng up in the elevator. Above, it was a different scene entirely—a modern villa stood there, the courtyard lush with green grass.
Entering the villa, she walked across floors polished to a mirror shine.
The house was extremely bright, with several enormous floor-to-ceiling windows spotlessly clean, capturing the verdant scenery outside in full.
He Cheng felt her steps grow unsteady, her eyes too overwhelmed to look closely, too afraid to look closely.
She lowered her head. Her washed-out canvas shoes left dusty footprints on the floor.
After walking so long on the mountain road, the mud and dust caked on her soles was invisible to the naked eye—but pressed against the immaculate floor, it had nowhere to hide.
For the first time, she felt dirty and grubby. Her cheeks flushed red-hot, and she walked even more carefully, glancing back—even with light, cautious steps, she still left traces behind.
Uncle Bing turned around and saw her tiptoeing while staring at the ground behind her. “Did you drop something?”
He Cheng looked up and smiled apologetically again. “Yes, I dropped a trail of sand and dirt.”
Uncle Bing found the young lady amusing and laughed along cheerfully. “No worries, someone will clean it up.”
He Cheng still felt sorry. “I’m causing you trouble.”
They passed through the living room, then several smaller halls, and before they even reached anyone, they could already hear hearty laughter and the sound of applause.
As Uncle Bing appeared in the billiard room with the announcement, “Mr. Zong, Miss He Cheng has arrived,” everyone’s gaze turned toward the doorway.
Uncle Bing stepped slightly aside, revealing a petite, plainly dressed young girl behind him. She had a backpack slung over her shoulders and held a red plastic bag against her chest containing two round objects, standing there timidly.
A pair of jet-black eyes, bright and clear yet cautious.
Like a fawn peering out at the world from the forest.
He Cheng swept her gaze across the room—five men stood scattered inside, and she couldn’t tell which one was Mr. Zong.
Her eyes passed over the middle of the room, and her pupils contracted in surprise. The man who had applauded and rescued her from embarrassment at last night’s high table banquet was also here.
She never expected to run into him here.
Across the figures and the billiard table, their eyes met.
He wasn’t wearing glasses, and there was a faint glimmer in his eyes.
Like a hunter who had spotted his prey.
A barely concealed excitement of about to devour it whole.
She only glanced at him briefly before looking away, then bowed politely. “Hello, everyone.”
“So you’re the female student Zai Zai sponsored for seven years who got into HKU?” Chen Beitan was the first to speak in Cantonese-accented Mandarin. “Which faculty did you get into? What are you planning to major in for your second year?”
HKU admissions were divided into broad-based admission and direct admission to a major.
The former meant choosing a major at the end of the first year based on grades and interests.
The latter meant entering directly into a specialized program.
He Cheng belonged to the latter.
She looked at the speaker and answered honestly, “I’m in the Faculty of Science, studying Actuarial Science.”
Chen Beitan seemed somewhat surprised. “Oh? Actuarial Science?”
He had assumed she was a student in the Faculty of Arts or Social Sciences who would only choose her major in her second year. He never expected her to be studying actuarial science, which demanded exceptional mathematical ability.
“Actuarial science is great—it’s one of the most competitive programs at HKU. It requires excellent math skills. Many girls get headaches just looking at math. Aren’t you afraid it’ll be too challenging?”
He Cheng had heard too many comments throughout her life about girls not being suited for the sciences or not being good at math. She was stubborn and headstrong, determined to prove to everyone that girls could excel at math too.
She refuted softly, “You have a prejudice and stereotype against girls studying math. There are plenty of girls who love math.”
She paused, her youthful face appearing gentle-spoken but her tone obstinate. “I scored 140 on the math section of the college entrance exam.”
Not only that—she had also participated in an AMC competition and achieved a high score.
Chen Beitan smiled. Perhaps it was the fearlessness of youth—she clearly seemed intimidated by him on the surface, yet dared to directly refute his words. His eyes held a bit more appreciation for this outwardly delicate but inwardly resilient girl.
He turned to look at the three young men beside him and said with a laugh in Cantonese, “Girls these days are really impressive.”
Then he turned back to Zong Xubai and spoke in Mandarin, as if deliberately saying it for someone to hear: “Zai Zai, you’ve sponsored a hidden treasure. Give it time, and she’ll surely achieve great things.”
He Cheng couldn’t understand the Cantonese sentence, but she understood the Mandarin one clearly. That was how she learned which one was Mr. Zong. Following the direction of everyone’s gaze, she looked at the man who had remained silent the whole time and unexpectedly collided with a pair of pitch-black, ink-like eyes.
—So he was her sponsor.
The one who gave her the wool blanket, helped her out at the banquet, and sponsored her for seven years—it was all the same person.
He Cheng’s heart gave a violent thump, as if she had parted the mist and glimpsed the celebrated mountain springs and lakes.
Both were the same—pure and pristine, yet giving people hope.
He seemed to have been looking at her all along.
His beautiful peach-blossom eyes held a glimmer of light.
He held a billiard cue in his hand, standing straight yet exuding a lazy elegance. A white shirt and white trousers draped softly and vertically over his lean, well-proportioned frame. Three buttons of the shirt were casually undone, revealing cool, fair skin and a sharp Adam’s apple.
The lightweight silk fabric clung to his powerful waistline. His sleeves were rolled up halfway, and the veins on the back of his hands were both sexy and restrained.
He was the palest man He Cheng had ever seen. His whiteness wasn’t the eerie, soft pallor of the sickly—it was like fine jade porcelain, delicate and lustrous.
Few people could pull off an all-white ensemble; it required good bone structure and an innate, refined temperament. Yet the elegant white looked incredibly cultured and noble on him.
Even without saying a word, the bearing of one in power was already laid out through his gaze and aura, impossible to ignore.
He Cheng swallowed hard, momentarily unable to speak.
A slight curve hung on his rosy, thin lips. His Cantonese voice was low and husky, like drizzling rain pattering against tender green banana leaves—damp and sensual.
“Take Miss He Cheng back to the living room to rest. Treat her well.”