The carriage was playing a news radio station.
The host was speaking Cantonese, which He Cheng couldn't understand and had no intention of listening to. On WeChat, Ye Yanzhi said he had already arrived at West Kowloon and sent a photo of his surroundings.
He told her not to rush, to take her time.
Afterwards, he suggested directly waiting for her at the MTR exit—if she didn't come out of the station, she could save a dozen or so dollars.
The Hong Kong MTR was a bit expensive.
He Cheng looked at this message and felt inexplicably guilty. Her peripheral vision caught Zong Xubai beside her—he had been working on his laptop since getting in the car, as if he were the only one in the vehicle.
Fortunately, she also enjoyed solitude. Not speaking the whole way didn't feel uncomfortable.
Heart's Desire Orange: [I didn't take the MTR. Mr. Zong drove me here.]
Ye Yanzhi: [Why is Mr. Zong driving you?]
Back at the restaurant, after He Cheng refused twice, Zong Xubai's expression had visibly cooled.
She didn't want to owe him any more favors. Favors required reciprocity, and Zong Xubai was too good to her—so good that no matter how hard she tried to repay him, she couldn't.
She treated him to McDonald's soft serve, to canteen breakfasts. Finally, she could give something back, and he casually piled another favor debt on top with those two words: "I'll drive you."
She felt burdened.
So she had to refuse.
As she was about to leave, he lifted his thin, cool dark eyes and said flatly: "Ask Uncle Bing to reimburse your breakfast money, or let me drive you to West Kowloon. Pick one."
Her thoughts broke off there. He Cheng sighed softly.
[It's a long story. I'll tell you when we meet.]
There were many ride-hailing cars and taxis near West Kowloon, and the road was somewhat congested, traffic crawling forward slowly.
Zong Xubai looked up. His misty black eyes reflected He Cheng's back. She kept gazing out the window at the West Kowloon Station port not far away—even from the back of her head, he could see her excitement and eager anticipation.
After getting in the car, if he didn't speak, she didn't start a conversation either. She sat properly, and the news radio played the whole way.
He Cheng didn't notice a pair of eyes glued to her back. When the car stopped, Uncle Bing turned off the radio. In the sudden silence, she unbuckled her seatbelt, looked at Uncle Bing and Zong Xubai, and with her usual bright smile, said a thank-you and goodbye without a subject.
Amid Uncle Bing's "goodbye, have fun," He Cheng got out and closed the car door.
Inside the carriage, with her departure, that faint, elusive hint of fruit fragrance dissipated as well. Zong Xubai's dark eyes dimmed, growing colder still.
A sticky note on the seat caught his eye.
It was He Cheng's—he'd seen her take it out earlier, and somehow it had fallen.
Zong Xubai leaned over and picked it up.
Neat handwriting listed Hong Kong attractions, food, and approximate expenses.
It must have been their itinerary for the day.
Looking at this plan, he let out a cold laugh, his slow Cantonese carrying a hint of displeasure: "Rode in my car and ignored me the whole way."
Uncle Bing naturally wouldn't go along and criticize He Cheng. He placed the blame on himself: "It's my fault. I shouldn't have turned on the radio. Even if she wanted to talk, she couldn't get a word in."
He had felt the car was too quiet, completely different from usual, and since Zong Xubai had been working on his laptop the whole time, he remembered that his boss listened to international news in the car every morning on the way to work—so he'd done the same today.
Zong Xubai placed the sticky note on his lap and rubbed his brow. "You know better now."
Chastised, Uncle Bing laughed and quickly responded, "Yes, yes, yes, won't happen again."
Looking at the rearview mirror, Zong Xubai's eyes were lowered, unreadable. His gaze lingered on the sticky note, as if contemplating something, then he made a call.
When the other side picked up, a lazy smile curled at the corner of his lips. "Does your private detective have time today?"
"I don't trust anyone else. Only you."
On the other end of the line, at a racecourse, a white Akhal-Teke horse was galloping across the green field. The girl in the saddle wore a helmet, her slender neck gleaming with a porcelain-like luster under the blazing sun.
In the owner's exclusive area, Zhou Keqi looked through a thin veil of smoke, casually stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He hissed, "Why does that sound less like a compliment than an insult?"
Zong Xubai gave a faint, hollow laugh. "That detective followed Zheng Beiqing in America for years without being discovered. Does his capability really need questioning?"
Zhou Keqi caught the implication and teased, "That's not what you said before. You mocked my methods as underhanded and despicable. What, could it be that you've finally met your match?"
In the silence on the other end, Zhou Keqi chuckled and said slowly, "Mr. Zong, as someone who's been through it, my advice to you is—that's not how you chase a pretty girl."
"Then how? Learn from you and change your name for love, get a beating from your old man, get locked in the meditation room facing your ancestors for three days of self-reflection, and finally get thrown out the door?"
Zhou Keqi didn't take his sarcasm to heart. He only stared at the girl riding and jumping over obstacles in the distance, a shadow passing through his eyes. "I'm just afraid that even if you change your name for love, the pretty girl still won't take you seriously."
"Enough. So do you have time or not?"
"What's the rush? I'm at your beck and call."
He Cheng followed the signs into the station, weaving through the crowd for five minutes.
Not far away, tourists swarmed, footsteps hurried. That slender youth wore a T-shirt under a white shirt, a backpack on his shoulders, a bag in his hand, looking around as if searching for someone.
The moment their eyes met, a bright smile spread across his face. He raised his arm and waved vigorously, running toward her.
He Cheng raised her hand in a small wave too and jogged over.
Even though their WeChat chats were familiar and intimate, meeting in person brought a bit of shyness and restraint.
Newly reunited, they needed a moment to adjust.
Ye Yanzhi stopped in front of her, holding a DJI camera in one hand, the other hanging at his side, his gaze fixed on her face. Even with makeup that didn't quite suit her, her features remained beautiful and lively.
It was a completely different feeling from seeing her in videos—he was a little dazed. "You've gotten thinner?"
"Have I?" He Cheng, uncomfortable under his direct stare, touched her face. "Maybe it's… the contouring…"
"Lu Qi said it makes the face look slimmer…"
Ye Yanzhi laughed even harder. She was so cute.
He pointed the camera at her face. "Did you miss me?"
"Hey, don't film me." He Cheng covered her face with her hand—her makeup was a total failure.
"Say you missed me, and I'll stop."
"No…"
Since starting university last year, Ye Yanzhi had been trying to document his life through vlogs, posting daily videos of his medical school routine on social media. With his sunny, handsome looks, pleasant voice, and impressive academic background, he'd attracted about twenty thousand followers online.
Today's theme was meeting his long-distance girlfriend from HKU.
After chatting for a while, they began following the itinerary they'd planned earlier. He Cheng rummaged through her canvas bag but couldn't find the sticky note with their travel plans. She remembered the last time she'd seen it was in Zong Xubai's car—she must have left it there.
Ye Yanzhi reassured her it was fine; he had the plans saved on his phone.
They first went to the Hong Kong Palace Museum, wandering, stopping, and taking photos for three hours. At noon, they sat in the rest area eating Baoshi Master pastries that Ye Yanzhi had brought from Huacheng.
Ye Yanzhi said all the girls at his school loved that shop and queued for ages every day.
She took a bite, nodded, and said it was delicious, with a bit of seaweed crumb stuck to the corner of her mouth. Ye Yanzhi reached out with a tissue to wipe it away.
She instinctively flinched from his touch, her expression stiffening. Noticing his subtle awkwardness and uncertainty, her skin flushed hot. She made an excuse: "Thought a fly was coming at me."
Ye Yanzhi burst out laughing, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Where would a fly that big come from? You're like a little kid, getting food all over your mouth."
The way she nibbled at the pastry was adorable. Ye Yanzhi decided not to dwell on her earlier flinch—after all, they were in a long-distance relationship, and they'd only just met again. It was normal to be unused to physical contact.
But when he looked up and saw another girl feeding her boyfriend bread, he felt a pang of regret. He shouldn't have bought two of each popular flavor—if he'd bought one of each, they could have fed each other.
Coming out of the museum, Ye Yanzhi found a passerby to take a photo of them together.
As they stood side by side and the stranger counted "one, two, three," his big hand enveloped hers.
His hand was large and warm. She frowned slightly, uncomfortable—this was their first time holding hands, and it felt awkward and strange. She didn't experience the racing heart or butterflies people talked about. Maybe it was just the heat, but her cheeks flushed a deep, instinctive red, like a delicate pink rose.
After that, their hands seemed glued together, held at all times.
They continued until they reached Tsim Sha Tsui, walking along the bustling Avenue of Stars, where handprints and portraits of many Hong Kong celebrities lined the way.
Whenever they came across a favorite celebrity's handprint, they'd stop for a photo.
Ye Yanzhi wanted to take solo shots of He Cheng, so their hands finally parted.
Her hand was free at last, and she inexplicably let out a quiet breath, fresh air rushing over her released palm.
Ye Yanzhi loved documenting things—most of the videos and photos on his phone were of He Cheng. He photographed her for a good while, then asked someone to take a photo of them together.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled in the sky, but looking up, the midday sun blazed fiercely. Even with the sea breeze, the thick, sticky heat rising from the ground and between the buildings was inescapable.
They didn't finish walking the Avenue of Stars. Instead, they ducked into K11 for air conditioning, lamenting that they shouldn't have come to the Avenue of Stars at noon—if they'd come at night, they could have seen the Victoria Harbour night view.
Hong Kong is small, with attractions neither too close nor too far apart—all within walking distance.
They strolled along the waterfront promenade toward the Peninsula Hotel, reaching Salisbury Road in the Yau Tsim Mong district, where they snapped a few photos across the street from the crowded hotel.
Then they walked to Harbour City, browsing and photographing the mall for an hour, before taking the Star Ferry across the harbor to Central on the opposite side.
Central had a Ferris wheel, with lots of people taking photos beneath it. Ye Yanzhi told He Cheng to go over too. After snapping a few minutes of shots, he looked at the turning wheel—each cabin held five or six people.
He Cheng could read his mind; she knew he wanted to buy tickets to ride. She didn't really want him to spend the money, but since they were already here—and it was a date—she couldn't keep muttering about how expensive it was. That would ruin the mood.
"Do you want to ride?"
Ye Yanzhi nodded, looking at her. "I want to ride with you."
They queued for nearly forty minutes before stepping into a cabin that already held two other couples.
The Ferris wheel climbed slowly, the afternoon sun still fierce, its light piercing through the glass and glaring harshly against their eyelids.
As the cabin rose to its peak, a 360-degree unobstructed view unfolded before them—Victoria Harbour, the Central skyline, and the Kowloon Peninsula all spread out in full.
Ye Yanzhi held up his phone to record a video, the frame capturing He Cheng turning her head to look at the scenery outside.
Beside them, two couples were taking photos and kissing intimately as if no one else were there. He Cheng accidentally caught sight of them and immediately averted her gaze—only to lock eyes with Ye Yanzhi.
His gaze was just as scorching as the sunlight.
"Chengcheng, I want to kiss you."
Before He Cheng could even respond, his face closed in, plunging her vision into shadow. Her eyes flew wide, and she instinctively turned her face away to dodge. Their lips nearly brushed dangerously close—from a distance, it looked as though they had already kissed.
She frowned and clutched at the hem of her clothes, her body stiffening. Flustered, she fell back on another excuse. "It's daytime right now. This isn't appropriate."
Ye Yanzhi's long lashes stilled, his gaze dimming, his ears burning red. He knew she was thin-skinned, disliked doing intimate things in broad daylight, and took her reaction as shyness, as discomfort.
He liked her, so of course he cherished her and respected her.
He pulled back. "Did I scare you?"
He Cheng shook her head. "No."
They fell silent for a moment before Ye Yanzhi found a topic. "You said before that you'd kiss me when you came to Hong Kong."
"Does that not count anymore?"
He Cheng suddenly felt the weight of pressure. That day, the mood had been right, and the words had slipped out.
On one hand, she felt that kissing between couples was normal, and she wanted to reciprocate his sincerity and affection. But she didn't have much of a need for that kind of thing—she seemed somewhat asexual. When he'd leaned in just now, she'd instinctively turned her head away, and that must have hurt him.
She couldn't keep rejecting him again and again. Besides, a person had to take responsibility for what they said.
"It still counts."
Ye Yanzhi saw a glimmer of hope and pressed his advantage. "Then when will you kiss me…"
He Cheng glanced at the other two couples, sweet and affectionate, completely at ease. She was too thin-skinned, too embarrassed. "Tonight."
He pushed further. "Can't it be now?"
"No. And tonight, you need to turn off your camera."
"What's the big deal? Recording videos is about bearing witness to our love…" Ye Yanzhi coaxed her.
She held her ground, insisting on waiting until night, and that the video absolutely had to be turned off.
Ye Yanzhi sighed. He couldn't out-stubborn her, so he could only agree to her terms.
Meanwhile, far away at the Clearwater Bay Golf & Country Club, the green fairways undulated like the crouching spines of beasts, winding along the cliff's edge.
Zong Xubai stood at the tee in all white, the steep rock face below his feet, the lush greenery and azure seascape in the distance like a naturally formed paradise.
His phone was set to vibrate, and a message buzzed softly in his pocket.
The screen reflected the sunlight slightly. He raised the brightness, shielded the glare with his hand, and a misaligned kissing photo slammed into view.
He narrowed his eyes, staring at the image, his dark pupils turning vicious in an instant.
The displeasure in his cold gaze nearly burst forth, threatening to shatter the screen to pieces.
He swung the club abruptly, sending the ball arcing over the deep bay and vanishing into the green.
Lin Zhongxi beside him noticed his distraction. "What's wrong with you? You asked me to come play golf, but your head's not in it. You told me to bring a girl, and then you show up alone—did some pretty girl stand you up?"
Zong Xubai didn't answer. He tossed the club to the caddie and turned to leave.
Lin Zhongxi called after him, "Where are you going?"
The only response was the sound of waves and wind.
Lin Zhongxi looked at the caddie in confusion. "Is the wind too loud? Did he say something…"
The caddie's face was flushed red from the sun, and he could only shake his head.
It took an hour to drive from the club back to Central.
Uncle Bing could tell Zong Xubai was in an extremely foul mood. The back seat felt like an icebox. He sat there lifelessly, eyes closed, sinking into the seatback, letting the darkness swallow him whole.
Zong Xubai's temples throbbed painfully, his brows tightly knit. When his thoughts spiraled out of control, he'd imagined what their meetings and dates would look like—holding hands, embracing, kissing. But the moment he actually saw it through the screen, jealousy and pain detonated recklessly in his mind.
With his eyes closed, an endless stream of unfamiliar, uncontrollable envy surged forth.
His mind was flooded with images of the boy holding her hand, leaning in close, the two of them kissing.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He imagined it was his lips entwined intimately with hers, and only then did his chest feel a little better.
But the heat in his body didn't subside in the slightest. He impatiently tore open the buttons of his polo shirt, the icy air conditioning blowing against his bare chest as his heartbeat rose and fell faintly.
His phone buzzed again in succession.
He didn't need to look to know it was the private investigator's messages—dozens of photos taken in just one morning.
From wiping her mouth at the museum, to holding hands, to the Ferris wheel kiss—each one slowly dismantled his defenses.
A hidden malice began to seep through.
His aching nervous system suddenly sparked with a hint of excitement and anticipation.
Good. He was done pretending anyway.
From now on, all that gentleness, warmth, and patience—forget it. He would no longer suppress the surging emotions and reckless impulses within him. He was going to fight a battle whose outcome he could already foresee, yet he would charge in without hesitation.
After riding the Ferris wheel in Central, they walked for over ten minutes across the footbridge connecting Central and Victoria Harbour, heading toward Statue Square.
It was the weekend, and near Statue Square many Filipino domestic workers had gathered for picnics, singing and dancing—a lively scene. The two strolled for thousands of steps without spending a cent.
They'd only had bread for lunch, and now they were feeling a bit peckish. Just then they passed a noodle shop, and Ye Yanzhi noticed a long queue of people buying fish balls. Looking up at the sign, he realized it was one of the must-eat places on his Hong Kong food list, so he pulled He Cheng to join the line.
They ordered a serving of curry fish balls.
The shop was small and packed with customers, so the two didn't linger inside. They carried the fish balls out and stood by the entrance.
Behind them, colorful signs interwove into a tapestry of bustling street life—voices and the sizzle of woks blending into one. Ahead lay a wide road with endless traffic.
The two stood in the seam between noise and quiet, old and new.
Ye Yanzhi picked up a fish ball with a bamboo skewer and brought it to He Cheng's lips. She froze for a moment, a little embarrassed, but couldn't bring herself to refuse. She took a stiff bite from his hand.
He finished the rest.
He Cheng's eyes went wide as she reminded him, "That's the one I ate."
"That's exactly why I want to eat it."
"…" Couples in love were probably all like this. He Cheng didn't quite understand, but she wouldn't spoil the mood.
Across the street, a Bentley had stopped at some point. The window wasn't rolled down, so no one outside could see inside.
Zong Xubai sat in the pitch-black car, his expression indifferent. Behind his lenses, dark eyes were sharp and brooding, taking in every single one of their movements.
Her features were so lively—like a freshly opened jar of plum wine, bubbling with sweet effervescence.
Zong Xubai narrowed his eyes.
The young man standing beside her wore a white shirt and jeans, dressed in a sunny, youthful way. He was clean-cut and young, with delicate features—unremarkable in a crowd, merely average. But he was able-bodied.
Not worthy of her.
Ye Yanzhi picked up another fish ball and fed it to her.
She still wasn't used to his intimate care, eating half of it stiffly before changing the subject. Puzzled, she asked, "So this is curry fish ball? The fish ball is this round thing? Then where's the curry?"
A passerby overheard her and burst out laughing, muttering under their breath, "Really a low girl."
Even after walking past, they kept glancing back at her with appraising looks: "Wasting such a pretty face."
He Cheng couldn't understand Cantonese but could feel the mockery from the passersby. She stood there, at a loss.
Ye Yanzhi also disliked the way that person looked at her. He didn't want to cause trouble while out and about, so he shifted his position, blocking He Cheng from view.
"Silly Chengcheng, curry is a flavor. This golden sauce is the curry."
He Cheng's face flushed with embarrassment as she let out a small "Oh."
"Let's have curry for dinner tonight. Last time the elementary school parent treated me to dinner, there was a curry chicken dish that tasted pretty good."
The sky rumbled again with muffled thunder. It had been making empty sounds on and off all day, and they'd assumed this was another case of thunder without rain. But unexpectedly, a sun shower began to fall.
In the golden light, silver threads of rain slanted down.
The dry ground was quickly soaked by fat raindrops, and the street scene turned hazy.
The sudden downpour pelted them both. Ye Yanzhi handed the fish balls to He Cheng and swiftly stripped off his shirt to cover her head.
The raindrops hitting her head disappeared. She looked up and saw the white fabric, and Ye Yanzhi's delicate face. She smiled sweetly, her eyes clean and bright, brimming with shyness.
Across the street, the car window rolled down. The girl's smile became even clearer—fresh and healing, like midsummer orange blossoms.
Zong Xubai's pale face was like moonlight with no warmth, shrouded in a dim, dangerous haze within the dark space.
His long fingers resting on the window curled slightly. He opened the car door, stepped out with long legs, and unfurled an umbrella. Raindrops pattered against the orange canopy, splashing into fine, bright droplets.
He walked toward them unhurriedly.
He Cheng belatedly realized they could have just gone into the small shop behind them instead of standing here using a shirt to block the rain—a bit silly.
But neither of them mentioned it, both enjoying the moment.
She looked up again and caught a glimpse of a white figure approaching leisurely from across the road. Beneath the umbrella, that gaze was fixed intently on them.
Strings of raindrops slapped down, passing through the orange-gold light of the setting sun like a curtain of broken crystal beads, glinting with scattered light.
The dazzling golden rain fell on the orange umbrella. He stood beneath it, sealed off in a silent world that belonged only to him.
In this world, he was the sole sovereign, his cold, indifferent face hidden behind the curtain of rain.
With an air of sacred inviolability, he walked toward her step by step, eyes straight ahead.
The urgent downpour seemed determined to pour out everything in a short span.
Raindrops seeped through the shirt, scattering fine droplets of mist across He Cheng's face. She stood perfectly still.
The heat from the road didn't dissipate with the torrential rain—instead, it rose up, the air thick and steamy.
He Cheng felt a chill run across her skin and instinctively shrank back.
The rain briefly emptied her mind.