He Cheng looked up nervously and met his refined, courteous dark eyes. His gaze was neither heavy nor light, yet it was like boiling water—capable of scalding a person.
She instinctively wanted to look away.
But it was too late.
Those eyes had already taken her in entirely; the more she tried to avoid them, the guiltier she seemed.
She felt ashamed, uneasy, and afraid.
She had been truly rude and presumptuous—her benefactor probably thought she was brazenly coveting him.
However, Zong Xubai smiled warmly, leaning forward slightly. His straight, taut legs were restrained and powerful, his elbows resting lightly on his knees as his long arm extended a little toward her.
His right hand seemed about to take hers directly, but it stopped just short, tempting her slowly: "Hm? Want a handshake?"
He was gentlemanly and radiant, like a deity, exuding an aura that made people afraid to speak loudly—elevated, looking down upon the masses, yet carrying a divinity and compassion rooted in the mortal world.
Even knowing he would never hurt her, she still dared not approach, afraid that her mundane existence would defile him.
He Cheng clenched her fists, no intention of shaking his hand, hesitating as if she wanted to say something.
He suddenly chuckled, turning his lean, powerful wrist. A black watch face gleamed with understated silver light. "Apologies, I misread the situation."
"I saw you staring for a long time and thought you wanted a handshake."
The word "apologies" startled He Cheng, and she inexplicably felt a pang of guilt for letting his kindness go to waste. The latter sentence made her face burn red.
If anyone else had said such a thing, she would have thought it was sarcasm or mockery.
But her benefactor's tone was sincere, as if he truly had only noticed her staring for a long time and had generously, naturally offered a handshake.
Her grandmother was the same—if she ate an extra bite of greens at the table, the next time she'd cook more; if she glanced at the ducks in the pond, her grandmother would think she wanted to eat one and try to catch it.
She felt a little embarrassed and explained, "Mr. Zong's hands are very beautiful. I meant nothing else—I was just reminded of you applauding last night."
With his permission and guidance, she boldly reached out and caught his hand just in time as he was about to withdraw it.
She wouldn't let his kindness fall to the ground.
Like seizing a gift bestowed upon her by heaven.
She held the hand that had changed her fate.
Her eyes suddenly stung. Her heart was a mix of emotions.
Two hands—one large, one small—held each other loosely.
His temperature was slightly cool, his long fingers even and slender, the touch like mutton-fat jade.
Even softer, more delicate, and more beautiful than her own hands as a girl.
He Cheng was truly afraid her rough, calloused skin would chafe him.
But he didn't seem to find her calluses rough at all. A faint smile curled at the corners of his eyes, his entire demeanor relaxed and at ease.
His thin lips spoke her name: "He Cheng."
"Pleased to meet you."
His clear, low enunciation carried a steady strength in the silent space.
Those six words—firm, gentle, and solemn—left He Cheng dazed.
Under his unwavering gaze, her cheeks burned as she replied, "Me too."
The approachable handshake eased He Cheng's tense nerves.
A few seconds later, she tried to pull back, but he naturally held onto her index and middle fingers.
He looked down, gently squeezing them without feeling intrusive: "How did you get these marks on your fingers?"
It was from carrying two pomelos up the mountain—the plastic bag had left red marks on her index finger pad. The marks had mostly faded by now, yet he had still noticed.
Her benefactor's attentiveness made her nose sting with emotion and left her at a loss. She looked up and gave a shy smile: "It was from carrying the pomelos for a while earlier. It doesn't hurt or itch anymore."
"Would you mind if I took a look?"
He Cheng was taken aback. "I don't mind."
Zong Xubai seemed to want to verify her words, gently squeezing her index finger, pad against pad, touching once, twice.
Intimate, yet without making her feel he was taking advantage.
His finger pad was very soft, his skin cool.
He Cheng held her breath. Whenever she was hurt somewhere, her grandmother would always check her injuries like this.
She looked up and found his dark gaze fixed on her through the transparent lenses, unmoving.
"Hard work."
"It's nothing." She was used to it from doing farm work.
After she withdrew her hand, she curled it into a fist and couldn't help rubbing her own finger pad—rough with thin calluses, the polar opposite of his. Not smooth or delicate at all. He probably found it prickly. She felt a sense of inferiority.
Zong Xubai's gaze drifted slowly from her clean-trimmed, round, pink fingers to the two pomelos placed at her feet.
"The soil and water in your hometown must be excellent. This is the first time I've seen such large lemons."
Lemons?
He Cheng was first utterly confused, then burst into laughter. Feeling it was inappropriate, she immediately stopped smiling and explained:
"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you."
She picked up one of the pomelos: "This isn't a lemon. It's a pomelo."
Although both were yellowish on the outside, pomelos and lemons didn't look the same, did they?
What she didn't know was that the fruits placed before Zong Xubai on a daily basis were always peeled, cut, and arranged on a fruit plate. How would he know what a pomelo looked like with its skin on?
He was a novice when it came to everyday life knowledge.
Zong Xubai showed no embarrassment at having mistaken the fruit. He didn't need to recognize things that held no significance in his life and could stir no waves.
He observed her fresh, lively face without revealing his thoughts. When she mentioned the pomelo, her expression was noticeably more animated and vivid.
So he repeated in a low voice: "Pomelo?"
"Peel off the outer skin, and inside is pink flesh—very sweet."
At the mention of her hometown's specialty, He Cheng's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "Could I have a knife? I'll cut it open for you."
While waiting for the maid to fetch a fruit knife from the kitchen, He Cheng nervously picked up other local specialties to continue her introduction.
"I'm not sure if you eat chicken wings, but these salt-baked chicken wings are a specialty of Xizhou. The ingredient list is clean—no preservatives added."
He Cheng mimicked the tone of a market vendor as she spoke. Not knowing where to look, she cast her eyes down at the packaging and unexpectedly noticed the shelf life was fifteen days.
Her mind went blank—it had already expired.
She couldn't believe it and leaned in for another look, her face burning. Oh no, it's expired.
The salt-baked chicken wings her grandmother usually bought from the market were eaten quickly and never sat around long enough for anyone to check the expiration date. Besides, rural folks weren't so particular—"what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
She had no idea the shelf life was so short. Her grandmother had stuffed them into her bag, and she'd never opened them since. The old lady had no concept of expiration dates either.
She could eat expired food herself, but she couldn't serve it to her sponsor.
She looked up, flustered. "This one's expired. It's probably because it's all-natural that the shelf life is shorter. I'll take it back."
As she spoke, she started shoving the salt-baked chicken wings into her backpack.
From her hurried movements and her face flushed like a boiled shrimp, he could see her embarrassment and helplessness.
Zong Xubai reminded her, "Just leave it there. Someone will clean it up."
He Cheng froze. If she left it there, it would definitely end up in the trash. What a waste. She explained in a low voice:
"I—I'll take it back to school."
Under his silent, gentle gaze, she added, "If I boil it in the water when cooking noodles, it'll be fine to eat."
After she finished speaking, her whole body tensed, her heart suspended high, overwhelmed by a sense of shame at exposing her life to someone else's view.
Expired food just meant the best-before date had passed. Wealthy people were particular about such things, but she didn't mind—as long as it wasn't moldy or spoiled, it was edible.
Zong Xubai understood her meaning. "Boil it, and it's no longer expired?"
"I'm pretty tough. It's fine."
He Cheng then picked up the chrysanthemum cakes to check their expiration date, letting out a small sigh of relief only after confirming they hadn't expired. She introduced the characteristics of the chrysanthemum cakes.
The maid arrived with the fruit knife at that moment. He Cheng took it from her with a thank-you, then crouched by the coffee table to slice open the pomelo.
The space, already faintly mixed with the scent of fruit, burst with the sweet-tart fragrance of pomelo.
Zong Xubai, half-sunk into the back of his chair, watched her work, his gaze openly traveling from her chin to her neck.
Around her neck was a thin red cord, slightly faded, with some pendant hidden beneath the collar of her crew-neck T-shirt. On her left wrist, she wore a freshly braided red string bracelet.
Her movements in opening the pomelo were practiced—she scored six lines into the rind, then peeled each section away.
Even without looking directly at Zong Xubai, He Cheng could feel a gaze resting on her from the corner of her eye.
Knowing that every move she made was being observed by him, she felt like a painting hung on a wall for scrutiny, or an animal on display at a zoo—awkward and uncomfortable.
She hurriedly finished peeling the pomelo, pried the whole red-fleshed fruit apart with effort, and set one segment in front of Zong Xubai.
"Just peel off the transparent layer and you can eat it."
She looked up and suddenly collided with a pair of dark eyes.
He was watching her with a serious, expressionless gaze—not lecherous, not lustful. Perhaps he was simply staring out of politeness.
The strange thing was that his commanding presence naturally exuded a sense of pressure.
She felt as if she were standing at the edge of a cliff, about to be gently swallowed by pure darkness.
Unaware of her discomfort, Zong Xubai reached out his left hand to adjust his glasses. His motion was light—thumb and middle finger touching the sides of the frames, index finger slightly extended.
A simple gesture, executed with casual restraint.
He Cheng had never worn glasses, but many of her high school classmates did. From what she remembered, they all just pushed their glasses up by the side.
Ye Yanzhi was also nearsighted. He only wore glasses for class and studying, and when he adjusted them, he did it the same way as everyone else.
It was the first time she realized that adjusting one's glasses could be so elegant and captivating.
If this scene were a slow-motion shot in a film, it would surely be a legendary moment in cinema history.
"Thank you." Zong Xubai finally moved his upper body, leaning toward the coffee table to pick up the pomelo.
The air seemed to flow again in that instant. He Cheng's shoulders dropped as she felt a hint of his approachability, her tension gradually dissolving.
He rested his elbow on his knee, peeled off the membrane, and brought it to his mouth. "Grown at home? Did you pick it yourself?"
He ate slowly and deliberately, as if savoring a delicacy.
"Yes. This year's harvest has plenty of juice—it's very moist."
He Cheng watched him eat it without any sign of disdain, and her tightly wound heart slowly began to relax.
Zong Xubai finished the entire segment, then swept his gaze over the untouched fruit and pastries on the table, asking politely, "Why aren't you eating?"
The air was filled with the aroma of baked butter, rum, and cream. The table was laid out with colorful, beautiful fruits and delicate little pastries.
He Cheng swallowed. They looked expensive, and she felt too embarrassed to eat them. She had already received so much kindness from her sponsor.
Besides, she was here today to deliver local specialties, and once her sponsor received them, it was time for her to leave.
"I don't enjoy eating."
A trace of laughter escaped Zong Xubai's nose, making He Cheng's face flush crimson, as if her lie had been exposed. That laugh seemed to tease her: who in the world doesn't enjoy eating?
He joked, "No wonder you're so beautiful—turns out you survive on air."
He Cheng knew that "beautiful" meant pretty. The school's cleaning ladies always addressed them as "beauties."
If anyone else said that, she would have found it frivolous, even flirtatious. But when her sponsor complimented her like this, she felt no discomfort at all. His wit and humor, though not exactly hilarious, still managed to put her at ease.
It was rather surprising that such an important figure would bother to amuse her.
She felt a bit awkward.
Zong Xubai lowered his lashes and tilted his chin slightly toward the table. "All prepared for you—give them a try."
All prepared for her?
Did that mean he knew she was coming and had specially arranged for all this?
He Cheng's eyes widened in flattered surprise, her gaze growing slightly misty.
Her sponsor was truly an angel.
She let out a touched "oh." Since it was all prepared for her, sampling a bit of everything would also be a sign of respect for the host.
So she used the silver fork and knife to scoop into the blueberry rum chocolate Basque cheesecake, the mojito, and the chestnut Mont Blanc, and finally took a spoonful from the pure gold enamel bowl holding the round honeydew melon ice cream…
She ate delicately, taking only small spoonfuls of each cake, her cherry-pink lips savoring slowly as if dining on a feast. The hazelnut madeleine took five bites to finish.
With lowered lashes and demure demeanor, the outside world seemed beyond her own.
When she finished, she looked up, her eyes as clean and clear as if washed in water, bright and dark, and nodded, saying it was delicious.
Zong Xubai's Adam's apple bobbed, a dense itch creeping up his throat. He reached to undo a button but found nothing there—his fingertip slid across the skin at his collar.
The buttons were already open.
He averted his gaze, lowering his lashes as he casually and slowly scrolled through his phone screen.
He Cheng's eyes landed on the punch served in a terracotta glass, its surface covered with ice and grapefruit slices. Thinking it was a drink, she took a sip through the straw—sweet and tangy, refreshing with a rich fruity flavor.
Then she remembered the real matter at hand and stopped eating and drinking, pulling a bank card from her backpack.
Every month, her sponsor would regularly transfer 2,000 yuan for living expenses, plus tuition each September when school started.
She never used the full 2,000 yuan each month, and over the years, she had gradually saved up quite a bit.
She placed the bank card on the table and slid it toward Zong Xubai.
"There's still over a hundred thousand in the card—the living expenses you've transferred to me over the years. I didn't use it all and saved it up. Now I'm returning it to you. Thank you so much for your support all these years."
Zong Xubai stared at the bank card, pausing for a moment. As far as he knew, the amount transferred to this card wasn't much—it had been determined based on actual circumstances, and it was the least expensive of the series of "good deeds" he had done.
Seven years ago, misfortune had struck his family one after another, and a master had said that the Zong family's descendants needed to do more good deeds to ward off calamity.
Thus, the Yixin Charity Foundation was established, funding the construction of Hope Primary Schools and setting up a wildlife conservation base in Africa…
Zong Xubai didn't believe in Buddha or gods and scoffed at feudal superstition. But following the master's prescribed methods of resolution, things indeed went smoothly. Those good deeds continued day after day, managed by dedicated professionals, with only major approvals and matters crossing his desk for signatures.
Among them, the master had specified sponsoring a child in the northern Guangdong direction, whose Eight Characters must be Geng metal born in the last month, with thick earth burying the metal, a hidden fortune in the chart, and the potential for white gold and clear water.
People were sent to search in that direction, and they actually found a girl whose Eight Characters the master described as extremely noble, with the Wenchang star illuminating her fate—one who would not only prosper herself but also greatly benefit the Zong family. In time, she would surely become water that repays its source.
Over the years, Chief Assistant Zhou Qiyun had handled the direct sponsorship.
If not for Zhou Qiyun, she would likely have been ravaged by Zong Deming's claws like the other female students in the scholarship program.
The African wildlife conservation base, the Hope Primary Schools, and the charity foundation cost millions or tens of millions every year.
Only the impoverished student in the northern Guangdong mountains cost about thirty thousand a year, even less per month.
Zong Xubai had no impression of such a paltry figure. Documents were placed on his desk, and he only needed to sign.
It wasn't until yesterday, because He Cheng was coming over, that Zhou Qiyun briefly mentioned to Zong Xubai that two thousand yuan was transferred monthly to a poor student named He Cheng, with more during the school season.
What had he said then? Two thousand? That's like tossing scraps to a beggar.
Zong Xubai's dark eyes narrowed slightly. Ordinary families easily lost their heads in the face of financial temptation, let alone impoverished ones.
Two thousand a month, roughly 170,000 over seven years—not only had she saved over 100,000, but she was now returning it to him after arriving in Hong Kong.
"How is there still over a hundred thousand left? Don't you spend it normally?"
"I do, but I can't use that much." He Cheng thought of something and pulled a notebook from her backpack, placing it beside the card. "I've recorded every expense—you can take a look."
The thick notebook had curled corners and heavy signs of wear, looking as though it had been used for many years.
Zong Xubai picked up the notebook and opened the flyleaf. In elegant, refined handwriting were the words 【Orange's "Where Did the Money Go" Diary】, surrounded by doodles of coins, copper cash, and crying faces drawn in ballpoint pen.
He Cheng heard a faint, almost imperceptible chuckle—not a mocking laugh.
She tilted her head up and saw the notebook's flyleaf, realizing he was amused by those messy doodles. Her face suddenly grew warm, but she felt too embarrassed to snatch it back from his hands.
"How old were you when you wrote this?"
He seemed to be making conversation.
"Twelve." He Cheng added the reason: "Kids that age all like to doodle."
Zong Xubai gave a slight nod and hummed in acknowledgment, then continued flipping through. Yellowed pages and faded handwriting came into view.
September 1, 2012.
【Today's breakfast: steamed bun, 0.5 mao.】
【Today's lunch: cabbage and potato stew with meat, 3 yuan.】
【Ballpoint pen: 2.5 mao.】
【Today's dinner: cabbage and white radish stew with meat, 3 yuan.】
【Today's expenses: 9 yuan.】
Aside from the three meals, there were only occasional purchases of ballpoint pens and other school supplies. For several days running, daily expenses were almost always between 7 and 10 yuan.
Zong Xubai had never known that money could be counted in mao and yuan units.
What did mao and yuan even mean? To him, it was beyond his realm of understanding—yet it made up every single day of He Cheng's life.
Zong Xubai didn't flip further. He closed the notebook and said flatly, "Even two thousand a month wouldn't be used up."
He Cheng explained: "The cost of living back home is low. Aside from meals, I don't really have anywhere to spend money."
"To me, food is just for filling my stomach. It doesn't matter what I eat."
Zong Xubai sank half his body back into the sofa, his gaze roaming over her. His eyes moved slowly from her neck to her shoulders, then down to her waist and legs.
The blatant scrutiny—even without any lustful or impure intent—made He Cheng's breathing grow shallow.
She felt like an item being appraised.
Her shoulders tensed up.
The atmosphere fell into a strange silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.
He noticed her subtle tension and discomfort. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his gaze settled back on her face.
Suddenly he asked: "Do you weigh ninety jin?"
So he was estimating her weight.
He Cheng let out a relieved breath and shook her head. She weighed eighty-eight jin.
"Your weight makes your claim that 'it doesn't matter what you eat' completely unconvincing."
He commented succinctly.
Zong Xubai placed the notebook back on the desk, pressing two fingers lightly on it as he pushed it—along with the bank card—toward her.
He said with casual indifference: "Keep it. Consider it my gift for getting into HKU."
"One hundred thousand can't do much for me, but it can help you finish university."
This gift was far too generous.
He Cheng had never imagined that this hundred-plus thousand could be hers. Who in the world was this lavish with their money?
His kindness in funding her education was already precious enough. She couldn't keep taking without limit.
HKU's scholarship and financial aid system was excellent. She had an entrance scholarship and a full grant that covered her tuition, housing, and basic living expenses. The top three students each year also received scholarships—as long as she maintained her grades, she would have money to study.
Afraid that Mr. Zong would force the card on her, He Cheng quickly grabbed her backpack and stood up.
She said in a rush: "I'm very happy to have met you today, Mr. Zong. You're younger and more accomplished than I imagined. Thank you so much for all these years of support. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now—I never would have gotten into HKU…"
She recited the speech she had memorized long ago in her heart, but when she met Zong Xubai's clear, earnest eyes, she suddenly stumbled over her words.
His focused attention made her face flush.
She felt like a transparent person in front of him.
Zong Xubai tilted his head up to look at her.
He angled his neck slightly, as if asking whether she was done.
She didn't continue with the formal words. Instead, she touched her neck awkwardly and said: "Anyway, I'm really happy today. I won't disturb you any longer. Thank you for your hospitality. Hope to see you again sometime."
He Cheng bounced out of the villa like a little bird, light and free without the pomelo in her hands. Mr. Zong had even eaten the pomelo she peeled with her own hands—even under the blazing sun, her smile remained radiant.
She had been so nervous entering the villa earlier that she hadn't had a chance to take in the scenery. Not far from the villa was the sea, and the courtyard not only boasted a bright, open lawn but also cleverly used the natural elevation differences of the land to create a three-dimensional natural painting.
The podocarpus trees were beautifully pruned.
Bougainvillea and blue snowflakes cascaded down the walls like waterfalls, pink and blue interweaving in a stunning display.
Since she had nothing to do that afternoon, she took out her phone to take photos.
Behind her, the floor-to-ceiling window was bright and spotless. By the window, a tall, slender man lowered his gaze, unhurriedly striking a lighter. With a hiss, a spark ignited, and after a brief glow of flame at his lips, a thin wisp of white smoke took its place.
Outside in the courtyard.
The girl who had been there three minutes ago lingered among the flowers and plants, fluttering around as lightly and joyfully as a butterfly.
She treated the courtyard like a park, finding angles to photograph every blooming flower, looking both amazed and delighted.
Seeing that she wasn't afraid of the sun and showed not a trace of delicacy, a tender yet roguish light flickered in his eyes.
After photographing the courtyard, He Cheng walked out the main gate, then turned back to photograph the entire villa.
The next time she came might be next year, so she took photos as a memento to share with Ye Yanzhi.
She had come out through the small gate and was now standing in front of it.
Suddenly, the grand, imposing ornamental iron gate moved.
Two butlers in formal attire stood on either side, slowly opening the doors.
She saw a dreamy blue silk supercar that looked like a spaceship.
In the sleek, striking convertible sat a relaxed and languid Zong Xubai.
He tilted his head to look at her, the thin-rimmed glasses catching a faint glint of light.
A moment later, the butterfly doors opened automatically. His gaze fixed on her as his thin lips parted slightly. "Get in."
He Cheng froze for a second, then looked left and right to confirm she was the only one there.
Meeting his dark eyes again, she felt a flattered surprise. She hadn't expected Mr. Zong to open the car door and call her inside.
She didn't really want to ride together—being alone with someone she wasn't familiar with felt awkward. Being around Mr. Zong required caution; his presence was too overwhelming, and those narrow, elongated eyes behind the lenses could easily see through everything.
But she couldn't bring herself to refuse a kind and gentlemanly man.
Before getting in, He Cheng gave a slight bow toward him. "Thank you."
Once inside, she sat stiffly, looking around for the seatbelt.
She had never ridden in a sedan before, let alone a Bugatti worth a hundred million. The first time she'd ever taken a bus was when she got into the best middle school in the city and went to register.
That was also the first time she'd left her hometown, traveling sixty kilometers away to study. The bus swayed and lurched, stopping and starting, packed with people—she threw up the moment she got off, her face pale.
When she got into university and had to come to Hong Kong, it was the first time in her nineteen years of life that she'd taken a coach, a high-speed train, or the subway.
She knew you had to buckle your seatbelt in a car. She looked around discreetly, unsure where the seatbelt was.
"Looking for something?"
A low voice suddenly sounded by her ear—Zong Xubai's.
She turned her head. "Don't I need to buckle up?"
The corners of his eyes, their depth veiled by the transparent lenses, suddenly carried a hint of a smile, enough to make one's bones go weak.
He Cheng didn't know what he was smiling about. Her naturally spring-like peach blossom eyes became even more captivating.
The air suddenly felt warmer and lighter.
He leaned in, the scent of cold-brewed fragrance spreading faintly as he drew closer. His unique presence invaded her skin and senses from above.
Only when he was close did she catch it—his scent was crisp like iced perilla, with a faint medicinal spiciness.
Almost shrinking into herself, He Cheng instinctively pressed her legs together. The moment she held her breath, he pulled a seatbelt from behind her.
His hand, holding the belt, traced along the gentle curve beneath her collarbone down toward her abdomen, his knuckles hovering just a finger's width from her silhouette.
As it passed her hair ends, the fine, split strands occasionally brushed against the back of his hand. He seemed not to notice, or perhaps simply didn't care.
Then came a click as it locked into place.
She was secured by the seatbelt, as if enclosed in an embrace.
He Cheng knew Mr. Zong meant well, but she still couldn't stop herself from going rigid. "Thank you. Mr. Zong didn't need to go out of his way to help me buckle up—I learn quickly. I'd understand after seeing it once."
Zong Xubai didn't immediately pull away. Instead, he watched her with interest as a faint flush crept over her face. Her bare skin showed the finest down, and she seemed frozen in place, only able to blink her lashes.
He curved his lips. "I prefer doing over talking."
He drew back unhurriedly, his fingertip tapping lightly on the steering wheel, and asked casually, "Do you like the garden?"
He Cheng's nerves had just begun to relax with his retreat, but now her cheeks burned with embarrassment again.
She realized he'd noticed her snapping photos all over the courtyard earlier.
Afraid that photographing the villa might invade his privacy, she looked at him with clear, honest eyes.
She asked politely, "May I take pictures?"
He gave a lazy hum of assent. "If you like it, come by often in the future."
The benefactor's friendliness and gentlemanly manner put He Cheng at ease. She continued, "The flowers and the villa are both beautiful. I shared them with my boyfriend, and he said they were gorgeous too."
The sunlight was scorching, and birdsong drifted by, distant and crisp. Zong Xubai narrowed his eyes, his gaze deep and veiled as it lingered on her clean profile.
His thin lips parted slightly. "Boyfriend?"
The two words slipped out, the final syllable rising just a touch.