"Are the two of you easy to break apart?"
Zong Xubai's slightly puzzled, cool voice caused a strange feeling to spread through the car.
In those few seconds, the warm smile in his peach-blossom eyes behind the reflective lenses slowly became tinged with a cold, detached emotion.
He Cheng was momentarily stunned. This scene felt like being caught by an elder or teacher for not studying seriously, or for puppy love—about to be criticized and forced into self-reflection.
Mr. Zong funded her studies, so he was somewhat of a half-elder who had expectations for her academically.
Sensing the subtle shift in Zong Xubai's mood, her heart suddenly tightened.
Before she could speak, she heard his thought-provoking tone again: "This boyfriend you speak of—is he the kind you can kiss, hug, and go on dates with?"
This blunt question made He Cheng so embarrassed she wished she could disappear.
Coming from a small town, she was more reserved when it came to expressing love.
Kissing, hugging, dating—he said these words as casually as if he were talking about what he had for breakfast.
The speaker was utterly nonchalant, but the listener's skin flushed red instantly, mortified beyond measure.
He Cheng calmed herself down and explained, "My boyfriend and I only got together this summer vacation. It's not puppy love from high school."
The implication being that she hadn't neglected her studies.
"Is he also a Hong Kong University student?"
"No, he's a year above me. He's studying medicine in the neighboring city, Huacheng."
Zong Xubai stared straight at her, as if pondering something. His thin lips pressed lightly together, saying nothing, his eyes like deep winter snow, pressing coldly onto her face.
When his face was expressionless, the eyes behind his glasses were like tree shade that never saw daylight all year round.
The gold-rimmed glasses on him presented two extremes.
The refined gentleman and the cold, indifferent one.
She couldn't tell which was his true nature.
A chill spread rapidly from the soles of her feet to her head.
Just as He Cheng couldn't bear his strange scrutiny any longer, he suddenly smiled—a light, shallow smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Long-distance relationship, huh."
He teased, "Why are you so nervous? Surely you don't think I'd break you two up?"
She could tell it was a joke, but He Cheng couldn't bring herself to laugh.
In the hour she'd spent with Mr. Zong, her heart had been tossed up and down, rising and falling.
She attributed it to a few reasons. First, his status was extraordinary—even if he appeared gentlemanly and elegant on the surface, his innate air of authority and commanding presence was impossible to ignore. Even the slightest shift in his mood could overwhelmingly affect those around him.
Second, he was her sponsor. She naturally felt gratitude and reverence toward him, afraid of doing something wrong, which made her fall into a state of excessive caution.
She hoped for a harmonious, equal relationship, but their respective positions in life made that impossible.
His emotions could easily affect hers.
He could converse with her pleasantly, showing concern for her life, and he could also watch her coldly from the sidelines, making her hair stand on end.
She suddenly felt a bit afraid of being around him.
Too constrained.
Too unfamiliar.
Too unpredictable.
He Cheng didn't know how to respond.
Zong Xubai raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on her face, and pursued the question with unbridled ease: "Are the two of you easy to break apart?"
He Cheng froze, her expression dazed.
She didn't understand what he meant.
She understood every word he said, but coming from his mouth, her mind couldn't process it.
Her heart hung high in her chest as she frowned in confusion and murmured, "I'm not a high school student anymore."
Why would anyone be playing at breaking couples apart?
Zong Xubai's gaze lingered darkly on her innocent, plain face, and a hint of laughter escaped his nose. "Just because you're not a high school student means you can't be broken apart?"
"I'm not a high school teacher either."
He Cheng's back stiffened, and she gripped the leather seat tightly.
Those words sounded so strange coming from her sponsor.
He meant that even college students could be broken apart.
Why would he suddenly bring up such a sensitive, private topic as breaking up a couple?
She didn't know how to respond.
Her thoughts had gone completely blank.
The two of them stared at each other. His pupils, even under the bright sunlight, were profoundly cold and deep.
Like water that could never be brought to a boil.
Splashed onto her, it was chilling.
"He Cheng, I'm not your teacher, and you're not a high school student. Why are you still on guard against me, afraid of me?" Zong Xubai took in her nervousness and unease, letting out a faint, hollow laugh.
Nineteen—that was the age for dating.
He didn't find it strange, really. It was just that this "big surprise" she'd dropped was too sudden. When they'd been chatting at the villa, he'd tried all sorts of ways to pry information out of her, but she never mentioned a boyfriend. Then, once they got in the car, she suddenly blurted it out.
His pleasant voice drilled into her ears without warning.
It was enough to make one's heart seize up.
He Cheng wanted to say something but held back. She had indeed been afraid of him just now, and she couldn't bring herself to lie and say she wasn't.
So she sat there woodenly, clutching her seatbelt, her body stiff and unmoving.
Her phone buzzed with a vibration, distracting He Cheng.
Earlier, she had shared photos of the villa with Ye Yanzhi on WeChat, and now he had replied.
Ye Yanzhi: [So this is what a Hong Kong villa looks like? Doesn't seem much different from a self-built house in the countryside [laughs]. I guess the taste of Hong Kong's rich isn't all that impressive after all.]
Her boyfriend's comment gave He Cheng a guilty feeling, as if she were speaking ill of her sponsor. She also didn't agree with his assessment—the villa was far more beautiful than the self-built houses in the county town. The interior furnishings were extremely elegant and expensive, thoughtfully designed, with floors polished enough to reflect her face.
Ye Yanzhi's message continued to pop up: [If you like it, after we get married, we can build a villa like this back home too.]
Even through the screen, those words made He Cheng's face flush crimson. The sponsor's villa seemed to have become a tool for her and her boyfriend to flirt.
The sponsor was right beside her—she couldn't spare a moment to retort Ye Yanzhi, and she still hadn't replied to his question.
She looked up and, sure enough, met his calm, waiting gaze.
The sunlight painted her cheeks a rosy pink, like a spring peach blossom. Even under the blazing sun, a chill ran down her spine.
Zong Xubai gave a gentlemanly smile, seemingly unbothered that she'd been distracted by her phone and left him waiting.
His voice was gentle as he changed the subject. "The engine's a bit loud. I wanted to give you some warning."
So that was it—that's why he'd been watching her.
She'd thought he'd seen the message from Ye Yanzhi.
He Cheng's shoulders sagged. She gave an awkward laugh and said she was ready, thinking to herself, how loud could it possibly be?
Zong Xubai's lips curved into a slight smile. He withdrew his gaze and started the engine.
But the thunderous roar of the engine made her chest tighten. No wonder Zong Xubai had warned her—her ears nearly went deaf.
She never would have guessed that the sponsor, who looked so refined and scholarly, would drive such a flashy, rebellious, high-profile car.
The car pulled out of the villa and onto the road.
The speed wasn't fast, but the tourbillon dashboard gleamed in the sunlight, making her squint.
The descent was along a winding mountain road. He Cheng was startled by the occasional sharp turn and the low growl of the engine, pressing herself against the seat. She should have just walked to catch the No. 15 bus.
She wanted to live.
In her panic and fear, she kept comforting herself—don't be afraid, trust the sponsor's driving skills.
With a net worth in the tens of billions, he surely valued his own life more than she did. He drove this road often, so he must know it well.
Zong Xubai caught her tension in his peripheral vision and slowed down.
He Cheng noticed the speed drop and relaxed considerably. She glanced toward the driver's seat—his profile was smooth and well-defined, and even with the mountain wind blowing, he radiated an unruffled elegance.
Sunlight bathed him in an extreme whiteness, like a wild yet restrained black-and-white film.
Suddenly, a Porsche appeared in the left passing lane, edging closer with a hint of menace, aggressively scraping against the Bugatti's side mirror.
He Cheng was sitting on the left side, so she noticed it first. She looked at the license plate—LOVE YOU. It was that car that had been blocked outside the villa.
It scraped the side mirror twice in succession. Each time, He Cheng thought she was about to be crushed, and she flinched to the right, her silky hair flying loose, strands brushing across Zong Xubai's handsome face. She didn't notice any of that—her attention was fixed on the sparks that flashed where the two mirrors collided, and the terror sent her adrenaline surging.
Even though she'd never experienced anything like this, she could tell from the Porsche's repeated provocations that the driver was deliberately picking a fight.
She wondered who Zong Xubai had offended. She turned to look at him—he remained perfectly composed, neither flustered, nor afraid, nor dodging in the face of the Porsche's provocation.
The autumn afternoon sun in Hong Kong was harsh, and heat rose from the asphalt mountain road. The two collisions ignited Zong Xubai's anger.
He narrowed his eyes, worried about frightening her further. "Close your eyes for three minutes."
To distract her, he added, "Nelly Sachs's 'The Weight of the Butterfly.' Read it to me."
He Cheng heard his voice clearly over the Bugatti's roaring engine and was surprised he knew which English poem she'd recited at the high table dinner.
At a time like this, he wanted her to read English poetry? Afraid of causing him trouble, she obediently closed her eyes, panicked but compliant, and began reciting the poem.
Listening to her trembling yet steady voice, Zong Xubai floored the accelerator, and the Porsche sped up to match.
A blue car and a black one raced recklessly along the deserted mountain road—chasing, circling, scraping, clashing, pushing to the absolute limit. Sparks flew like lightning, tires made faint screeching sounds against the asphalt, and chinaberry leaves scattered through the air.
The Bugatti was a limited-edition supercar with a natural advantage in racing, and his driving skills were superb to boot.
Up ahead was a curve. The Porsche gave relentless chase. The Bugatti looked like it was about to slam into the guardrail, but at the last second, it braked hard and whipped its tail around, the turbo gripping the road as it drifted half a circle. The two cars collided head-on, and the Porsche spun halfway around before being forced to a stop.
Then the Bugatti let out a low, triumphant roar and sped off into the distance.
He Cheng happened to reach the final word of the poem. The push of acceleration faded, the wind turned gentle, and the roar of the chase was gone from her ears.
It seemed less chaotic now.
She opened her eyes, heart pounding, head dizzy, teeth chattering slightly.
Even without seeing it directly, she could feel the wild thrill and danger of that high-speed chase.
She realized Zong Xubai had left that car behind, and she turned to look at the man in the driver's seat.
Even after just surviving a life-or-death race, his expression hadn't changed. In his face, He Cheng saw ease and relaxation—as if he'd actually enjoyed the competition.
He spared her a glance.
With a warm smile, he said, "The poem you just read—two words were more accurate than last night."
He Cheng's eyes went wide again.
He'd been racing at full speed, and he'd still heard her English clearly. Last night on stage, she'd been so nervous that she'd mistranslated two words. After returning to her dorm, she'd tossed and turned, regretting that she hadn't performed better.
Just now, she'd corrected those two words.
Her tense nerves instantly relaxed at his remark.
She had initially wanted to ask him if he knew who the owner of the LOVE YOU car was, but then she thought about how the car had been refused entry outside the villa, which meant he didn't want to show the owner any courtesy or have any contact with them.
Probably someone he didn't want to see.
He Cheng decided not to bring it up.
She smiled. "I didn't perform well last night and was upset about it for a long time afterward. I didn't expect that today, in your car, you'd give me another chance."
Zong Xubai glanced at her with smiling eyes. "Not scared?"
He Cheng answered honestly, "A little bit. I was imagining I was on a roller coaster just now. In that sense, I got to experience a roller coaster for free."
She laughed happily again. "It was actually pretty nice."
"Want to go again?"
He Cheng's eyes widened in shock, then she thought about how he seemed to have enjoyed the thrill of speeding just now.
She guessed he probably drove fast often. Although she was a bit scared, she didn't want to let down her sponsor's invitation.
"Can I?"
"Of course." Zong Xubai pressed down on the accelerator, and the car let out a roar. "This time, you can scream."
He Cheng obediently gripped her seatbelt with both hands. The mountain wind swept wildly past her cheeks, making her long lashes tremble slightly. The engine roared in her ears, the push-back sensation was intense and clear, and the mountain shadows blurred into streaks.
An extra sports car joined the empty mountain road for a joyride.
Compared to just now, it was a completely different feeling. This time the car was free, and the speed was at an acceptable level.
At a curve, the sports car slid through a smooth drift with a screech, and He Cheng screamed from the dual stimulation of body and vision.
After the curve, the accelerator was pressed down again. She screamed repeatedly, hot wind rushing into her throat.
"No more, no more! That's my limit… Mr. Zong, no more roller coaster."
Zong Xubai slowed the car down. "Impressive. You lasted 55 seconds."
Only 55 seconds? He Cheng thought at least three minutes had passed. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her breathing uneven as she smoothed her disheveled hair.
Still shaken, she looked at the driver's seat and praised him sincerely, "Then Mr. Zong is even more impressive."
Hong Kong University was built into the mountainside, with narrow, steep, and winding roads. Parking spaces on campus were scarce and expensive, and priority was given to teaching—only faculty or authorized personnel could drive into the campus.
Zong Xubai's car had authorization and drove into the school without obstruction.
Passing the Edwardian-style main building with its red walls and white pillars, and the century-old trees, He Cheng quickly asked Zong Xubai to stop. The car was too flashy and had drawn stares the whole way.
He Cheng unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to say, "Thank you, Mr. Zong. Goodbye."
Zong Xubai nodded.
She got out of the car, her legs still a bit weak, nearly stumbling. She steadied herself and walked toward Swire Hall.
Zong Xubai watched her retreating figure and her unsteady steps, a smile curling at the corners of his lips.
She looked delicate, but she had plenty of courage. One high-speed run and one joyride, and neither had made her sick.
As He Cheng was almost at her dormitory, she spotted a familiar man—Liang Jiahao. He was lounging around with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and the man beside him lit it with a lighter.
He Cheng stopped and frowned, sighing inwardly at his idleness and persistence.
Non-local students at HKU with student visas were strictly prohibited from taking any part-time work off campus. They could only find part-time jobs through on-campus recruitment, Career-related Part-time Jobs, or CEDARS.
He Cheng had recently found a job as a library assistant, working a full 20 hours a week part-time.
Her duties were shelving and organizing books. The library was quiet and had a studious atmosphere, and during less busy hours she could review her own coursework while on duty.
He Cheng loved this part-time job.
But loving it didn't matter—the job had been suspended since yesterday.
All because of Liang Jiahao.
Liang Jiahao was a senior in his fourth year, a local Hong Konger. Ever since he'd run into He Cheng at the library, he'd developed improper intentions.
He Cheng repeatedly emphasized that she had a long-distance boyfriend, but not only did he not care, he seemed vaguely excited about it, even pestering her all the way to the dormitory building.
Almost every student on the same floor knew he existed.
Even though He Cheng had consistently and clearly rejected him, he acted as if he couldn't understand human language—as stubborn and unreasonable as an ox.
Finally, four days ago, He Cheng hit Liang Jiahao.
He had followed her from the library back to the dormitory against her will, getting handsy along the way. Sensing danger, she reflexively threw a punch at him, and he saw stars on the spot.
Clutching his face in disbelief, he cursed, "I'll fuck your mother, you mainland piece of shit."
The next day, Liang Jiahao, undeterred, found He Cheng and said, why bother working part-time—just be his girlfriend and she'd enjoy endless wealth and luxury.
The insult hit He Cheng like a boulder crashing down on her head. She trembled with anger. As the saying goes, a person may be poor but their spirit stands tall—she had never once thought of selling herself for money.
After she refused again, he went to the library and caused a scene. The matter escalated and reached the librarian, who had a heartfelt talk with her, hoping she'd resolve the issue before coming back.
If she couldn't afford to fight him, couldn't she afford to hide?
She ducked behind some slightly concealed greenery, peeking out. Liang Jiahao blew a smoke ring, flicked the ash off his clothes, said something to the man beside him, and walked away.
Only after Liang Jiahao's figure had completely disappeared did He Cheng dare to continue walking forward.
She took the elevator to the sixth floor and passed through the dormitory's common area, where amidst the laughter and chatter she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
A few girls were sitting on the small round table and sofa in the corner. He Shuxia from the neighboring dormitory waved at her, chin resting on her palm, eyes sparkling with gossip. "He Cheng, you're back! Did you run into Liang Jiahao downstairs? He waited for you for hours at the rice noodle canteen and only left after hearing you weren't there."
Liang Jiahao was already somewhat well-known at the University of Hong Kong—wealthy, influential, never short of women in his sports car's passenger seat—and his dramatic pursuit of her was known to everyone in this building.
He Cheng didn't want to discuss Liang Jiahao, so she answered simply, "No."
"Hey, were you out looking for a part-time job?" He Shuxia sighed slightly. "You should stop struggling. No matter how hard you try, it's useless. Liang Jiahao's cousin has connections with the school. Word is he's already told them that anyone who dares to hire you is going against him."
"If you ask me, you might as well just go along with Liang Jiahao. Your boyfriend's on the mainland anyway—he won't know you're seeing someone here too. Liang Jiahao isn't the loyal type anyway; he'll get bored within two weeks at most. Date him for a few days and you'll suffer a lot less for the next four years. Otherwise, you won't have a moment's peace in class or while studying."
Another girl on the sofa clicked her tongue. "Easy for you to say. Why don't you go date him for a few days?"
"He didn't take a liking to me, did he? Otherwise, who wouldn't want a life of luxury car rides and picking out designer bags? Even if it's just a fleeting moment, at least I'd get something out of it!"
"How could he not like you? With that face of yours, you could debut as the center of a talent show."
The hand hanging at her side gripped the fabric of her clothes, knuckles turning white. Their words were like silver needles piercing He Cheng's skin and nerves. For the first time, she truly understood the meaning of "one hand covering the sky."
She had merely rejected a pursuit, and now she was being suppressed.
She was like an ant, surviving on the sufferance of his affection and a single word from him.
This suffocating feeling lingered until an hour after dinner, when she felt nauseous and wanted to vomit. Standing up, she found the world spinning around her, and a sharp pain twisted in her abdomen.
She weakly collapsed onto the table, remembering that she had used expired salt-baked chicken wings when cooking the noodles.
You've got to be kidding me.
Oh god.
Luckily, Lu Qi had been eating lightly these past few days due to illness and, feeling better tonight, hadn't eaten what she cooked—otherwise, she'd be suffering right along with her.
Based on her own experience, Lu Qi judged it to be acute gastroenteritis and gave her the leftover medicine from the past two days. "Take this and you'll be fine by tomorrow."
The medicine was from the school's health clinic. Since she hadn't made an appointment and it was free, she'd had to wait in line for three hours to get it.
He Cheng thanked her and swallowed the medicine with warm water. The phone on the table rang. Glancing at the caller ID, it was the TV station reporter she'd met at the hilltop villa today.
"Miss He Cheng, do you have time tomorrow? The TV station would like to interview you tomorrow. It won't take up too much of your time—about two hours should be enough."
He Cheng pressed her cold lips together, recalling that Lu Qi's acute gastroenteritis had cleared up in about two days. Since she'd taken the same medicine, her body should be fine by tomorrow, so she agreed.
Not long after, a magazine reporter also called with similar phrasing.
He Cheng scheduled him for the afternoon.
He Cheng was the type to share only good news and never worry others. She didn't want Ye Yanzhi to know she was sick, so she used the library as an excuse and declined his video call.
Ye Yanzhi complained on WeChat: 【Looks like a boyfriend's good looks can't compete with the gold hidden in books~】
He Cheng laughed out loud, her bad mood from the food poisoning swept away.
【Knowledge, once learned, is mine. Your good looks are only for my viewing pleasure.】
【Who says it's only for viewing?】
【What else then?】
【You can kiss and touch too.】
In this relationship, He Cheng wasn't as bold as he was in expressing herself. Seeing his teasing, she couldn't help but curl her lips.
【Do you think I'm some pervert, drooling over your looks through a screen?】
【That's not perversion—it's physiological attraction. It's completely normal between boyfriends and girlfriends.】
If they kept chatting like this, the topic would drift further and further off course. She wasn't feeling well and didn't have the time or energy to keep up with him, so she quickly ended the conversation using studying as an excuse.
The night air remained stiflingly hot. He Cheng barely slept all night, vomiting for five hours straight. Since the dormitory had no bathroom and she was afraid the constant opening and closing of the door would wake Lu Qi, she sat resting on the long sofa in the common area outside, where she could rush to the bathroom the moment she felt the urge.
The desolate darkness of night gradually receded, and daylight slowly filtered through the glass windows, rapidly completing the black-and-white exchange on the walls.
He Cheng dozed lightly, a blanket tucked under her chin, her face somewhat haggard. The bright glow of dawn on her clean eyelids carried a gentle warmth. People gradually got up to wash up, making no small amount of noise, and she was startled awake. When she opened her eyes, she had already vomited until she had no strength left.
Still, after emptying her stomach, her body felt much better—her head wasn't as foggy. She weakly pushed the blanket aside, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric, her eyelids drooping.
It was the blanket that Mr. Zong had Uncle Bing deliver to her at Repulse Bay. Last night, she used it to cover her stomach, and before she knew it, it had wrapped around her entire body.
Her morning class was at 8:30, and from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. she had an appointment with a radio station reporter. Today would be a busy day.
She was drenched in sweat, sticky and uncomfortable, so she grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a shower.
The lukewarm water did little to wash away her exhaustion and aches. Back in the dormitory, Lu Qi was already awake, sitting at the head of the bed with messy hair and bleary eyes. "Chengzi, are you feeling any better?"
He Cheng dried her damp hair with a towel and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Still a bit uncomfortable."
"Then why not ask for leave and rest in the dorm for a day?" Having just recovered from illness herself, she knew exactly how awful it felt—every second made her want to lie down.
"It's not that serious." He Cheng smiled reassuringly.
In Central, skyscrapers stood in tight formation. Beneath one building bearing the Kaitung Group headquarters sign, a black sedan with the license plate [HK·ZHB5] drove into the underground garage.
Before long, the chairman's private elevator reached the top floor, and Zong Xubai stepped out.
As always, he wore his signature white, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high-bridged nose.
Employees had seen him dress in this same color scheme for years, yet never found it monotonous or tiresome. On the contrary, they often marveled: who knew white could be worn in so many variations?
Even his white shirts alone transformed through the sheen of satin, the crisp structure of Egyptian cotton, and the softness of Sea Island cotton into different cuts, patterns, and tones. Each fabric took on its own texture on him.
But when his face was expressionless, that immaculate white made him seem like unreachable snow on a mountain peak—pure, piercing, so cold that even sunlight seemed to bounce off him.
"Morning." Executive assistant Zhou Qiyun, coffee in hand, happened to step out of the staff elevator and caught sight of Zong Xubai, falling into step beside him with a greeting in Cantonese.
"Morning." Zong Xubai walked straight toward the chairman's office. "Is the phone for contacting He Cheng with you?"
"Yes." The new SIM card had been set up back when they decided to sponsor He Cheng, used to keep in touch with people in the mountainous area of northern Guangdong. It usually sat in the office drawer, charged once every ten days or half a month when someone remembered.
"Do you two keep in frequent contact?"
"Not much. He Cheng is very measured." Thinking of something, he asked, "Did she do or say something inappropriate at the villa yesterday?"
Had she offended him? Why else would he bring up He Cheng first thing in the morning instead of work?
Zong Xubai glanced at him sideways. "Give me the phone."
Zhou Qiyun raised an eyebrow in confusion at first, then responded with a "sure," handing over his own phone—which earned him another sidelong look. Zong Xubai let out a light scoff and drawled, "Jason."
The helpless tone made Zhou Qiyun pause. He withdrew his phone, realizing that what Zong Xubai wanted was the phone used to contact He Cheng.
"I'll go get it now."
When Zong Xubai received the phone used to contact He Cheng, he found that Zhou Qiyun was right—she was a person with boundaries, not sending messages often.
Every month when the remittance arrived, she would send a proper, polite thank-you message.
Starting last year, it was no longer just thank-you messages. In August, she asked about universities and programs in Hong Kong.
At the end of June this year, she shared the news of her admission to HKU.
A few days ago, she asked for his address, saying she wanted to send some hometown specialties for him to try, hoping he wouldn't mind.
Very polite. Very measured.
Zong Xubai's fingertips tapped lightly on the virtual keyboard and sent a message.