Liang Yifeng mentioned a game.
The game was simple: Zhong Nian would stand on a half-meter-high soft mat, back to him, arms crossed over her chest, and fall backward.
For safety, another thick mat would be laid on the ground beneath him.
It was the simplest trust exercise: if you believed in the person behind you, you could surrender yourself completely.
Close your eyes, fall backward, and wait for the other to catch you. Simple.
Liang Yifeng even brought Zhong Nian to a climbing club, which had the most complete equipment. If she didn’t feel comfortable, he could have three more people come to catch her.
They stood at the edge of the vast climbing wall. Since it was a weekday, the club was not crowded, only a few people climbing.
Each member had an instructor by their side.
Liang Yifeng had the mats arranged and stood in front of them, checking Zhong Nian with his eyes.
In her mind, she visualized the scene again. It didn’t seem difficult.
She pressed her lips together and, in a calm, relaxed tone, said, “Let’s try.”
A flicker of amusement passed through Liang Yifeng’s eyes.
She stepped onto the mat. He stood behind her. Zhong Nian estimated the height—just half a meter off the ground. Even if he missed, the mats would cushion her fall.
She stood there, arms crossed over her chest.
He slipped one hand into his pocket. “Ready?”
“Mm.”
“Alright. I’ll start the countdown.”
Her lashes trembled, betraying her unease.
“Three… two… one.” He remained motionless.
She, on the mat, remained just as still.
Time seemed suspended.
The person in front of her stood upright, back straight. She wore a white silk blouse; the indoor light revealed the deep groove along her spine, like a hidden river flowing silently.
She was perfectly still.
Someone else fell nearby, easily caught by the staff.
Wind brushed past.
Zhong Nian slowly opened her eyes, exhaustion in them.
She turned, meeting his gaze.
Liang Yifeng stood opposite, sharp in a white shirt and black trousers. His features were elegant, his nose straight, lips pressed into a faint, detached smile.
In his dark eyes was the expanse of a night with all else extinguished.
Zhong Nian lowered her gaze, unsure what she saw reflected in him, her voice soft: “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said.
“I didn’t not trust you,” she said slowly, her throat tight as if something obstructed it, even speaking felt exhausting.
He tilted his head back slightly, despite him being below and her above—yet somehow, he exuded an air of dominance.
“You didn’t not trust me.”
“Zhong Nian,” he continued, “you just don’t trust this world.”
Even this world, including him. Zhong Nian, you still don’t fully trust yourself.
That day had ended terribly—so terrible that every recollection brought to mind heavy rain, dark skies, and him leaving with an irrevocable decisiveness.
But afterwards, Zhong Nian began to wonder: how had they reached this point?
They had been so far apart, yet after reuniting, it felt as if they were so close.
It was as if one step toward him would mean he would stand by her to the very end.
But “to the very end” usually meant destined love.
And love—rare in this world.
·
On the day of the Nanda High School anniversary, traffic outside the school was congested; even the temporary parking spaces were full.
Nanda High was a top school in South City, with three of the province’s top ten college entrance exam scorers typically coming from there. The anniversary was hosted by Nanda High, with the famous Shen family as co-sponsors.
The Shen family had been influential in South City for decades, established since the early reform era. Their industries now numbered nearly a hundred, covering a vast range with substantial capital.
Furthermore, all current heads of the Shen family were alumni of Nanda High.
Normally, neither Lu Cheng’an nor Liang Yifeng would appear at such events. Instead, Shen Fang attended.
Shen Fang suited the occasion. Dressed in a white tracksuit with a baseball cap, he looked youthful under the sun, like a just-graduated freshman.
Zhong Nian recognized him immediately as he entered the secretary’s office.
She had been sent by the newsroom to report. Initially, she hadn’t planned to come—the early June heat was oppressive, cicadas droning, the air thick with summer.
But her team leader insisted: as an alum, she should attend her alma mater’s celebration.
She acquiesced, bringing along a photographer.
Once the photographer arrived, they snapped photos everywhere. Zhong Nian tried to schedule an interview in the secretary’s office, only to find it packed with reporters.
She had to eavesdrop on their interviews.
Shen Fang arrived just as Zhong Nian’s patience reached its limit. Seeing him, the secretary rose, beaming: “Mr. Shen!”
Coincidentally, when Zhong Nian noticed him, he also noticed her.
He tipped his cap and walked directly toward her, a roguish grin on his face. “Sister Nian, long time no see.”
During her prior interviews, she had sensed his playful, unruly energy. Now, she shook her head slightly. “Mr. Shen, what a coincidence.”
He touched his chin. “Mm, indeed, a coincidence.”
The secretary, sensing the dynamic, quickly suggested: “Reporter Zhong, if you have time, could we do a special interview after the event?”
The room buzzed. Reporters, waiting all morning, were suddenly blocked by this newcomer—yet no one dared complain. After all, this was Mr. Shen of the Shen Group, perhaps some heiress’s companion.
Zhong Nian smiled politely. “The secretary might be tired after today. How about tomorrow?”
“Ah, yes, that works,” the secretary agreed.
Shen Fang, eyes peeking from under his cap, arched a brow. This woman was interesting—cool and composed in response, yet smoothly accepting the interview.
Many women played the push-and-pull game, but she did it with subtle grace.
Eventually, Zhong Nian was invited to accompany him throughout. She didn’t refuse.
Anniversary events typically started with a brief ceremony—leaders spoke, famous alumni gave remarks, sponsors offered words of praise, then it concluded.
Afterward, Shen Fang lazily waved off the entourage, leaving only Zhong Nian.
Behind the teaching building stood a row of towering dawn redwoods. Early summer sunlight bathed the green leaves, the breeze cool and gentle.
Zhong Nian wasn’t sure why he left her alone—perhaps she did, but she maintained her characteristic silence.
Shen Fang, unable to contain himself, leaned lazily against one tree, eyes half-closed, occasionally glancing at her, then at passing students, then back at her—like a child trapped at home with homework, restless yet curious.
In patience, Shen Fang might not lose to Zhong Nian.
At the negotiation table, Shen Fang could remain composed, but Zhong Nian had fought with words in the library. She was patient, eloquent, and skilled at persuasion. But Shen Fang had learned from his first school lesson to hide all emotions.
He wasn’t here to test patience.
He tipped his cap, a faint smirk on his lips. “I really never met anyone who could annoy my third brother that much.”
Zhong Nian hadn’t seen Liang Yifeng for almost a week. She had kept a steady routine—work, home, normal life.
He didn’t appear before her, yet his presence was everywhere.
The guest room still held his tie. His cold medicine sat on the living room table. Even the few times she cooked, it was because of him. At the newsroom, her deputy praised her for the hospital drill report she submitted—at the very hospital Liang Yifeng worked.
Zhong Nian realized that, without noticing, he had quietly infiltrated her life.
When one frequently thinks of someone, life slowly begins to shift its course.
She realized it wasn’t healthy. She hadn’t called him to retrieve his tie, hoping time would heal.
Yet Shen Fang mentioned his name again.
Liang Yifeng…
Zhong Nian felt dazed.
The noon sun blazed. Perhaps it was too bright, even through the dense foliage, the scattered light burned her brain.
Rational thought, long maintained, began to fatigue.
Emotions took over her mind. When she finally spoke, realization struck too late:
“—What happened to Liang Yifeng?”
How was he? Was he okay?
She was a person who rarely displayed concern publicly, yet now, she had spoken it aloud about someone she’d only met twice.