The performance ended.
After bidding farewell to Fang Yubai, Su Xiahe hurried out of the theater, clutching her pipa case.
The dormitory was about to close, so she walked quickly.
Just as she stepped out of the theater entrance, a light drizzle began to fall from the sky.
The rain wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to leave a person thoroughly disheveled.
Su Xiahe set her instrument case on the ground and rummaged through her bag for an umbrella.
As she pulled out the umbrella and was about to open it, she noticed a young girl standing nearby, dressed in thin clothing.
The girl stood in the rain, holding a basket of flowers for sale.
A young man holding a black long-handled umbrella walked toward the girl against the light.
He crouched down, shielded her from the rain, and bought all her flowers so she could go home early.
Finally, he gave her his umbrella.
The girl said thank you and happily walked away beneath the large umbrella.
The man rose to his feet, walked back to the theater entrance, and stopped beside Su Xiahe to take shelter from the rain.
Su Xiahe didn’t look at the man beside her. She kept her eyes on the road ahead, opened her umbrella, and strode quickly into the rain.
“Miss,” the man called out to her, “you forgot your things.”
His voice was pleasant to the ear.
The timbre was clear and resonant with a hint of magnetism—casual and unhurried, brushing against her eardrums. Damn, it was good.
Su Xiahe turned around and finally got a clear look at the man before her.
Under the dim yellow light, his striking features were illuminated.
His skin was fair and cool-toned, his facial contours sharply defined—rugged yet refined, the face of a composed and elegant man.
A few stray strands of hair at his forehead slightly covered his brows.
His double eyelids were pronounced, his lashes dark, long, and thick.
His amber-colored pupils were clean and deep, untainted by any impurity.
They were captivating peach-blossom eyes that invited endless imagination.
A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.
Those beautiful eyes were hidden behind the lenses—scholarly and noble, yet his emotions were inscrutable and hard to read.
He exuded an elusive mystery and an air of otherworldly grace.
Holding the flowers he had just bought, he bent down and used his right hand to pick up the instrument case from the ground, offering it to her.
“Thank you.”
Su Xiahe took the case somewhat self-consciously, but her gaze lingered on his hands—defined, with distinct knuckles.
They were exceptionally beautiful hands.
The man gave a slight nod. “You’re welcome.”
Su Xiahe smiled lightly. “Then, I’ll be on my way.”
She was in a hurry to catch the last bus.
The man smiled and nodded.
Su Xiahe ran toward the bus stop, instrument case in hand.
The man stood in place, the corners of his lips curling slightly upward as he watched the girl’s figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
He averted his gaze and casually rubbed the string of prayer beads on his left wrist.
Interesting.
She had simply walked away like that, without even looking back once.
Only when the girl’s figure was completely out of sight did the man toss the bouquet in his hand into a nearby trash can.
Back at the dormitory, Su Xiahe placed her instrument case in the cabinet.
Meng Wanxing had just come out of the shower. “A-He, you’re finally back.”
“Yeah, I dashed in just before the dormitory closed.”
Meng Wanxing suddenly remembered. “Oh, right—didn’t you have a tutoring interview this afternoon? How did it go?”
“I didn’t go to the interview,” Su Xiahe explained. “On the way there, I ran into Senior Brother Fang, and he asked me to fill in for someone.”
“Fill in?”
Su Xiahe answered honestly. “The teacher scheduled for the pipa performance at Jiangcheng Theater couldn’t make it, so I went in as a last-minute replacement.”
Meng Wanxing was astonished. “Wow! You actually performed at Jiangcheng Theater! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been there to support you in a heartbeat.”
Su Xiahe showed a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry. It was so rushed, and since I’d never been on stage before, I was a bit nervous—it slipped my mind.”
“I’m not blaming you,” Meng Wanxing said, playfully ruffling Su Xiahe’s bangs. “I just think it’s a shame I didn’t get to see you perform on stage with my own eyes.”
Su Xiahe asked, “How about you? Did your submitted piece get approved?”
Meng Wanxing’s minor was oil painting.
There was also another roommate named Mo Zhixin.
They weren’t very familiar with Mo Zhixin. Word had it she was a noble daughter of a prominent Jiangcheng family—she basically never stayed in the dorm and rarely attended classes.
Probably just enrolled to have her name on the roster and get a diploma.
At the mention of painting, Meng Wanxing’s face fell. “Old Man Lu still says my painting lacks soul. I’m going to lose my mind. I think I painted it so vividly, so breathtakingly—how can it lack soul?”
Su Xiahe gave her a comforting look. “I don’t know much about painting, but I think you did a great job.”
“Forget it, let’s not talk about the painting,” Meng Wanxing said, setting down her towel. “Hey, do you think I can find a video of your performance online? I need to see you absolutely killing it on stage…”
Su Xiahe shook her head. “I have no idea.”
Meng Wanxing went to turn on the computer. “Let me search for it.”
Before going to bed, Su Xiahe thought back to the very tall young man she had encountered at the theater entrance.
She had to admit—he was exceptionally striking.
So much so that the moment she laid eyes on him, she had been momentarily stunned.
He hadn’t noticed, had he?
He had bought all the flower girl’s flowers at once and given her his own umbrella, just so she could go home earlier.
He must be a truly kind-hearted person.
Jiangwan Residence.
On the coffee table, the laptop screen glowed.
[Su Xiahe, from Yuncheng]
[Height: 165cm, Weight: 48kg]
[Date of Birth: October 20th, ****]
[Zodiac Sign: Libra]
[Contact: 135********]
[School: Jiangcheng University, Sophomore, Majoring in Spanish, Minor in Pipa]
[Residence: Building 6, Dormitory 501, Jiangcheng University]
[Best Friend: Roommate Meng Wanxing]
[Family: Only child, both parents deceased, her grandfather Su Jiuhan who she lived with passed away last month]
[Financial Situation: Not optimistic, 400,000 yuan in debt, borrowed from relatives for Su Jiuhan’s hospitalization expenses]
Shen Jin emerged from the bathroom, clad in a bathrobe, casually snapping his laptop shut.
He took a cigarette from the pack and lit it.
Sitting on the living room sofa, he rested his index finger lightly against his chin, leisurely fixing his gaze on the tablet screen.
On the screen was Su Xiahe, seated at the center of the Jiangcheng Theater stage, playing the pipa.
The girl possessed the gentle, refined features characteristic of a Jiangnan woman. Her chest was modest, but her waist was slender.
Her graceful figure, enhanced by the dark cyan qipao, radiated charm.
She lowered her head, her fingers moving deftly across the pipa’s strings.
Her absorbed expression made her look like a celestial being who had descended into the mortal world—breathtakingly beautiful.
Effortlessly, she conjured a stunning, moving portrait of misty Jiangnan rain.
Such an evocative scene, such unparalleled beauty, effortlessly stirred the destructive desire and possessiveness that Shen Jin had buried deep within for years.
For the past twenty-four years, he had drifted through life aimlessly, without purpose, finding no interest in anything.
But now, he had found her.
Something he desperately wanted to claim as his own.
She shouldn’t be standing on such a dazzling stage, watched by so many eyes. She should belong to him alone.
Setting down the tablet, he closed his eyes slightly.
In need of money, is she?
I’ll give it to you.
With that, he made a phone call.