Yan Zhao took out the things she had bought, rearranging them one by one.
Daily necessities were put away, clothes were neatly folded, and only then did she finally open the wardrobe, carefully placing the two new dresses inside.
She didn’t wear them.
She didn’t even look at them for long.
They were just stored away properly, as if afraid she might overthink.
Not long after, the door was pushed open.
Gu Yu had returned.
As soon as he entered the room, his gaze instinctively swept over her before settling on the direction of the wardrobe, as if he had already guessed something.
“Why aren’t you wearing them?” he said. “It would be perfect to wear them now—we’re going to the teacher’s house.”
Yan Zhao was taken aback, her cheeks slowly flushing as she replied softly, “They haven’t been washed yet…”
Gu Yu thought for a moment and nodded. “Right.”
His tone carried a hint of disappointment.
“Let’s go, then.”
After saying this, he turned to gather his things.
Yan Zhao stood where she was, her fingers tightly gripping the hem of her clothes, clearly wanting to say something.
She hesitated for two seconds before finally speaking.
“Xiao Yu.”
Hearing this, Gu Yu paused in his steps and turned to look at her.
Gu Yu stopped and looked back at her.
This was the first time she had called him that since arriving in Beijing.
He didn’t really like this form of address.
It felt too much like being placed in a safe yet distant position, as if deliberately kept at arm’s length.
But he didn’t interrupt her.
Because he could tell she had something to say.
Yan Zhao stood where she was, her fingertips clutching the hem of her clothes with such force it seemed she was trying to muster courage.
“I’m just your older sister.”
She paused, as if carefully choosing her words. “You’re in university now. If there are girls who like you… you can consider them too.”
After saying this, she felt her own chest tighten.
The room fell silent for a moment.
Gu Yu stood where he was, looking at her, his gaze gradually darkening.
It wasn’t anger.
It was a suppressed emotion, slowly churning beneath the surface.
Gu Yu looked at her, silent for a few seconds.
That suppressed emotion finally surfaced.
When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, each word clear and impossible to avoid.
“You’re not my sister.”
Yan Zhao was stunned.
Gu Yu continued, his tone flat, as if stating a fact that had long been written.
“You’re my child bride.”
“You’re the wife on my marriage certificate.”
As these words fell, Yan Zhao instinctively shook her head, almost immediately refuting him.
“That was all from when we were little.”
Her voice carried a hint of urgency. “Auntie only gave us that title back then for the sake of your health.”
“And the marriage certificate… we were still young then, we didn’t understand anything.”
She looked up at him, as if trying hard to convince him, or perhaps to convince herself.
“We grew up together.”
The air grew unnervingly quiet.
Gu Yu seemed to have finally confirmed one thing—she wasn’t ignorant.
She was running away.
And this time, he clearly had no intention of letting her hide any longer.
Gu Yu suddenly reached out and grasped her wrist.
Yan Zhao’s heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, she wanted to speak, to struggle and step back, but he had already led her forward a few steps before pressing her down to sit on the edge of the bed.
The mattress sank slightly.
Then, he leaned in, his shadow enveloping her, trapping her in that small space.
Yan Zhao’s breathing instantly grew erratic.
She looked up and saw Gu Yu’s face, now inches from hers.
Dim light fell from the side, outlining the sharp lines of his brow and jaw. His gaze was dark and heavy, no longer the usual calmness but an emotion suppressed for too long, teetering on the edge of losing control.
His hand pressed against the bed beside her, and the wooden frame creaked softly.
The distance was so close that she could clearly feel the warmth of his breath.
“Would a younger brother do this to you?”
As Gu Yu spoke, he tilted his head, leaning close to her ear and exhaling a scorching breath.
The heat was too close.
So close that Yan Zhao’s fingertips trembled, and her breathing lost its rhythm.
“What about this?”
His voice was low, pressed deep. “Would a younger brother do this to you too?”
This closeness wasn’t a touch, yet it felt more inescapable than one.
Yan Zhao instinctively reached out to push him, her palm pressing against his chest with a force born of panic.
“Don’t—”
Before she could finish, Gu Yu leaned down, following the momentum of her push.
It wasn’t rough.
It was a gentle, yielding motion.
The mattress dipped slightly, forcing her to lie back. With one hand braced beside her, he trapped her in front of him.
Still maintaining the last bit of distance, he didn’t press down fully.
Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them.
“And what about this?”
His gaze locked onto hers, his tone low and direct.
“After all this, are we still just older sister and younger brother?”
Yan Zhao froze completely.
She had never felt Gu Yu’s presence this closely before.
In her memory, he was still that quiet, aloof little boy who always kept his head down.
She only remembered that his body was always cool to the touch. In winter, sitting by the stove, his fingers were icy cold. When she held them, he would simply let her, never pulling away.
But now, everything was different.
She could clearly feel the warmth radiating from his entire body.
Not a gentle warmth, but a heat forcibly suppressed, tense, as if it might overflow and spiral out of control at any moment.
Yan Zhao’s throat tightened.
She suddenly realized that she had deliberately overlooked many things, using excuses like “since childhood” or “growing up together.”
It wasn’t that he had changed.
It was that she had never truly seen him.
Gu Yu’s movement halted mid-air.
He had intended to lean down further, to shatter her retreat, her avoidance, and her insistence on pushing herself into the role of “older sister” in the most direct way possible.
But at the very moment he was about to press down, he saw it clearly—
Yan Zhao’s face paled instantly.
It wasn’t shyness or nervousness.
It was the pallor of someone backed into a corner, instinctively chilled to the bone.
Her fingertips trembled, her breathing was utterly erratic, and her body was so stiff it seemed on the verge of snapping.
Gu Yu’s heart sank heavily.
All the turbulent emotions within him were forcibly suppressed in that moment.
He let out a low sigh, pushed himself up from the edge of the bed, released her, and moved to sit beside her, putting distance between them.
The slight rebound of the mattress restored quiet to the room.
Yan Zhao hadn’t yet regained her composure. She could only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Gu Yu turned his face away, no longer looking at her. His voice was much lower than before, yet steadier.
“I won’t force you.”
He paused, as if holding back some emotion.
Then he continued, his tone heavy yet clear—
“But I hope you’ll understand one thing from now on.”
“I am not your younger brother.”
…
Yan Zhao followed him all the way, keeping her head lowered the entire time.
The scene from earlier in the room still weighed heavily on her heart. She didn’t dare look at Gu Yu, nor did she dare speak, so she simply trailed behind his footsteps.
They came to a stop in front of a house.
Instinctively, she raised her head.
And froze.
It was a two-story house, its exterior walls cleanly painted, with large windows. Flowers and plants grew in the yard, and the steps had been swept spotless. In the evening light, it looked exceptionally quiet and respectable.
Yan Zhao stood rooted to the spot, momentarily unable to process what she was seeing.
She had never seen a house like this before.
Not the simple, single-story houses common in the village, nor the small buildings lining the streets in town.
She instinctively tightened her grip on the hem of her clothes and asked softly, “Is this… a place where people live?”
Gu Yu stood beside her. Seeing that she had finally raised her head and was willing to speak to him, his tone softened.
“Yes,” he said. “This is a small Western-style house.”
Yan Zhao repeated, “A small Western-style house?”
She had heard of such houses before.
But only in other people’s words, in stories.
They were places where the wealthy used to live, later occupied by government officials.
Yan Zhao had never imagined she would one day stand at the entrance of such a place.
She opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words. Instinctively, she took half a step back, as if afraid of dirtying the ground.
Gu Yu noticed.
He didn’t say anything, only reached out and gently pressed her shoulder, guiding her forward.
“Don’t worry, just follow me,” he said quietly.
At his touch, Yan Zhao’s back stiffened almost reflexively.
Before she could process the warmth on her shoulder, Gu Yu had already wrapped his arm around her, leaving her no room to retreat, and led her straight inside.
As the door opened, the voices inside paused.
Two girls stood in the living room.
One of them, Yan Zhao recognized instantly—Liu Manqing.
She was turned slightly, speaking to the girl beside her, a faint smile on her face. But the moment she saw Gu Yu, that smile seemed forcibly suppressed.
When her gaze fell on Yan Zhao in the crook of his arm, her emotions surged visibly.
Anger, resentment—sharp and unguarded.
But that flash of emotion lasted only a moment.
In the next second, she lowered her lashes, her expression softening instantly. Her eyes reddened slightly, as if she had suffered a great injustice.
The girl beside her was plump, dressed neatly, with her hair combed tidy.
She first looked at Gu Yu excitedly, her eyes shining brightly, then her gaze shifted to Yan Zhao, sweeping over her from head to toe.
There was no attempt to hide the disdain in her eyes.
Soon, the girl curled her lip, her tone dripping with condescension:
“I thought Brother Gu Yu’s partner would be much prettier.”
“Her skin is so rough, and what is she even wearing?”
“Brother Gu Yu, don’t you think she’s a bit of an embarrassment?”
The words weren’t particularly sharp, yet each one pierced the softest part of Yan Zhao’s heart.
Deep down, she had always known.
She was plain, from the village, with little experience, and her looks were nothing special.
She had always felt out of place standing beside Gu Yu.
Now, having it said aloud in front of everyone, the little confidence she had mustered crumbled instantly.
She didn’t even look at Gu Yu, just kept her head down, her eyes fixed on the floor, her ears ringing.
An uncontrollable thought surfaced—
Perhaps she shouldn’t have come to the capital city.
Shouldn’t have come looking for Gu Yu.
If she hadn’t appeared, he would still be that clean, dazzling, and admired Gu Yu at school.
No one would say he was losing face because of her.
No one would criticize her background or her appearance right in front of him.
Gu Yu’s brow furrowed tightly in that instant.
Not just displeasure—it was clear annoyance.
He didn’t even spare the girl another glance, his tone cold and decisive: “Did your upbringing get eaten by dogs? Apologize!”
As soon as he said this, the room fell eerily quiet.
The girl was clearly stunned.
She obviously hadn’t expected Gu Yu, who was usually gentle and polite to everyone, to say something like that in public.
Her face flushed red instantly, a mix of shame and anger.
“Why… why should I apologize?” she insisted stubbornly, though her voice was noticeably less confident than before. “What I said was true…”
Her voice trailed off, growing softer.
Because Gu Yu had turned sideways and was now looking directly at her.
That one glance was chilling enough to make one’s heart tremble.
It wasn’t an outburst, nor was he shouting.
It was just that kind of undisguised pressure, as if waiting for her to realize she had crossed the line.
The girl instinctively clenched the hem of her clothes.
Was he really angry just because she said something bad about his partner?
No one in the room spoke.
Even Liu Manqing remained silent.
The girl bit her lip and finally couldn’t hold out any longer. Lowering her head, she squeezed out a small, awkward whisper: “…Sorry.”
Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.
Only then did Gu Yu withdraw his gaze.
“Your apology isn’t meant for me,” he said calmly. “It’s for my beloved.”
The word “beloved” rolled off his tongue with ease.
Liu Manqing’s expression darkened on the spot, her fingertips clenched tightly, unable to even maintain a smile.
The girl was even more stunned. Her eyes darted back and forth between Gu Yu and Yan Zhao, her face filled with unwillingness and confusion—
How could Brother Gu Yu like this kind of… wife from the countryside?
But she didn’t dare say anything more.
The pressure from that earlier glance still lingered.
She could only grit her teeth and reluctantly turn to Yan Zhao, her voice squeezed out softly and awkwardly: “…Sorry.”
This time, it was said clearly.
Yan Zhao didn’t say a word.
She just suddenly felt that her heart, which had been tight and cold moments before, began beating again after Gu Yu’s words.
Once.
And again.
Yan Zhao had no particular reaction to the apology, only nodding slightly to acknowledge it.
Then she quickly lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the small patch of ground in front of her feet.
No pride, no grievance.
Just instinctively hiding her emotions, as she always had.
But Gu Yu didn’t give anyone else a chance to speak. He naturally wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, and said in a light tone, “We’re leaving. Tell the teacher we’ll have dinner together next time.”
With that, he led Yan Zhao away.
…
Yan Zhao followed him out, but her steps gradually slowed.
Once outside the small villa, the night breeze blew, and the warmth she had felt in her heart dissipated even faster, leaving only an indescribable discomfort.
She suddenly stopped and pushed him lightly.
“You go ahead,” she said softly. “Go have dinner with the teacher. I can go back on my own.”
Gu Yu turned to look at her. “Why?”
She hadn’t expected him to ask so directly and found herself momentarily at a loss for words. After a brief pause of two seconds, she managed to gather her thoughts and speak.
“You already made plans with your teacher,” she said softly. “If you don’t go, your teacher will be upset.”
At that moment, Yan Zhao stood rigidly, his shoulders and back tense, clearly accustomed to putting himself last.
He shook his head calmly. “No, he won’t. I’ve known my teacher for many years. He wouldn’t get angry over something this trivial.”
Then he added, “But I’m afraid you might be upset.”