The next day was Wednesday.
She didn’t need to go to the gallery—it was a class day in the afternoon.
After lunch, Wanyi headed to her classroom.
When she saw the words “Happy Teacher’s Day” written in colorful chalk across the blackboard, she suddenly realized—
It was already Teacher’s Day.
The instructor was a young female teacher, standing at the podium adjusting her lecture slides.
Students who entered greeted her with holiday wishes.
On her desk sat a few simple gift boxes and bouquets of flowers.
Nothing extravagant—but it was obvious she was in a good mood.
Wanyi rested her chin on her hand and gazed out the window.
Tall shrubs stood between the academic buildings, lush and full of life.
Below, students hurried past with backpacks and books in hand, heading to their classes.
Their faces were bright, filled with hope for the future.
Once, she had been like that too.
But it had been over ten years since she had celebrated any holiday—
even her own birthday.
There had never been anything worth commemorating.
All she had ever wanted… was to survive.
As for the future, she held no beautiful expectations—
let alone blessings.
At the front, the teacher continued her lecture with enthusiasm.
Wanyi listened attentively.
She treasured every class.
Because she didn’t have much time left.
Soon, she would graduate and leave this place behind.
Perhaps the festive atmosphere had stirred something in the teacher—
because after class, she spoke from the heart.
“Thank you all for your wishes today. To be honest, I never liked the idea of becoming a teacher. It was a path chosen for me by my family. But now, I’m grateful I took it. So I want to tell all of you—don’t resent your fate or your choices. One day, you may realize that everything was meant to be.”
“Class dismissed.”
Walking back to her dorm, Wanyi kept replaying those words in her mind.
Don’t resent fate?
She didn’t.
Because she had already accepted it.
At first, she used to avoid reality without even realizing it.
But after a year of slowly coming to terms with herself—
she had learned to face her life head-on.
She had to survive.
She didn’t have a choice.
Maybe…
This too was part of her destiny.
Lost in thought, she didn’t even realize she had reached the school gate.
It was early evening after classes.
Students moved in all directions, coming and going.
The campus broadcast played songs that felt uniquely like summer.
The announcer was sending out holiday greetings.
“Senior—!”
From a distance, Chen Yihao spotted her approaching.
“I was just about to call you!” he said excitedly.
“What is it?” Wanyi asked, slightly puzzled by his enthusiasm.
“Today is Teacher’s Day,” he said with a bright smile. “You helped me with my studies before—you’re like a teacher to me. So today is your day too.”
“It was just a small thing. I can’t really call myself a teacher,” Wanyi shook her head gently.
Standing in the breeze, with sunlight glowing behind her, she almost looked like she had wings.
“I don’t care. To me, you are,” he insisted.
Then he pulled out a beautifully packaged red velvet cake from behind his back.
“This is for you—consider it a Teacher’s Day gift.”
He placed the cake into her hands.
“This…” Wanyi hesitated, unsure what to do.
She could sense his feelings—
but she also knew there was no future between them.
Just as she was struggling to find a way to politely refuse—
her phone rang.
It was Shen Yuxun.
She quickly answered.
“Hello, Mr. Shen.”
“I’m at your school’s south gate,” his voice sounded unusually low.
“…What?” Wanyi froze for a moment.
Why was he at the school?
“Come out.”
He hung up.
Leaning in his car, Shen Yuxun looked toward the gate.
There, he saw a pair standing close together.
The boy was tall and handsome—radiating an unmistakable youthful brightness even from afar.
The girl was gentle and quiet, her head lowered shyly as she looked at the gift in her hands.
In truth, he had arrived ten minutes earlier.
Just as he was about to message Song Wanyi—
He spotted her.
That familiar girl.
The one who had once collapsed into his arms.
He still remembered the faint orange blossom scent in her hair—
and the softness of her waist.
Irritated, he loosened the top button of his shirt and turned the car’s temperature down a couple of degrees.
After hanging up, Wanyi quickly returned the cake to Chen Yihao.
Ignoring his stunned expression, she said a hurried goodbye and ran toward the street.
Sure enough, parked quietly at the curb was a low-key black Maybach.
The tinted windows concealed whoever was inside—
but she knew it was Shen Yuxun’s car.
She opened the back door and got in—
only to realize, to her surprise, that he was the one driving.
“Sit in the front,” his low voice came from the rearview mirror.
Wanyi had no choice but to get out again and move to the passenger seat.
After all… he was the one in control. The real power behind the gallery.
“Mr. Shen,” she greeted him with a polite smile.
He was wearing a white shirt again today, though it wasn’t as crisp as before—likely worn from a long day’s work. One hand rested on the steering wheel, a brown leather Cartier Ballon Bleu watch on his wrist. His handsome face carried a distant, unapproachable air.
Wanyi suddenly didn’t dare speak.
She lowered her head, fumbling with the seatbelt.
Click.
She let out a quiet sigh of relief once it finally fastened.
She was genuinely afraid he might think she was foolish—after all, how many people couldn’t even manage a seatbelt?
“Let’s go eat,” Shen Yuxun said only after she finished struggling.
“Okay…” Wanyi replied softly, not daring to ask why they were going to dinner. Weren’t they supposed to meet for the lip balm?
Inside the Maybach, everything was too quiet.
The smooth ride and sealed space made even the smallest sound feel intrusive.
The air seemed frozen.
Her hands twisted together nervously, teeth lightly biting her lip.
“The compartment in front of you,” Shen Yuxun finally broke the silence, gesturing for her to open it herself.
Wanyi looked uncertainly at the black compartment.
She reached out slowly—
and then realized she didn’t know how to open it.
There was clearly a keyhole.
A low chuckle came from beside her.
Then—
a fair, slender hand covered hers, guiding it gently.
Click.
The warmth of his hand was steady and reassuring, carrying an inexplicable sense of calm—
yet at the same time, her heartbeat sped up uncontrollably.
The compartment opened.
The latch had been just beneath the keyhole.
His hand withdrew almost immediately, polite and restrained.
But Wanyi’s heart refused to settle.
She was almost afraid the pounding in her chest would echo through the silent car.
“Yours might’ve gotten dirty. I had my assistant buy a new one,” Shen Yuxun explained, thinking she didn’t know which item to take—unaware she was simply too flustered to react.
Wanyi picked up the white patterned box.
A bold black “C” stood out against the pale background.
It was a brand she had never touched—
only seen occasionally in her roommate’s cabinet.
The kind of luxury she could hardly imagine affording.
She held it carefully—
yet felt the weight of it was almost too much to accept.
“Uncle Chen damaged your original one. I had no choice but to replace it,” Shen Yuxun added, as if reading her thoughts. “My fault.”
That left her with no room to refuse.
“Thank you, Mr. Shen… Actually, you could’ve just replaced it with something similar.”
“Open it,” he said lightly, one hand still on the wheel.
Outside, the evening sky burned with brilliant sunset hues.
Clouds stretched across the darkening blue, glowing like spilled orange paint.
For a moment, Wanyi remembered a line she had once read:
The person who watches the sunset with you is gentler than the sunset itself.
She pressed her lips together, swallowing the warmth rising in her chest.
Under the soft glow of the fading light, she opened the box.
Inside, white shredded paper filled the space.
Resting neatly on top—
was a sleek black lipstick,
and a pure white, oval-shaped hand cream.
She liked them.
Very much.
But—
could she really have them?
If she grew used to things like this…
could she ever go back to the life she had before?
Whether it was the gift in her hands—
or the man sitting beside her—
for the first time, her steadily beating heart felt uncertain.