The lights in the Bai family study were still on.
As Bai Jianjia passed the corridor in front of the study, she saw her father hunched over the large rosewood desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, reading a scroll of rubbings by the light of a desk lamp.
Hearing her footsteps approach, he looked up, his eyes behind the lenses curving into a gentle arc.
“You’re back?”
“Mm.” Bai Jianjia walked over, catching the faint scent of ink on her father. “Dad, what are you looking at?”
“Sent over by the Gu Art Center,” Bai Mu-zhi said as he carefully put away the rubbing. “A newly acquired batch of inscriptions and rubbings; they asked me to help take a look.”
Hearing “Art Center” caused a slight stir in Bai Jianjia’s heart.
She remembered his focused profile in the restoration room that afternoon, and his words: “It’s that you have this value yourself.”
“I went over there today, and their ancient book restoration work is truly professional,” she said softly.
Bai Mu-zhi studied his daughter for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “It seems that in these last few days, the two of you have been getting along quite well.”
Bai Jianjia’s ears heated up, and she averted her gaze. “Dad…”
“Alright, alright, I won’t say any more about that,” Bai Mu-zhi said, waving his hand, though his eyes were full of smiles.
“The Gu family has always been willing to invest in cultural causes,” Bai Mu-zhi walked around the desk to stand beside his daughter. “Yuzhou’s grandfather was a famous collector in his time. Now that it’s Yuzhou’s generation, he not only maintains the legacy but expands upon it. That is rare.”
There was a deeper meaning behind these words. Bai Jianjia caught it and turned to look at her father. “Dad, what are you trying to say?”
Bai Mu-zhi smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out. “Nothing. I just feel that you two children might be more compatible than we of the older generation had imagined.”
The study was quiet for a moment.
“Next week,” Bai Jianjia suddenly spoke, “he is taking me back to the Gu residence.”
Not “to go to,” but “back to.”
The difference in wording meant everything.
It meant she was being formally accepted into his world—a world that had carried the weight of family heritage and responsibility from the moment he was born.
Bai Mu-zhi also noticed the choice of words.
He looked at his daughter deeply and nodded slowly: “You should go. Old Mrs. Gu has been constantly mentioning that she wants to meet you.”
“I’m a little…” Bai Jianjia paused, searching for the right word. “I don’t know how I should prepare.”
“Just be yourself,” Bai Mu-zhi said gently. “The Gu family doesn’t value anything else the Bai family might have; they value you as a person. Besides—” he paused, “since Yuzhou took the initiative to bring you back, he will naturally have arranged everything thoroughly.”
The words were plain, yet they acted like a calming pill.
Yes, a man like Gu Yuzhou, having taken the initiative, must have already considered every detail.
This realization brought her a sense of inexplicable peace.
Father and daughter chatted a bit more about the details of the exhibition at the Art Center, until the chime of the clock outside the study struck eight. Only then did Bai Mu-zhi say, “Go get some rest. Don’t you have classes tomorrow?”
Back in her own room, Bai Jianjia changed into comfortable loungewear. Just as she sat down at her vanity, her phone vibrated.
The screen displayed “Wen Miao”—her best friend since college, who was now a curator abroad and still able to accurately catch her despite the time difference.
She connected the video call, and Wen Miao’s bright, smiling face filled the screen: “Teacher Bai! Trending search heroine! Give me the full report, right now!”
Bai Jianjia couldn’t help but laugh. She propped her phone on the vanity, unbraiding her hair as she said, “You certainly are well-informed.”
“How could I not be? I’ve been busy as a dog these last few days, and yet every time I check my phone, it’s all about you. Count it for yourself—in just a few days, how many times have you been on the trending list?” Wen Miao leaned into the camera, her eyes sparkling. “It’s 3:00 AM here, but checking my phone has kept me wide awake! That photo on the terrace, and those hands of Gu Yuzhou… tut-tut, Bai Jianjia, you’ve struck gold!”
“What are you talking about?” Bai Jianjia’s ears burned, and she deliberately lowered her head to comb through her loosened long hair.
“Don’t play dumb with me!” Wen Miao was relentless. “Tell me, what’s it like dating a big-shot? Is it all stiff and formal, talking about macroeconomics and artifact restoration the whole time?”
The teasing was so vivid that Bai Jianjia couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “No way. It’s just… listening to a concert like normal, chatting like normal.”
“Normal?” Wen Miao raised an eyebrow. “Normal people personally drape coats over you? Normal candid photos look like movie stills? Comrade Bai Jianjia, is your definition of ‘normal’ a bit skewed?”
The rapid-fire questioning was too much for Bai Jianjia to handle, so she threw caution to the wind: “Then what do you think it should be like?”
“What do I think?” Wen Miao leaned back on her sofa, looking thoughtful. “I think someone like Gu Yuzhou, who looks so high and mighty, is probably more sincere than anyone else when he actually falls for someone. Look at how he handled those trending searches—taking them down, issuing official announcements, bringing you into his core business—the whole combo was smooth and fluid. It’s clearly the ‘protect the food’—oops, I mean ‘protect the wife’—mode turned on full blast.”
“What ‘protect the wife’…” Bai Jianjia muttered under her breath, her cheeks quietly turning red.
“It is!” Wen Miao grew even more excited. “Seriously, Jianjia, how do you actually feel about this arranged marriage? Before, when I asked, you always said ‘let nature take its course.’ What about now? You’ve met the person, gone on dates, and experienced being the center of the internet’s attention—you must have some real feelings about it now, right?”
The comb stopped at the ends of her hair.
Bai Jianjia looked at herself in the mirror, suddenly dazed.
What were her feelings?
She remembered the tactile sensation of his fingertips brushing against her collarbone on the concert hall terrace; she remembered his earnest eyes in the car when he said, “I mind them hurting you;” and she remembered the gravity with which he introduced her as “Ms. Bai Jianjia” while standing by her side at the foundation today.
There were so many tiny, fragmented moments: the angle of his fingers when he handed her the flowers, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he spoke, the focused gaze behind his lenses as he watched her.
And the clear flutter of her heart that followed her own words: “I really do like it.”
“Jianjia?” Wen Miao called to her through the video.
Bai Jianjia returned to her senses and smiled gently at the camera.
“The feeling is…” she said slowly, her voice soft but clear, “having him as my marriage partner, it’s quite nice.”
The other end of the line was quiet for two seconds.
Then, Wen Miao erupted into even louder laughter: “Oh my god! Bai Jianjia! You actually admitted it so openly! Our Teacher Bai has finally opened her heart! I have to record this as evidence!”
“Stop it.” Bai Jianjia laughed, feeling inexplicably relaxed. Before saying it out loud, it had felt incredibly difficult, but now that it was spoken, it felt like she had set down a heavy burden.
“Jianjia, do you know what you look like right now? Tut-tut-tut, your expression… is this really the same ice-cold beauty I know who always keeps a three-meter distance from men?”
“When was I ever ice-cold?” Bai Jianjia protested.
“Not ice-cold? Back in college, the people chasing you could have lined up from the dorms to the school gate. But you? You were either ‘reading a book’ or ‘practicing calligraphy.’ The most ruthless thing you ever told someone was, ‘My father told me to focus on my studies’—it kills me! Does Uncle Bai know you used him as a shield like that?”
Mentioning their college days made Bai Jianjia laugh, too.
Those were truly the rare days in her life when she could set aside the identity of the “Bai family heiress.”
Away from the eyes of her family, she had learned to stay up late to binge-watch shows, eat street food, and chat about gossip with Wen Miao while squeezed into the same bed—those so-called “unladylike” habits were, for her, the taste of freedom.
“But seriously,” Wen Miao stopped laughing, her tone turning more serious. “Does Big Boss Gu know you have an unladylike side? Like binge-watching shows all night, secretly eating spicy snacks, or drawing ghost-like scribbles on rice paper when you get carried away with calligraphy?”
Bai Jianjia thought of the corner in the family study where she hid her “Q-version” drawings, and of the thought that had popped into her head while eating spicy snacks and binge-watching shows a few days ago—What if Gu Yuzhou saw me like this?—she couldn’t help but imagine his startled expression: those usually calm eyes widening slightly, his gaze freezing behind his lenses, his thin lips perhaps pressing into a line. Imagining that scene, the smile on her lips deepened.