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Psst! We're moving!
Pulling back the curtains and opening the window, the chill of early morning—carrying the sharpness of early winter—swept away all the warmth in the room.
Shen Xi opened the door. Ye Qian had already set breakfast on the table.
________________________________________
Lin Zhan buried her face in the pillow, still locked in a desperate battle with her alarm.
Her hand flailed across the screen, and the shrill ringing finally stopped. She exhaled deeply.
Her soul was awake, but her body was still asleep.
She pushed herself up with her arms, forcing herself to wake. It took all her courage to throw off the covers.
Her love, her dreams, the shell of her flesh, the source of her desires—
The warmth of her winter bed.
Her slippers scuffed against the floor as she staggered to the bathroom, bracing herself against the glass door.
She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands under the icy water. The cold stung her fingertips, but she steeled herself and splashed it onto her face.
The biting chill seeped into every pore, and Lin Zhan was instantly wide awake.
Leaving the bathroom, she picked up her phone and checked it.
Six-hour call.
Had Shen Xi not hung up all night?
No wonder she thought she’d heard an echo of her alarm earlier.
Without overthinking it, she checked her belongings, slung her art bag over her shoulder, and headed out.
What weather did art students dread the most?
Winter.
It meant sitting still for three-hour stretches, hands exposed the entire time. For watercolor, they had to fetch and pour water, sometimes even wash their palettes.
Paper palettes were nowhere near as good as proper ones.
Lin Zhan finished her watercolor piece and bolted from the exam hall. Her feet were so numb they might as well not belong to her—like they’d been soaking in an ice cellar all night.
Shivering, she washed her palette, stomped her feet a few times, and left the venue.
With the competition over, she had to rush back to Chonggao without delay.
The strong wind made her cough twice. She cupped her hands, blew into them for warmth, then stuffed them back into her pockets.
Hailing a cab, the driver frowned at her. “You here for the competition all by yourself, kid?”
Lin Zhan tossed her art bag into the back seat and climbed in after it, shutting the door. “Yeah,” she said, utterly unfazed.
Back at the hotel, she packed her things, checked out, and lugged her suitcase downstairs without a second glance, moving briskly.
At the train station, she helped a girl struggling with her luggage.
The girl was effusively grateful.
Lin Zhan waved it off. “No problem. It’s not heavy for me.”
They walked together for a bit. The girl said, “I envy people like you with so much strength. Not like me—always needing to bother others for help.”
“There’s always someone willing to help,” Lin Zhan said with a smile. “And I envy people like you. You look like you need protecting.”
Not like her—able to wring out towels, lift water jugs, haul two suitcases at once, even more capable than some guys.
The things others relied on their partners for, she could do herself.
What other girls could get with a little acting cute, she had to handle on her own.
She arrived back at Chonggao in the afternoon, just in time for the winter break notices.
Seeing her return, Zheng Yimian didn’t ask questions—just tossed her a pack of tissues to wipe down her desk.
They all understood her well enough not to ask how she’d done, not wanting to affect her mood.
With winter break approaching, everyone was restless.
Lin Zhan bought a bottle of water and went to Shen Xi’s classroom to find him.
The boys at Class 1’s door were already used to it. The moment they saw Lin Zhan approaching Class 2, they reacted swiftly, shouting through the window:
“Shen Xi! Get out here!”
Zhang Ze sighed dramatically from his seat. “Wow. Impatient to return, huh?”
Shen Xi was halfway through solving a problem. He set down his pen and stood.
Zhang Ze stared blankly at the half-finished question on the paper, eyes widening in disbelief.
Shen Xi is beyond saving.
Before Lin Zhan, anyone who interrupted Shen Xi mid-problem had lived to regret it.
But now...
Zhang Ze watched as Shen Xi’s steps unconsciously quickened, then shook his head.
By the time Shen Xi reached the door, Lin Zhan had just arrived.
Seeing him, she handed over the hot coffee she’d been holding.
Shen Xi paused but took it without hesitation—one hand cradling the bottle, the other twisting the cap.
He loosened it slightly, though Lin Zhan didn’t notice.
Leaning against the railing, she gazed at the bare branches of the trees below and asked casually, “Did you sleep last night?”
Her tone was light, like they were just making small talk.
Shen Xi tightened the cap again, glancing down to confirm it was secure before answering. “Yeah.”
He’d fallen asleep not long after she had.
Resting her chin on her arms, she murmured, “Good. I was worried I kept you up.”
Shen Xi remembered her saying the same thing when she’d sprained her ankle. She seemed to hate inconveniencing others.
Probably because she’d always been so capable, rarely needing help.
So even this small bit of concern from him felt unusually precious—enough to make her uneasy.
Quietly, he said, “You didn’t.”
Lin Zhan clapped her hands and turned to him with a soft smile. “Great. This is my thank-you. I’ll head back now.”
As she turned to leave, Shen Xi called out, “Wait.”
Lin Zhan: “Hm?”
He held out the bottle. “I don’t drink this. You take it.”
“Ah?” Lin Zhan’s voice was tinged with regret as she pulled a pale, frozen hand from her sleeve and wrapped it around the warm bottle. “Coffee counts as a drink? And it’s hot too...”
As their hands brushed during the exchange, his fingers grazed hers—icy to the touch.
Shen Xi rubbed his thumb against his fingertips, as if trying to dispel the lingering chill. “Use it to warm your hands.”
Lin Zhan stretched her sleeve wide and slipped the entire bottle into her left sleeve, then tucked her right hand in after it.
Both hands now nestled together inside her sleeve, somewhat like an ancient official’s posture.
Shen Xi: “...”
Afraid he might not get it, Lin Zhan smiled. “To trap the heat.”
Unexpectedly, Shen Xi found it oddly... cute.
Pressing his lips together, he let out a faint, shallow laugh.
Standing there, Lin Zhan felt her hands warming—which only made her feet feel colder.
She curled her toes and stomped lightly in place.
Shen Xi raised a brow. “Cold?”
“Freezing,” Lin Zhan admitted readily. “We sit for three-hour stretches. By the time we get up, it’s like our lower bodies are paralyzed—completely numb.”
Shen Xi: “You have too much cold energy in your body. It’s winter now—soak your feet every night, eat less cold-natured fruit, and wear more layers.”
Lin Zhan blinked at him, half-teasing. “Got it, Mr. Health Guru.”
He didn’t elaborate, just tilted his chin slightly. “It’s cold out here. Go back inside.”
Back in class, Sun Hong was the first to notice the large object dangling from her sleeve.
“Lin Zhan, you brought back a grenade?!”
Lin Zhan turned, dead serious. “Yep. Just for you.”
“No way,” Sun Hong said. “I can’t die yet. My family line depends on me!”
Qi Lijie snorted. “Your family line’s so crooked it’s practically a spiral. What’s there to continue?”
Sun Hong kicked at him. “Screw you! I’m straight! Straight!”
The two devolved into their usual chaos. Lin Zhan returned to her seat, pulled out the coffee, and went to twist the cap—only to find the ridges didn’t align. The tab was already loosened.
Someone had opened it.
Wait, if Shen Xi didn’t drink it, why would he open it?
Thinking back, Lin Zhan recalled how naturally Shen Xi had taken the bottle—though it hadn’t seemed like he intended to drink it.
Had he loosened it for her in advance?
The thought sent warmth flooding through her. Staring at the bottle cap, she marveled at how Shen Xi’s ever-present gentlemanly manners could make her heart race so uncontrollably.
________________________________________
In the days leading up to the break, everyone was distracted, already mentally on vacation—practically floating through the halls.
During the last class, even the teacher couldn’t suppress the “whispered” chatter, nearly shouting in frustration: “Quiet! Or I’ll assign ten extra papers!”
That finally got them under control.
Lin Zhan listlessly twirled a pen, propping her head up with her other hand.
Winter break held little appeal for her. It meant endless face-to-face time with Lin Zhengping—a prospect so bleak it made life feel hopeless.
She’d rather be in school. At least there, she could see Shen Xi.
With a cacophony of desk-slapping and cheers, the screech of chairs signaled the official start of winter break.
Lin Zhan lethargically packed her homework into her bag and sighed.
Seventeen long days...
Sun Hong sidled up eagerly. “Let’s hang out during the break!”
Lin Zhan perked up. “Sure. Where?”
Sun Hong: “Haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know!”
________________________________________
During the break, Lin Zhan’s survival strategy was simple: stay in her room unless absolutely necessary.
Huddled inside, she did homework and painted, tuning out the world beyond her door.
But she knew trouble would find her eventually.
A week into the break, Lin Zhengping pushed her door open without knocking, his expression icy.
“Lin Zhan. Do you have any idea how poorly you did in that last competition?”
________________________________________
Beside his pillow, The Little Prince lay open to a well-worn page. Shen Xi’s fingers traced the textured paper, the sound restless under his touch.
His phone screen lit up.
He grabbed it instantly—only to find a message from Zhang Ze.
An inexplicable frustration settled over him.
Zhang Ze: Hanging out the day after tomorrow. You in?!
Shen Xi had already typed “No” when his fingers paused. He deleted it and asked instead:
Who’s going?
Zhang Ze: The usual crew. Same as last time.
Then, smugly, he added nothing else—well aware of what Shen Xi really wanted to know but deliberately withholding it.
Sure enough, within seconds, Shen Xi replied.
A single, terse word:
Talk.
Zhang Ze grinned and sent back: Not sure who you’re asking about~
Shen Xi: Lin Zhan.
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