[Pretending to be pitiable, yet clearly taking advantage of weakness.]

There are always some people in this world you simply cannot refuse.

No matter how much time has passed, no matter how either of you has changed, and no matter what kind of request they make, you will always say yes. You can’t bring yourself to utter even a single word of rejection.

For Hou Zihao, Zhou Leqi was one such person.

Despite his disapproval and lack of enthusiasm, he still accompanied her on a half-day tour of Rome.

They visited the Pantheon, the Colosseum, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Trevi Fountain, and then ate an unnamed dish at an unknown restaurant. Finally, he helped her hop up the high Spanish Steps and settle down. At her sweet insistence, he turned to buy her an ice cream.

The Roman sunset in films is always grandiose, but in reality, it’s not much different from sunsets anywhere else—still tinged with orange hues, particularly gentle in spring.

Both were strikingly attractive individuals, always drawing attention in crowds. While he bought the ice cream, several beautiful foreign girls flirted with him. In his brief absence, she was approached by a romantic Italian man. But once he returned to her side, the others dispersed. They exchanged a smile that made them look perfectly matched, leaving onlookers feeling the same.

The cone he bought her resembled those in movies, and she looked delighted, already digging in. The twilight surrounded her, making her appear especially warm.

His mood improved slightly, and he reminded her again, “Eat less cold food—you’re still injured.”

She continued eating happily, glancing at him sideways after hearing his words, blinking innocently. “Don’t worry, I have a doctor right beside me—it’s fine.”

He was at a loss for words. “I can’t take away your pain if your wound hurts. Just eat half of it.”

She shrugged and turned her head back.

There weren’t many people on the steps, giving the place an unusual sense of emptiness, which calmed their hearts. As she slowly savored her ice cream, she suddenly asked casually, “These past few years… did you live well in the UK?”

He paused, as if surprised she had suddenly started a conversation—or perhaps just unsure how to respond. After a moment, he said indifferently, “It doesn’t matter whether it was good or bad. It was just day by day.”

An ambiguous answer.

But she understood. That meant it wasn’t good. If someone lived happily, they wouldn’t measure time in such small units as “days.” They’d only feel the swift passage of years.

She bit off the chocolate coating on her ice cream and said, “When I was at Tsinghua, I didn’t apply for any overseas exchange programs. If I had known, I should’ve gone to the UK and tried my luck—I might’ve run into you.”

Her words carried a hint of ambiguity, emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. For a moment, his mind went blank. Then she suddenly turned to look at him again, her gaze pure and clear. “I miss you.”

I miss you.

Every day, every night, every moment of reality, every fragment of dreams.

…All filled with thoughts of you.

It was like a cardiac pacemaker suddenly attaching to the skin, electrical impulses surging from nothingness. The wires began working, and his heart inevitably contracted in excitement—just as passionately and sincerely as in the distant days of his youth.

He could hear his own heartbeat accelerating.

And deep inside, he heard himself responding:

I miss you too.

Even though I know I’ve permanently lost the right to feel that way.

Still, over and over, repeatedly, I think of you.

But he was truly an adult now, no longer the impulsive teenager from seven years ago who couldn’t control his feelings and kept confessing to her. Now, he had learned to speak insincerely and mastered the art of controlling his body language. He gave no outward sign of the emotional turmoil raging within him, even appearing somewhat cold as he remained silent in response to her heartfelt confession.

Yet she wasn’t disheartened, continuing to enjoy her sweet ice cream.

“Come back to China,” she continued. “It’s good here, safer too. With your PhD from Oxford, your career will flourish wherever you go.”

“You could be a doctor or a university professor,” she offered detailed advice. “Both pay well, and being a professor would give you more leisure time to enjoy life.”

He said nothing.

The vivid colors of dusk slowly faded in their silence. The beautiful sunset was gradually sinking at the edge of Rome. She watched him in the fading glow, her expression still clear. To keep the conversation going, she had to change the subject.

After a pause, she asked, “How is Uncle Hou?”

She was referring to Hou Feng.

Seven years ago, when Hou Zihao suddenly disappeared, in her panic, she had impulsively gone to the hospital where Hou Feng worked to look for him. Though she knew it was impolite, she did it anyway. Unfortunately, the hospital staff told her that Hou Feng had also resigned, and no one could contact him.

Now, his mother was still in prison… so what about his father? Had he been with him in the UK?

At this point, he finally reacted. His deep eyes reflected the distant, shrinking sun. Half of him was bathed in light, while the other half sank into shadow.

“My father passed away.”

He said.

Detachment was always a safe haven.

By pulling a curtain of calmness, one could suppress unnecessary emotions—like sadness, anger, or fear. Others would also sense this detachment and understand not to probe further, sparing those deep wounds from further exposure. A perfect solution.

Zhou Leqi was left unable to continue asking questions.

She was stunned.

His father… had passed away?

……How could that be?

The memories of that elder were still vivid in her mind. He had been a gentle and kind-hearted man, endlessly patient, who once bailed them out of the police station when they were young and kindly visited her mother at the hospital.

…How could he already be gone?

“When… when did it happen?” She didn’t know how to phrase her words. “What happened?”

Seven years ago, the Haoting case had caused a national uproar, but the media only reported news about his mother. There was no mention of him or his father. She had no idea what had transpired, and her astonishment and confusion were palpable.

In contrast, his reaction was calm.

“Seven years ago,” he replied quietly, his tone devoid of any fluctuation. “A car accident.”

The sunset had completely vanished, and the city was now engulfed by night.

He wasn’t looking at her; his gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon. The lines of his profile appeared even colder, his expressionless face somewhat frightening to others, but to her, it only evoked heartache.

…She felt deep sorrow for him.

She became increasingly aware of how little she knew about him. Perhaps what she knew about the events seven years ago was only the tip of the iceberg. This realization filled her with fear and heartache as she pondered the pain he must have endured alone, transforming from the bright youth he once was into the detached, somewhat melancholic man before her now.

“I’m so sorry…” She didn’t know what else to say.

He glanced at her, offering a faint smile, but there was no light in his eyes. It was an expression Zhou Leqi was all too familiar with—the same hollow smile she had worn back then, tormented by family upheaval and the failure of the college entrance exam.

Her heart ached even more. Though at a loss for words, she still wanted to comfort him. But he didn’t give her the chance. He stood up from the high steps, his tall figure disappearing into the darkness, making it impossible for her to see his face.

“Let’s go.”

He said.

Logically, Zhou Leqi should have returned to her hotel that night—it was just a short walk from the Spanish Steps.

But she refused to go back, insisting instead on checking out and moving her luggage to Hou Zihao’s place.

Of course, he disagreed, his brows furrowed, already intending to bid her farewell. Yet she was stubborn, sitting in the wheelchair without budging, quietly watching him as if silently saying she would stay like this until he gave in.

“My room was originally booked until tonight,” she said. “Now that my money has been stolen, I can’t afford to extend my stay.”

“I can give you money,” he said, growing impatient. “I’ll handle it for you. Staying at my place isn’t appropriate.”

“No,” she firmly rejected him. “I want to stay at your place.”

It made no sense, yet somehow sounded so resolute.

He was speechless with frustration.

She noticed his agitation and resistance, softening her tone slightly. “I’ll only stay at your place until my travel certificate is approved. As soon as it arrives, I’ll return to China. It’ll take at most two days.”

“And my leg is injured,” her voice grew quieter, now tinged with a hint of grievance. “…I really can’t manage alone.”

Pretending to be pitiable, clearly taking advantage of weakness.

…Yet, in the end, he relented.

Once again, he began handling things for her—packing her belongings, checking her out of the hotel. Zhou Leqi simply sat nearby, watching. The only thing she personally did was ask the front desk whether Zeng Ruihong was still at the hotel. The staff checked their computer and informed her that he had left earlier that morning.

Zhou Leqi sighed and thanked the staff.

On the way back to his apartment, both were silent. Hou Zihao sat in the front seat of the taxi, arms crossed. Zhou Leqi knew he was angry—with himself—for giving in to her demands.

She could feel his indulgence and tenderness toward her, which reassured her that his feelings for her still lingered to this day. But this wasn’t enough to give her full security—she needed to understand him more, to know what had happened seven years ago. Not just for her own peace of mind, but for him.

He carried many burdens within him, much like she once had… If no one tended to those festering wounds, anyone would fall ill.

By the time they got out of the taxi and headed upstairs, his emotions had calmed somewhat—he didn’t seem as irritable. But as he carried her suitcase, he remained silent, seemingly sulking.

She didn’t mind, her mind preoccupied with her own plan: She had to seize these two days to break through the subtle barriers between them. Ideally, she needed to find a way to persuade him to return to China with her. Once they were back, everything would be easier to manage. She would have plenty of time and opportunities to make him let down his guard.

They could start over…

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, the sound failing to disrupt her thoughts. However, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadowy figure near the elevator. At the same moment, she keenly sensed the sudden chill emanating from Hou Zihao, standing behind her.

Instinctively, she turned her head to look.

…And saw Yuan Jiahui.