Chapter 41

Shang Zhitao couldn't understand why she had gotten into Luan Nian's car again. She had clearly been standing there waiting for the bus, but the bus never came. She saw Luan Nian's car approaching, and what little dignity she had left made her turn her face away, pretending not to see him.

Yet Luan Nian stopped the car in front of her and said, "Get in."

"Thank you, I'll wait for the bus." Shang Zhitao stopped speaking and didn't look at him. The grievances in her heart had nowhere to go, hidden deep within her—not overwhelming, yet impossible to ignore. She secretly hoped Luan Nian would say something gentle, like "You're working hard, I see it," or "To err is human, making mistakes is okay, I can cover for you." Just a few words like that, the way he spoke to Kitty would be enough. Shang Zhitao didn't know why she was comparing herself to Kitty, but the feeling of unhappiness always stemmed from comparison.

Luan Nian didn't speak either, just looked at her. This kind of standoff between a man and a woman was about seeing who was weaker. Shang Zhitao couldn't withstand his scrutiny; even when she turned away, she could still feel Luan Nian's cold gaze enveloping her tightly.

The young girl had never engaged in such a battle of wills with anyone before, and gradually she began to falter, ultimately losing completely. In a daze, she got into Luan Nian's car.

"Where to?" Luan Nian asked her, seemingly giving her the decision, though both of them knew the answer perfectly well—Shang Zhitao could only go to his place. Luan Nian understood Shang Zhitao better than she understood herself.

Shang Zhitao struggled against him, ignored him, avoided him—it all seemed principled and stubborn, but from the inside out, it was clear: Shang Zhitao liked Luan Nian. Luan Nian could see it.

This visible affection intrigued Luan Nian. He was often liked by others, but Shang Zhitao's sacrificial kind of love was something new. As he drove, he thought to himself that he was actually despicable. He was the one who first felt desire for Shang Zhitao, then wove a net to trap her. Sometimes, watching Shang Zhitao's attempts to conceal her feelings, he felt he would face retribution.

He parked the car in the underground garage but didn't get out immediately. Instead, he said to Shang Zhitao, "Flora, let's talk."

Shang Zhitao turned to look at him, a warm light in her eyes.

"First, our relationship is that of sexual partners, not lovers. Do you agree?" Luan Nian wanted to make things clear once and for all, so they wouldn't have to waste effort defining their relationship anymore. Sex was sex, love was love—everything neatly separated.

Shang Zhitao turned her face back toward the car window, her mind blank for a moment. After a few seconds, she said, "Mm, I agree."

"So, we don't need to restrict each other. If either of us wants to start a relationship or be with someone else, we should be honest about it and end our arrangement. Do you agree?"

Shang Zhitao finally understood what sexual partners meant. So this was it—fulfilling each other's needs without interfering with meeting other people. It was truly freeing. She nodded, "I agree."

"Then, we can't tell anyone about our relationship, right? Not family, friends, or colleagues?" Shang Zhitao asked him.

"I think so. Do you feel the same way?"

Shang Zhitao was so indecisive. She had seen too little of society and the world, and she didn’t know if all girls would encounter such things. She had clearly rejected Luan Nian in her heart, yet her head nodded. She saw Luan Nian smile. Luan Nian looked very handsome when he smiled. He didn’t smile often, but on the rare occasions he did, it was utterly captivating.

Later, when her train left Beijing, the wheels grinding against the rails with a dull rumble, her heart felt as if it had been crushed. Suddenly, she remembered Luan Nian’s smile that night. It was clearly mocking her for being a fool.

“Luke, I’m hungry. Could you make me something to eat?” She couldn’t break the habit of addressing Luan Nian with “you,” as she always held a deep reverence for him. Shang Zhitao ended the topic, feeling there was nothing to discuss. It was like a chess game with a clear outcome—no matter which piece he moved, she was already checkmated.

“Alright.” Luan Nian got out of the car and opened the door for her.

She loved watching Luan Nian cook. She waited obediently as he rolled up his sleeves to make pasta and pan-sear steak for her. That stern man seemed to have stepped down from his pedestal. Shang Zhitao found the scene incredibly sensual. She walked over, pinched the corner of his shirt, and tugged gently.

“Luke, I don’t want to eat anymore.”

“Hmm?”

Luan Nian tilted his head to look at her. Shang Zhitao stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips lightly against his jaw, then looked up at him. “Let’s do something else.”

Luan Nian’s voice was slightly hoarse. “Like what?”

Shang Zhitao didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled his collar, urging him to lower his head, and bit his chin. “Like this.”

Shang Zhitao hadn’t been so bold before. When she was with Xin Zhaozhou, she was always shy. But in front of Luan Nian, she felt completely uninhibited. Her body followed her desires, doing whatever she wanted, while her mind screamed: We don’t love each other anyway.

If there was no love, then there was only sex.

Shang Zhitao understood this clearly and thoroughly. Since there was only sex, she might as well enjoy it. This novel experience showed her another side of the world—a side that wasn’t as bright as she had imagined, nor was it utterly dark. It was just brutally real, and not particularly beautiful.

Leaning on the sofa, Shang Zhitao suddenly looked up and saw a few lonely snow lines outside. She murmured intermittently, “It’s snowing.” It was the first snow of winter in Beijing that year. Snow had been rare in Beijing in recent years, making that thin layer of snow especially precious.

“Want to enjoy the snow?” Luan Nian asked her.

“Yes.”

He carried her to the window. The dim light in the small courtyard, the faint snow, and the sense of desolation surrounded them. The cold glass pressed against her feverish skin, raising a fine layer of goosebumps. She whimpered and burrowed into his arms. “It’s cold…” Her voice trailed off again, her strength completely spent, surrendering to his every whim.

How much does a child raised in an ice city love snow? Shang Zhitao refused to go upstairs, wrapping herself in a blanket to watch the snow. Luan Nian didn’t go upstairs either, sitting on the sofa and flipping through a book. He felt an unusual sense of satisfaction, the hostility in his heart diminishing slightly. Looking at Shang Zhitao now, he thought she was actually quite a pleasing sight.

Wasn’t she? A woman who had just experienced a wild bout of passion now sat quietly leaning to the side, a faint blush still lingering on her cheeks as she earnestly admired the snow. She looked exceptionally agreeable.

Luan Nian had no other demands. This was just fine.

At four in the morning, Shang Zhitao finally couldn't hold out any longer and went upstairs to that guest room. Though it was only her third time sleeping there, it felt familiar. She bid Luan Nian goodnight, closed the door, climbed into bed, and turned off the night light. Darkness arrived as expected. The girl from the northern lands caught the scent of snow outside and fell into an exceptionally deep sleep.

She had let go of her worries. In fact, she didn't really have any worries—her only concern these past few days had been her stubborn standoff with Luan Nian. When she opened her eyes the next day and recalled what Luan Nian had said to her the previous night, their relationship became clear and unambiguous, with no need for further elaboration.

She got up and dressed. Luan Nian was still asleep, so she brushed her teeth and washed her face quietly before leaving his home. The villa complex was quite large, and it took her over ten minutes each time to walk to the gate. Strangely, the security guard already recognized her and even nodded at her. But his gaze was odd—hard to tell whether it was disdain or pity. Shang Zhitao didn't have the mind to dwell on it; her thirst for knowledge made her want to return home early, as Sun Yuanzhu had promised to explain data analysis logic to her.

Shang Zhitao wanted to become better. She hadn't thought about how much better exactly, but she hoped to make a little progress every day. In her imagination, years later, she would become strong and capable, able to speak with Luan Nian as an equal.

When she entered the apartment, Sun Yuanzhu was already awake. Seeing Shang Zhitao, he smiled and asked, "Back?"

Shang Zhitao nodded.

In a city like Beijing, many things didn't need to be explained in detail. A girl staying out all night, with traces of the previous evening still on her skin—everything was obvious at a glance, and asking further would be pointless. Sun Yuanzhu wasn't foolish.

But he didn't misunderstand Shang Zhitao because of it. He thought she had fallen in love—a love that didn't seem to bring her much joy.

"Get some more sleep. I'll work overtime for a bit, and I'll explain it to you this afternoon, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you." Shang Zhitao returned to her bedroom, climbed into bed, and actually slept a little longer.

Her relationship with Luan Nian existed only on Friday nights. This actually suited Shang Zhitao quite well—she had already planned to study over the weekends, so nothing was disrupted.

Sun Yuanzhu was an excellent teacher.

He even brought a small blackboard and placed it in front of the dining table, standing there like a youth frozen in time. How could anyone be so pure? Sun Yu sat beside Shang Zhitao and sent her a message: "Shang Zhitao, why is Sun Yuanzhu so pure?"

Shang Zhitao didn't know why either. Sun Yuanzhu was just that kind of person—a twenty-six-year-old who still carried the clean, youthful aura of a boy. In Shang Zhitao's heart, Sun Yuanzhu remained untouched by the dust of the world. Always.

"Shang Zhitao, I'm fickle. It's only been two or three months since my breakup, but I've already fallen for Sun Yuanzhu," Sun Yu whispered to her.

Shang Zhitao let out a soft "wow" and looked up from her phone. Sun Yuanzhu stopped his lecture and asked seriously, "Any questions, classmate?"

Shang Zhitao shook her head and glanced at Sun Yu. "Teacher, I don't have any questions, but she does."

Sun Yu, unusually, blushed. "I don't either. How about you start over from the beginning, teacher? I didn't understand from the first sentence." Sun Yu was so clever—she could calculate rebates and payments off the top of her head—yet she claimed not to understand. It was nothing more than wanting to hear Sun Yuanzhu speak a few more sentences.

Sun Yuanzhu was truly patient—patient and a bit awkward. "Then I'll explain it again."

"Should I leave?" Shang Zhitao secretly messaged Sun Yu.

"Don't." Sun Yu replied: "I just said it offhand, I don't have the courage."

"You don't have the courage?" Shang Zhitao was a bit surprised. You're the fearless Sun Yu, how could you lack courage?

"I don't."

He's too good. Sun Yu said in her heart.

Sun Yu was telling the truth. A boy as warm and pure as Sun Yuanzhu could only be admired from afar. Even if other girls wanted to approach him, Sun Yu would feel the urge to stand protectively in front of him.

Shang Zhitao studied very seriously. She could attend such top-tier data analysis classes for free, taught personally by outstanding student representatives from top domestic universities. Others didn't have this kind of luck, but she did.

She glanced at Sun Yuanzhu, then at Sun Yu, her gaze gentle yet holding untold stories.