Was she angry?
Of course she was.
The person she loved had decided—because he didn't want her to overwork—to give what was originally meant for her to some other woman. Just thinking about it made her want to pick up a whip and lash him the way she usually did A-Cao and the others—until he could only curl up in her arms, crying and begging for forgiveness.
Was she happy?
There was no need to question that either.
After a brief moment of hesitation, what rose up inside her was still sweetness—along with a cautious, almost timid probing.
Ever since he had "saved" her, she had been receiving his kindness again and again… and yet what she could give back always felt painfully insufficient.
So all she could do was endure in silence—watch him warm her hands, then leave like a gust of wind, lingering floral scent in his wake… and then, with the same warmth, place that heat into someone else's palms.
That trust.
That innocence.
That way he seemed willing to hand over all the light and warmth in his heart—
It drew moths in.
Some would test him again and again until they turned to ash.
Others would creep closer with greedy patience, trying to use their own wings to cover him forever.
And when that day came… where would you go?
Ah. If that was how it was going to be, what could she even say?
Sourness and sweetness tangled together until, in the end, they fermented into a bitterness no one could quite name.
And later…
That feeling became dry kindling—waiting for the smallest spark, and it would become a wildfire.
The giant glass dome of Guangying Plaza kneaded the afternoon sun into countless flecks of gold, scattering them generously across every corner of the Li Cha Tea & Milk shop.
Cars swam through the road outside like schools of fish; their passing shadows added a dreamy layer to this midday encounter.
Inside, the grain of the wooden tabletop was clear and warm. Two glass cups were beaded with fine condensation; droplets slid down slowly, leaving winding trails. The air was a sweet shield—milk's heavy fragrance braided with bright tea, and the caramel scent of freshly baked waffles—sealing the shop's soft happiness away from the city's noise.
Qianye's fingers traced idle circles on the table. Sunlight danced on his long lashes, casting small fan-shaped shadows. His gaze never left the girl opposite him, those emerald eyes filled with careful, tentative probing.
"So, Lucy…" he finally said, voice gentle—like he was soothing an angry cat. He nudged a cup toward her, its surface decorated with delicate caramel lines. The cup-bottom whispered against wood, as if keeping time for his words.
"Don't be mad anymore… okay?"
Lucy let out a small snort. Her crimson pupils glimmered like amber in the sunlight, but she deliberately turned her head away, her golden ponytail drawing a proud, sulky arc.
The ends of it brushed past Qianye's cheek—faintly ticklish—carrying a trace of violet perfume.
Her favorite.
Sweet, but not cloying. Thorny, but captivating—just like her.
She wrapped slender fingers around the cup, paused against the cool slickness of the condensation, then lowered her head and bit the straw.
The moment the overly sweet tea-milk hit her tongue, her brows snapped together. Like she'd tasted poison, she shoved the cup away with visible disgust. The bottom struck the table with a crisp clink.
"This tea-milk is sickeningly sweet!" Her voice jumped an octave, pulling curious looks from nearby customers. "Qianye, are you trying to make my waistline turn into Bernice's tires?! Or—"
She narrowed her eyes, a "dangerous" smile spreading.
"Did you deliberately pick something that'll make me fat so nobody will want me?"
Qianye fidgeted, rubbing his fingertips together like a child caught doing something wrong, eyes skittering everywhere except hers.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I read that sweet things increase dopamine… the hormone that makes people happy… I thought…"
His voice shrank until it was barely more than a whisper to himself.
"You thought?" Lucy arched a brow, tapping lightly on the tabletop. "You thought I'm the kind of ordinary girl you can pacify with sugar?"
But the slight lift at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Before her sentence could finish, she turned back—pony tail brushing his jaw again—then, faster than he could react, swapped the cups.
She pushed her rejected cup toward him and pulled his three-sugar cup to herself in one fluid motion, smooth as a magician's practiced sleight of hand.
When she sealed her lips around the new straw, her eyes curved with smug delight—like a cat that had successfully stolen something it shouldn't. Even her nose scrunched in satisfaction, tiny freckles flickering in and out under the light.
"Fine," she said, lifting her chin in a show of magnanimous charity. "If that's the case, you can drink the sweet one. I'll graciously swap with you."
Her tone sounded like a question but wasn't.
"Yours is three-sugar, right."
Unexpectedly sweet…
But her smile froze when she noticed Qianye's conflicted expression as he stared at the straw—one with faint tooth marks on it.
The sunlight suddenly felt too sharp.
The fire in her pupils flared. She unconsciously ground her small tiger-teeth against her lower lip, tapping the table harder until the crisp sounds began to cut.
"Qianye!" Her voice snapped tight like an overstretched string. "Is my saliva harder to swallow than Bernice's fuel?!"
More heads turned.
Lucy didn't care. Her entire world narrowed to the flustered boy across from her.
"No—it's not that," Qianye waved both hands in panic. The tips of his ears turned translucent red in the bright light, like ripe pomegranate seeds. "It's just… um… indirect kissing…"
The last words fell into the shop's background music and nearly vanished.
"There is no 'just'!" Lucy lunged forward. The tea-milk rippled from the impact, ice clicking faintly. She leaned across the table, almost crashing into him, red eyes locking onto his. Her finger hammered the straw as if it were evidence in a trial.
"I didn't嫌弃 you. So you should give me the same trust!"
Her voice carried a hurt she didn't even realize she'd revealed—like betrayal from the person she trusted most.
"Now. Immediately. Put it in your mouth."
Qianye stared at the small tooth marks, then at her stubborn, burning gaze—as if searching for something inside it.
Under the dome's gold light, his hair shimmered, and a soft halo seemed to wrap around him. Finally, he exhaled like a man accepting defeat. His shoulders lowered a fraction, like he'd set down a hidden weight.
Slowly, he leaned in. Sunlight caught the edge of his reddened ear, turning the fine fuzz there into a faint gold.
When his lips finally touched the straw, Lucy's victorious grin bloomed brighter than the sun outside. Even her brows looked like they were dancing.
She didn't notice her fist had clenched tight enough to dig nails into her palm.
Time stretched.
Lucy could clearly see the line of his throat as he swallowed, the tremble in his lashes, the fine lines at his knuckles as he held the cup. A sudden, selfish wish rose in her—
That time would stop right there.
That he would keep holding that straw.
That he would keep staying in her sight.
Then Qianye's phone vibrated on the table, buzzing like an anxious beetle.
Lucy watched his expression change the instant he read the message. Her fingers tightened. The ice in her cup gave a tiny crack.
That familiar, suffocating foreboding seized her heart.
And sure enough, the next second he was already on his feet, sunlight scattering as he moved.
"Sorry, Lucy—Sixth Street…" His voice was rushed, eyes flickering, unable to finish a full sentence.
Before the last syllable could settle, he was gone.
The door chime swung uselessly, ringing clear and lonely.
Lucy stared after him and sighed, soft as breath.
"Every time… you can't even say goodbye without sounding like you're fleeing a disaster…"
Her voice was so light it was nearly swallowed by the music.
She lowered her head, watching the liquid in the cup settle and sway. Then she noticed Qianye's tea-milk—barely touched.
Her mood sank further, as if the untouched drink were an omen.
"Lady Lucy!"
A familiar voice rose behind her—like a shadow stepping out of nowhere.
A man in a sharply tailored suit stood there, shoes polished so bright they made no sound on the marble floor. He didn't belong in this warm little shop.
Lucy's expression iced over. A flash of hidden disgust slipped through her crimson eyes.
"You—how many times have I told you not to show up—"
"Apologies, Lady Lucy." The man lowered his head slightly. "I know you don't wish to see me, but this time is different. I bear the duty of delivering Lord Montef's order."
"'Order'…" Lucy gave a cold laugh. "He always commands people like he can hold the entire world in his palm. Listen—right now, I'm not interested—"
"Lucy."
The suit man's voice softened, and for a moment it held a strange kind of restraint.
"Whether it's a lover or a friend… a truly deep bond can only be forged in the earliest days."
"But the person you value… is fated not to stay in a single nest forever."
Lucy fell silent.
The man watched her, pained, and continued.
"I no longer wish to interfere in your life so crudely. But that does not mean I do not want to help you."
"So—Lucy, my beloved daughter…"
"When the day comes that you need your father's help, do not hesitate. Do not refuse. Speak bravely, and accept my goodwill."
"That… is my truest wish."
He straightened.
"Lady Lucy, that is what Lord Montef wished me to convey. If you do not wish to see me, I will—"
Lucy's fingers unconsciously wound a strand of hair around themselves—golden thread tightening and loosening.
Those words were like a key, unlocking a corner she had sealed away.
Her gaze softened. The tension in her shoulders eased.
"…Wait."
"Yes, Lady Lucy!" The man practically snapped to attention.
As he turned, she spoke again—surprisingly urgent, even to herself.
From her chest she drew out a treasured photograph, edges rubbed pale from repeated handling. Her fingers trembled when she held it out. In the sunlight, the smiles on the paper felt painfully bright—
A picture of her and Qianye, taken on another afternoon just as radiant.
"Show them this…" Her voice snagged for a beat, then she forced it back into her usual haughty tone.
"Waaah—Lady Lucy! I knew the adorable you from back then wouldn't stay so cold—"
Thud.
The whip handle struck his abdomen so fast it left an afterimage. The man grunted—yet his expression looked almost… relieved.
"Go!" Lucy snapped, hiding the tremor in her heart behind anger. "Now!"
When he disappeared, she turned—only to catch the shop clerk, Coco, sneaking a hand toward Qianye's untouched tea-milk. The petite girl's eyes were wide, guilt written all over her face.
"Hey!"
Lucy's whip cracked down on the tabletop with a loud 啪, startling Coco so badly she jumped, nearly knocking over the sugar jar.
"That cup is my spoils of war!"
Coco pouted, hand still half-extended, voice shrinking under Lucy's glare.
"But… it's such a waste…"
"You shameless girl…" Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, sunlight outlining her helpless, bristling pride in an almost comical way. "Why does this scene happen every time…"
She grabbed the cup and took a fierce pull from the straw, cheeks puffed, glaring at Coco like a food-guarding squirrel.
Coco was clearly amused but didn't dare laugh out loud; her shoulders shook as she tried to hold it in.
"Sorry, Miss Lucy," she whispered. "It's just… you always treasure anything Mr. Qianye leaves behind, so…"
Lucy choked on the tea-milk, coughing hard.
Coco rushed to offer tissues, but Lucy shoved them away.
"Y-You're talking nonsense!" Lucy's cheeks flushed—maybe from the cough, maybe not. "I just hate wasting things, that's all!"
Her voice wasn't as convincing as she wanted it to be.
"…I just can't stand waste. That's all… really…"
And then—so softly it was almost carried off by the wind—
"I just… want to make a few more memories with you."
Her words were light.
A breeze passed through, scattering every last piece of her armor into the sunlight.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 139)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter171)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter100)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter184)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 168
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 156
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 105
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 185
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 160
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 150
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 76
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 97
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 66
Uma Musume: From Beginner 116
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 75
Uma Musume: I Want All 93
I Can Copy Unique Skills 79
Summoning an Evil God, but the 55
Supernatural Multiverse 75
My Harem Is Indescribable 68
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 70
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 66
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 69
Still playing traditional Honk 49
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 53
What Should I Do After Switchi 42
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 50
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 38
Transmigrated as Sukuna 35
Checking In in Demon Slayer 40
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 55
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