Lin Mo nearly dropped the food box in his hands when Shi Huai addressed him as “Brother Lin,” and his whole body gave a startled shiver.
He drew a deep breath and walked into the classroom with stiff, awkward steps.
After stopping beside Shi Huai’s desk, he set the food box down and opened it. Inside was a plate of exquisitely made osmanthus cakes.
The cakes had been shaped like osmanthus blossoms as well. Golden petals unfolded in layer upon layer, releasing a faint, delicate fragrance.
“These are... I asked my cook to make them. Brother Shi Huai, please try one.”
Lin Mo’s voice was still very soft, as though he were afraid of disturbing something. He never dared let his gaze fall on Shi Huai’s face, staring instead at the food box on the desk as if it were some priceless treasure.
Shi Huai looked at the osmanthus cakes, then at Lin Mo’s flushed face and faintly trembling fingers. An indescribable feeling welled up inside him.
The boy was far too shy—so shy that refusing him felt impossible.
“Thank you, Brother Lin. Then I won’t stand on ceremony.”
Shi Huai picked up a cake and took a bite. It was soft, sticky, and sweet, while the delicate fragrance of osmanthus slowly spread through his mouth. Sweet without being cloying, it was indeed delicious.
Lin Mo secretly lifted his eyes and glanced at him. When he saw Shi Huai narrowing his eyes in satisfaction, his heart began pounding like a drum.
His palms were slick with sweat, and his entire body felt as though it had been immersed in a jar of honey, sweet from head to toe.
“Is it... is it good?”
Lin Mo’s voice trembled. His fingers twisted together inside his sleeves until his knuckles turned white, again and again.
“It’s good. Much better than the ones sold outside.”
Shi Huai finished the rest of the cake in one bite. A few crumbs clung to his fingertips, so he wiped them away with a handkerchief. Then he looked up at Lin Mo and said seriously, “Brother Lin, the inkstone and brush you gave me are far too valuable. I can’t accept them. You should take them back...”
Lin Mo’s face changed at once, flushing crimson before turning deathly pale. His lips trembled, and his eyes grew slightly red as his voice took on a tone that sounded as though he were about to cry.
“Brother Shi Huai, that... that was a token of my sincerity. You... you don’t like them?”
“It’s not that I don’t like them. They’re simply too valuable.” Shi Huai softened his voice, his gentle tone difficult to resist. “It was only a brush. It wasn’t worth giving me something so expensive. If you really want to thank me, just treat me to a cup of tea another day.”
Lin Mo’s eyes lit up, like a drowning man who had suddenly grasped a lifeline. Most of the tears vanished from his voice as he asked eagerly, “Really? You’re willing to have tea with me, Brother Shi Huai?”
“Of course. We’re classmates. What’s there to object to about having tea together?”
Shi Huai’s smile was like ripples stirred across a lake by the spring breeze, so gentle it made one want to cry.
Looking at that smile, Lin Mo felt as though an invisible hand had suddenly clenched around his heart.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found that his voice was stuck in his throat and would not come out.
In the end, Lin Mo could only nod vigorously before turning and hurrying out of the classroom, his footsteps so fast that he seemed to be fleeing.
He was afraid that if he stayed even one second longer, he would lose control and do something embarrassing.
As Lin Mo left Class A, he ran straight into Shen Jinghong’s half-lidded, alluring eyes.
Shen Jinghong was leaning against a pillar in the corridor, arms folded across his chest. A faint, amused smile curved his lips, making it look as though he had been standing there for quite some time.
“Lin Mo, you’re pretty generous, aren’t you? First an inkstone, then osmanthus cakes. What’s next? Are you going to give Shi Huai your family estate?”
Shen Jinghong’s voice was neither loud nor soft. His tone was languid, but there was not a trace of amusement in those alluring eyes.
Lin Mo’s face flushed bright red. His lips trembled, and after a long moment he managed to stammer, “I... I wasn’t. I just...”
“You just what?”
Shen Jinghong straightened and looked down at Lin Mo, who was half a head shorter than him. The chill in his alluring eyes was as sharp as shards of winter ice.
“I’m warning you: stay away from Shi Huai. He isn’t someone you should be setting your sights on.”
Lin Mo’s face went from crimson to deathly pale. His lips trembled even harder, and his eyes filled with tears, but he bit down on his lip and refused to let them fall.
He raised his head and met Shen Jinghong’s gaze. Though his voice shook, he did not back down.
“Brother Shen, it isn’t up to you to decide who Brother Shi Huai associates with.”
With that, he lowered his head and hurried away, his footsteps as quick as though he were running for his life.
Shen Jinghong remained where he was, watching Lin Mo’s flustered retreat. His alluring eyes narrowed slightly, and his fingers clenched inside his sleeves until they creaked.
At dusk, when classes ended, Shi Huai finished gathering his things and walked out of the classroom, only to discover that Shen Jinghong was not following half a step behind him as he usually did.
Instead, he was leaning against a pillar in the corridor, holding something in his hand and seeming lost in thought.
“Brother Shen, aren’t you leaving?” Shi Huai stopped and glanced at him.
Shen Jinghong came back to himself and slipped the object in his hand into his sleeve. He looked up and smiled at Shi Huai. He appeared no different from usual, yet Shi Huai couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
“Let’s go. We’ll leave together.”
Shen Jinghong walked over and followed half a step behind him, maintaining that perfectly measured distance—not too close, not too far.
The two of them walked out through the gates of the Imperial College, where Qinghe was already waiting.
“Young Master, you’re right on time today.”
“I didn’t fall asleep today.”
Shen Jinghong stood at the gates of the Imperial College and watched Shi Huai and Qinghe walk toward the carriage. He watched as the carriage slowly disappeared into the evening dusk.
Then he took the object from his sleeve. It was a small inkstone, its stone fine and warm to the touch, its carving exquisite. It was identical to the one Lin Mo had given Shi Huai.
He had sent someone to purchase an identical inkstone from the market, intending to find an opportunity to return it to Lin Mo.
He didn’t want Shi Huai to owe Lin Mo anything—not even the slightest debt.
Shen Jinghong turned the inkstone over in his hand several times. In the end, he slipped it back into his sleeve and turned toward his own carriage.
Inside the carriage, Qinghe tidied the hair that the wind had tousled while speaking in a low voice.
“Young Master, another guest came to the residence today. She said she was your classmate’s older sister—the one surnamed Shen, Young Master Shen Jinghong.”
Shi Huai had been resting with his eyes closed. At those words, he opened them and frowned slightly.
“Shen Jinghong’s older sister?”
Shen Jinghong had only one older sister: Imperial Consort Shen, the emperor’s most favored consort.
“What did she say her name was?” Shi Huai asked.
“She only said that she was surnamed Shen and didn’t give her name. She just said she was Young Master Shen’s older sister. She’s very beautiful, too.”
Qinghe thought for a moment before adding, “But she spoke rather strangely and asked a lot of questions about you.”
Shi Huai’s frown deepened. He had a vague feeling that something was wrong, but he said nothing more. He merely nodded to show that he understood.
