A Quiet Homecoming

Su Xingshu could barely keep his expression in check as he stared at her, his light brown eyes clear and striking, the fire within them like a cornered beast's hopeless struggle.

"And what about me?" He grabbed her wrist, half-forcing her to meet his gaze.

When had this even started? They weren't even in the same class—was it all because of that ridiculous tutoring?

Su Xingshu tugged at the corner of his mouth, thinking bitterly that maybe being a fool wasn't so bad after all.

"You?" Fu Liangxia looked at him, thinking, You've already been conquered—what good are you now? She gave a faint smile and said, "Young Master Su, you're joking. Wasn't it you who looked down on me? Now you come looking for answers? Are all men this naturally cheap? When I was all sweetness, you didn't appreciate it. Now that I'm close with your good brother, you show up like this?"

She stepped forward, tilting her head back to meet his eyes, her smile unreadable. "Young Master Su... jealous, are we?"

Su Xingshu felt the proximity was dangerously close—as if a single dip of his head would let him kiss those lips.

"..."

He looked at her, at those small lips that always said such infuriating things, a strange emotion flickering across his face.

"...Jealous?" His voice came out hoarse as he echoed her question.

"Otherwise, why would Young Master Su show up at my house late at night and corner me for answers?" Fu Liangxia's expression suddenly turned incredulous. "Getting some exercise?"

Su Xingshu fell silent for a moment, as if her question had stumped him, leaving him at a loss for words.

The atmosphere lapsed into an uneasy stillness.

So he hadn't even figured out his own inexplicable behavior before rushing over to interrogate her.

Realizing this from his expression, Fu Liangxia found it absurd, almost funny.

She pulled her wrist free, brushed past him, and headed for the stairs, phone in hand.

But she hadn't gone far when she heard his hesitant voice from behind: "What if I said yes?"

What if it was because he was jealous?

Fu Liangxia's steps faltered, but she didn't turn around. Her tone stayed cool, yet a sly smile tugged at her lips—the look of a fisher spotting a bite on the line.

"Then prove it to me," she said calmly and deliberately. "Show me you're a better choice than Fu Haoyao."

With that, she walked upstairs without looking back.

Su Xingshu was left standing there, his spine stiffening at her words, a complicated expression settling on his face.

A better choice than Fu Haoyao, huh?

*

Su Xingshu went upstairs to check on Fu Liedong, saw him snoring away, blissfully unaware of the world, and left the Fu residence. As he drove off, his gaze swept past a window glowing faintly in the dark.

The curtain wasn't fully drawn, revealing a slender silhouette flickering in and out of view, bathed in moonlight like a painting.

Su Xingshu stared for a long moment, then finally looked away and drove home.

He owned several properties off-campus, his most frequent residence being the penthouse in the Papal District. It was the city's entertainment hub—talent agencies, film crews, and TV stations dotted the area, making it easy to get to concert venues or recording studios.

Outside, skyscrapers stood in tiers, lights blazing, but Su Xingshu sat quietly on the sofa facing the window, with no appreciation for the familiar nightscape.

He tapped into his Moments and scrolled casually, spotting Fu Haoyao's photo again.

This time, though, the disbelief and instinctive avoidance he'd felt earlier were gone.

Forcing himself to open the photo, he endured the inexplicable sourness and replayed Fu Liangxia's words in his mind—

"Show me you're a better choice than Fu Haoyao."

How exactly was he supposed to prove he was better?

Su Xingshu fiddled absently with the lighter in his hand; its flame flickered, illuminating his thoughtful, handsome face.

He'd quit smoking long ago to protect his voice, yet tonight's restlessness made him desperate for something to fill the void.

He'd never been so tormented over a girl before.

It was usually him doing the tormenting.

He thought for a long time on the sofa, until he accidentally broke the lighter's button with a too-hard squeeze.

Finally, he hit on what he could do better than anyone—singing.

That thought struck him, and he tossed the lighter into the trash, then sprang off the sofa and dashed into the media room.

Su Xingshu knew he was good-looking and a great singer—why else would he be a national idol with sold-out concerts and albums flying off the shelves?

He just wasn't sure if Fu Liangxia liked rock.

His gaze landed on the guitar in the corner. He loved rock, he thought, but folk rock wasn't a deal-breaker either.

If she didn't care for folk rock, he wouldn't mind broadening his repertoire and moving toward pop.

As for his earlier vow that "I'll never write songs for anyone; that's crap," that had been tossed aside long ago.

Crap it was—so what if he acted like a dog? What did Fu Haoyao know about this?

Su Xingshu thought, At least I've still got an edge.

With that, he smirked, but it quickly faded.

So what was it about Fu Haoyao that drew her? His purity?

Unfortunately, that was the one thing he was short on.

But what did it matter? Adults had their schemes, and a little cunning wasn't a bad thing.

So, Su Xingshu picked up a jet-black guitar, changed into a thin athletic shirt that showed off his strong arms and a too-large collar hinting at his chest, and set about being deliberately provocative.

With the night sky glowing behind the floor-to-ceiling window, he sat there and serenaded a love song on camera.

Set against the glittering cityscape, the simple melody somehow gained a haunting charm as he sang.

Su Xingshu watched the video, wondering if it was too flashy, as if he were some man with no decorum.

He rarely gave fans this much, so he must be shameless.

Tapping on Fu Liangxia's profile, he hesitated to send it—it'd look narcissistic, like he was just sending self-promotional clips.

So he backed out, thinking it was too deliberate; he needed a more natural approach.

So he posted it to Moments, visible only to her.

Would she listen?

He didn't know. After posting, he stared at her avatar in his chat list, hoping for a red notification dot but dreading it too.

He refreshed his Moments over and over, unsure what he was waiting for.

A new kind of anxiety, an unfamiliar experience.

Su Xingshu told himself this was normal—he felt the same when releasing new songs.

The anticipation was par for the course, except this time, there was only one listener.

But she was busy—would she even see it? Maybe he should be more proactive.

He mulled it over, then opened their chat: "Busy? How's your brother?"

When Fu Liangxia got the message, she was scribbling away at her homework. She smirked, amused—so Su Xingshu could be this bad at small talk.

Her brother was just drunk; what could be wrong with him? He was passed out like a rag doll.

Fu Liangxia: "If you're so worried about Fu Liedong, why didn't you stay to look after him?"

Su Xingshu only saw one word in that message: "stay."

His mind wandered—if he'd stayed at the Fu house, that'd practically put him in the same space as her... and ignoring Fu Liedong, a drunkard, they'd be alone together. What was that if not a date?

A smile tugged at his lips.

He typed: "You know he was just an excuse."

Fu Liangxia: "Oh?"

Su Xingshu: "Recorded a new song today. Want to listen?"

Fu Liangxia smirked at the message. "Sure. An exclusive version?"

Su Xingshu: "Just for you."

Then Fu Liangxia received the video he'd recorded, the thumbnail showcasing his handsome face and a glimpse of chest through the loose collar.

What a scheming man.

Fu Liangxia sneered inwardly, but her fingers itched to click.

In the video, Su Xingshu kept his gaze lowered, fingers strumming lazily—a relaxed pose that somehow exuded a seductive, almost hypnotic charm.

He was blessed by heaven, she thought the moment he started singing.

His success wasn't just about his face—no, his voice was a low, husky blend of youth and adulthood, no flashy technique, yet it turned a simple song into something refined and niche.

It was good, but it was more than good.

His idol aura added to his appeal, but when he held a mic, his entire presence shifted.

Especially the way he looked up at the camera at the end—it felt like he was staring right through the screen, so striking you wanted to scream.

It was an even better asset than those fan-service photos.

Fu Liangxia's mood brightened. She typed, "Is it really just for me?"

Su Xingshu: "Mhm."

Su Xingshu: "How is it?"

Fu Liangxia: "Sounds great."

And the fan club would love it too, she thought.

With a few deft taps, she packaged the video and sent it to the fan club president.

Back at his end, seeing her reply, Su Xingshu's hesitation about being too flashy vanished. His brow arched.

"Glad you like it."

Flashy or not, it worked.

Maybe she liked flashy men. Could Fu Haoyao ever pull this off?

Su Xingshu flopped onto the sofa in high spirits, phone held up, the light illuminating his handsome face amidst tousled hair.

His gaze lingered on those three words, when a new message came through: "It'd be so romantic to listen to music by the campfire during the camping trip, wouldn't it?"