Fifteen Fifteen

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Xia Songbai was enjoying his meal when he saw Lian Sheng enter. Since there were no seats available, he had to remain at the doorway, occupying the least honorable spot.

It was quite strange. Although in the original story, Lian Sheng was portrayed as an all-powerful figure, seemingly one of the top people in the city, the reality was different. Currently, Lian Sheng wasn’t as formidable as the legend suggested. People respected the Lian family, but for him—the heir apparent who hadn’t truly taken control yet—most of the respect was merely superficial politeness.

This was because the original story revolved around him and Ning Qing, granting him privileges as a protagonist.

However, upon truly entering the novel’s world and shifting the main perspective away from those two, Lian Sheng wasn’t actually that outstanding.

Xia Songbai was lost in thought when Shen Tingzong helped him pick up some food. He instinctively thanked him, then suddenly noticed a gaze upon him.

Turning his head, Xia Songbai saw Lian Sheng looking at him with a shocked expression.

Their eyes met, and Xia Songbai silently put down his chopsticks. His lips twitched slightly but he didn’t smile.

If he smiled now, given Lian Sheng’s petty nature, the latter might think he was being mocked.

Seeing that he stopped eating, Shen Tingzong asked, “Not to your taste?”

Glancing at the dish, there was only a piece of fish belly left. Shen Tingzong picked up a piece of osmanthus-flavored sweet and sour pork rib for Xia Songbai.

Actually, Xia could have picked it up himself.

But this was a gesture from a big shot, and even if he showed no expression now, sitting at Lian Sheng’s head seat meant Lian Sheng would definitely remember him.

Having come to this realization, Xia Songbai picked up his chopsticks again and obediently continued eating.

He ate with grace and enthusiasm but never rudely. When he found a dish to his liking, his eyes would suddenly brighten. His face was small, his eyes large, and with his snow-white skin and jet-black brows and eyes, the contrast was striking. Even when not smiling, his eyes curved gently, and when silently looking at someone, he seemed to be coquettish.

Shen Tingzong glanced at the newly seated Lian Sheng and casually withdrew his gaze.

The youngest son of the Lian family.

Still not impressive enough for him.

A glint of silver flashed—the engagement ring on Xia Songbai’s finger caught the light, flickering with an ambiguous glow against his pale, slightly pink knuckles.

Because of Lian Sheng’s earlier words, Xia Songbai now always remembered to wear the ring whenever he went out with him.

He noticed Shen Tingzong seemed to be looking at his hand and asked curiously, “What’s up?”

Shen Tingzong leaned slightly, shielding the light behind his body. The glow from Xia Songbai’s ring vanished, and with a dark gaze and a slight smile, Shen said, “Nothing.”

—

Throughout the banquet, Lian Sheng ate without appetite, unable to understand why Xia Songbai was here and why Shen Tingzong seemed to be paying him special attention.

— He hadn’t even picked up a single piece of food for Xia Songbai, his own fiancé.

Previously, Lian Sheng thought Lian Runwen had misjudged by trying to use Xia Songbai to improve relations with Shen Tingzong. The five million was insignificant to Shen and didn’t prove any real connection between Shen and Xia Songbai.

But now it seemed… maybe Lian Runwen was right.

Shen Tingzong treated Xia Songbai differently from others.

Still, Lian Sheng gave no thought beyond that. After all, the difference between Shen Tingzong and Xia Songbai was enormous—not in age.

Both were attractive, and side by side, equally pleasing to the eye.

But their temperaments were worlds apart.

Shen Tingzong had a cold and sharp aura. No matter how handsome or gentle he appeared, his presence was overwhelming—like a top-tier Alpha effortlessly dominating a subordinate, naturally compelling submission.

Every time Lian Sheng saw Shen Tingzong, he felt an inexplicable jealousy deep inside, sensing that no matter how hard he tried, he might never reach Shen’s heights in this lifetime.

As for Xia Songbai…

He was too beautiful—so harmlessly beautiful that no one felt wary, like a lovely flower or a masterpiece to admire, perhaps to possess, but never to regard as an equal.

Would a man like Shen Tingzong truly like anyone?

Even if he did, it would never be someone like Xia Songbai.

Beautiful but superficial—mere adornment, never truly cherished.

The banquet ended with all guests satisfied, except Lian Sheng, who remained distracted. Afterward, he merely told Xia Songbai to wait and hurried off to greet the principal.

Xia Songbai stood by the roadside waiting. From the garage, a McLaren pulled up and stopped before him.

The window rolled down, and inside, Quan Shaobo smiled ambiguously: “Need a ride?”

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Wasn’t a member of Beijing’s elite supposed to drive a Maybach?

Another stereotype broken.

Xia Songbai obediently replied, “No need, my fiancé will take me.”

“Fiancé?” Quan Shaobo sneered. “You’re a senior? Shouldn’t you be interning? Want to come to my company?”

“Aren’t you not from Beijing?”

“Lately I’ve been in Hong Kong,” Quan Shaobo said. “Nothing to do, so I opened a branch. How about I give you an internship certificate?”

Xia Songbai: …

“We don’t need internship certificates at our school.”

Quan Shaobo’s phoenix eyes swept him once. “True, with Shen Tingzong around, you don’t need one.”

Only when alone with him did Quan Shaobo call Shen Tingzong by name without any respect.

Xia Songbai disliked that tone but merely smiled faintly. “You’re right.”

See, he simply looked down on the company.

Hmph, did he think he was so cool?

Quan Shaobo’s gaze fixed on Xia Songbai, his tone neither pleased nor angry: “Got it, Xia.”

The last two words were spoken low, tinged with an ambiguous, aggressive flirtation.

Xia Songbai pursed his lips; for a moment, his lips lost color, then bloomed brightly like a rose.

Actually, before the banquet, Quan Shaobo had already seen Xia Songbai.

It was in the second-floor reception room. Midway through their business talk, they heard noise downstairs. The principal was about to have someone close the terrace door when Shen Tingzong suddenly stood and went out onto the terrace, then exited downstairs.

Curious, Quan Shaobo followed to the terrace and saw beneath the camphor tree a tall, handsome youth with snow-like skin, looking up at the man before him, eyes bright, earlobes slightly flushed.

At that time, Quan Shaobo didn’t know who Xia Songbai was or what status he held. His first impression was that Xia carried a vibrant energy, like a summer plant freshly washed by rain—clear, sharp, and fresh with a hint of pungent spice.

Later, after hearing Xia’s romantic ramblings and chatting with him, Quan Shaobo realized this beautiful little plant was somewhat inconsistent, showing different faces to different people.

It made him… very interested.

Was he trying to steal Lian Sheng’s fiancée, or perhaps the person Shen Tingzong had his eye on?

The satisfaction of these two achievements was entirely different.

Quan Shaobo tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. The window rolled up, cutting Xia Songbai off from the outside.

But it couldn’t quench the fire burning within.

The McLaren, capable of accelerating from zero to sixty in 2.5 seconds, sped away from Xia Songbai.

Xia Songbai didn’t take Quan Shaobo seriously—

Although Quan Shaobo would eventually oppose Lian Sheng, he never dealt a fatal blow. In the novel’s end, the two reconciled with a smile. According to the original author, “They mutually respected each other as fated rivals.”

By then, the original protagonist was long gone.

An enemy’s friend was still an enemy. Xia Songbai cruelly changed Quan Shaobo’s WeChat contact name.

No sooner had he done so than Quan Shaobo messaged him.

[Mutual Respect Bro]: “Let’s hang out sometime. I’ll take you to some good food.”

Xia Songbai was startled but, knowing Quan Shaobo couldn’t see the new contact name, replied boldly:

[Xia Definitely]: “[OK]”

He tapped his own head with a pop.

—

Xia Songbai waited a long time but Lian Sheng never showed. Growing bored, he called him.

On the other end, Lian Sheng was impatient: “What’s up?”

Xia Songbai asked, “Brother Sheng, when are we leaving?”

Lian Sheng paused, then remembered Xia was still there: “…I have something to do. I’m leaving first. Be good and take a taxi back.”

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Something urgent kept him waiting so long.

Xia Songbai rolled his eyes but still said considerately, “Drive safely, okay?”

It would be one thing if Lian Sheng got into an accident, but it would be bad if innocent bystanders got hit.

Judging by how rushed Lian Sheng was, the story must have progressed to Ning Qing being kidnapped.

In the original tale, Ning Qing’s father owed debts and refused to pay, so the debt collectors kidnapped Ning Qing. Lian Sheng went alone to rescue her, and they were trapped in the mountains, spending a difficult but sweet three-day, two-night honeymoon together, exchanging their first kiss.

So heartbreaking, so sweet.

Xia Songbai yawned.

No need to pretend with Lian Sheng lately.

Another car stopped before Xia Songbai—it was the familiar Rolls-Royce Phantom.

The door opened, and Shen Tingzong said, “I’ll take you home.”

Ah, another chance to get close to the big shot.

Xia Songbai immediately got in. “Thank you very much.”

“No trouble,” Shen said. “I saw Lian Sheng leave in a hurry, so I came to escort you.”

Xia Songbai chuckled, “Brother Sheng has things to do. I can go back by myself.”

Shen Tingzong smiled too. “Did you like the food just now?”

“Yes!” Xia said sincerely. “I didn’t expect the school to have such a great chef. Too bad I’ve only eaten here once in four years.”

“Next time, I’ll bring you.”

Xia Songbai agreed sweetly. Shen’s phone rang—apparently business—and after a moment’s hesitation, he answered. Xia stayed quiet.

The car surged forward. Outside, the scenery blurred along the window like silver threads, distant mountain roads lush with greenery, islands suspended on the horizon, white towers and sandy beaches merging with blue coastlines.

Xia Songbai lowered his head and sent a WeChat message. By his ear, Shen Tingzong’s voice spoke French, with a soft guttural accent. Xia silently imitated it, his tongue tracing the roof of his mouth, tingling and ticklish.

Shen’s profile reflected on the glass—his high, proud nose almost enviable, eyes lowered as he read documents on a tablet, thick lashes, prominent brow casting shadows that framed his eyes like a masterpiece.

Xia Songbai suddenly found himself distracted, staring at him in a daze. Shen lifted his gaze.

Their eyes met in the window’s reflection. Outside, countless flickering lights stretched and faded. Instinctively, Xia smiled at Shen.

The car turned into a tunnel; in the brief darkness, Shen’s reflection stared intently at him, focused and deep.

But just a moment later, the bright lights returned, washing away the reflection. Shen had lowered his eyes again.

Maybe he had imagined it.

Xia hesitated, thinking so.

The car stopped in Mong Kok. Xia got out, about to say goodbye, but Shen stepped out as well.

“Not going home?” he asked.

“I’m meeting friends to hang out,” Xia answered.

Shen handed him an umbrella. “Looks like rain. Don’t get wet; you might catch a cold.”

Xia quickly took it, smiling brightly in thanks, then turned to leave.

The weather had shifted; earlier it was clear, now the sky was a dull, cracked grey-green, like poor-quality jade covered in fissured clouds.

Mong Kok bustled with crowds, countless layered signs dividing the sky into fragments. Amid the gloom, Xia Songbai’s figure stood out clearly. As he walked away, he turned back, seeing Shen still standing there, and cheerfully waved to him.

Shen raised his hand in return. Though indistinct, Xia could feel the growing radiance on his smiling face, as if his bright glow could illuminate the bleak dusk.

The crowd flowed in and out, and finally, Xia Songbai disappeared from view.

Shen got back into the car, filled with his usual cologne scent, but he caught a faint, soft, sweet fragrance.

Milk, honey, flowers.

Or perhaps nothing at all—just a fleeting breeze.

Not spring, but still haunting the dreams.