She waited, expecting his kiss to fall.
But Nathaniel Fu suddenly stopped, pulling back just inches from her lips. Instead, he reached out and snatched the phone from her hand.
His tall, commanding figure retreated with the device.
Yara Lu froze, her eyes snapping open.
So it turned out—he hadn't wanted to kiss her at all. He just wanted the phone.
"Nathaniel Fu, you bastard!" she cursed, her voice sharp with anger.
Nathaniel gave her a cold glance. "Can't you see I'm injured? You really need to pick the right time for this kind of thing."
Even so, Yara pointed at him furiously. "Look at your body—does it look like you don't want it?"
His lashes lowered, hiding the turmoil in his eyes. "I don't want it."
With that, he turned and walked straight into the bathroom.
Yara was left standing there, stunned.
In the bathroom.
Nathaniel stood at the sink, tall and broad-shouldered, his reflection sharp against the mirror. He unlocked his phone.
The screen was empty—no messages, not even a single word.
She had left so easily. So decisively.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he placed the phone face down on the counter. Then, he turned on the shower, letting icy water cascade over his heated skin.
The contrast was brutal: his body burned, while the water was freezing—ice and fire colliding.
Droplets slid down his sculpted muscles, tracing the lines of his chest and abs. He picked up the phone again, but the emptiness of it only chilled him further.
When she had given him the love flower, had she already decided not to take responsibility? Had she planned to call Yara over all along?
Before he'd blacked out, he had caught the faintest trace of a fragrance. A sedative? She had actually drugged him.
Good. Very good.
So kind of her.
Nathaniel lowered his head, water running over his face. Fine. If she didn't want to stay, then so be it.
How laughable. When had Nathaniel Fu ever fallen so low—thinking of bending the rules, of keeping two women at his side, just because of her?
He closed his eyes, but her face still haunted him: that cool, delicate beauty, those lips that had kissed him so softly.
His throat tightened. The memory of her kiss lingered—light as a feather, sweet yet tormenting.
Meanwhile, Celia had returned to China.
Tsinghua University had just won the gold medal, a glorious triumph that marked the perfect end to her mission abroad.
After catching up on some much-needed rest, she went to see Professor Jiang. It was time to return to her true purpose—finding her home.
In the principal's office, Celia placed a delicate bracelet with tiny bells into Professor Jiang's hands.
"Professor Jiang, I've fulfilled my promise. Now, could you help me look after something? This bell bracelet is very important to me."
Professor Jiang lifted it carefully and gave it a gentle shake. A crisp, melodious chime rang out.
"Celia, this is unusual," he murmured. "The bells are round, tongueless, with a hidden core. I've never seen a design like this."
Celia's heart sank with disappointment. If even Professor Jiang didn't recognize it, then where could she turn?
Just then, his eyes lit up with recognition. "Wait—yes! I remember seeing someone wear a bracelet just like this before!"
Her head snapped up. "What? There's another one?"
"Indeed," he nodded gravely. "And you know the person. It was Nathaniel Fu."
Celia froze. Nathaniel?
He had the same bracelet as hers? How could that be possible?
Professor Jiang went on, "When Nathaniel visited Tsinghua, I distinctly recall him wearing one on his wrist. But it's been a long time. You should confirm with him directly. Bring his bracelet to me, and I'll examine the pair together."
"..."
Celia's fingers tightened around her skirt.
But how was she supposed to approach Nathaniel now?
She had drugged him, left him unconscious, and even called Yara Lu to his side. Their relationship had hit rock bottom.
Nathaniel leaned heavily against the bathroom wall, cold water streaming down his tense body. His fingers brushed over his bare wrist, remembering something faint—once, he had worn a bracelet just like hers.
The memory was blurred, distant, but it struck him like a jolt of electricity.
That little bell… could it be connected to her?
His eyes darkened, the icy shower failing to cool the fire raging inside him.
If the bells truly matched, then Celia wasn't just another woman thrown into his life by accident. She was tied to him—by fate, by blood, or by secrets long buried.
Nathaniel's jaw tightened, his thoughts heavy.
"Celia…" he muttered under his breath. "What else are you hiding from me?"