Perhaps one day, Mo Yachen would be grateful for what he said that night.
At dawn, Ji Yu quietly closed the door behind her. On the dining table, she had left behind a bowl of porridge and a fried egg—as if that was her way of paying for a night's stay.
Behind the villa's fortress-like security doors, she had actually managed to sleep peacefully. But even in her dreams, one question kept returning, again and again—
Who was the woman in that painting?
Ji Yu wasn't an art student, but she knew enough about portraits to recognize a name in the corner—Mo Yachen's. The frame matched his wealthy background, the style his skill. And yet, why was that particular portrait the most violently destroyed of them all?
The question burrowed deep inside her.
Why do people explore the unknown?
Because of curiosity. Because discovery brings a thrill that's as intoxicating as joy itself.
And if in chasing that thrill one also gains something more—companionship, happiness, answers—then exploration quietly becomes instinct. Action flows naturally from the heart.
After that night, her relationship with Mo Yachen didn't grow distant. On the contrary, he began teaching her more music theory, and even took her into his private recording studio at Shallow Bay to show her the hidden toil behind music.
Was it just to make up for losing his composure before her?
Ji Yu wondered, but in truth, she was glad for it. They became friends, exchanged WeChat, and their chats slowly shifted from art and music to snippets of personal life.
Mo Yachen's quiet kindness stirred something inside her. But Ji Yu also knew—her heart didn't race with love. It beat faster with joy, not happiness.
Meanwhile, Tang Li hadn't been the same since that night he got drunk. From Yu Yuan's teasing mouth he'd heard that Ji Yu had gone home with Mo Yachen, and for days afterward, he hadn't shown her his usual bright grin.
Weekdays were swallowed by classes; sometimes four days passed without him seeing her at all. Only on weekends did they escape for a movie or a live house concert.
And yet, each time, Ji Yu still dressed up prettily to meet him. That much was enough for Tang Li to convince himself—she hadn't secretly gotten a boyfriend.
Christmas.
Snow was rare in Yudu's winters, but this year was blessed with a white Christmas. The streets glistened beneath a silver quilt.
In the heart of Guanyin Avenue, under a plaza statue, Mo Yachen had already been waiting ten minutes. His body ached with cold; even inside his boots, his toes were stiff and numb. Laughter and music drifted from the shops around him—bells jingling, couples smiling.
"I'll say this, do you even know what it means to ask a girl out on Christmas?"
Yu Yuan arrived, holding a steaming bowl of street food. He sighed, shaking his head. "These holidays are like Valentine's Day. For couples—or people who want to be."
Snowflakes landed in his soup, fizzling in the red broth. Mo Yachen's eyes remained fixed ahead. Even with his glasses fogged by melting snow, he didn't lift a hand to wipe them.
"…Is that so?"
Silence stretched. Yu Yuan raised a brow, then leaned against the statue, his breath vanishing in the icy air.
"Honestly, I don't see any sign of romance between you two. So why are you so stubborn about today? Are you sure you even stand a chance?"
He paused, then smirked faintly. "Or maybe… is it because you've started painting again?"
Mo Yachen's head turned sharply. "…How did you know?"
"Heh. My girlfriend's vice president of the Literature Club. Anything she notices, she tells me in full detail."
At the word girlfriend, Mo Yachen chuckled, finally glancing at the silver-haired boy beside him. "Where'd you find this girlfriend? Planning to keep her this time? And why aren't you spending Christmas with her instead of me?"
Yu Yuan scowled. "Stop changing the subject. I ditched my girlfriend to wait here with you for your little crush. Don't waste my time."
Mo Yachen only pressed his lips together and looked back into the crowd, eyes searching.
"So," Yu Yuan continued, "you mean your color blindness improved because of Ji Yu? And that's why you picked up your brushes again? You're planning to date her just to 'repay' her for curing you?"
He almost snorted. Color blindness wasn't a mood disorder—it didn't vanish just because one felt better. Yu Yuan knew the truth: ever since that woman left, Mo Yachen had refused to paint. Now, with the brush in his hand again, it could only mean one thing—his heart had finally begun to heal.
And he'd seen the proof: three new works.
The first—a gardenia flower drifting on water.
The second—a long-haired woman in a bath towel.
The last—gardenia bushes, and a girl among them.
Tang Li had once mentioned Ji Yu's favorite flower was the gardenia. Quiet, simple, unshowy. Not as graceful as lotus, not as dazzling as roses. Just quietly there, until someone with patience noticed.
Like Ji Yu herself.
Snow fell, white breaths clouding the air. Mo Yachen wiped his glasses again, then asked, from deep inside his chest:
"You've dated so many girls. Was there ever one you truly loved?"
Yu Yuan thought for a long while. "…Yeah. There was."
"And tell me… how did it start?"
Yu Yuan froze. The question was impossible—ancient, unanswerable. He opened his mouth but nothing came.
Mo Yachen laughed. "What, even the great playboy has no answer?"
Snow melted instantly against his smiling face. Yu Yuan fell quiet, waiting for him to finish.
Around them, groups of girls noticed the two handsome figures under the statue. Their eyes sparkled, and they whispered, giggling, edging closer, curious.
And then they heard Mo Yachen's voice—steady, simple.
"Just like your first love. It didn't need a reason to begin, and it didn't need one to end."
"My feelings for Ji Yu are the same. Suddenly, I just liked her. That's all there is to it."
The girls stopped mid-step. They didn't dare come closer.
Mo Yachen's side profile was striking under the snow, his gaze burning as it fixed on the distance. His lips curved only slightly, but the heat in his eyes was undeniable.
And he would keep it there, hidden, until the day he finally held Ji Yu's hand—when it would blaze into a fire.