Autumn in Madu City was as fickle and cold as a capricious woman.
At eight o'clock, rain came without warning. Droplets drummed against pavement, car roofs, awnings—seeping into the hearts of those wandering with nowhere clear to go. Streetlights flickered through the thin film of water, turning the old quarter into an oil painting blurred before it dried.
Inside Blue Rain Bar, lights were soft, tinted green-blue. Jazz hummed low in the background, like a secret shared only between the walls.
Pan Tong had just ordered two beers. He leaned toward Lin Hao with a grin too mischievous to be serious.
"Look around. Who knows, maybe tonight you'll meet your true love?"
Lin Hao lifted his glass, eyes lazily scanning the room. He was about to let out a sarcastic remark when—
His gaze stopped.
By the window, a woman sat alone. A long black dress, hair spilling over her shoulder, her back straight as a drawn bow. On the table sat a half-finished glass of red wine, beside it a phone screen glowing with incoming calls.
Zhao Qing An.
The same icy professor who had lectured him that very morning.
Now, her eyes were tired. Her hand trembled faintly as she gripped the stem of the glass.
On the phone, a woman's shrill, arrogant voice rang out:
"This house was left by your father. I am the legal wife. If you won't sign, I'll sell your share no matter what."
"You don't get to decide my life," Zhao Qing An's voice dropped, low and steady. "I'm an adult. I'll take charge of myself."
The call ended with a sharp beep.
She bowed her head onto the table, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other still clutching the wine glass as if it was the last thing she had any control over.
Lin Hao frowned. He stood.
A coat settled over her shoulders. A warm breath brushed her ear.
"Darling, where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you."
Zhao Qing An startled, lifting her head. Her eyes were glazed with wine, her lips parted. When she recognized him, she murmured:
"Lin… Hao?"
"I know you don't need saving," he said softly, "but right now, you look like someone about to short-circuit. Let me play the role for a bit. If your stepmother calls back, at least you've got a reason to survive the interrogation."
The phone lit up again.
Stepmother. Calling.
Her lips pressed tight, fingers trembling as she accepted the call.
"Where are you? Who are you with?"
"I—"
"Good evening, Auntie." Lin Hao leaned closer, speaking smoothly into the receiver, his voice polite yet firm. "I'm Zhao Qing An's boyfriend. I'm sitting right beside her. Whatever you need to say to her, from now on, also concerns me. I hope you'll be respectful."
A heavy silence.
"Boyfriend? What's your name?"
"Lin Hao. First-year student. Very serious."
The line went dead.
Zhao Qing An snapped her eyes at him.
"Are you insane?"
"I think you need a temporary boyfriend. One with good grades, decent looks, and a passable EQ. I volunteer."
"I… drank too much." Her eyes drooped, her voice thin. She seemed too weary to argue.
"That's fine. I'm sober enough for the both of us."
She let out the faintest laugh—then her head dropped against the table.
Lin Hao sighed, crouching as if to lift her up.
Just then, the bar door swung open.
A woman in a red trench coat strode in, heels hammering the wooden floor like gunfire. Her face was sharp, makeup heavy, lips painted crimson.
Tan Yun. The stepmother.
Her gaze cut through the dim bar until it landed—on her stepdaughter, head resting on the shoulder of a boy far too young, his hand brushing her hair with far too much tenderness.
"Who are you?" Tan Yun's face hardened. "Why is my daughter collapsed like this?"
Lin Hao looked up, expression unchanged.
"Auntie, please lower your voice. She just took birth control pills. She needs rest."
"What?!"
"Just kidding. She's drunk. But if you keep yelling, I'll livestream this: Evil stepmother chases her daughter into a bar, screaming about selling her late husband's house. I guarantee it'll go viral tonight."
Tan Yun's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled.
"You—what brat are you?"
"I'm her boyfriend. Also her bodyguard, therapist, and soon-to-be real estate negotiator. If this isn't convenient for you, you're free to leave."
Silence.
Her face paled, then twisted. She gave a sharp, cold snort, turned on her heel, and left.
The door slammed shut.
Lin Hao glanced back at Zhao Qing An. She still slumped against the table, eyes closed. Just as he exhaled a laugh, he heard her murmur:
"… Don't go."
The words were fragile, no louder than a mosquito's hum.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered back.
"You still owe me one breakfast, two apologies, three imaginary slaps, and one ride home."
He hailed a taxi and carried her out into the rain.
When they reached SkyStar Residences, the storm still hadn't let up.
He paid the driver, then shifted her onto his back. Step by step, he crossed the plush red carpet of the luxury building. His footsteps echoed softly through the hushed corridor.
At her door, the fingerprint lock clicked. Warm yellow light blinked on inside.