The Dean's voice still echoed faintly in my ears as the crowd of students poured out of the Grand Hall. His speech had been long, theatrical, and peppered with dramatic pauses that made everyone clap at least three times too often.
Meiling nudged me. "See? Orientation wasn't so bad."
I gave her a weak smile.
Right.
If you ignored the part where a small army of students stared at me like I'd stolen the crown jewels.
We walked together toward the courtyard steps, swept up in the noisy flood of people heading to breakfast. My stomach grumbled loudly enough that a girl walking ahead of me turned and looked back.
I pretended it wasn't me.
Meiling checked her phone. "The campus café should be serving breakfast now. Want to go together?"
"Yes," I said immediately. "Absolutely yes."
Food felt like the one safe thing in my world.
We reached the café entrance just as sunlight spilled across the front windows.
Students filtered in through the glass doors, the smell of warm pastries and steamed buns drifting out.
But the moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
People were looking at me.
Again.
Not subtly.
Not politely.
Just…looking.
At first, I assumed it was the same old "new foreign girl" curiosity.
But then –
"That's her," someone whispered near the pastry counter.
I froze mid-step.
Another voice answered, hushed but excited:
"The girl who arrived with Lin Xuan last night."
I nearly dropped the coffee cup I had just paid for.
Fantastic.
Couldn't even get caffeine without being reminded that my life was now apparently a public viewing event.
Meiling shot me an apologetic look. "Ignore them."
Sure.
Let me just mentally mute the entire café.
I grabbed a seat near the window, choosing the table farthest from everyone.
Meiling set down her tray. "I'll get napkins. Don't move."
She disappeared into the crowd.
I took a slow sip of coffee, wanting to relax.
Five minutes passed.
And then someone sat across from me.
I looked up –
And almost inhaled my drink.
Lin Xuan.
"You're early," he said, as if this were a scheduled business meeting.
"You're famous," I replied before my brain could stop my mouth.
He didn't even blink.
"You noticed."
"Everyone noticed."
He took a calm sip of his coffee, completely unbothered by the fact that half the room was trying to eavesdrop while pretending to stir their drinks.
"They will stop soon," he said.
I leaned across the table. "You realize that half the campus thinks we're dating now?"
"They will stop thinking that."
I narrowed my eyes. "You sound very confident."
"Because it's not true."
His bluntness should have been a relief.
It wasn't.
Instead, it hit like a splash of cold water.
Maybe even ice water.
From a glacier.
I looked down at my coffee lid, tracing the rim with my thumb. I wasn't sure what response I'd expected, but somehow that still stung.
Before I could respond, a shadow fell over the table.
"Xuan? I didn't think you came to the common areas."
The voice was smooth, practiced – like someone who'd been raised to speak in front of cameras.
I looked up.
A woman stood beside our table, her silk shirt draping perfectly over her frame, her hair sleek and glossy. Not a single strand out of place. She was beautiful in the kind of effortless, intimidating way that made you want to check your reflection for smudges.
She didn't look at me at first.
She looked at him.
And the smile she gave him made something in my stomach twist unpleasantly.
Lin Xuan didn't stand – he wasn't the type to be flustered – but his posture tightened.
"Zhao Wei," he said. "I didn't know you were back from London."
"I landed this morning." Her voice was breezy. Deliberately elegant. Then her gaze slid toward me – slow, assessing, unimpressed. "And I see I've missed quite a bit of development while I was away."
"You've missed nothing," Lin Xuan said immediately. His tone dropped an octave – formal, distant.
"This is the new exchange student. I was assisting her with orientation."
Zhao Wei's laugh was soft but razor-sharp.
"Orientation." She lifted a brow. "In your private car? Late at night? You've certainly become quite the philanthropist, Xuan."
The café seemed to hold its breath.
I felt like an extra in someone else's drama. The "Ordinary girl." The uninvited piece on an expensive chessboard.
My grip tightened around my coffee cup.
"I'm right here, you know," I said before I could stop myself.
Zhao Wei blinked slowly, as if surprised I could speak.
"Oh, I know. That's the problem, isn't it?"
She turned back to Lin Xuan gracefully, as if I had ceased to exist.
"My father is hosting lunch today," she said. "He expects you there. Don't be late because you're…orientating."
Then she pivoted her heel and walked away. The crowd parted for her like waves around a yacht.
Silence remained behind her.
I stared at Lin Xuan, who was now frowning at his coffee as it had personally offended him.
"Who was that?" I finally asked.
"A complication," he said.
Then he stood. The chair legs scraped softly across the tile.
"I have a lecture in five minutes."
"Wait." I shot up from my seat. "Is it always like this? Does everyone here treat life like a game of Game of Thrones?"
He paused.
And for the briefest second – one heartbeat long – the coldness in his expression softened. It wasn't warmth. But it was something close to a warning.
"In Shanghai," he said quietly, "the rumors aren't just talk."
"They are currency. Be careful how much you spend."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the table with a half-finished coffee and a dozen students staring openly.
I sank back down into my seat.
Meiling finally returned, carrying a mountain of napkins.
"Sorry! The dispenser jammed." She froze when she saw the empty chair across from me.
"Was that –?"
"Yes."
"Oh." She sat slowly. "Did you two…talk?"
"Yes."
"Worse than yesterday?"
"…Yes."
She made a sympathetic noise and pushed a croissant toward me. "Eat."
I took a bite automatically.
But my brain was somewhere else.
Running circles around the encounter.
Around Zhao Wei's cutting smile.
Around Lin Xuan's warning.
Rumors aren't just talk.
They're currency.
Later that morning, Lin Xuan gave me a tour of the campus.
Or – if we're being honest – what he considered a tour.
He walked.
I followed.
Occasionally, he pointed at a building.
"Engineering."
"Library."
"Research center."
That was it.
No stories.
No explanations.
No "This is where students hang out" or "This building is important because…"
Just…labels.
We moved beneath rows of gingko trees, past fountains and stone courtyards, through bustling walkways full of students hurrying to their morning orientations.
Some glanced my way and quickly looked away.
Others didn't bother hiding their whispers.
But no matter where we went, the same thing happened.
People stared at Lin Xuan.
Some nodded respectfully – like greeting a prince.
Some whispered to their friends.
Some straight-up paused mid-step to watch him walk by.
Finally, after passing a group of students who stared openly at us as if we were characters from a drama, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Okay," I said, stopping in my tracks. "What's the deal?"
Lin Xuan barely slowed. "Deal?"
I crossed my arms. "Everyone here acts like you're a celebrity."
"They exaggerate."
"You drive a Mercedes."
"That is not unusual."
"You talk to the university chairman's daughter like she's your co-worker."
"That is also not unusual."
I stopped walking entirely.
He took more steps before noticing and turning back.
"What?" he asked flatly.
I felt my frustration crack.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
He just stood there, eyes focused on me with strange, unreadable heaviness.
Then he said, "My family owns a technology company here in Shanghai."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
I stared at him.
Something inside me whispered that he was only giving me the tip of the iceberg.
Because in a city like Shanghai, "owning a technology company" could mean you sell laptop chargers out of a hole-in-the-wall shop…or it could mean your company's logo glows across every skyscraper in the skyline.
Before I could ask anything else, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows rolled up to the curb beside us. The door opened before it even came to a full stop.
A man in a dark suit stepped out, bowing his head.
"Sir."
Sir.
Not "Lin."
Not "Xuan."
Sir.
Lin Xuan checked his watch. "I have to go. The lunch Zhao Wei mentioned isn't optional."
"Wait." I stepped toward him. "What am I supposed to do about the rumors? I'm currently the most hated person on the forums."
He paused.
The suited man waited silently beside the open back door, but Lin Xuan took an extra moment to study me. His gaze moved from my face to the courtyard, where curious onlookers still lingered.
Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small card, and handed it to me.
It had no name.
No number.
Just a minimalist silver crane pressed onto thick, textured fiber.
"What's this?" I asked.
"A reminder," he said.
"Of what? A get out of jail free card?"
He looked at me – level, unreadable.
"That you are under my protection. For now."
Before I could respond, he slid into the back seat. The car door closed with an expensive thud.
The sedan pulled smoothly away, disappearing down the tree-lined road like it never existed.
I stood there in the fading scent of leather and engine oil, staring after it.
"Right," I muttered. "Completely normal college student."
I finally look down at the card in my hand.
Up close it looked even stranger.
The paper wasn't really paper – more like pressed fiber, smooth yet subtly textured.
The crane shimmered when I tilted it in the sunlight.
No words.
No titles.
Just the crane.
I turned it over.
Blank.
"That's it?" I whispered to myself.