After the Mid-Autumn holiday ended, Ji Ruan threw himself into exam preparations without a moment’s rest. On top of that, he had joined a new club, making his schedule even busier.
Initially, he chose the Traditional Chinese Painting Club because it was quiet and had few members. Everyone would occasionally gather to paint, making for a rather leisurely atmosphere.
However, with Peking University’s centennial celebration approaching at the end of the year, the club, in collaboration with the school’s news center, was tasked with handling part of the promotional activities. A massive historical mural of the university was set to be unveiled on the day of the event, with Ji Ruan and the two club presidents serving as the lead artists. Suddenly, he found himself swamped with work.
“Be careful…”
“Higher, higher—line it up with the edge…”
“Hey, slow down! Don’t tear it…”
The school had specially allocated a spacious studio on the top floor of the clock tower for this project. Workers were busy mounting the canvas.
The massive canvas, ten meters long and two and a half meters wide, was slowly stretched out and secured to the wall. Even though it was still blank, it already exuded an imposing presence.
Ji Ruan stood below, watching silently. The club members had already finalized a smaller draft together, and now that the canvas was set, they could officially begin. Through this painting, they aimed to depict the cultural and historical evolution of Peking University over the past century.
“Xiao Ruan, come eat lunch.” Cheng Zizhang called out, carrying two takeout meals while skillfully dodging the workers moving the ladder.
Ji Ruan quickly stepped forward to help take the food. “Thanks, senior.”
“What are you thanking me for? If anything, I should be thanking you.” Cheng Zizhang carefully gathered the scattered drafts on the table and said, “I originally convinced you to join because you wanted something relaxed, and I figured our club was the most laid-back. Who would’ve thought we’d suddenly get saddled with all this work?”
Now that there was space on the table, Ji Ruan placed the takeout down and smiled. “But honestly, this project is pretty meaningful.”
After the centennial exhibition, their painting would be permanently preserved in the university’s historical archives. Over the past hundred years, Peking University had produced countless distinguished figures, but how many works could truly earn a place in the school’s history museum?
Creating this historical mural might be riding on the prestige of their predecessors, but in doing so, they were also leaving a mark of their own in the school’s history—an opportunity that was rare and invaluable.
“You’ve got that right.” Cheng Zizhang handed Ji Ruan a pair of chopsticks. “Whether from a personal or a university perspective, making this painting is definitely worth it. The only problem is that it's exhausting, and the deadline is tight. Honestly, I’m a little worried we won’t finish in time.”
Ji Ruan had experience in Su embroidery, where artisans designed and sketched their own patterns before embroidering. Drawing had been a fundamental skill for him since childhood, so he was confident in his technique.
Besides, both Cheng Zizhang and the vice president were skilled artists. With three months left until the centennial, the three of them working together should, in theory, be able to complete such a large-scale painting.
However, they were all students. Once they factored in daily life and classes, their available time suddenly seemed incredibly limited.
Ji Ruan opened his takeout box and smiled. “Then let’s hurry up and eat. Once we’re done, we can get started… Oh, by the way, where’s the vice president?”
As the club president, Cheng Zizhang not only had to paint but also liaise with the student council’s news center, leaving him even more pressed for time. He had barely stopped frowning in the past few days.
“Probably out buying materials… Doesn’t matter, we’ll start without him. He should be back by the afternoon.”
As they spoke, a tall and slender young man appeared at the entrance of the studio, carrying what looked like coffee and milk tea. He paused in front of the blank canvas, staring at it for a moment.
Against the light, Ji Ruan couldn’t make out his face.
But Cheng Zizhang seemed familiar with him and waved. “A’Qing? What brings you here?”
The person called A’Qing stepped forward. Under the bright fluorescent lights, Ji Ruan finally saw a familiar face. “Lin Qing?”
Lin Qing looked just as surprised. Covering his mouth, he asked, “Ji Ruan? You go to our school?”
Cheng Zizhang, caught between them, laughed. “Oh, so you two know each other?”
“We’ve met once.” Lin Qing placed the hot drinks on the table but didn’t elaborate on how they had met. Instead, he smiled. “I brought drinks for everyone.”
Cheng Zizhang was the first to grab a coffee, and Ji Ruan, not standing on ceremony, picked a milk tea. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Lin Qing responded casually, his gaze shifting to the enormous canvas. “So, you’re all painting this together?”
Cheng Zizhang wiped his lips with a napkin. “Yeah. To be honest, Xiao Ruan’s skills are incredible. You’ll be amazed when the final piece is done.”
He then turned to Ji Ruan. “A’Qing is also in our club, but he’s been busy lately.”
Lin Qing chuckled at that and said to Ji Ruan, “I was supposed to help Senior Cheng with the painting, but I’ve been working on a winter landscape with my master and haven’t had time. Sorry for the trouble, Ji Ruan.”
“Master?” Ji Ruan blinked, then looked at Cheng Zizhang. “Senior?”
“Oh, that.” Cheng Zizhang grinned. “I forgot to tell you—have you heard of Professor Cheng Yunxiu? A’Qing and I are both her students. We study Su embroidery under her.”
Cheng Yunxiu… Ji Ruan frowned. The name sounded familiar, a faint imprint in his memory. But where had he heard it before?
Then it clicked—the shirt!
His mind suddenly cleared.
When he got his marriage certificate, Gu Xiuyi had taken him to buy a white dress shirt. He had chosen one with ink bamboo embroidery on the cuffs and had even marveled at the craftsmanship, thinking it must have been made by a master. The store manager had mentioned a cultural heritage collaboration, and the name they had spoken of seemed to be this very Cheng Yunxiu.
Ji Ruan was momentarily stunned, amazed at how fate seemed to keep tying him to embroidery—even across lifetimes.
Cheng Zizhang took a sip of coffee. “A’Qing and our teacher are working on a winter landscape piece, which will also be part of the cultural exchange at the centennial celebration.”
Lin Qing added, “Professor Cheng is remarkable. She’s the most renowned contemporary inheritor of Su embroidery. It took me a lot of effort to become her apprentice… Oh, but Senior Cheng is actually her biological daughter.”
Ji Ruan raised an eyebrow. He noticed that Lin Qing’s way of speaking often had a subtle edge to it.
“What are you implying?” Cheng Zizhang feigned an exaggeratedly serious expression, playing along as if she were deeply offended. “Even as her daughter, I had to go through rigorous evaluations before she officially accepted me as a student!”
Lin Qing chuckled softly. “Just joking, just joking… Anyway, I should get going. My master still has a ton of work for me.”
Cheng Zizhang waved him off. “Go on, go on.”
Ji Ruan curved his lips into a faint smile. “See you.”
Lin Qing nodded slightly. Before leaving, he glanced at the blank canvas one last time, then turned and walked away.
***
Autumn in Beijing was always short-lived. A couple of extra rain showers, and the temperature would plummet. By November, Ji Ruan had already switched to a thick down jacket and wrapped himself tightly in a scarf whenever he went out.
He was terrified of catching a cold. Just thinking about that nerve pain—the kind that felt like it was stabbing through his ears and into his brain—made his back shiver. He was almost paranoid enough to carry cold medicine with him every day.
With the centennial celebration approaching, time became even more precious. Outside of class, Ji Ruan practically lived in the studio. Together with Cheng Zizhang and the others, they were slowly turning into wild hermits who only emerged from their artistic cave at night.
At the end of a long day, he would return to his dormitory, waiting in line at the cafeteria for a late-night snack, and suddenly find his mind going completely blank.
Ji Ruan found it fascinating. He had originally joined the club for some peace and quiet, only to be roped into this massive project. Yet, strangely enough, he didn’t find it tiresome or tedious. On the contrary, it sometimes reminded him of his childhood—sitting under a lamp, learning embroidery stitch by stitch from his mother.
Back then, he never thought it was difficult to spend an entire day in a small room, focused on a single task. In fact, he had enjoyed it.
And now, aside from the back pain from standing too long, everything was great.
“Little brother, your wontons are ready!” The cafeteria auntie’s voice snapped Ji Ruan out of his thoughts.
“Thank you.”
Ji Ruan took the steaming hot meal from the window, tightened his scarf, and started heading back to his dorm.
As soon as he stepped outside, a cold gust of wind brushed against his face.
The chill made his skin tingle. He lifted a hand and touched his cheek—his fingertips came away damp.
"Is it raining?"
Ji Ruan tilted his head up. The street was still bustling with pedestrians, and the sound of basketballs bouncing and feet chasing after them echoed from the court nearby. Under the dim yellow streetlights, tiny white crystals floated through the air—scattered, sparse, but unmistakable.
It looked like the first snow!
He reached out, trying to catch some, but the delicate crystals melted instantly upon touching his skin.
It really was the first snow!
Excited, Ji Ruan snapped a photo and sent it to his dorm group chat. After a brief hesitation, he forwarded it to Gu Xiuyi as well.
The dorm was empty when he arrived. As he opened the door, darkness greeted him—Han Xiaolin was probably still training at the sports field, and the other two had evening classes.
Ji Ruan switched on the light, placed his wontons on the desk, and went to wash his hands. By the time he returned, he had already received a reply from Gu Xiuyi.
[?]
Ji Ruan furrowed his brows. "...?"
What was with the question mark? Did he not think the first snowfall was romantic?
He tapped on his own photo to admire it again—only to suddenly realize that the picture was… terribly taken.
Because of the lighting and his phone's low resolution, it simply wasn’t capable of capturing the fine details of the snow. The barely visible first snowfall had been swallowed by noise and blur, as if it had never existed.
Which meant that what Gu Xiuyi saw… wasn’t a romantic first snow at all.
Instead, his photo prominently featured a group of well-built, athletic young men on the basketball court, sweating, shirtless, and brimming with physical vitality.
Ji Ruan: "..."
"!"
Crap!
His phone started vibrating wildly as dozens of messages flooded into the dorm group chat in an instant.
[Han Daxian: ?]
[Master Li the Painting Saint: ?]
[Future Financial Star Mr. Qin: ?]
[Future Financial Star Mr. Qin: Ruan Ruan, what’s going on??]
[Master Li the Painting Saint: Why are you suddenly taking pictures of men? If your account got hacked, blink twice.]
[Master Li the Painting Saint: Also, these guys aren’t even that good-looking. Their arms are too bulky—no aesthetic appeal.]
[Han Daxian: Just don’t let CEO Gu find out. Sneaking a peek in private is fine, don’t worry, we’ll keep your secret!]
[Master Li the Painting Saint: Don’t worry, we’ll keep your secret!]
[Future Financial Star Mr. Qin: Don’t worry, we’ll keep your secret!]
Ji Ruan’s toes curled so hard he nearly passed out from secondhand embarrassment. He immediately activated his admin privileges and retracted the message at lightning speed.
[Ji Ruan: It’s all a misunderstanding!]
He didn’t even have time to open his takeout; he rushed to Gu Xiuyi’s chat window, fingers flying across the keyboard to explain that he was NOT staring at men.
But halfway through typing, he suddenly paused.
…Why did he need to explain?
The contract only prohibited him from flirting with others. Even if he had been looking at men, so what? The basketball court was even separated by a fence—how could that be considered flirting? Explaining himself would only make him seem guilty.
After some thought, Ji Ruan set his phone aside, opened his takeout, and started eating his late-night snack. The little wontons had already stuck together from sitting too long, so he carefully separated them with his chopsticks.
"Bzzz—!"
His phone suddenly vibrated violently on the table, startling him so badly that his hand jerked—piercing straight through two wonton wrappers!
Ji Ruan’s heart shattered.
On the screen, the name "Gu Xiuyi" flashed repeatedly. Gritting his teeth, Ji Ruan slammed the answer button and turned on speakerphone. "What do you want?"
His tone wasn’t friendly.
There was a two-second silence on the other end before Gu Xiuyi suddenly chuckled. "You’re actually mad?"
Ji Ruan knew he was referring to the photo. He let out a cold "Hmph" and didn’t reply.
Gu Xiuyi sounded amused, his voice carrying a faint trace of laughter. "Turn on video."
"No." Ji Ruan refused outright. "I’m eating."
He was particular about dining etiquette—he didn’t like others seeing him talk with food in his mouth. Gu Xiuyi didn’t press the issue after hearing that. Instead, he asked, "What are you eating?"
"Wontons." Ji Ruan deliberately fished out the broken ones first, speaking with his mouth half-full. "And because you scared me by calling, I accidentally tore the wrappers. You do understand how tragic it is to not be able to swallow a whole wonton, don’t you?"
Gu Xiuyi did not understand.
Possibly due to a generational gap, he often failed to grasp Ji Ruan’s cute little obsessions.
"Of course I understand." Gu Xiuyi lied smoothly. "I sincerely apologize to your wontons for making them incomplete."
…Why did that sound kind of weird?
Ji Ruan bit his spoon in confusion.
"And you," Gu Xiuyi’s voice was calm yet firm, "What about that photo?"
Ji Ruan: "…"
He silently ate another wonton.
Gu Xiuyi was exceptionally patient at times like this. He opened his laptop and continued working, waiting for Ji Ruan’s explanation at his own pace.
Normally, when they ate together, Ji Ruan was very well-mannered—Gu Xiuyi had never once heard him chew.
But now, maybe because his phone was too close to the microphone, Ji Ruan’s tiny, delicate chewing noises were perfectly audible.
Soft, slow… like a small animal cautiously nibbling on food.
Gu Xiuyi absentmindedly typed on his keyboard, but before he realized it, a small smile had appeared on his lips. He even turned up the volume—it was strangely satisfying, like listening to an ASMR eating stream. "Hm? Speak, Ji Ruan."
Ji Ruan swallowed his bite, sipped some soup, and sighed. "Alright, fine. Let me make it clear—I wasn’t intentionally taking pictures of men for you. What would be the point of that? They don’t even have a better physique than you. Think about it—doesn’t that make sense?"
Gu Xiuyi covered his mouth, suppressing a laugh. "Mhm. Valid point."
Ji Ruan continued eating, his words slower since his mouth was full. "So, what I actually wanted to show you was the snow. It’s the first snowfall here."
Gu Xiuyi’s fingers, which had been typing, suddenly paused. "…Really?"
"Yeah," Ji Ruan’s voice was soft. "It was too light to capture on camera, but I caught some in my hand. It really was snow—it melted in my palm."
Gu Xiuyi could imagine it vividly—Ji Ruan standing on the path, reaching out to catch snowflakes, his face bright with excitement, cheeks tinged red from the cold.
The thought made something stir deep within him.
A secret, fleeting warmth—like the first snow itself.
Gu Xiuyi braced himself against the desk and spun his chair toward the window. It was only then that he realized—somehow, without him noticing, the snowfall had grown much heavier.
The floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across an entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city at his feet, free for him to overlook at will. But before today, Gu Xiuyi had never once had the time to pay attention to the scenery outside.
And so, this was the first time he had ever truly looked at the first snow.
A thin layer of fog had formed on the windowpane, slightly obscuring his vision, but the snowflakes were still visible—light, delicate, and dancing through the sky in a gentle flurry.
“Ji Ruan,” Gu Xiuyi spoke softly. “Do you have your curtains open?”
“No.”
“Open them and take a look.”
Ji Ruan was eating his late-night snack with the heater on. Their dormitory had a habit of keeping the curtains tightly shut, but hearing this, he pulled one side open slightly—his eyes immediately widened in delight.
Outside, the once-familiar street had transformed into a snow-covered world.
“When did it start snowing so heavily…?” Ji Ruan murmured.
Gu Xiuyi’s voice was quiet. “That’s what I was wondering…”
The two of them sat there in silence, watching the snow for a long while. Eventually, Ji Ruan slowly drew the curtain closed and returned to his desk.
After a brief moment of quiet over the phone, a crisp “click” sound rang out, followed by another “click.”
Gu Xiuyi frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Ah?” Ji Ruan chuckled. “I’m cutting my nails. Want me to hang up?”
Gu Xiuyi let out a small laugh and continued working. “No need, go ahead.”
The sound of keyboard tapping resumed on the other end. Ji Ruan pursed his lips and didn’t say anything else.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed. When Gu Xiuyi finally finished his work and came back to his senses, he realized that the other end of the line had long since gone silent. Yet, the screen still displayed an ongoing call.
“Ji Ruan?”
He called out tentatively—no response.
“Ji Ruan, what’s wrong?”
Still no sound.
“Ji—”
“Hello, CEO Gu.”
A deliberately lowered male voice came through instead.
Gu Xiuyi paused for two seconds. “…Han Xiaolin?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Han Xiaolin spoke in a hushed tone. “I just got back—Ji Ruan’s already asleep. He’s been so busy these past few days that he’s probably exhausted.”
Gu Xiuyi knew Ji Ruan had taken on a project for the school’s centennial celebration, working on it from morning to night. He hesitated briefly before saying, “Alright. Get him to move to his bed—actually, never mind. Just put a blanket over him.”
Han Xiaolin immediately responded, “Oh, sure! No problem.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
After hanging up, Han Xiaolin carefully placed Ji Ruan’s phone back on the desk, then tiptoed over to grab a blanket from his bed. He spread it over Ji Ruan, tucking him in gently.
Ji Ruan’s face rested against his arm. He had only managed to clip half of his nails, and the nail clippers were still clutched in his other hand.
**
On the morning of the Winter Solstice, Song Ling accompanied Gu Xiuyi to Peking University.
As a long-time donor to his alma mater, Gu Xiuyi had financed multiple buildings over the years, receiving periodic thank-you letters and donation certificates from the university.
Some entrepreneurs liked to accept these acknowledgments in person, using the opportunity to meet with the president and even inviting media coverage for publicity.
But Gu Xiuyi had never once attended these ceremonies. He either had the documents mailed to his office or sent someone else to pick them up.
Today, however, was a rare exception—he had finished his morning meeting and personally made the trip.
The only difference? He kept a low profile, ensuring no media outlets knew about it.
After meeting with the university president, Song Ling placed the thank-you letter and certificate into his briefcase. Gu Xiuyi walked ahead, still making a phone call—but the person on the other end wasn’t picking up.
Song Ling thought for a moment before sending a quick text. Not long after, he received a reply and took two steps forward to report, “Ji Ruan is currently in the middle of his physical fitness test.”
“…Physical fitness test?” Gu Xiuyi’s brow arched. He had never doubted Song Ling’s intelligence reports, which made this even more shocking. “Ji Ruan is taking a physical fitness test?”
Song Ling nodded. “Yes.”
Gu Xiuyi clenched his jaw. Didn’t the test require a 1,000-meter run?
And Ji Ruan, with his delicate, injury-prone body, was supposed to run 1,000 meters? What kind of joke was this?!
Pressing his fingers against his temples, Gu Xiuyi exhaled sharply. “You can head back first.”
Song Ling had anticipated this. “Understood.”
“Wait,” Gu Xiuyi tapped his fingers. “Leave the car keys.”
“…?? Boss?!”
“I’ll reimburse your taxi fare.”
“Deal!”
Grinning, Song Ling cheerfully handed over the keys.
**
Ji Ruan had just finished his long jump and was now sitting in the bleachers, watching students struggle through their runs.
A 1,000-meter run was effortless for some, but for others, it was pure agony. In the freezing winter air, each breath expelled thick puffs of white mist. Ji Ruan had already seen several people run themselves to the point of vomiting.
“Long time no see, junior.”
Without waiting for permission, someone sat down beside him—so close that their clothes touched.
Ji Ruan frowned and shifted a seat away.
It had been a while. Seeing this person again, Ji Ruan almost didn’t recognize him at first.
“It’s been three months, and you still haven’t accepted my friend request?” Bai Ange smiled.
Ji Ruan returned a polite but distant smile. “I’ve been busy. I forgot.”
“No worries.” Bai Ange propped his chin on his hand and stared at Ji Ruan. “You can add me now.”
Ji Ruan’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t have my phone with me.”
It was an obviously lame excuse. Bai Ange couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You really don’t like me, huh? Why won’t you even be my friend?”
Ji Ruan met his gaze without hesitation, his expression calm. “Because you don’t just want to be friends.”
Bai Ange’s smile faltered for a second. He pressed a finger against his lips, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Do you talk to Gu Xiuyi like that too? You know, you’re incredibly alluring when you speak like this.”
His gaze was intense, like ivy laced with poison—slowly creeping, unsettling.
Ji Ruan turned away, too tired to suppress his irritation. “Oh? So you do know Gu Xiuyi. I thought you weren’t aware that we’re already married.”
Such a direct, cutting remark should have been enough to shut Bai Ange down.
But instead of backing off, Bai Ange’s interest seemed to deepen. He watched Ji Ruan with growing amusement. “Hmm. But who can say for sure? What if… you two end up divorcing in the future?”
Ji Ruan finally frowned in exasperation. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Without thinking, he pulled it out and answered the call.
Bai Ange, who had just heard him claim he didn’t have his phone, was momentarily stunned.
Even though he had known all along that it was just an excuse, Ji Ruan’s utter disregard for covering it up still made him let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“—Look ahead.”
Ji Ruan hadn’t expected to hear Gu Xiuyi’s voice. Instinctively, he lifted his head—and, sure enough, there Gu Xiuyi was, standing on the inner side of the track.
A black overcoat draped over his tailored suit, making his tall, well-proportioned figure seem even more striking. The faint gleam of his wristwatch flickered subtly as he held his phone. His expression was as cold and unapproachable as ever, completely devoid of warmth.
"Why are you here?" Ji Ruan asked, a little surprised.
Gu Xiuyi had clearly seen him talking with Bai Ange, but his tone gave away nothing. "Come here."
Ji Ruan hadn’t wanted to stay anyway. Without hesitation, he got up and walked toward Gu Xiuyi.
Gu Xiuyi didn’t spare Bai Ange a single glance. Once Ji Ruan reached him, he ended the call and immediately reached out to check the temperature at the side of Ji Ruan’s neck.
Not bad—the puffy down jacket seemed to be doing its job.
"Did you do any exercise?" Gu Xiuyi asked.
"Nope," Ji Ruan smiled and shook his head. "Just did a long jump and stretched a little. I don’t even like running, so of course I slacked off."
"Good," Gu Xiuyi’s lips curled slightly, seeming pleased. "Very obedient."
Taking Ji Ruan’s hand, he began leading him away at a steady pace, his tone casual. "Let’s go. It’s the Winter Solstice—I’ll take you to eat something warm."
Ji Ruan was indeed starting to feel hungry. His face lit up with a smile. "What are we eating? For the Winter Solstice… lamb stew?"
Gu Xiuyi’s lips pressed into a faint smile, and his gaze toward Ji Ruan softened.
"Mhm. If that’s what you want."
The author has something to say:
CEO Gu: No tricks today. Guess if I was jealous or not? 😏