At the doorway to her home, Zhang Zhixing felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding.

She pulled out her key, her hands trembling slightly as she slowly inserted it into the lock.

Given Liang Yao’s temperament, the house was probably already trashed.

Bracing herself, Zhang Zhixing pushed open the door and steeled herself to look inside.

The living room was calm, illuminated only by a wall light. The furniture was orderly, and the only sign of disturbance was the slightly cluttered tea table with a few crowded cups and plates.

Nothing happened?

Zhang Zhixing blinked. The calm before the storm?

Changing her shoes cautiously, she tiptoed to Liang Yao’s bedroom door. She knocked lightly. “Liang Yao?”

Faint yellow light seeped out from under the door, but no response came—not even the usual sounds of a tantrum.

Zhang Zhixing turned the handle and peeked inside, bending slightly.

Inside, Liang Yao rested his chin in his hand, staring intently at the small desk lamp on the table. His usual arrogant, lively aura had softened considerably.

He was zoning out.

Gathering her courage, Zhang Zhixing crept closer and tapped his shoulder.

Liang Yao jolted upright, his body springing like a coil. He trembled slightly and nearly fell off his chair.

Clutching the table for balance, he patted his chest before barking at Zhang Zhixing, “You scared me!”

His startled reaction amused Zhang Zhixing, who burst out laughing.

“I knocked just now. You didn’t answer,” she pointed out, gesturing at the door.

“Huh?” Still catching his breath, Liang Yao turned his head away from her. “What do you want?”

“Are you mad?”

“Mad about what?”

Zhang Zhixing leaned closer to study him, but Liang Yao avoided her gaze. “Alright, if you’re fine, you can go now.”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“Who’s avoiding you?” Liang Yao turned his back and stared at the lamp again. He stammered, “You… you should just leave.”

“Really?” Zhang Zhixing tilted her head closer, refusing to relent. “Not avoiding me, huh?”

Liang Yao nearly jumped out of his chair, his face flushing. He stood abruptly and ushered her out. “Can you just go?”

Shut out, Zhang Zhixing found herself staring at the closed door, bemused.

Strange. Not mad, so what’s going on?

She shook her head and left.

Inside, Liang Yao paced back and forth like a caged animal, his anxiety palpable.

Why was it that just being in the same space as her made him so flustered, to the point where he could hardly breathe?

Why now?

Frustrated, Liang Yao flung himself onto the bed and pulled the covers over his head.

Moments later, his head poked out again, red-faced and his silver hair in disarray.

No. He needed to stay far away from her.

---

The next morning, Zhang Zhixing awoke to find Liang Yao already dressed, his violin case strapped to his back.

“Where are you off to?” she called out.

Without turning, Liang Yao replied, “Old Tian mentioned a music shop that’s short-staffed. I’m going to help out for a while.”

With that, he left.

For the next few days, Liang Yao kept a consistent schedule: leaving early and returning late, barely crossing paths with Zhang Zhixing.

Tonight was no exception. By 8 p.m., he still hadn’t come back.

Zhang Zhixing glanced at the calendar. It was Wednesday—time for the second episode of Idol Project. Curious to see how the editing had gone after Zeyang’s recent surge in popularity on Weibo, she turned on the TV.

She had only watched about ten minutes when the door swung open.

Liang Yao stepped in wearing a baseball cap and a loose varsity jacket half-zipped, paired with ripped black jeans that highlighted his tall, lean frame.

He closed the door, glanced at the TV, and asked, “What are you watching?”

Before she could answer, Zeyang’s close-up appeared on the screen.

Clicking his tongue, Liang Yao grabbed the remote and switched the channel. “No watching this garbage.”

Zhang Zhixing chuckled and reclaimed the remote. “I need to assess the editing and consider the show’s—”

“No need to assess anything!” Liang Yao interrupted. Setting his violin case aside, he snatched the remote again and switched to a classical violin performance. Pocketing the remote, he declared, “Listen to Pat Spenger’s performance of Golden Clouds. It’ll cleanse your ears and eyes.”

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, he started tapping his fingers in rhythm while rambling, “This piece is amazing. It’s a shame I’ve never heard it live, or else—”

Zhang Zhixing extended her bare foot and nudged his back. “Busy these days, huh?”

“You—” Liang Yao turned to find her foot pressing against him and jumped to his feet, stammering, “Why… why are you sticking your foot out?!”

“I… I just felt like it!” Zhang Zhixing mimicked his stammer with a grin, tilting her head to watch his reaction. “What’s got you so jumpy?”

Liang Yao averted his gaze, grabbed his violin case, and moved to leave.

Growing more amused, Zhang Zhixing tugged at his jacket. “Are you avoiding me?”

His ears turned red as he fumbled to reply, “Who—who’s avoiding you? I’ve got things to do!”

“Really?” Her voice dropped to a teasing lilt as she held onto his clothes. “You’re not avoiding me at all?”

Liang Yao’s heart skipped a beat. Stammering even more, he insisted, “I already said… said I’m not avoiding you. I’m just busy!”

He yanked off his jacket, leaving it in her hands, and darted to his room like a startled rabbit.

Zhang Zhixing stared at the jacket in her hands, shaking her head with a laugh.

---

Thursday rolled around, bringing another filming day with Zeyang.

By noon, Zhang Zhixing had just finished getting ready when she noticed a sticky note on the door.

“Made too much breakfast. Didn’t want to waste it, so it’s in the fridge. Use it as lunch.”

Smiling at the familiar handwriting, she walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

Inside was a neatly packed double-layered lunchbox, sealed tightly.

She opened the container. The top layer held two or three slices of neatly cut toast alongside a small fruit platter.

The second layer contained three bacon sandwiches.

How much do you eat for breakfast to accidentally make this much extra?

A smile spread across Zhang Zhixing’s face.

She placed the lunchbox in her bag and drove to pick up Zeyang.

Unexpectedly, Zeyang sounded somewhat puzzled when he answered her call.

When he got in the car, Zhang Zhixing glanced at him and noticed faint dark circles under his eyes.

Looks like he stayed up late practicing.

As they drove, Zhang Zhixing recalled his stomach issues and asked, “Want to grab a bite before heading to the shoot? We’ve got some time.”

“No need,” Zeyang replied. “I’d rather get to the venue early to rehearse onstage.”

Zhang Zhixing pouted. “Suit yourself.”

The car eventually hit traffic on the highway.

After a few minutes of no movement, Zhang Zhixing turned off the engine.

She retrieved the lunchbox from her bag and opened it.

The aroma of fresh bread quickly filled the car.

Zeyang’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and looked away.

After taking a few satisfied bites, Zhang Zhixing suddenly remembered Zeyang and asked, “Want some?”

Zeyang glanced at her, then chuckled softly. His demeanor was utterly sincere and innocent.

“Sure.”

Zhang Zhixing grinned. “If you want some, I’ll eat it for you.”

And with that, she happily took another bite of the sandwich.

Zeyang: “…”

After several seconds of silence, he tapped his knee lightly, as if amused by the situation.

Traffic began to move again, and Zhang Zhixing had nearly finished eating.

Starting the car, she tossed the lunchbox toward Zeyang. “Here. Eat.”

Somewhat surprised, Zeyang opened the box to find one sandwich and two slices of toast remaining.

“You boys probably need more food than this. If it’s not enough, I’ll grab you something else near the set,” Zhang Zhixing said.

Lowering his gaze, Zeyang asked softly, “Did you make this?”

Without thinking, Zhang Zhixing replied, “Of course not, it’s—”

The car slowed down slightly.

Her movements froze.

Crap. I forgot this was Liang Yao’s breakfast.

Glancing at the food Zeyang was already eating, she felt a pang of panic.

Heaven knows, Earth knows, you and I know… this should be fine, right?

---

Zeyang’s late-night practices had paid off. During the performance, as soon as he started singing, both the mentors and his fellow trainees were visibly impressed.

However, the downside of staying up all night was evident—he struggled to maintain focus.

Even while delivering an outstanding performance, his mind kept replaying scenes from that night of practice:

The flow of notes under her hands, her pale fingers dancing across black and white keys, the warmth of her hand gripping his wrist, and her beautiful face illuminated by dim lighting.

It was all… too… distracting.

Distracted yet composed, he managed to finish filming the entire episode.

Afterward, Zeyang went backstage to remove his makeup, carrying his violin case as he prepared to leave.

Although the episode didn’t feature any violin performances, he was in the habit of bringing his instrument.

Walking a few steps, he felt something was off and opened his case at the nearby table.

Three violin strings were snapped and coiled, while a fourth was on the verge of breaking.

Gently plucking the remaining intact string, he discovered that even the pegs had been tampered with—the tuning was completely off.

Running his fingers along the violin’s body, he was relieved to find no structural damage, though the broken strings were enough of a setback.

Zeyang’s expression remained calm as he carefully closed the case.

He got into Zhang Zhixing’s car, where she seemed to be on the phone with someone from the company.

“Yes, yes, thank you so much. This is a huge help. I’ll come by to pick it up and treat you to a meal next time,” she said before hanging up.

Turning to him, she asked, “Mind if I stop by the office before dropping you off?”

“No need,” Zeyang replied. “Can you find a music store nearby? My violin needs some repairs. I’ll head home afterward.”

A short while later, Zhang Zhixing parked the car. “The GPS says it’s fifty meters straight ahead after the turn.”

Carrying his violin, Zeyang stepped out and walked toward the shop.

The music store appeared to be newly opened, its interior both lavish and elegantly vintage.

Approaching the counter, he noticed someone slouched over, seemingly asleep.

Tapping the counter lightly, he said, “I need to retune my violin and replace the strings.”

The person stirred and responded groggily. Removing his cap, he ruffled his silver hair and raised his head, eyes bleary.

The moment their eyes met, Liang Yao’s expression sharpened, waking completely.

He frowned, his disdain evident.

Zeyang, recognizing him immediately, smiled faintly. “Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t you?” Liang Yao opened the violin case and sneered. “Even a practice violin shouldn’t be treated this badly.”

“It’s a performance violin,” Zeyang corrected after a pause.

Liang Yao glanced at him before smirking wider. “Targeted, huh? Guess you’re not very likable.”

Remaining composed, Zeyang replied, “Your violin skills are exceptional, but I can’t help wondering why you seem to dislike me so much.”

“Because your half-baked playing grates on my ears,” Liang Yao retorted, his smile laced with mockery as he adjusted the pegs. “And honestly, just looking at you is irritating.”

Zeyang’s gaze deepened, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.

Such hostility… it doesn’t add up.

A phone vibrated, breaking the tension.

Zeyang answered, “Hello, Zhang Jie?”

Liang Yao’s movements stilled, his bright eyes narrowing.

He resumed dismantling the violin strings, his expression unreadable.

“I’m still at the music store. Don’t worry, I’ll head home once it’s fixed. I got the details about the event from the email,” Zeyang said into the phone.

After a brief pause, he chuckled softly, his tone warm. “Zhang Jie, thanks for lunch.”

Snap!

The string Liang Yao was handling broke with a jarring sound.

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