This man—either he didn't show up at all,

or he appeared just when she was trying to move on.

Had she owed him a fortune in her past life,

for him to haunt her like this?

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

"Sandra, don't do this," Yao pleaded, his voice breaking with concern.

The girl in his arms winced, her brow furrowed tightly as she fought to hold back her tears. Sweat poured down her face, soaking her skin.

"Sandra, please stop moving. If your hand becomes useless, how will you ever draw again?" he urged, his tone soft but desperate.

"If I can't draw, then I won't," Sandra snapped, turning her head away with a bitter sneer. "Besides, everyone's using computers for design now. As long as I can use a mouse, it's fine."

Yao let out a heavy sigh, helplessness creeping into his chest as he carefully began wrapping her injured finger joints with a bandage. His touch was gentle, as if handling something fragile.

"Isn't this just because your back injury affected your performance? You didn't win, but that doesn't mean you can't. Your skill is still there. Once you recover, you'll win again. Who are you even fighting against?"

Sandra didn't respond, her gaze fixed on a distant point, her eyes empty.

Who else could she be fighting against? Only herself.

Since that day, Arden hadn't contacted her again. She hadn't given him her number, she admitted that. But if he truly wanted to know, it wasn't as if he didn't have ways to find out. She hadn't told him where she lived before, yet somehow, on that day, he had no trouble sending her home.

If there had been a sliver of hope in the first few days, it had long since faded.

Sandra knew the truth—Arden was just a player. She had been so strict and firm when lecturing April about matters of the heart, but when it came to herself, how had she become so muddled? She was deeply disappointed in her own lack of control. He was just a reasonably attractive man. She had never been the type of girl to fall for handsome men before.

Sandra grabbed Yao's hair with her free hand, yanking his face close to hers.

"Hey, Sandra, what are you doing? I'm not done wrapping this yet." Yao protested; his voice tight with unease. He dared not move, afraid of ruining the half-wrapped bandage.

Sandra's eyes meticulously scanned every feature on his face. The distance between them was so close that their breaths mingled, warm and unsteady. Yao, caught in her gaze, felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, as if the world around them had begun to blur.

Objectively speaking, Yao was the epitome of masculinity—healthy skin tone, thick hair, a prominent nose, full lips, a cleft chin and a jawline that could have been carved by angels.

Unlike Arden.

People said men with thin lips usually were heartless. What good was handsomeness without warmth?

The surprise in Yao's slender eyes gradually shifted into something more intense. His breathing grew slightly heavier, and just as he was about to act, Sandra released her grip on him and turned away.

Yao swallowed his disappointment and resumed wrapping the bandage in silence.

Sandra rested her chin on her hand, drifting into thought.

Why could she face Yao so calmly? He was a man—a grown man, no less. Yet even with them so close, her heartbeat remained steady, her mind sharp and focused.

Yao snipped off the excess bandage but didn't let go of Sandra's hand. She didn't pull it back either.

The silence between them stretched, thick and unspoken. Finally, Yao's voice broke through. "All done."

"Huh?" Sandra blinked, still lost in her thoughts.

"Your hand is bandaged," Yao said, glancing down at the small hand resting in his palm.

"Oh," Sandra snapped back to reality, "Thanks."

"What's the matter? Daydreaming about someone?" Yao couldn't help but ask, his curiosity piqued by her odd behavior.

Sandra rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "And if I am?"

Yao let out a dramatic sigh, packing up the first aid kit with exaggerated care. "It's definitely not me."

Sandra knelt on the floor, poking his waist with her newly bandaged finger. "At least you're self-aware."

Yao glanced at the girl beside him, seemed to take pleasure in his torment, and sighed at his misfortune.

Over the past days, he had dropped hints and even outright confessed his feelings for her, but every time, she'd seize the opportunity to mock him. He felt like he'd been stabbed so many times he was practically like Swiss cheese.

Standing up with the first aid kit in hand, Yao turned away and pulled open a drawer. "If you don't have feelings for me, don't do things like that. Do you even realize I almost lost control earlier?"

Sandra tilted her head, her expression unreadable. Her voice, however, was startlingly sincere. "What do you think I was trying to do just now?"

Her bluntness caught Yao completely off guard. He froze, his hand hovering over the drawer as he struggled to find an answer.

Sandra stood up as well, her expression curious, and asked with genuine curiosity, "Do you want to sleep with me?"

Yao was so startled that he dropped the first aid kit directly onto his foot. He winced but didn't even cry out in pain, too stunned by her words. "What did you just say?"

"I said, do you want to sleep with me?" Sandra repeated.

Yao took a deep breath, his mind scrambling for composure. He picked up the fallen first aid kit and turned to face her. "Sandra, stop messing with me. I might actually take your words seriously."

Sandra's expression remained completely serious. "To be honest, I wouldn't blame you."

Yao stared at her, his chest tightening. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could hold onto this moment forever.

Sandra, however, grew impatient, her tone sharp. "Well? Answer me."

Yao hesitated, weighing her words carefully, before giving a silent nod.

Sandra's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. "Men are all the same," she muttered, turning to leave.

Yao's heart sank, but he quickly followed after her. "Wait—You were the one who asked me to be honest..."

🎬🔀

"This girl is different."

Moya's words lingered in Arden's mind like a curse.

Whenever he found himself with idle moments, his thoughts drifted back to Sandra—the way she had looked at him as he left. That gaze had stuck with him, like a splinter he couldn't quite remove, and for some inexplicable reason, it made the wound on his scalp throb faintly.

It was a feeling he couldn't name, one that irritated him with its persistence.

Arden scoffed at the notion of it being guilty. He didn't have a conscience—he had lived this long without ever needing one. To win a woman, there wasn't a trick he hadn't tried. So why did this time feel different?

Was it the image of her standing under the soft amber glow of the kitchen light, cooking noodles for him?

Ridiculous. Even if Phil had punched him into a full-blown concussion, it wouldn't suddenly turn him sentimental.

He had assumed the lingering feelings after their first encounter were simply because of her uniqueness. So he'd even gone to the trouble of faking an injury as an excuse. By all accounts, he had gotten what he wanted with ease—so what else was there to care about?

Besides, there were always plenty of fresh faces waiting for him to sample. Why would he waste time retracing his steps?

The moment Arden pushed open the door to KSF, he was greeted by Moya's unrestrained laughter echoing through the room.

"... Really? She actually thought Arden was some kind of escort? ..."

Seeing Ryo and Moya with their heads huddled together, whispering conspiratorially, Arden frowned.

"Hahaha..." Moya turned, catching sight of Arden as he approached. With a grin, she raised her hand like she was calling a dog. "Hey, pretty boy, come over here and have a drink with me."

"What's so funny? I can see your tonsils from here," Arden asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter.

Moya wasted no time slinging an arm over his shoulder, her smile wicked. "So, you told that girl you're a male prostitute?"

"Pfft!" Arden choked, spitting water all over the bar.

"You'd be perfect for it, wouldn't you? So good at coaxing women. If you joined BB-BOY club, you'd probably become the top pick," Moya teased with a sly grin. "Then again, your everyday life isn't much different—you're already serving women in bed, though for free."

Arden's expression darkened instantly. "Who said that?"

Moya pointed at Ryo. "April told him."

Arden turned his sharp gaze to Ryo, their eyes locking in a silent, fierce exchange.

Ryo, unfazed, raised his chin smugly, a slow, deliberate grin spreading across his face. The sheer audacity of it made Arden's irritation spike further.

"When are you delivering your girlfriend to me?" Arden reminded him of their bet that day.

Ryo had been avoiding Arden for days, but now, emboldened by the chance to witness something entertaining, he'd carelessly shown up.

"If you can get her to agree, she's all yours," Ryo said with a smirk, though a flicker of defensiveness lurked beneath his tone.

In truth, he had nearly succeeded that night—so close that he could still replay the moment in his mind. But a brief lapse, a single misstep, had cost him everything. The sting of embarrassment lingered, yet he refused to yield, his pride anchoring him.

Arden smirked, his tone cutting. "If she doesn't agree, can't you just chase her down?"

Ryo's expression twitched, betraying a flicker of unease. How could he admit he was terrified of ending up like Ben, who'd gotten his bones broken by the guard dog?

"I've got class. Exam today," Ryo muttered, seizing the excuse to make a hasty escape.

Arden watched him go, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. He still couldn't figure out what had caused Sandra's bizarre misunderstanding.

After a moment, he shrugged it off, deciding it had to be Ryo's jealousy. Clearly, Ryo was spreading rumors to tarnish his reputation. If word got out, it'd ruin his carefully curated image with the ladies—and that was unacceptable.

Moya, on the other hand, seemed delighted. "Isn't this even better? Now you've got another chance."

Arden raised an eyebrow, his confusion evident. "What do you mean?"

Moya's grin widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Now you've got a reason to see her again."

Arden immediately caught on, his sly grin returning as understanding flickered in his gaze.

"What about April? Are you really going to..." Moya trailed off, curiosity in her voice.

Arden took a leisurely swig of water, savoring the moment, and shot Moya a playful wink. "What do you think?"

Moya covered her mouth, her laughter slithering out like a snake's hiss. "With you? Of course, you won't waste the opportunity."

🎬🔀

Sandra was stretching a canvas over a frame when her teacher, Julianne, approached with a concerned look.

"Sandra, is something on your mind lately?"

Sandra shrugged casually. "Not really."

"Are you sure?" Julianne's skepticism was clear. "If there's anything bothering you, you can talk to me."

Sandra gave a light laugh. "Does a poor competition result count?"

"Are you sure it's about the competition? " Julianne adjusted her glasses, her gaze drifting to the acrylic seascape painting on Sandra's easel. "Don't you think there's too much indigo in this painting? It feels overly somber."

Sandra stepped back, eyeing her work critically. "Julianne, that's Prussian blue."

Julianne picked up a pile of old paintings, flipping through them before pulling out another painting of the sea. "I remember your colors used to lean more toward green."

Sandra took the painting from Julianne, her fingers brushing the edge of the canvas as a wave of memories swept through her. She was sixteen again, stepping onto this land for the first time, brimming with dreams and hope for the future. Back then, perhaps, she had been as naive as the green hues of the sea she painted—vivid, untarnished, and full of promise.

"When I first came, I didn't know any better," Sandra murmured, her voice distant as her mind wandered. "I thought the sea should always be clear blue, and the sand golden, gently stretching into the water. Later, when I actually went to the beach here, I discovered the truth. There were rocks on the shore, the sand could be black, and the coast could be dangerous—marked with warning signs. Fall in, and you wouldn't come out alive."

Julianne flipped through the old paintings, her fingers brushing over the familiar strokes. "The sea you paint reflects the sea in your heart. If you think it's azure, it will be azure. If you think it's dark, it will be dark."

Sandra couldn't help but retort, "But the sea here really is dark blue."

Julianne looked at her with a soft smile. "Why trap yourself on the west coast? If you want to see beautiful shores, why not travel—Hawaii, the Maldives, Dubai..."

Sandra offered a bitter smile, the weight of her reality pressing down on her. "Julianne, I don't have the time or the money."

"Even if you can't go, let your heart dream of it," Julianne said gently, reaching out to take Sandra's hand. "Life is full of disappointments. You need to give yourself some hope. If this road is too hard, why not try another one?"

As she spoke, the door opened, and Julianne's gaze shifted. "Oh, Yao. Are you here to pick her up?"

Sandra turned to see Yao standing in the doorway. They'd agreed to train together that afternoon.

She studied the tall man in white sportswear, her thoughts swirling. What kind of path would he be for me? Smooth, or full of obstacles? After two consecutive failures, a wave of hesitation swept over her, tinged with timidity.

Julianne, noticing the hesitation, nudged Sandra toward the door. "Sandra, the weather's nice these days. Go enjoy spring break with friends. Don't waste such a beautiful time."

Yao looked down at Sandra, who seemed lost in thought. "What did your teacher say to you?"

Sandra didn't answer directly. Instead, she stretched her arms upward lazily, then swung them around in an exaggerated motion, forcing Yao to step back.

"I don't feel like training today," Sandra said with a smirk. "You owe me. Take me out for ice cream."

"Huh?" Yao was puzzled. "Owe you for what?"

Sandra clung to his arm, pulling him along with ease. "Owe me for wasting my beautiful spring days on training!"

Yao blinked, still confused. Wasn't he always doing this because she needed company?

He glanced down at Sandra, her proximity making him acutely aware of how her soft chest brushed against the back of his hand. His scalp tingled.

Whatever. If she said he owed her, then he'd make it up to her.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy new year!!! Welcome to 2025!!!

To celebrate the new year, I will update a new piece each day (~2k words per update), five days in a row. Here is the 1st update~

If you like my story, please add it to your book list and remember to vote! Your support is my motivation!