Ding!
The elevator doors slowly opened.
Cold white light spilled onto the carpet of the executive floor.
This was the 49th floor, the Ritz-Carlton Executive Lounge.
A faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
On both sides of the corridor were dark wood walls and decorative oil paintings with gold trim—some of the Thames under rain and fog, others of Victorian carriages.
The carpet was thick, making footsteps nearly inaudible, as if even breathing had become precious.
Bai Xialin walked ahead, striding quickly.
And her hand, from start to finish, firmly held Gu Yebai’s.
Her violet evening gown brushed against the carpet like a wisp of purple smoke, her silver heels making faint clicking sounds.
Today she hadn’t tied her hair in a high ponytail but instead swept it up at the nape of her neck, adding an inexplicable touch of elegance and grace.
Gu Yebai followed behind.
He felt a bit like a little kid being led by an older sister, his palms slightly sweaty, his hand growing hot in her grip.
His suit sleeves were rolled up, revealing a faint red mark on his wrist—a kiss from Gao Hongyi last night, deeper than she’d realized.
There were four or five more similar marks hidden beneath his collar, like brands.
‘I’m Gao Hongyi’s boyfriend,’ Gu Yebai thought.
He also recalled what Gao Hongyi had said this morning while fixing his tie.
“Don’t let anyone else get close, especially girls.”
Then she’d grabbed his tie and kissed him.
So deep it left him breathless.
Gu Yebai swallowed.
He tried to pull his hand back, but Bai Xialin immediately noticed.
She paused, didn’t turn, but gripped tighter, her fingers intertwining with his, circling around and around like vines climbing silently upward.
“What’s wrong, Xiao Gu Gu?”
A soft, cute voice with a slight Korean accent drifted from ahead.
Then she turned around.
Her pupils glistened under the light, wet and shiny, staring straight at him.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and the corners of her mouth curved into a smile—not angry, but with an itch-inducing grievance.
“Why?”
Gu Yebai lowered his head, not daring to meet her eyes.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“It’s not good…”
“Hongyi… I’m her boyfriend. I don’t want to do anything that would betray her,” he murmured.
“We’re not elementary school kids. Holding hands doesn’t mean you’re letting your imagination run wild, does it?”
But Bai Xialin’s palm was warm, and the creamy white musk fragrance filled his nose, wrapping around his heart.
She didn’t let go.
Instead, she leaned in closer, her body almost pressing against his chest.
The neckline of her evening gown gaped slightly, revealing her collarbone—that delicate curve, like a silent invitation.
“Does holding hands count as betraying her?”
She tilted her head, her eyes crescent-shaped, her voice soft as cotton candy, yet carrying an undeniable certainty.
“Xiao Gu Gu, I can hear your heartbeat.”
Her fingers traced a gentle circle on the back of his hand.
The cool, smooth touch felt like an electric current, climbing from his arm up his spine.
“Anyway, Gao Hongyi isn’t here. Just let me hold it for a while, okay?”
“I’m nervous too. I don’t know what to do with my hands. So, just let me borrow yours for a bit. Is that okay?”
“Don’t worry. This is our little secret. I’ll never let her know.”
“But…”
“Or are you afraid she’ll find out and lock you up even tighter? That actually works for me, because one day you won’t be able to take it anymore. You’ll want to run, and I’ll open the door wide, waiting for you to come to me whenever you want.”
“Gao Hongyi’s love is too heavy, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you want to try a lighter kind of love?”
Gu Yebai’s breathing grew ragged.
The word “light” hooked his heart.
He no longer tried to pull away; his attempt even softened.
He just kept his head down and let her lead him forward.
At the end of the corridor was a mahogany door with a gold plaque engraved with “Private Meeting Room.”
Bai Xialin lightly knocked.
Knock knock.
The door opened.
A woman in her thirties stood there, dressed in a tight black suit, her hair pinned up immaculately, a professional smile on her face.
She didn’t deliberately look at their joined hands, just swept a glance over them—as if she saw nothing, yet saw everything.
“Please come in.”
Her voice was soft, with a standard British accent.
“The headmaster and teachers are already waiting.”
Bai Xialin finally let go.
Not completely—her fingertips slid away from Gu Yebai’s palm bit by bit, as if deliberately leaving a warm, sticky trail.
Before the coolness could set in, the lingering creamy white musk scent invaded his nose, clinging to his heart.
She stepped forward.
The hem of her violet evening gown swept across the carpet like a slowly spreading poisonous mist.
Her silver heels clicked twice as she entered the room first.
Gu Yebai followed.
His steps felt heavy.
This was the first time he’d met someone of such high social standing, aside from his parents.
Something blocked his chest, making him anxious.
He feared that if he opened his mouth, he’d be looked down on.
He feared those sharp eyes would see through the inferiority ingrained in his bones.
His steps grew heavier, as if walking on cotton—or on knife edges.
‘Ah… I really want to turn and run.’
At Linchuan Fifth High School, all he had to do was quietly solve problems, get every teacher’s question right, and he was a good student worthy of praise.
But could those experiences of being a top student from a small town—the grades earned through steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a cracked-screen Redmi phone—really be recognized here?
When the assistant stepped aside to let him pass, he instinctively lowered his head, avoiding her professional eyes that saw everything yet said nothing.
He was nervous not just about the interview itself, but also about Bai Xialin’s presence—her whispers, her hand that had held his, the scent of her perfume.
All of it left Gu Yebai dizzy.
Inside the room, the faint aroma of black tea mixed with the smell of old books and leather.
The lighting was soft but bright enough to make every subtle expression on everyone’s face painfully clear, as if under a magnifying glass.
A long mahogany table was covered in dark green velvet.
At the center sat a silver coat of arms—a cross intertwined with a griffin.
Gu Yebai had seen it on the blazer of Gao Hongyi’s school uniform.
Sir Reginald Hawthorne, the headmaster, sat at the center.
Seventy-something, silver hair combed perfectly, tall and thin, his suit sharply pressed.
Almost at first glance, you could tell he was a man who had been to war.
Even if years had frosted his hair, that soldierly straightness and sharpness hadn’t been dulled by time.
Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were sharp but not aggressive.
A faint, meaningful smile always hung at the corners of his mouth, as if appraising a precious antique—or two young people he was about to carve or dismantle completely.
He didn’t rush to speak.
His gaze first landed on Gu Yebai.
Gu Yebai instantly felt a chill run down his spine, as if stripped naked under a spotlight, all his scars exposed.
“Miss Gao is the most remarkable piano prodigy our school has ever seen, a once-in-a-century talent!”
Sir Hawthorne’s voice was low and slow, like an ancient bell tolling, each word echoing, stretching so long it was hard to breathe.
“I believe you must also have exceptional qualities.”
‘Ah…’
Gu Yebai’s heart clenched.
‘Miss Gao… the most remarkable piano prodigy… If I can’t achieve something similar to Gao Hongyi, the headmaster will surely be disappointed, right?’
Gao Hongyi was a genius.
Indeed.
‘Does a small-town top student really deserve to stand here?’
‘Maybe Uncle Gao recognized me, but in others’ eyes, Gao Hongyi and I might not be a good match…’
Gu Yebai lowered his head.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
His fingertips curled into his palms, as if trying to grab something, but failing.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but only managed two words.
“Thank you…”
His voice was so small it seemed like it would scatter in the wind.
Bai Xialin tilted her head beside him, her violet eyes curving into crescents, her smile sickly sweet.
Under the table, her leg gently brushed his knee.
Very light.
Yet with warmth.
As if silently saying: It’s okay.
You have me.
Then Bai Xialin stepped forward slightly, standing a bit more prominently.
Sir Hawthorne’s gaze shifted from Gu Yebai to Bai Xialin.
The faint smile at the corner of his mouth deepened, as if he’d finally found a truly interesting exhibit.
“Miss Baek… Bai Xialin.”
He paused, as if savoring the echo of the name itself.
“The legendary figure from Ewha Womans High School, correct?”
The room went silent instantly, leaving only the faint sound of steam rising from tea cups.
Gu Yebai’s heart skipped a beat.
He turned his head instinctively to look at Bai Xialin.
She sat there, the hem of her violet evening gown spread out like a still lake of purple.
Her lips curved into a demure smile, her eyelashes lowered, like a little girl praised by an elder.
“You know each other?”
Gu Yebai whispered.
“Of course we know each other!”
Sir Hawthorne’s voice was noticeably excited.
“She founded the NASA Club at Ewha Womans High School—not one of those decorative student clubs, but one that actually partnered with the U.S. National Aeronautics and Space Administration on projects, a club that made even aerospace professors in Sakura Country take notice.”
“She used the strictest logic and the coldest mathematical models to write a paper that left a professor from the University of Tokyo’s Astronomy Department silent for three full minutes—entitled ‘The Compatibility of Extraterrestrial Civilizations’ Accessibility and Human Emotional Structure.’”
Gu Yebai’s breath caught.
Sir Hawthorne didn’t pause, continuing.
“Later, at that International Symposium on Rocket Propulsion Systems at the University of Tsukuba, I was a guest speaker. She was there too.”
“She sat in the second row. When she asked a question, the entire venue fell silent. She didn’t ask about technical details, but a very interesting question: ‘If a rocket with infinite fuel crashes into the universe only to find endless darkness, then is the most hidden emotional boundary of humanity also another form of the universe?’”
“I remember Miss Baek made a very intriguing point then, saying that perhaps the universe we exist in is just a cell of some organism, and we are the bacteria living on that cell.”
“After that, we engaged in a heated debate on that topic! Even now, I still remember it vividly!”
“Miss Baek, your academic passion, your global perspective, your… obsessive pursuit of the unknown… all of it excites us greatly.”
He paused, his gaze settling back on Bai Xialin’s face.
His tone suddenly softened, yet became more meaningful.
“To be honest, even without Mr. Gao Hongzhi’s recommendation, I would have admitted you on an exceptional basis.”
“Because someone like you, once missed, would be Saint George’s loss.”
Bai Xialin lowered her head, her eyelashes fluttering, like a shy honor student.
“Thank you, Sir Hawthorne.”
She suddenly turned her head to look at Gu Yebai, as if hoping he would compliment her too.
Under the table, her finger gently hooked his pinky.
Circling, and circling.
Like vines growing.
‘Bai Xialin is also incredibly outstanding…’
‘In this world full of geniuses, only I have been left behind.’
Gu Yebai stared at the mahogany door and began to get cold feet.