Jiang Ming once thought that Lillian’s model in the game—rendered countless times and adjusted until every strand of hair was perfect—had exhausted all possibilities for beauty.
Until this moment, when the real her sat before him.
The afternoon light slanted through the restaurant’s high windows. She sat across from him at a heavy oak table. Her long, silvery-white hair flowed smoothly over her shoulders. Her skin was a cold white, like fine Bone China. When those crimson eyes looked up, the luster within was more vivid, transparent, and bottomless than any special effect in a game.
The perfection in the game suddenly seemed pale in her presence.
Jiang Ming looked at her, and something in a corner of his heart clicked softly.
“Excuse me, classmate,” Jiang Ming heard his own voice. “How should I address you?”
“Lillian,” she answered. She had no intention of hiding her true name, nor did she need to.
In the Holy Moon Empire, there were far too many girls named Lillian, not to mention they were thousands of miles away in Opas. Who would associate this silver-haired girl sitting in a restaurant with that secluded ruler of the Empire?
The corner of Jiang Ming’s mouth twitched imperceptibly.
…She really didn’t even bother to act.
He was tens of thousands of miles away from the Imperial Capital with a mysterious identity. How exactly did she locate him so precisely and happen to sit right in front of him?
It was like she had a map hack.
“Classmate Lillian,” Jiang Ming leaned forward slightly, looking directly at her. “Have you heard of Chekhov’s Gun?”
Red eyes met black ones. A trace of genuine amusement rippled through Lillian’s crimson eyes, as if the mere act of talking to him brought her heartfelt joy.
“I’m listening,” she said softly.
“It means that if a gun appears in the First Act,” Jiang Ming said slowly, his fingertip tapping lightly on the table, “then it must be fired by the Third Act.”
He paused, his gaze lingering on her face.
“Love at first sight is sometimes like that. Seeing someone in the First Act, and being destined to fall in love in the Third Act.” His voice was calm.
“But the problem is—”
Meeting her gaze, he pulled a cold smile:
“In the play of romance, the most important part is never the First Act or the Third Act.”
“It is what lies between them—the long, trivial, unknown, and choice-filled…”
“Second Act.”
Like playing a Galgame, everyone knows the protagonist ends up together. As long as the developer doesn’t mess up, it’s mostly a Happy End. But people are still willing to spend dozens of hours walking that path full of choices, daily life, and turning points.
“So, what do you mean?” Lillian’s smile remained unchanged.
But a sudden chill ran down Jiang Ming’s spine.
An invisible pressure quietly permeated the air. The atmosphere seemed to freeze, and the sound of clinking cutlery faded away. He clearly felt that if he said anything that displeased her right now, he might lose consciousness the next second and wake up in some place where the sun never shines.
A threat. An extremely gentle yet unquestionable threat.
Jiang Ming’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He swallowed the second half of his sentence. He looked up, changing his expression to a more relaxed, even sincere one:
“I certainly believe in love at first sight.”
He smiled, his tone as natural as if he were talking about the weather:
“After all, the world is so big. Anything can happen, right?”
Sure enough, even after all these years, Lillian was still Lillian.
Gentle, overbearing, and impossible to refuse.
“Good.” Lillian’s smile grew even brighter.
“Then, classmate—”
She took a half-step forward, closing the distance until he could clearly smell the familiar, soul-shaking cold fragrance from her body. She reached out her left hand. That meaningful The Ring still sat silently on her slender index finger, like a riddle waiting to be solved, an inquiry suspended for a hundred years.
“Could I trouble you,” her voice was soft but carried an unquestionable clarity, her crimson eyes locking onto him without blinking, “to move it to the middle finger?”
Jiang Ming froze for a moment. He wanted to refuse, but he couldn’t find a reason.
He could certainly say he didn’t like it, but that would undoubtedly increase Lillian’s suspicion about his memory loss.
Lillian was too smart. Such words wouldn’t deceive her.
“…Alright.”
After a long silence, Jiang Ming’s Adam’s apple moved, and he finally let out a low sigh. Avoiding her burning gaze, he slowly raised his hand. His fingertips trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.
He held her cool hand, took off The Ring, then gently pushed it past the knuckle until it settled on her middle finger.
“Hiss—!”
Almost simultaneously, a collective gasp erupted from the freshmen who had been secretly watching. After a brief, dead silence, whispers exploded like water droplets hitting boiling oil:
“M-Moved to the middle finger?! Did she just say… love at first sight? What is this? An on-the-spot token of affection exchange ceremony?!”
“My Goddess… who is that guy? He looks ordinary. How does he deserve this?!”
“Wait, Lillian? That name… and that hair color, that aura… She couldn’t be from the Holy Moon Imperial Family, could she?”
“Are you kidding?! How could the noble Empress personally come to a cafeteria and actively do something like this to a man?! It must be a coincidence, or a lady from some branch of the nobility…”
“But even if she’s just a noble lady… this is too shocking! They just met for the first time, right?!”
The discussions were rife. Gazes of suspicion, envy, jealousy, and disbelief practically pierced through Jiang Ming. However, the two people at the center of the storm seemed to be within a transparent barrier.
As The Ring settled, Lillian’s smile suddenly bloomed with dazzling brilliance, like a child receiving the most precious gift.
That smile was pure and bright, nearly blinding Jiang Ming. She was completely oblivious to the surrounding noise; her world seemed to contain only the man before her who had put The Ring on her finger.
She curled her fingers slightly, her crimson eyes shimmering with the starlight of a wish fulfilled. Her voice was soft but carried an unmistakable declaration:
“Thank you, Jiang Ming.”
Then, she tilted her head slightly, as if taking a bow at the end of a play:
“Then, I will see you in the Second Act.”
With those words, she didn’t linger. She turned, her white hair tracing a bright arc. With a slight flutter of her skirt, she walked away gracefully under the focus of countless eyes.
The Ring, now moved, was like Chekhov’s gun placed in the center of the stage, ready. Jiang Ming knew it was destined to fire with a roar at some point in the future.
The curtain for the Second Act had quietly been raised.
***
In the shadows of the second floor of the cafeteria, a woman stood still as a sculpture.
Her gaze crossed the noise, falling on the two people who had caused the commotion in the cafeteria. Only after everything ended did she withdraw her gaze.
In a temporary base built from abandoned underground pipes.
A dim green gas lamp was the only source of light, reflecting a face that had suddenly looked up, full of vigilance. The young man stared at the yellowed char marks burned out of thin air on the tabletop, his Adam’s apple rolling:
“Message from the Boss.”
A raspy response came from the shadows: “Speak.”
The young man read word for word, his voice kept very low:
“The situation is unchanged. Move out tonight.”