Yingqu Liuzi was pampered by her wealthy daddy.

After the Liam incident, Shen Yu'an's life returned to normal.

He thought Liam had given up on his own, and while he breathed a sigh of relief, he was also a little relieved.

But what he didn't know was that his relief didn't come from getting rid of trouble.

Rather, it was because he didn't want Xize to misunderstand.

The idea popped into my head one morning.

Shen Yu'an was brushing his teeth, the toothbrush in his mouth, foam overflowing from the corner of his mouth. He looked at himself in the mirror and suddenly thought of a question.

What would Caesar think if he knew Liam was pursuing him?

Will you be unhappy?

Will I... get jealous?

Shen Yu'an choked on the word "jealousy," almost swallowing the toothpaste foam. He quickly lowered his head to spit out the foam, rinsed his face with water, and when he looked up, his face in the mirror was covered in water, but his ears were red.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered to himself, flicking the forehead of the person in the mirror with his finger.

But the seed has already been planted.

From then on, Shen Yu'an began to unconsciously observe her own reactions to Xize.

When Xize picks him up in the morning, his heart races the moment he opens the car door.

Good morning, Xiao An.

Shen Yu'an's ears turned red when she heard that.

He used to attribute this to "feeling embarrassed".

He was flattered and overwhelmed by how kind people were to him, so he felt nervous and blushed. That's perfectly reasonable.

But now he's starting to have doubts.

He doesn't blush when greeting his classmates.

His heart doesn't race when the professor praises his drawing.

Only Caesar.

Is it really just because I'm "sorry"?

On Friday night, Shen Yu'an was alone in her apartment.

Xize had a business dinner tonight and couldn't pick him up. When the driver brought him back, he relayed, "The master said you should get some rest and he'll pick you up for brunch tomorrow."

After taking a shower, Shen Yu'an sat on the sofa in her pajamas, turned on the TV as background noise, and held the sketchbook with the drawing of Xize's hand in her hands.

He turned to that page. The hand wearing the signet ring had smooth lines and distinct knuckles.

He was very serious when he drew it, repeatedly adjusting the proportions of each finger, and spending a long time drawing the patterns on the ring stroke by stroke.

Because he wanted the painting to look lifelike.

Why do you want to draw it to look like the real thing?

Because it was Caesar's hand. He wanted to leave Caesar's hand on his paper, so that even if one day, which he dared not imagine, he could still see it.

Shen Yu'an closed his sketchbook, stood up, and walked to the bathroom.

The bathroom lights are warm white, and the mirror is large.

He was wearing light blue pajamas, and his hair wasn't completely dry, hanging limply over his forehead.

Her face was pale, but her lips were pink, and her eyelashes, damp with moisture, appeared longer.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

Twenty-one years old. Chinese. Not tall, small frame, only reaching Xize's shoulder when standing next to him. Doesn't drink, isn't good at socializing, and isn't good at sweet talk.

His only redeeming quality is that he can draw, but given how many artists he knows, his paintings are probably just childish scribbles in that person's eyes.

Why would someone like him receive such good treatment from Xize?

Shen Yu'an braced his hands on the edge of the sink, his fingertips turning white from the force.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and the person in the mirror looked back at him, with confusion in their eyes, and something bright that they couldn't hide.

He had seen that kind of thing before.

In TV dramas, in novels, in classmates' love stories.

That kind of feeling is called being moved.

Shen Yu'an's breathing became unsteady.

He remembered the first time they met, the car that had stopped in the rainy night.

At that time, he just thought this person was good-looking and had a nice voice, the kind of person he would never cross paths with in his life.

He remembered that Xize was waiting for him at the school gate, handing him hot black tea and saying, "It's on my way."

At that time, he just felt that this person was too good, so good that it was unreal, so good that he couldn't believe it.

But now, standing in front of the mirror, Shen Yu'an could no longer deceive himself.

It is liking.

Shen Yu'an blushed.

The burn started at the base of my neck and went all the way down to my forehead, even turning my earlobes a deep red.

The reflection in the mirror showed her with flushed cheeks, watery eyes, and slightly parted lips, looking both flustered and shy.

He had never seen himself like this in a mirror before.

"Shen Yu'an, calm down," he whispered to himself, turning on the tap and splashing cold water on his face.

The cold water splashed on my burning cheeks, evaporating some of the heat, but my heart was still pounding, as fast as if I had just run a kilometer.

He leaned against the sink, head down, water droplets dripping from his chin.

Nine years old.

Xize was nine years older than him.

This number was just information to him before; he heard it and then forgot about it. But now, this number suddenly feels very important.

Nine years old. When he was just starting elementary school, Nishizawa was already in high school.

A nine-year age gap might not seem like much to most people.

But between them, it's like being separated by a river.

On one side was him, an international student who was still drawing at school and knew nothing about art.

On one side is Xize, a man who has lived for thirty years, seen the world, and owns the whole world.

Shen Yu'an raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror.

That young face hadn't completely lost its youthful naiveté.

Why would Nishizawa like someone like that?

Shen Yu'an was startled by his own question. Wait, why did he ask, "Why would Xize like him?" Was he assuming Xize liked him? When did Xize ever say he liked him?

Those phrases like "You are important," "You are not a nuisance," and "I'm waiting for you" may just be gentlemanly politeness or a wealthy person's momentary act of kindness.

Xize never said the word "like," never did anything that crossed the line, and never gave him any definite hints.

Shen Yu'an covered her face.

He felt like a fool.

A person here blushes, their heart races, and their mind wanders.

but…

Shen Yu'an looked at the mirror through her fingers.

But was the way Xize looked at him really just an ordinary look?

Shen Yu'an lowered his hand and stared at himself in the mirror.

The boy's eyes were unusually bright. It wasn't the light; something inside them was burning.

He found out.

Regardless of Xize's feelings for him, or whether Xize actually likes him.

He likes Caesar.

He likes Caesar Lester.

It's not dependence or gratitude. It's liking.

Shen Yu'an looked in the mirror, her lips moved, but no sound came out.

But he knew what he was saying.

"I like you, sir."

After I said it, my heart rate actually slowed down a bit.

Once he confirmed a fact, his body stopped panicking.

Shen Yu'an let out a long breath, his forehead pressed against the mirror. The mirror was cold, and against his burning forehead, it made a very soft "hiss" sound.

He stood there for a long time.

My legs got a little numb after a while, and even the TV in the living room automatically switched to standby mode.

Shen Yu'an straightened up and took one last look at himself in the mirror.

Her face was still red, but the look in her eyes was different.

I was confused before, and I didn't even understand what I was thinking.

Now he knows.

He knew he liked Caesar.

As for what to do next, he didn't know whether to tell Xize, or if Xize might also like him.

But at least, he stopped lying to himself.

Shen Yu'an turned off the bathroom light, walked back to the bedroom, and crawled into bed.

He buried his face in the blanket and took a deep breath.

Then he laughed.

As she laughed, her eyes welled up with tears again.

"Sir," he whispered in the darkness, "do you know, I think I've fallen for you."

No one answered.

But Shen Yu'an felt that after saying those words, the weight on his heart was lifted a little.

He closed his eyes, pulled the blanket up to his chin, turned over, and faced the window.

The curtains weren't fully drawn, so you could see a small patch of the London night sky outside. There were no stars, and the clouds were thick. But there were lights on.

Shen Yu'an looked at that point of light and slowly fell asleep.

There was a slight curve at the corner of her mouth, a curve she herself was unaware of.