I'm sorry, but your fiancé loves me.

Similarly, Zhou Xue was also a very lucky person from a young age.

When Zhou Xue was born, the Zhou family was already a top-tier wealthy family that had accumulated wealth over several generations.

By the time it reached her father, the Zhou family's business had already grown into a giant tree with many branches and leaves.

Her parents never had high expectations of her. The Zhou family's daughter didn't need to be number one in exams, didn't need to win any awards, and didn't need to prove anything to anyone. She only needed to do what she liked, wear the dresses she liked, and live her own happy life.

Her father spoiled her rotten, bringing her a whole suitcase full of plush toys when he came back from a business trip. He never got annoyed answering her calls during meetings and did whatever she asked.

Zhou Xue grew up in that kind of environment and became a proud and domineering little girl.

When they first met Qin Qihan, they were both just children.

It was a weekend afternoon, and her mother said she was going to take her to visit the Qin family. She picked out her prettiest white princess dress from the wardrobe, with a circle of light pink roses embroidered on the hem and a large bow tied at the back of her waist.

She twirled several times in front of the mirror, her skirt billowing like a blooming trumpet flower. The nanny braided her hair into two small braids, tied with ribbons of the same color, and led her to the car.

The Qin family's mansion was very grand. Upon entering, there was a huge circular fountain where water droplets refracted into delicate rainbows in the sunlight.

When she was led through the corridor into the living room, the first person she saw was not the Qin family's uncles and aunts, but a little boy wearing a white shirt and dark gray overalls, with the shirt buttoned up to the top and the collar perfectly crisp without a single wrinkle.

He sat on a chair on the edge of the sofa, holding a glass of water in his hand, but he didn't drink it. He just held it in his hand, his legs slightly together, and his back very straight, like an adult.

Zhou Xue let go of her mother's hand and walked over by herself.

She walked up to the chair and looked up at the little boy who was half a head taller than her.

He has a pair of very beautiful eyes, dark and deep, with slightly upturned corners. Even at such a young age, you can already tell how charming he will be when he grows up.

"Hello," Zhou Xue said, her voice crisp and clear, with that bright, confident quality typical of children, "My name is Zhou Xue."

The little boy looked at her, not speaking immediately. He pursed his lips, then spoke, his voice a little deeper than most children's: "Qin Qihan."

"I know your name is Qin Qihan," Zhou Xue tilted her head to look at him. "My mom said so."

She sat down very naturally in the empty chair next to him, her hands on her knees, her skirt spreading out in a white cascade. "What were you looking at? I saw you staring out the window."

Qin Qihan did not answer the question, as she was immersed in her own world, and just kept talking about this and that.

Later, the two were called over by the adults to eat together. Sitting side-by-side, Zhou Xue kept secretly watching him, observing the way he used his chopsticks and how cleanly he ate the rice in his bowl.

She whispered to her mother, "That boy eats so politely."

Her mother squeezed her hand under the table and smiled.

On the way home that day, she leaned against the window, watching the streetlights flash by one by one, and suddenly asked her mother, "Am I going to marry Qin Qihan someday?"

Her mother paused for a moment, then laughed, reaching out to pat her head: "Who told you that?"

"My uncle said it." She pouted. "He said it during dinner, that Qin Qihan and I were engaged when I was still in his belly."

Her mother neither denied nor admitted it, but simply chuckled and said, "You don't need to take everything adults say seriously; you're still young."

Zhou Xue rested her chin on the car window sill, watching the street scene recede outside. She was actually happy inside. The child didn't understand anything yet, but she found that she quite enjoyed playing with Qin Qihan.

In the years that followed, Zhou Xue and Qin Qihan were brought together by adults under various pretexts.

Weekend family gatherings, holiday visits, summer camps, birthday parties—there are always two people present at the same time.

Moreover, every weekend after that, Zhou Xue would pester her mother with the same question: "Are we going to Uncle Qin's house this week?"

Her mother was both amused and exasperated by her questions. One time, she pinched her daughter's cheek and said, "You really like going to the Qin family's house?"

Zhou Xue shook her head vigorously, her two little braids swinging back and forth: "Neither! I like that older brother!"

Her mother paused for a moment, then laughed and tapped her forehead with her fingertip: "You're so young, how would you know what liking someone means?"

Zhou Xue pouted, unconvinced: "I knew it! I just like it!"

Once she arrived at the Qin family home, she would search for him all over the house. He was usually not in the living room; while the adults were drinking tea and chatting there, he would be alone in the study or at the end of the second-floor corridor, quietly sitting there with a book or some kind of blueprint in his hand.

When Zhou Xue ran over, her footsteps clattered on the solid wood floor, and could be heard from afar.

Qin Qihan would frown slightly every time he heard that footstep.

"Brother!" She rushed into the study, breathless, her face flushed, and the ribbon in her hair askew. "What are you looking at?"

Qin Qihan didn't look at her directly, and simply said, "Book."

"What book?" She tiptoed over to look, her little head almost buried in his chest.

Qin Qihan ignored her, but she just forced herself to watch with him.

For a long time afterward, Zhou Xue's routine when visiting the Qin family was: running into the study, climbing onto the chair next to Qin Qihan, asking him what he was looking at that day, and then chattering on with a hundred questions.

Qin Qihan would sometimes answer, and sometimes remain silent.

This went on for more than half a year. Until one day, a group of guests came to the Qin family.

That day, one of Qin Qihan's mother's best friends came to visit with her child. One of the little girls was about the same age as Zhou Xue, with two pigtails and wearing a red dress. As soon as she entered, she grabbed Qin Qihan's hand and said, "Brother, take me to play."

Zhou Xue ran down from the second floor and rushed to Qin Qihan and the girl. She grabbed Qin Qihan's other arm and stared intently at the girl in the red dress.

"Who are you?"

The girl was startled by her sudden appearance, took a half step back, and released her hand from Qin Qihan's arm.

Zhou Xue watched as the hand finally left Qin Qihan's sleeve. "He's my brother! You're not allowed to hold his hand!"

The girl's eyes reddened from her harsh words, her lips trembled, and she looked like she was about to cry.

The adults in the living room turned around at the sound. Zhou Xue's mother put down her teacup, quickly walked over, squatted down, and took Zhou Xue's shoulder, saying gently, "Xiao Xue, you can't do that. These are guests."

Later, her mother took her to the next room, held her on her lap, and wiped her face with a wet towel.

After wiping her hands, her mother held her hand, her tone still gentle: "Xiaoxue, you like Brother Qin, right? Liking someone is a good thing, but you can't be mean to the people around him just because you like him."

Zhou Xue nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

She showed a strong possessiveness from a very young age, and this hasn't changed as she's grown up.

Zhou Xue started writing a diary when she was thirteen. It wasn't the kind of weekly diary assigned by the teacher, but a hardcover notebook with a combination lock that she secretly bought. The cover was light purple and had a small cluster of hydrangea flowers printed on it.

Because Qin Qihan likes hydrangeas.

She hid the notebook under a stack of scarves at the very bottom of the wardrobe, and every night after finishing her homework, she would take it out and write a few lines under the lamp.

She didn't write much, sometimes only a sentence or two, such as "I ran the 800 meters in PE class today, I'm exhausted" or "My little brother broke my lipstick again, I really want to hit him." But what she wrote most often was the same name:

Qin Qihan.

When she wrote his name, she would write the strokes more carefully than other characters. She would always trace the bottom stroke of the character "秦" twice, and she would write the "西" on the right side of the character "栖" very flat, because he liked to write the "西" flat when he wrote that character.

She imitated his handwriting for a long time.

She dared not let anyone see the notebook back then. Every time she finished writing, she would lock it up, tuck it back under her scarf, and touch it with her fingers to make sure it was hidden properly.

She didn't know why she didn't dare let anyone see it, even though the whole world knew that Zhou Xue liked Qin Qihan—she had been chasing after him for so many years, both families knew it without her knowing, and even Qin Qihan himself knew.

Later, when she was fifteen, she had a relationship.

It was called a relationship, but in reality, it only lasted for two months in total.

He was a boy from the same school, a year ahead of her, who played basketball. When she stood on the court, the outline of his shoulders looked very familiar from a distance.

She first noticed the boy when she passed by the basketball court one day and saw him bend down to pick up the ball after shooting. For a moment, she was stunned and thought that he looked a lot like Qin Qihan from that angle.

Although Qin Qihan never appeared on the school's basketball court, that bent-over posture inexplicably reminded her of him.

After she got together with that boy, they often met up to walk together after school.

The boy was tall, and when he walked next to her, his shadow would cover most of her body.

Once, when the boy looked down at her and spoke to her, his profile was backlit by the setting sun. As she looked at his silhouette, a thought suddenly popped into her mind—his eyebrows weren't as thick as Qin Qihan's; Qin Qihan's eyebrows would droop slightly at the ends.

After that thought popped into her head, she paused for a moment, then looked up at the boy, smiled, and said, "What did you just say?"

That relationship ended after two months.

The guy broke up with her, saying she always seemed distracted.

She didn't feel anything, and even secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

The day they broke up, she went home and sat in her room, opened her diary and wrote: "We broke up today, and surprisingly, I'm not sad at all. What's sad is realizing that when I compare him to other people, no one can compare."

She read the line twice, then closed the notebook, locked it, and put it back under her scarf.

She had another relationship when she was sixteen.

This time, she took the initiative. The boy was the class monitor of the next class. He had excellent grades, wore metal-framed glasses, and spoke in a moderately loud voice with a slightly cool tone at the end.

Zhou Xue first heard him speak while passing through the corridor. The voice came from the classroom next door, and the last syllable of each word was clearly pronounced.

She suddenly slowed her pace and stood in the middle of the corridor for two seconds, stunned.

Later, she gradually got to know the boy and found that not only did he sound similar, but he also had similar habits, such as liking quiet.

When she was with him, she would always observe him quietly, watching the way he turned the pages of a book, the angle at which he held the pen when he wrote, and the way he would subconsciously push the chair back under the table after he stood up.

Every similar detail would make her heart skip a beat, but after looking at each detail, she would feel that it was just a little bit off, always just a little bit off.

The guy was very perceptive. One day, a month into their relationship, he looked into her eyes and asked, "Zhou Xue, are you looking at someone else through me?"

She was taken aback by the question, opened her mouth as if to say "no," but the lie stuck in her throat and she couldn't get it out.

She was silent for a few seconds, and the boy smiled and said, "Never mind, I won't ask anymore."

Then left.

That night, she sat under the lamp again and opened her diary. She wrote a long passage, read it over, and then tore it up.

"I feel disgusted with myself. I don't want to be with anyone else."

But ever since then, she has been secretly and unconsciously observing the eyes and posture of every boy around her.

When I was seventeen, I was queuing at the movie theater. There was a tall boy in front of me wearing a black coat. He had broad shoulders and the curve of the back of his head was outlined in a soft shape under the streetlight.

She stared at the back of that head for more than ten seconds, her heart skipping a beat. When the boy turned around, she finally saw his face clearly—it wasn't him.

Of course it wasn't him.

She let out a breath, unsure whether it was disappointment or relief.

There was a hole in her heart, and the shape of that hole was exactly the same as Qin Qihan's.

She tried to fill in the blanks with other things—the boys' eyebrows, voices, habits, and postures—but each one could only fill in a small corner, leaving the rest empty.

She filled that hole for many years, from age seven to seventeen, ten years. She filled it with more and more things, but the hole seemed to get bigger and bigger.

Because Qin Qihan was growing up. Every time he appeared in front of her, he was a little taller, a little colder, and a little more out of her reach than before. She ran after him for so long, panting heavily, but he seemed to be getting further and further away.

From seven to seventeen, he grew from nine to nineteen, from two children to two teenagers, from princess dresses and overalls to pleated skirts and suits.

Qin Qihan had never been particularly warm towards her. When she kept asking him, "Do you like me?", he would pause for a few seconds and then say, "Aren't you annoying?"

But his indifference carried a familiar closeness that she had known since childhood, a closeness she had tacitly accepted as "Qin Qihan's style." When she was sixteen, she drank too much and, in a daze, leaned on his shoulder and told him that she liked him.

But he simply said, "You'll meet someone more suitable for you in the future."

She paused for a moment, then chuckled: "How do you know you're not suitable?"

Qin Qihan did not reply.

Later she thought that if she could let go at this time, she wouldn't get hurt so much in the future.

But no way.

Some pains are something she was destined to suffer from birth.