Huarun City Runxi · Room 5201

Afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, slicing the spacious living room into distinct patches of light and shadow.

Shen Yuyan wore a soft white blouse, her long hair casually pinned up with a single hairpin.

She sipped lemon water and looked around.

A large leather sofa, a warm wool tassel throw. On the coffee table, freshly replaced white roses and eucalyptus branches spread out in a vase, and a few files she hadn’t finished handling lay scattered nearby.

The space had finally shifted from a house into a home.

Every corner bore traces of her life.

This feeling of being the lady of the house made her so comfortable she wanted to hum.

She set down her cup, crouched, and sliced open the last delivery box on the floor with a box cutter.

She took out the neatly wrapped gift box, hugged it to her chest, and walked down the hallway.

She pushed open a door.

This room had originally been a spare bedroom and study, but in the last couple of days she had completely converted it into a private office.

Shen Yuyan walked to a display shelf she had cleared out, gently placed the gift box on it.

The shelf was already neatly lined with several gift boxes of various sizes, all exquisitely wrapped.

Just then—

“Deng deng~~”

Her phone in her pocket suddenly rang; a WeChat video call invitation.

[Tian Sha Qing]

Shen Yuyan chuckled softly and swiped to answer.

The screen flashed, and Xu Qing’s face popped up, eyes wide and bulging.

“Yanyan! How is it, how is it? Has he received my gift? What level are the other gifts? Did he say whether he liked mine?”

Watching her friend look like she wanted to climb out of the screen, Shen Yuyan shook her head helplessly, “Not yet. He hasn’t come to pick up the deliveries, and he hasn’t contacted me.”

“Aaah—” Xu Qing’s face instantly fell, her mouth pulled into a pout, disappointment written all over her features, “It’s Saturday—he could be with some other woman right now! He barely replies to my messages!”

Shen Yuyan raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, “I’m guessing it’s Liu Qingning. I have her WeChat—do you want me to pass it to you so you can message her directly?”

At the name “Liu Qingning,” Xu Qing visibly shrank her neck, her bravado deflating, “No way!”

“What, scared?”

“Who, who’s scared? What would I be afraid of?”

“Then next time you come here to visit me, I’ll introduce you to her in person, okay?”

“No!!!”

Xu Qing shook her head wildly, her hair all over the place.

Shen Yuyan watched her cowardly display and laughed so much she nearly spilled over, “Da Sha Qing, you wouldn’t be ashamed in front of her because your chest is too small, would you? Hahaha—”

“I’m not! ” Xu Qing’s face flushed red as she grew ashamed and angrier, leaning into the screen, “Besides, compared to you and Liu Qingning, my cup size is totally different! Pot, meet kettle!”

“NO, NO, NO.” Shen Yuyan wiggled her index finger, smug, lowering the camera to show the curve pressed against her blouse, “Let me tell you a secret. I’ve been in a great mood lately, eating well, and after Tang Song’s careful cultivation, my bust has grown a bit. The difference between bust and underbust has surpassed 15 centimeters; I’ve officially crossed into D-cup territory.”

She leaned into the camera, eyes curved into crescents, “From now on, call me 34D Goddess Yanyan.”

“Aaaah! Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You must be lying!” Xu Qing clawed at her hair on the other end of the screen, furious.

“You’re just green with envy, little B.”

“Damn you, scheming Yuyan! So what if you have a D! Believe it or not, I’ll crawl through the internet cable and eat you!” Xu Qing raged impotently, teeth bared.

“All right.” Shen Yuyan raised an eyebrow, coy and sultry, tugging at her collar with her fingertips, “Then you first obediently call me ‘Mom,’ and I’ll let you nurse.”

“Shen Yuyan, you’ll die! You perverted woman! I’ll tell Little Song! I’ll tell him you’re a sex-starved female pervert! Tell him to discipline you in bed every day until you can’t get out of bed!”

“Is that a reward? I’m so excited.”

“You—!”

While the two of them were trading dirty banter,

“Ding dong—”

A crisp doorbell rang.

Shen Yuyan’s reckless smile faded slightly.

“Someone’s ringing the bell, Qingqing, I have to go, I’ll hang up.”

“Wait—”

Before her friend could protest, she deftly cut the call.

Shen Yuyan smoothed her brow.

Who at this hour?

Could it be another “sister” sending Tang Song a package?

She walked to the entryway and glanced at the smart door screen on the wall.

Her heart rate instantly sped up.

A familiar, handsome face stared back.

Shen Yuyan quickly gathered her slightly messy long hair to make sure she looked lazily elegant, then opened the door.

“Tang Song, you’re here! Happy birthday!” she said, her face blooming with sunshine.

Tang Song looked up at her, a warm arc forming at the corner of his mouth, “Thank you. Good afternoon, Yuyan.”

Shen Yuyan stepped aside, eyes bright with moisture as she looked at him, “Don’t you have keys and fingerprint access? Why didn’t you come straight in and press the doorbell instead?”

Tang Song stepped inside and casually shut the door, smiling lightly, “I was afraid I might suddenly come in and see something I shouldn’t.”

Shen Yuyan bit her full lower lip and took a half step forward.

The distance between them shortened in an instant.

A warm breath carrying the faint scent of shower gel brushed Tang Song’s nose.

Under the white blouse, curves hid and revealed themselves.

Her fingers lightly rested on the zipper of Tang Song’s jacket, eyes drawing thin lines of invitation, “What could be improper? Even if there were, they would be for you to see.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Tang Song smiled, looking at Campus Belle Shen, and put an arm around her slender waist, “So tell me, should I look now, or slowly later?”

Shen Yuyan’s cheeks tinted pink; she slipped her arm around Tang Song’s neck and rose on tiptoe to peck his lips, “Whatever you want.”

Tang Song chuckled lowly; the hand at her waist slid down along smooth curves, “Where’s Professor Jiang?”

“She went back to Yancheng. She’d been staying at a hotel and hadn’t brought a lot of personal items or seasonal clothes. She went back to pack while things were a bit slow. She should be back the day after tomorrow.”

“Have all the deliveries arrived?”

“Yes, I put them in that room.”

“Let’s go see my birthday gifts.”

At Tang Song’s words, Shen Yuyan immediately slipped from his embrace.

She walked to the shoe cabinet, bent down, and took out a brand-new pair of soft men’s slippers, placing them by Tang Song’s feet.

“I’ll help you change.”

Then she half-kneeling on the carpet, gently cradled Tang Song’s foot, helped him off his leather shoes, and put on the slippers herself.

Tang Song looked down at her.

Her long hair pinned with a hairpin, stray strands falling along her fair neck.

Her blouse collar had opened slightly with her posture, revealing more scenery.

Squatting there, focused on changing his shoes, she exuded a subtle obedience he couldn’t place.

After the shoes were on, Shen Yuyan stood and linked her arm with Tang Song’s, leading him to that room down the hall.

She pushed the door open, revealing a wide display shelf cleared for this purpose.

Neatly arranged on it were seven or eight gift boxes of different sizes.

“They’re all here. To avoid mixing them up, I cut out the waybills and sender info from each delivery and taped them beside the corresponding boxes, so you can tell who sent what at a glance.”

Tang Song smiled in approval, “Well done, thanks for the trouble.”

“It’s nothing. I like tasks like this—just tell me what you need next, President Tang.” Shen Yuyan winked playfully, “You go ahead and slowly open your surprises. I’ll cut a fruit plate and prepare something to drink. Anything special you want?”

“Just juice.”

“Consider it done.” Shen Yuyan turned to leave.

A soft “click.”

The room fell completely silent.

Tang Song walked up to the display shelf and scanned the boxes.

Receiving gifts was undeniably a joyful thing.

Receiving so many gifts from girlfriends at once—happiness and contentment mingled into a kind of pleasure beyond words.

His gaze swept over the shelf and he picked up a square box.

The wrapping was thoughtful: pale pink box tied with a white ribbon in a neat bow.

[Sender: Yao Lingling]

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he untied the ribbon and opened the lid.

Inside lay a thick picture book, handmade binding, its cover adorned with a finely drawn colored-pencil illustration.

Because Lingling majored in design, her artistry was excellent.

On the cover, colorful rounded letters read:

“Cyber Boyfriend: Leveling-Up Diary.”

He opened the picture book.

Pages were filled with utterly adorable chibi watercolor scenes.

The first page featured a chibi girl with an exclamation mark above her head, clutching a phone, eyes huge and round. On the phone screen was a dowdy “advice-to-reform” vlogger. Beside the girl, a speech bubble transformed her into a “cyber strategist” pointing out the plan.

On the second page, the chibi boy followed the advice and got a micro-fringe haircut, but the barber botched it into a ridiculous bowl cut. The girl held her stomach, rolling on the floor laughing with tears in her eyes.

Tang Song couldn’t help laughing out loud.

He flipped on.

The colors grew richer, the two of them drew closer.

A noodle shop encounter, sitting opposite each other across a table, shy...

Custom-fit clothing: she as a little tailor, holding a tape measure, seriously measuring his broad shoulders on tiptoe.

A road cycling scene: the chibi pair on a tiny scooter, speeding along mountain switchbacks.

A Qixi night, a first snowfall date, a one-day boyfriend, a hot spring date...

Page after page, those scenes played like a movie in his mind.

He turned to the final page.

No watercolor illustration—only a few lines written with colored pens.

To Tang Song:

Happy birthday!!! (Imagine confetti everywhere)

I hope in your new year you stay safe and well, everything goes smoothly, your eyes stay bright, and each year brings prosperity~

My senior, my boss, my cyber boyfriend.

—Love, Lingling·

Tang Song stared quietly at the heartfelt picture book.

He seemed to see that energetic junior in jeans standing before him, her eyes shining as she smiled.

He picked up his phone, held the open book, and took a smiling selfie to send to his junior with the message: “Gift received. I like it very much, thank you Lingling. My junior, my employee, my cyber girlfriend.”

He carefully put the book back in its box.

Tang Song’s eyes fell on another box beside it.

This one was huge—about a meter long.

The wrapping was simple, no decoration.

[Sender: Tian Jing]

What would this somewhat perverse rich beauty send?

He laid a hand on the box; it was very heavy.

He shook it gently—no sound. The cushioning inside was tightly packed.

An urge to unbox this blind-item surged inexplicably.

Tang Song unclipped the metal latch with a “click,” and lifted the heavy lid.

Inside was thick black high-density foam.

A long groove had been carved precisely into the foam, and something was snugly nested there, covered by a dustproof translucent matte paper that revealed only a vague humanoid outline.

Tang Song lifted the matte paper and reached in, sliding his hands into the foam to carefully lift the item out.

He was slightly surprised.

It was an ultra-realistic lifelike figure about sixty centimeters tall (roughly a 1/3 scale) modeled after Xiao Jing.

Made entirely of silicone, dressed in a classic black-and-white JK uniform, the skirt hanging just a third above the knees.

The uniform’s folds were crafted meticulously, the bow tie properly knotted.

The cool white skin had an incredibly realistic matte texture, delicate and luminous.

You could even see a faint natural blush on the sweet cheeks.

Long eyelashes were individually defined.

The hair was implanted strand by strand into the scalp, glinting with natural black sheen.

Tang Song reached out and gently touched the figure’s cheek.

The touch was soft and elastic; he could feel simulated muscle texture beneath the silicone.

Joints hid an intricate skeletal structure, allowing various poses, even individually articulated fingers.

Wow—this was a perfect reproduction!

A truly high-end, custom-made private mold lifelike figure!

Gifting a miniaturized, poseable version of oneself—no wonder Xiao Jing did it.

Tang Song happily handled the figure for a while—pinching cheeks, bending the arms, turning the head.

He eventually posed it into a classic dogeza kneeling posture.

Suddenly he understood why those hardcore enthusiasts and veteran collectors in the otaku circle craved these expensive physical dolls.

Putting aside unspeakable thoughts, the sheer realism and the control of “making it do whatever I want” carried a certain appeal.

Then a thought popped into his head.

Wouldn’t it be great to have the other “wings” made to the same scale and craftsmanship, a whole series of figures?

Rows of them, neatly stored in his display cabinet.

Line them up.

When he missed someone, take their figure out, pinch their cheek, change a pose.

That would be meaningful!

The idea grew on Tang Song; he’d ask Xiao Jing about it later.

He took a photo of the figure and sent it to the rich beauty with a message, then continued unwrapping the remaining gifts.

One by one, thoughtful gifts filled the display with their distinct warmth.

Xu Qing had sent a customized mechanical keyboard—classic 80% TKL layout, textured and solid, with a carbon fiber mounting plate and top-mount structure. The feel was crisp and precise, rebound soft and smooth—truly superb to the touch.

A PVD brass weight was inset into the keyboard’s base, engraved with a small gray line:

To Tang Song From Xu Qing 2024/1/13

As a seasoned tech enthusiast, Tang Song could recognize the care behind this keyboard.

Every switch had been individually opened and carefully lubricated with a small brush.

Even the most patience-testing satellite stabilizer had been fine-tuned for flatness, pre-load, gap, and lubrication—every detail handled meticulously.

Da Sha Qing’s clumsy nature must have made this project a tremendous effort.

Tang Song snapped a photo and sent it.

Within seconds, Xu Qing replied with a sticker—a smug cat standing with paws on hips, eyes narrow, as if to say, “See, I’m amazing.”

Cheng Qiuqiu gave him a 3D paper-carved night lamp.

The lamp was carved layer by layer from special paper, each stacked sheet exquisitely crafted like a work of art.

Silhouettes hid multiple scenes—cycling, performing, by the sea—each scene featuring his figure.

Gao Mengting gifted a sterling silver Wuling Hongguang car ornament, finely made.

With the model came a hardcover edition of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos.

On the flyleaf, her neat, elegant handwriting read:

Stars flicker, myriad phenomena change. In this vast space and infinite time, sharing the same planet with you and spending time together is the utmost honor of my life.

Qian Lele’s present was a deep-gray cashmere beanie she had handknit—soft, dense, and delicately textured.

On the inside back edge, in a subtle place, four digits were stitched in matching thread: “0113.”

Tang Song tried on the hat; it fit perfectly and carried a faint cashmere scent.

...

Satisfied, Tang Song finished opening all the gifts, photographing each and responding, chatting with each sender for a moment.

He had just put his phone down.

“Knock, knock, knock—” came a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

“Aah—” The door opened gently.

Shen Yuyan stepped inside.

She still wore that white blouse, but several buttons had somehow come undone, the collar deliberately pulled open, exposing a rounded, fair shoulder to the air.

Black lace bra straps dug into her delicate skin, outlining the breathtaking fullness below.

Black and white, reserved and bold, restraint and seduction—on her they formed an intense visual clash.

“Finished unwrapping gifts?”

She approached slowly, hands behind her back, smiling with the corners of her mouth upturned and the tails of her eyes lifted.

Bold and forward.

Tang Song’s gaze lingered on her briefly, then he nodded lightly, “Yes, all done.”

“Then... should you open mine?” Shen Yuyan moved closer, almost pressing against him, before lifting the hands she had hidden behind her between them.

She was holding a dark wood box about the size of an A4 sheet.

Its surface was polished mirror-smooth, inlaid with rows of sliding carved wood blocks that could move up and down, left and right.

No keyhole, no seam—one seamless piece.

Tang Song took the box and looked it over.

“A puzzle box?”

“Yes, an antique mechanical puzzle box. I hunted for it for ages.” Shen Yuyan leaned back slightly, and the already loose collar slipped down a bit more, offering flashes of the view within, “The real gift is inside. When you solve it, you’ll get it.”

She blinked, her tone teasing and tempting, “With President Tang’s intelligence, it should be quick, right?”

Tang Song looked from the box to Campus Belle Shen.

“Interesting.” He nonchalantly placed the wooden box on the nearby table, “I’ll study it when I have time.”

“Uh...”

Shen Yuyan’s smile froze. She had expected Tang Rong to leisurely try to solve it here, which would have led to more time together.

There would surely be some touching, lingering gazes, the chemistry warming—then the box would open, the gift presented, and everything would naturally follow.

But this Sigma man didn’t play by the usual script!

Seeing the look on Shen Yuyan’s face, Tang Song’s smile deepened.

Suddenly he reached out, pulling her entirely into his arms and wrapping her from behind.

“Mm—”

Shen Yuyan let out a soft breath.

Tang Song bent his head, his nose brushing the nape of her neck, “Solving a puzzle box is fine, but I find unraveling you far more interesting.”

With that, his hand began to roam.

Shen Yuyan’s cheeks flushed inch by inch.

A torrent of heated kisses descended.

Breathing tangled, turning hot and messy.

Buttons remaining on the white blouse popped off and scattered onto the thick carpet.

Black lace flickered between shadow and light.

At some point—

“~~Deng~~” A WeChat video call invitation sounded.

“Wait, wait... that’s Qingqing calling. She probably knows you came to my place.”

“It’s fine. Answer her.”

“Umm...”

“Hey! Scheming Yuyan! You... ahh! You two—”

...

Four in the afternoon; the sky was dimming but not yet dark.

Shencheng Bay No. 1.

A black Mercedes van coasted into the community and halted smoothly in a guest parking spot.

The engine cut.

“We’ve arrived.” Wen Ruan lightly patted Zhang Yan’s knee, “Let’s go, Yan Yan.”

“...Mm.”

Zhang Yan inhaled deeply, clutching her bag, and stepped out.

Wen Ruan walked around to the rear and took out a large framed canvas wrapped in deep-blue cloth from the trunk.

The early winter evening wind, with the humid chill unique to the south, brushed Zhang Yan’s slightly flushed face.

She lowered her head and followed Wen Ruan’s steps.

They entered Tower 5’s lobby.

The front desk housekeeper immediately smiled and approached, her eyes sweeping over the two women with quick, polite appraisal, “Are you Ms. Wen and Ms. Zhang?”

“Yes, that’s us.” Wen Ruan nodded.

“Miss Liu has already instructed us. Please follow me; I’ll take you upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

The three crossed the lobby to the elevator.

The housekeeper swiped a card in the elevator sensor area, pressed the floor number, then stepped back with a slight bow.

The elevator doors closed smoothly and ascended rapidly.

Zhang Yan shrank into the elevator corner and watched the changing numbers, her heartbeat climbing with each pass.

Even knowing she couldn’t back out and had to face this, when the moment came, reason couldn’t control the body’s instincts.

“Liu Qingning... Liu Qingning...”

The name echoed in her mind.

She thought of the friend request on WeChat an hour earlier and the silence that followed.

She didn’t know what it meant but it was chilling enough.

The elevator doors slid open.

A quiet corridor stretched before them: dark gray floor tiles, warm wall sconces, and a dark door at the end.

Zhang Yan’s steps abruptly stopped; she couldn’t move another inch.

Wen Ruan turned and looked at her with an encouraging expression.

Zhang Yan bit her lower lip and closed her eyes.

This was Liu Qingning’s home—the other world of Tang Song.

A place she had looked up to since she was sixteen.

Filled with light, filled with flowers, filled with a youth she could never quite reach.

From the cramped corner of a junior middle school classroom to that tree-lined path five meters apart in high school;

from the bus bound for Yanke University to the damp, cold semi-basement in the Imperial Capital.

She had lived like moss in the shadows for years.

Used to looking up.

Used to shrinking back.

Used to hiding in an unremarkable darkness.

But once embraced by sunlight, she could no longer return to that shade.

If she couldn’t step through this door, she would never be able to stand in the light calmly, nor face honestly her feelings for Tang Song.

When she opened her eyes again, the panic in them had settled into a burning resolution.

“Tread, tread, tread—”

Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor

One step, then another.

The door grew closer and closer.

“Ding dong—ding dong—”

The clear doorbell rang.

Zhang Yan lifted her head.

“Bang, bang, bang—”

“Click—ah—”

The heavy armored door slowly opened from within.

Warm light poured out through the crack.

A sliver, then a sweep, then a whole world.

Light and shadow spilled across the threshold, across the foyer, across Zhang Yan’s toes.

Inside stood an utterly familiar figure.

A sleek black ponytail, a baby-faced oval, and a full E-cup bosom.

Liu Qingning.

Zhang Yan remained in the hallway shadow, looking directly into her eyes for the first time without shame.

Their gazes met quietly in the air.

Light and shadow, past and present, calm and timid, fulfillment and lack...

All those complicated, real emotions slowly flowed out at that moment.