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She grinned, clutching the stone brick, and wobbled as she walked up the steps. The moment her toes touched the ground, her knees buckled, and she tumbled forward. Oh no! She'd stepped on the hem of her scholar's robe—

Just as her head was about to hit the White Jade Brick, someone pulled her back and caught the brick in her hand with a sweep of their Wide Sleeves. Her nose didn't hit the floor; instead, it bumped into a broad chest, and the scent of ink filled her nose in an instant.

"Who gave you permission to move bricks here?"

"..."

"How come you managed to make it impossible for me to find you even after only letting go for a moment?"

Words of complaint, like those of a lover, escaped from the Young Master's moist lips. Completely disregarding the fact that they were both dressed in men's scholar's Confucian Robe, he forcefully pulled her into his arms with one arm. In his other hand, he held up two White Jade Brick that he had snatched from her hands, frowning as he looked at the two culprits that had almost caused her to fall flat on her face. He was about to flick his sleeve and throw the bricks away.

"Don't throw it away, Young Master!"

Frowning, Li Chenjing even more annoyed. Did she know how much self-control he had used to let her go home last night? He had tossed and turned all night like an idiot, thinking about what to say and do when he saw her the next day, wondering if their relationship would be different because of their close bond. Maybe Little Eight Ba would take the initiative to approach him today. He had suppressed his feelings for most of the day, but she hadn't shown any sign of looking for him. He had tolerated it! Anyway, Little Eight never been the proactive one, and he shouldn't expect that just touching her lips would make her agree to be with him. But she shouldn't have preferred to hide here and move bricks rather than let him find her!

Her scholar's Confucian Robe was filthy, the sleeves worn thin, her face sweaty, her fingers swollen and red, her hair loose, a few stray strands falling from her temples and brushing against her lips. She impatiently reached out to stop him, "Young Master, this white jade brick is very expensive! We can't lose it!"

"... Did you do this on purpose?"

"Huh?" What did she do on purpose? Even the Young Master thought it was too heavy, huh? She picked up these two bricks only because she happened to see them on the blueprints, and only realized how heavy they were after lifting them. But a real man shouldn't lift them and then put them back, that would be too effeminate, so she gritted her teeth and did it anyway...

"She deliberately didn't contact me, deliberately made me feel sorry for her, deliberately made me unable to let go of her." Then, without any backbone, she ran back to him.

An untimely gaze, an untimely closeness, an untimely exchange of words—her heart tightened. She looked into the Young Master's dark, inky eyes, his deep pupils enveloping her entirely. His actions were identical to those of the previous night; Young Master knew he wanted to...

"Can't!"

She shoved the much taller Young Master away forcefully, causing him to stagger backward, demonstrating just how thoroughly she rejected him.

"..." He glanced sideways, dejected, afraid to look at her again, lest he see the same obvious disgust in her eyes. How did Little Eight see him? Probably like a little dog wagging its tail and begging for mercy. He could only get close to her with excuses, only with threats. Was he really going to have to become like a vicious dog, only able to possess her by force?

He took a step forward and carefully placed the white jade brick she was holding on the stone steps. "So it still won't work? It's just not working for me, is it?"

He was overly excited, he was delusional, thinking that a kiss would change things. He knew perfectly well that Little Eight disliked his closeness, that Xiao Little Eight didn't care about him like he did, that Little Eight... didn't like him at all. It wasn't because he was a man, it wasn't because he was the Prime Minister's Son, Little Eight just... didn't like Li Chenjing anymore.

He may have lost more than just his memories; he also lost Little Eight's affection for him. If it weren't for that person, he wouldn't be able to. Perhaps he should consider Little Eight's words and try to recover those damned memories, to become that annoying guy again.

Why... can't it be him?

Am I not good enough to him?

Isn't that enough pity?

Isn't that considerate enough?

What exactly went wrong? He didn't understand, and he was unwilling to accept it.

His fist clenched tighter and tighter inside his sleeve, and he bit his lip, pacing away.

"Ahem! Gentlemen, I have important matters to discuss with Lord Li of the Ministry of Personnel, concerning the renovation of the Library Pavilion. Please allow me to leave for a moment. Farewell." Little Eight's voice came from behind.

Before he could figure out what was happening, someone grabbed his cuff and pulled him toward the tree-lined path behind the Library Pavilion.

Is it Lord Li of the Ministry of Personnel? Does Little Eight have official business to discuss with him?

What is it?

In his current state, where he doesn't even know who he is, what kind of official business can he handle?

Moreover, he had no intention of discussing business with Little Eight. He hoped that his relationship with Little Eight would consist only of private matters.

"Enough! Let me go!"

Unexpectedly, one day he would say "Let me go" to Little Eight. He pulled back his sleeve, leaned against a large, shady tree, and turned his gaze elsewhere. "What business do you have?"

His taciturn and aloof demeanor made Zhu Bafu swallow hard. She raised her head and carefully examined him, her voice trembling slightly as she opened her mouth, "Young Master, have you... regained your memories?"

He paused slightly, gave a wry smile, and said, "No."

"..." She bit her lip, her teeth chattering.

"I'm sorry to disappoint Little Eight-- "

A bear hug cut him off, and he almost doubted that the feeling of fullness in his chest was an illusion, until a strand of hair kept touching his chin, bringing him back to his senses. He looked down—he wasn't seeing things, nor was he dreaming; right under his nose was Little Eight's loose hair.

Little Eight —in his arms.

His hands hung at his sides; he didn't cling to her or try to hug her or touch her as he usually did. So... Little Eight hugged him?! Little Eight took the initiative... hugged him, Little Eight willingly touched him, and nestled her head in his arms—