2

In Lin Shen's car, I'm tense as a wire.

He drives silently, his profile sharp and cold in the rainy night.

He's nothing like the charming, sunny guy his fans adore on screen.

In reality, he's quiet, reserved.

The windshield wipers move rhythmically, the air heavy with silence.

Lin Shen casually turns on the radio.

The opening notes make us both freeze.

It's *that* song—the one he wrote for his first love.

Probably thinking it's a bit narcissistic to play his own song, he reaches to change it.

I stop him. "Let's listen to this one."

*"Later, I learned to weave love into the chorus, but I couldn't find a reason to sing it to you…"*

His voice is so pure, so full of emotion, it makes me want to cry every time.

Hold it together, Qiao Lu!

Crying would be mortifying.

Lin Shen notices something's off.

At a red light, he hands me a tissue.

"Why are you crying?"

I sniffle, forcing a smile.

I say something utterly ridiculous:

"I've never heard such a moving song."

I hear a soft chuckle from him, and my ears burn.

When we reach my house, he says, "It's late. I won't visit Uncle Qiao tonight, but please send him my regards."

A maid comes out with an umbrella to meet me.

Lin Shen rolls down the window and waves.

"Qiao Lu, get some rest."