This matter is settled.

The room is bright and cozy, with light wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that perfectly capture the view outside, making you feel as if you're walking into a forest. Natural light from the south, north, and west sides fills the room, creating a cheerful atmosphere.

In the black and white checkerboard kitchen, the minimalist kitchen island resembles a living room. Floral tiles on the walls evoke the feeling of cooking in a garden. The bathroom, separated by glass bricks, conceals subtle floral sculptures, waiting to be discovered.

The art studio is Zhiwei's favorite place. White paper is thoughtfully placed on the floor-standing easel, and several colored pencils are placed on the tray, inviting the host to create to her heart's content. Two simple porcelain flower sculptures are placed on the half-height bookshelf against the wall, and Van Gogh's "Starry Night" hangs on the wall behind them.

A beanbag chair sat in the corner by the north window. May cheered and sat down: "Why aren't you sitting down? Isn't this your favorite?"

"I'm afraid that once I sit down, I won't want to leave," Zhiwei said with a smile.

Today they're going to hang several paintings on the wall, and also set up the large desk and chairs in the living room for a final check. With spring approaching, Zhiwei hung "Spring" on the wall between the French windows and the glass door to the balcony. The other three paintings are placed in the storage cabinet by the door, to be handed over to the client during the handover.

The wall connecting the living room and the art studio was fitted with long Roman blinds, the white sheer curtains swaying gently on both sides. Zhiwei thought that, according to her original idea, it would be even more beautiful to have different themed curtains for each season, but that depended on the owner's mood.

The spacious white solid wood desk in front of the living room is slender yet not flimsy. Zhiwei almost wanted to lie down on it—working at such a desk, facing the beautiful view outside the window, would make her feel happy all day long.

She took many photos to show her mother. May and her team took numerous photos with professional cameras as model examples for the studio, especially the before-and-after comparisons, which were truly remarkable.

As she left, Zhiwei silently bid farewell in her heart: "May you have a master who cherishes you."

That evening, everyone gathered for dinner to celebrate the completion of the project. May was now part of the studio and had received a formal offer. Zhiwei was genuinely happy for her.

When Maggie asked Zhiwei about her plans, she frankly admitted that she would return to Beijing. Maggie remembered Zhiwei's previous leave request and understood.

That evening, May and I took a taxi home and ran into Xuanyu downstairs again.

May was about to go upstairs first when Zhiwei asked her to wait a moment. Seeing her so evasive, Xuanyu felt sad, but forced himself to say that he had received a formal offer from AIA.

Zhiwei politely congratulated her: "I remember that was the company you interned at, it was quite good. May also got an offer."

Xuan Yu smiled bitterly: "I never thought that I, Zhou Xuan Yu, would one day have to rely on nepotism to find a job."

Although Zhiwei didn't know what she was referring to, she still replied, "Don't worry too much about it. After all, you have the ability, so you can naturally handle it."

Seeing that he had nothing to say, she said "goodbye" and turned to go upstairs with May.

Seeing that she wouldn't even provoke him, and was so polite and distant, as if they were complete strangers, Xuan Yu felt bitter and could only leave dejectedly.

May whispered, "Why does Johnny seem a little self-pitying in his words?"

Zhiwei said calmly, "Who knows? Don't you Hong Kong people say, 'If you're going to eat salty fish, you have to bear the thirst'? Everyone chooses their own path."

May laughed: "Sure, we've known each other for less than two years and you can already speak a few words of Cantonese."

"That's all we have. The other one is 'How many coins?'"

That evening, Zhiwei sent the photos to her mother and also sent one to Li Fuqiang. She wasn't used to making phone calls first, but it wasn't appropriate for her to always have people reach out to her, so she just sent some casual messages.

Li Fuqiang had already given her his personal email address. Zhiwei thought to herself, "The big boss actually has a personal email address? Is it because his secretary is doing it for him?" Even so, she refused to say anything intimate. But these simple daily interactions made Li Fuqiang feel that he was being remembered, rather than the other way around.

When she went back to her internship, Zhiwei helped May look at plans for other houses and offered suggestions on color schemes and decorations. Now, she doesn't intern for money or to enhance her resume; she simply wants to find new things to do in her daily life. At the end of April, she finished her internship.

As May began, girls on campus, eager to don their skirts, were displaying their youthful exuberance. Li Fuqiang still came to class on Mondays, and Zhiwei almost suspected he was really going to specialize in modern painting.

When asked in a joking manner, Li Fuqiang laughed and said, "What do I know about abstract art or postmodernism? I'm just here to experience youth in your world and pretend I'm one of you."

Since they were already familiar with each other, Zhiwei replied with a smile, "Of course, summer is the most beautiful. Young men and women are all showing off large amounts of skin, which is a feast for the eyes."

Li Fuqiang turned to look at her—she didn't wear low-cut, revealing clothes like many girls these days, but the fair wrists peeking out from under the three-quarter sleeves made people want to get closer to her, but he said, "Xiao Wei is still the most beautiful like this."

Zhiwei followed his gaze, understood the focus of his attention, chuckled, and raised her hand, gently stroking the back of his hand with her smooth and delicate wrist: "How about this?"

Li Fuqiang felt a soft, fragrant hand tickle his heart, sending a shiver down his spine. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her under the table.

Zhiwei's cheeks flushed slightly, like pink rouge adorning white jade. He couldn't resist the urge to kiss her, but she quickly turned her head away, saying, "In public." He didn't mind and gently kissed her seaweed-like hair.

Fearing she might be upset, he asked about the graduation ceremony arrangements. Zhiwei thought that her mother couldn't come this year, and she didn't have any other close family or friends, so she planned to just attend the school ceremony with her classmates.