Chapter 43
The stress of finals week slowly dissipated like the winter fog in Tokyo.
Seeing my report card showing all my subjects passing the passing line, and even receiving good reviews in a few, I breathed a sigh of relief. Atobe's tutoring was precise and efficient, his arrangement of key points as coherent as the Hyotei tennis club's training menu, leaving no room for doubt.
"I should at least thank him." I leaned against the bedroom window, two beautifully printed tickets tucked between my fingers. They were for the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra's New Year's concert, with great seats.
Thinking of the expensive vinyl records in his study and his insights into classical music, this thank-you gift seemed perfect.
Ever since the silent confession in the study on that rainy night, the thin layer of ice between us seemed to have melted quietly.
At school, we were still ordinary classmates, keeping a proper distance from each other. But when he took me to the library to look up information, or when he gave me final sprint tutoring in his study, that deliberate restraint disappeared.
He would naturally take the heavy book from my hand, and when explaining difficult problems, his fingertips would inadvertently brush across the back of my hand, leaving a slightly warm touch. The unconcealed tenderness and preference for me in his eyes was no longer suppressed.
From feeling lost at first, I have now gotten used to this unique "Atobe Keigo-style" care.
Of course, the day after the exam, I packed my bags and moved back to my home.
He was leaning against the door frame, trying to get me to stay by giving him a bunch of reasons, from the bad weather to how Xiaokong would miss me. I interrupted him decisively: "Atobe-kun, no girl would stay at a boy's house forever."
He raised his eyebrows, but ultimately said nothing more. He just personally sent me back, and the whole journey was a little too quiet.
On the evening of the concert, I pondered my wardrobe for a moment.
Dressing appropriately for a classical music concert is fundamentally respectful, so I opted for a modified cheongsam dress. Its primary color is a soft, moon-white, the silk satin sheen radiating a pearlescent sheen. The neckline and lapels are delicately embroidered with a few delicate orchids in dark cyan thread, creating a subtle Chinese charm that complements the dress's elegance.
The dress was meticulously tailored, perfectly defined at the waist, and the knee-length hem rippled gently as she walked. The brand, Shiatzy Chen, is known for its understated luxury, and the details are truly remarkable. Her long hair was pulled into a simple bun, secured with a white jade hairpin, and tiny pearls adorned her earlobes.
As soon as I walked out of the house, the familiar Bentley was parked quietly on the side of the road.
The car window rolled down, and when Atobe Keigo's eyes fell on me, a flash of undisguised admiration flashed in them, which soon turned into a deeper smile. He pushed the door open and got out, his movements smooth and graceful.
As expected, he was dressed in formal attire.
The perfectly tailored dark navy blue Brioni custom suit outlines the broad shoulders and the thin waist. It is paired with a crisp white shirt, a dark blue silk tie with dark patterns at the collar, and a square scarf in the same color as the suit is meticulously folded in the breast pocket.
Without any extra accessories, with a low-key Patek Philippe on his wrist, he exudes a youthful yet calm nobility, which is completely different from the emperor's aggressive demeanor on the court.
"Very beautiful." He opened the car door for me, his voice low and pleasant, full of sincere praise.
"Thank you, Atobe-kun is also very formal." I sat in the passenger seat, and the car was filled with his fresh and pleasant scent.
Tokyo's Suntory Hall is ablaze with lights, resembling a crystal palace.
Guests dressed in gorgeous clothes chatted in low voices, and the air was filled with the reserved scent of perfume and high-end fabrics.
We followed the crowd into the magnificent hall. The walls of the huge organ shone with golden luster under the light, and the crimson velvet seats were stacked layer upon layer, like flower buds waiting for notes to fall.
As we were walking towards the seating area, a figure as tall as a pine tree came into view.
The dark grey three-piece suit, meticulously executed and accentuating his complexion, was none other than Rikkai University's Genichirō Sanada. His serene aura, that of a top-tier kendo master, was hard to miss, even amidst a crowd of elegantly dressed figures.
"Atobe." Sanada nodded slightly, his voice steady and powerful.
His gaze immediately fell on me, a look of scrutiny, but more of a pure, polite inquiry into a stranger. The unique aura of a martial arts expert, like an uncut jade, was calm yet possessed of a sharp edge.
"Sanada." Atobe responded with a calm demeanor.
"Who is this?" Sanada turned his gaze to me and asked directly.
"Hello, Sanada-kun, Hyotei Academy, Kiriyama Hideaway." I bowed slightly and introduced myself briefly.
"Kirishama?" Sanada repeated, a flicker of understanding in his eyes, perhaps because he had heard my name before. "Nice to meet you."
"The concert is about to start." Atobe's voice interrupted at the right time, with a subtle urging. He gently pulled my arm and said, "It's time for us to enter."
He nodded slightly towards Sanada and said, "Excuse me."
He half-protected me as I walked towards my seat, and I could still feel Sanada's quiet gaze falling on our backs for a moment.
After finding a seat and sitting down, the lights in the hall gradually dimmed, leaving only the ceiling lights above the stage, as bright as the stars.
The conductor bowed gracefully, raising his arms. The first melodious string music flowed out, instantly filling the entire room. It was Chopin's "Nocturne," a watery melody tinged with poetic melancholy, swirling and rising through the magnificent hall.
The halftime bell rang and the lights came back on.
The crowd poured into the lounge, the air thick with the aroma of coffee and champagne. Waiters crisscrossed the room carrying trays. Atobe brought me a glass of pure water.
"The National Martial Arts Exchange Tournament will begin in April." I looked at the light reflected by the crystal chandelier and said softly, "Sanada-kun is a master of kendo. When the time comes, we should have the opportunity to witness the strength of the 'Emperor' on the field."
There was a hint of pure anticipation in his tone for the upcoming battle between masters.
As he finished speaking, Atobe's fingers, holding the champagne glass, paused slightly. He tilted his head to look at me, his eyes appearing somewhat profound under the bright light, and a hint of a smile curved the corners of his lips.
"Miss," he began, his voice low and clear to my ears, a strange mixture of dissatisfaction and possessiveness, "someone invited me to enjoy a musical feast tonight to 'thank' me for my hard work in tutoring."
He deliberately emphasized the word "thank you" and leaned slightly closer. His clear woody scent mixed with the slightly tipsy aroma of champagne enveloped me. "So, during this time that belongs to 'us,'" he paused, staring at me intently, "could you please not mention other men's names for a while? Hmm?"
Forehead……
I blinked and met his eyes that said "I mind a lot."
This gorgeous and arrogant young master...
I held my forehead silently in my heart, but inexplicably felt that his childish jealousy was actually somewhat cute?
I pursed my lips, suppressed my smile, and said "hmm" softly.
He then stood up with satisfaction, and a happy light appeared in his eyes again, as if the little unhappiness just now had never happened.
The melodious bell rang, reminding everyone that the second half was about to begin.
He stretched out his arm very naturally, let me hold it, and walked together back to the dream space wrapped in beautiful notes, which now belonged only to "us".
On Valentine's Day, the air at Hyotei seemed saturated with melted chocolate, a sickly sweetness. In the hallways and by the shoe cabinets, meticulously packaged chocolates and the shy, yet expectant, faces of young women could be seen everywhere.
Even in Class H, there were always whispers about chocolate during breaks.
Yuushi Oshitari was sitting diagonally behind me, pushing his signature pair of plain glasses. His eyes behind the lenses were looking towards the classroom door with a hint of amusement as if he saw through everything.
Following his line of sight, I saw Keigo Atobe's figure "just happened" to pass by the door of Class H again.
He put one hand in his trouser pocket, his posture elegant and a bit casual, as if he was just an emperor inspecting his territory. This was his third time "passing by" today.
I felt a little funny, but also inexplicably guilty.
He was probably waiting for something.
During lunch break, I went to the vending machine to buy a drink and was grabbed by Rie Tanaka in the corridor.
Her eyes sparkled, and she lowered her voice to share the "big news" she had just released: "Kiriyama! President Yamamoto! That's the senior Yamamoto who played Juliet! She personally went to Class A today and delivered her handmade chocolates to Atobe Sama! Oh my god, the packaging is so exquisite! Hasn't she given up yet? At the cultural festival..."
President Yamamoto?
Thinking of the unpleasant conversation with Yamamoto, my fingers holding the drink can unconsciously tightened a little, and the cold touch penetrated into my skin.
Trying to maintain composure on my face, I said calmly, "Oh?" "Really? I don't know much about President Yamamoto."
But my heart felt like it was stuffed with a small ball of wet cotton, so stuffy that even the drink in my hand lost its appeal.
During the tennis club training in the afternoon, I could feel the low pressure in the court even through the wire mesh.
Atobe's racket swings with astonishing force, the sound of it breaking through the air tinged with obvious impatience, and a fierce smash nearly pierces the ground. As he wipes his sweat from his hand, his eyes glancing at the sidelines are frighteningly cold.
Mukai Taketo shrank his neck and whispered to Oshima: "What's wrong with Atobe today? Are you annoyed by chocolate?" Oshima just smiled meaningfully and said nothing. He probably guessed something.
In the evening, when I returned home, I threw my schoolbag casually on the sofa.
Xiaokong immediately rushed over, tail wagging happily, and rubbed his furry head against my leg. I sat cross-legged on the carpet, absent-mindedly rubbing his neck. The phone screen on the coffee table suddenly lit up. The caller ID read: Atobe Keigo.
My heartbeat suddenly quickened. I took a deep breath and answered the phone: "Hello?"
"What are you doing?" His voice came through the receiver, and the background was very quiet.
"To accompany Xiaokong." I answered simply.
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, and then he began.
"The noise at school today gave me a headache." His tone was filled with deliberate impatience.
"...Hmm?" I didn't respond and waited for his next words.
"There are people giving chocolates everywhere," he continued, a subtle hint of grievance in his voice. "It's so chaotic, so annoying."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes in my heart.
Is this guy... hinting in a roundabout way?
I deliberately agreed with him and said in an "understanding" tone, "Yes, Atobe-kun is so popular, I heard that he received a lot of them, and even President Yamamoto gave him a handmade one."
I deliberately emphasized the words "made by myself".
"Yamamoto?" His voice suddenly rose, his displeasure evident. "Who cares if she gives it to me or not? I'm talking about those chocolates! They're awfully sweet! They're disgusting! They're completely meaningless!"
His speech speed quickened, revealing a sense of anxiety, "Why haven't you figured it out yet?"
I am speechless.
The abacus beads were about to bounce into my face through the phone line!
I could even imagine him frowning, looking unhappy yet pretending to be indifferent. His awkward yet straightforward way of asking for something alleviated the frustration in my heart, and I felt like laughing.
Glancing at the ingredients and steamer prepared in the kitchen, I almost blurted out:
"Then the osmanthus cake I made might be too sweet, and the young master probably won't like it."
“Beep…beep…beep…”
The only response I got was a hurried busy tone.
I:"???"
Holding the phone and looking at the hung-up interface, I was completely stunned. What the hell is this guy doing?
Less than half an hour.
There was a clear and powerful knock on the door.
Xiaokong instantly pricked up his ears, and with a "woof", he rushed to the door, his tail wagging like a propeller.
I opened the door full of doubts, and a cool night breeze carrying the familiar and clear scent of wood blew in my face.
Atobe Keigo wore a cashmere coat, his shoulders still damp from the night dew. His tall figure almost filled the entire door frame. He was panting slightly, his cheeks a faint red from exercise in the hallway light, and his hair was a little disheveled, clearly in a hurry.
"Atobe?" I was completely dumbfounded, "You...how could you..." This was too fast!
"I'm here to get the osmanthus cake." He said it as a matter of course, as if it was normal for the driver to drive him across half of Tokyo late at night.
He bent down and skillfully rubbed Xiaokong who had thrown himself onto his legs. Xiaokong was so excited that he kept burrowing into his arms.
He sidled in and headed towards the kitchen with a clear purpose.
White steam rose from the steamer, and the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of osmanthus flowers. Freshly baked osmanthus cakes lay in the steamer, their off-white, translucent, soft, and glutinous texture dotted evenly with the golden sugared osmanthus flowers I had personally pickled—the very same ones he had picked with me the last time.
I took out a small celadon plate, carefully placed two pieces of soft and glutinous osmanthus cake on it with a bamboo clip, and handed it to him with a small silver fork.
Atobe sat down at the dining table, his posture still showing his inherent dignity.
He picked up the silver fork and gracefully placed a small piece of osmanthus cake into his mouth. He ate slowly, chewing carefully, fully demonstrating his good upbringing.
Under the warm yellow light, his long eyelashes drooped as he savored the food intently. The soft, glutinous cake melted in his mouth with a warm, sweet aroma, and the rich fragrance of osmanthus instantly filled his senses.
The anxiety and displeasure in his eyes had long since vanished, replaced by a pure, almost childish satisfaction and joy.
"Hmm," he swallowed, raised his eyes to look at me, his eyes were clear and bright, and the corners of his lips curled up in a warm arc, "the sweetness is just right, and the fragrance of osmanthus is also very strong."
He paused, lowered his voice, and said with a special seriousness, "It's much better than those sweet chocolates." The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice clearly declared: This is the "Valentine's Day return gift" that I really want.
My cheeks began to heat uncontrollably, hotter than freshly baked osmanthus cakes. I looked away, mumbling, "...as long as you like it."
He ate one piece slowly and then picked up the second piece.
Xiaokong was circling around his feet, staring at him eagerly. Although he said, "Xiaokong, behave yourself," he calmly used the tip of his fork to pick up a small piece of cake that was not covered with too much sugar and osmanthus. He blew it gently to cool it down before bending down and handing it to Xiaokong's mouth.
Xiaokong immediately took it away happily, wagging his tail even more happily.
When he finally finished his meal, the kitchen was still a mess: the steamer, the bowls and chopsticks, the rice-covered chopping board... I was about to get up to clean up when Atobe stood up first.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping across the kitchen counter, with a kind of arrogance that said, "I'm condescending to you," and said, "It's going to be hard for you to clean up by yourself. I'll help you."
Before I could refuse, he had rolled up the sleeves of his expensive cashmere sweater, revealing his sleek arms, and walked to the sink.
I stared in amazement at this young master who had never touched water before. Although his movements were a little unfamiliar and clumsy, he began to rinse the steamer very seriously.
The water flow was not strong enough, and he was careful to avoid splashing water on his body, washing meticulously.
Next came the dishes. He took a sponge and dipped it in dish soap, scrubbing each one thoroughly and rinsing it thoroughly. He then meticulously wiped away any water stains with a clean cloth and arranged them neatly. He looked so focused, as if he were handling some delicate instrument.
I stood by and watched his busy back. I was surprised at first, but then I couldn't help but want to laugh, and my heart inexplicably softened.
He wasn't helping to clean the kitchen; he was clearly stalling for time.
Sure enough, by the time he had dried and put away the last dish, the kitchen was completely new, and time had already slipped quietly into the night. The lights of the city outside the window had become much sparser.
Atobe lowered his rolled-up sleeves and smoothed the wrinkles at the cuffs calmly, as if the person busy in the kitchen just now was not him. He glanced at the wall clock, frowned slightly, and spoke in a very natural tone, as if he was just stating objective facts:
"It's too late." He paused, his eyes seemingly casually sweeping across the thick night outside the window, then returning to my face, with a hint of "I'm also helpless" in his tone. "Besides, it seems to be windy outside, and the temperature has dropped significantly."
He bent down and patted Xiaokong who was still circling around his feet, "Xiaokong probably doesn't want me to leave now, right? Huh?" Xiaokong cooperated very well and woofed, rubbing his head against his trouser leg.
I:"……"
Seeing him seriously using the weather and the small gap as an excuse, coupled with his expression that said "I'm doing this entirely for your sake", I was completely speechless.
This guy! He really took cheating to the extreme just to get a place to stay!
"Atobe Keigo!" I was so angry, but there was nothing I could do to him.
The dishes he washed clean were still shining on the drain rack. Xiaokong was looking at me with his innocent big eyes, and he himself had walked towards the sofa very naturally, as if he was ready to set up camp as a matter of course.
"I know where the guest rooms are." His face was full of satisfaction after succeeding.
At night, Atobe sat on the edge of the bed, his posture lazy, playing with his phone in his hand. The warm yellow light of the floor lamp softly enveloped him, casting a faint shadow on his downcast eyebrows.
He slid his fingers across the screen a few times and clicked on the INS account that had been silent for a long time.
The latest photo in the album was taken just now at the dining table, when the osmanthus cake was still steaming.
On the small celadon plate, two pieces of crystal clear, soft and glutinous pastries dotted with golden osmanthus flowers look particularly tempting under the light.
There are no filters, no unnecessary composition, but it exudes a homely and real warmth.
His slender fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and finally typed only four words:
[Very fragrant and sweet]
Then, tap Send.
Almost instantly, the silent comment section suddenly boiled over like water after a stone was thrown into it.
"Atobe SAMA has updated! Late night on Valentine's Day, poisoning???"
"Ahhh, this cake looks delicious! The point is, Atobe Sama said it's sweet! Sweet!"
"Wait, this background! This is definitely not the style of the Atobe family! Whose family?!"
"The truth is revealed upstairs! This is clearly a girl's home! That celadon plate!"
"Eating sweets at a girl's house late at night on Valentine's Day??? There's something wrong with you, Atobe-Sama!!!"
"The key point is 'very sweet'! Is it the cake or the person?! I'm lost!"
"Oshizuka Yuushi: Oh huh? Looks like Atobe-kun got more than he expected tonight? (pushing glasses.jpg)"
"Oshitari-kun upstairs! Catch the insider! Request details!"
"Oshitari Yuushi: It's unspeakable, unspeakable. (smile.jpg)"
Atobe casually glanced at the comments and speculations that were refreshing frantically, and a very faint smile, almost like a successful prank, flashed across his eyes.
He didn't care about the heated speculations, but just looked at the simple four words, as if he could still smell the sweet fragrance of osmanthus through the screen.
He casually placed his phone on the low table beside him, and relaxed his body into the soft bed, the curve of his mouth still not completely disappearing.
And I knew nothing about it.
I was leaning against the head of the bed in the bedroom, holding Xiaokong and flipping through a book, when my cell phone suddenly rang. It was Tanaka Rie.
"Kiriyama!!!" Tanaka's voice was so sharp that it almost penetrated the receiver. "Something big has happened! Look at Atobe SAMA's Instagram! He updated it! Just now!"
My heart skipped a beat, and I had a bad feeling: "...update what?"
"A photo! A plate of cakes! With the caption 'Very fragrant and sweet'!"
"Oh my god! The point is, he posted the photo from that place! That background! That plate! It's obviously not his place! It's definitely a girl's place!"
"The entire Hyotei forum is going crazy right now! Everyone's trying to guess which girl is so lucky!"
"Kirishama, do you know who it is? Which girl's house is Atobe Sama having pastries at tonight on Valentine's Day?" Tanaka's gossip spirit was burning, and his speech was as fast as a machine gun.
The fingers holding the phone tightened slightly, and my cheeks began to heat up uncontrollably.
Isn’t that celadon plate mine?
Isn’t that “very fragrant and sweet” referring to my osmanthus cake?
This guy! He actually took a picture and posted it online!
"Huh? I don't know..." I tried to make my voice sound calm and natural, with a hint of confusion and bewilderment from just being woken up. "Maybe it's the dim sum at his house? Or at a restaurant outside? Maybe the plates at his house are special?"
"Absolutely not!" Tanaka said firmly, "I've studied the style of his tableware! It's definitely not that kind! And the tone of the text! There must be something going on! Kiriyama, do you really not know? You didn't hear anything at all?" She asked persistently.
"I really don't know," I said firmly, but my heart was beating as fast as a drum. "Maybe... maybe it's his relative? Or a friend? How can I know anything about Atobe's affairs? Okay, okay, I'm so sleepy, let's talk about it tomorrow."
I quickly made an excuse, dealt with it vaguely, and hung up the phone in a hurry.
The room suddenly became quiet, with only Xiaokong and I left.
I buried my hot cheeks in Xiaokong's soft and fluffy hair, trying to cool down, but the throbbing in my heart would not subside.
That guy... he definitely did it on purpose!
He deliberately posted such suggestive photos and text on Instagram late at night on Valentine's Day! He knew exactly what kind of uproar it would cause!
Xiaokong seemed to sense my restlessness and rubbed my hand with his wet nose.
I looked up, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the wall that separated me from the guest room. The thick wall blocked my view, but in my mind I could clearly picture the scene in the next room.
He was probably lazily leaning against the head of the bed, the sweet scent of osmanthus still lingering on his fingertips, and there was a hint of laziness and undisguised pride in his eyes.
I can almost "see" the smug smile on his handsome face at that moment.
That smile seemed to silently declare: Look, the sweet-scented osmanthus cake you made yourself is now known to the whole world as being very sweet. And the person who could let him taste this "sweetness" is right here.
A complex mixture of shame, frustration, and a hint of hidden sweetness surged in my heart. I picked up Xiaokong and buried my face deeper into his warm fur, mumbling sullenly:
"...You... childish ghost!"
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