"If it happens often, won't you eventually get bored or annoyed?"

  Eden asked the question with unusual tentativeness—clearly, this mattered to him.

  Grace simply shook her head. "I don't hinge my emotional fulfillment entirely on a man. You might not like hearing that, but that's genuinely how I am."

  "Having someone's company is nice, but if not, I have plenty of other things to do. You can put your work before me—I won't revolve my life around you either."

  She spoke with utter frankness, even a touch of nonchalance.

  Little did she know, in the not-too-distant future, when they were in the middle of a lovely moment and Eden suddenly got a call, threw on his clothes, and left—she'd realize she'd spoken too soon.

  That was truly disappointing.

  But for now, hearing her words actually put Eden at ease.

  Dishes arrived one by one—creative fusion plates, some with unique ways of eating. Eden patiently showed her how, even peeled shrimp for her and carefully extracted crabmeat, piling it into the shell before placing it before her.

  He wasn't talkative, but attentive in every detail.

  Meanwhile, from a private room at the back of the restaurant, a group emerged. Eric Dylan was among them.

  As if drawn by some force, though he could have turned right and left with his friends, his gaze inexplicably drifted toward the left corner by the window. One look—and the only person he saw was Grace.

  He froze. His steps halted involuntarily.

  These days, he barely left home. Ever since Clara had "taken advantage" of him that night, his condition had worsened. His once handsome features now looked haggard and worn. Tonight, he'd only come out because a childhood friend was celebrating his birthday.

  And of all places, here.

  "What's up, Eric?" his friend asked, arm around his shoulder, concerned.

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  Just then, Grace suddenly turned. Instinctively, Eric's first reaction was to hide. He quickly averted his gaze, looking flustered and defeated as he shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

  He seemed to have lost the confidence to approach her boldly or persistently. Because he knew—he no longer deserved to.

  His friend noticed nothing amiss, still chatting cheerfully. "Thought you might've seen someone you know. Tonight at 3CC—I told the PR to save the prettiest girls for us. You're single now, so you can't say no tonight, man. Don't kill the vibe."

  Eric didn't hear a word. He just wanted to leave.

  "After dinner, I got movie tickets." Eden suddenly looked at Grace. He hesitated, then asked, "Do you think my date planning is too cliché?"

  His earnest expression made him seem almost adorable.

  "If it's a horror movie, then yes—very cliché."

  Eden quickly replied, "It's sci-fi."

  Grace raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Taking a girl to a sci-fi movie? That's pretty unique. But you got lucky—I love sci-fi. My favorite film is Interstellar."

  Eden's eyes lit up. "Mine too."

  Their eyes met. In that moment, Eden felt as if their souls had briefly synchronized. His heart skipped a beat.

  And Grace saw, for the first time, such a vivid shift in Eden's expression. His eyes were beautiful, and that sudden spark of joy made his pupils gleam like stars, bringing his whole face to life.

  The movie itself—they just watched it. Eden sat upright the entire time, so gentlemanly it was almost unbelievable. Not even a hint of ambiguous romantic intent.

  Grace found it both amusing and exasperating. Amusing because she couldn't deny her own anticipation; exasperating because why was Eden so oblivious to the atmosphere?

  Back at the dorm entrance, as they said goodbye, Grace looked him straight in the eye. "Just now, at the theater—were you pretending to be a gentleman, or were you genuinely that clueless?"

  Eden looked down at her, paused, then admitted, "Pretending."

  Grace laughed despite herself. But she was happy with his answer.

  "Thanks for walking me back. I really enjoyed tonight."

  Eden's expression relaxed. "So... you're satisfied with me?"

  Grace's gaze swept over his face. "Whether I'm satisfied with you still needs assessment. Too early to draw conclusions."

  Eden blinked, then realization dawned. A complicated expression crossed his face. Had she just flirted with him?

  Grace smiled, waved goodbye, and dashed into the dorm.

  Eden watched her retreating figure, his handsome features softening.

  Back in the room, the first thing Grace saw was Mauve—she was back. But before she could even greet her, she noticed Scarlett looking up, eyes swollen like walnuts, tearfully staring at her.

  Grace was startled. "What's wrong, Scarlett? Why are you crying?"

  Seeing Grace, Scarlett burst into fresh tears. She threw her arms around Grace, sobbing, "It's too tragic. She's so pitiful!"

  Completely confused, Grace shot Mauve a questioning look—three question marks hovering above her head.

  Who's tragic?

  Who's pitiful?

  Mauve sighed helplessly and pointed at herself. "She's talking about me."

  "Huh?"

  Grace blinked in bewilderment, gently steadying Scarlett. "Mauve is right here. Isn't this awkward?"

  Mauve shrugged nonchalantly. "She insisted on asking all these questions, so I told her my story. Before I could even finish, she was begging me to stop."

  It must have been a tragic story. But judging by Mauve's reaction, she herself seemed completely unfazed.

  Mauve summarized for Grace: simply put, her background was tragic. Orphaned young, no close relatives willing to take her in. Finally, her father's best friend—Master Sam Art of Treasure Forest Dojo—adopted her.

  Back then, she was called Momo. Later, Master Art renamed her Mauve when he began teaching her martial arts.

  Training was brutal. Growing up, Mauve was never without injuries. But she never complained, because she knew she had no one to rely on but herself. That was precisely Master Art's intention in teaching her martial arts—to ensure she could protect herself and never again be a discarded child, passively chosen or rejected.

  But six months ago, the woman who'd raised her as her own—Master Art's wife—suddenly fell ill with a rare disease and was hospitalized in the ICU. The crushing expenses left the family desperate. Master Art prepared to sell their ancestral home, and Mauve secretly started fighting underground to earn money.

  This was the story that had Scarlett sobbing uncontrollably.

  "Oh, stop crying. You'd think I'd died," Mauve said flatly.