Charlotte Lee didn’t move at all. Her breathing was a bit rough, her chest rising and falling—whether it was from feeling wronged, angry, or something else, no one could tell. She didn’t look at Andrew Lane; instead, she stared intently at Zoe Young, fixing her with a hard gaze.

Charlotte Lee was very pretty, with a face that always seemed rosy and a pair of almond-shaped eyes. After Zoe Young started middle school, she once came across the phrase “a face like peach blossoms” in a book, and the first person she thought of was actually Charlotte Lee.

She knew this girl, and believed this girl knew her too. Both Charlotte Lee and Zoe Young were squad leaders with three stripes, so whether it was meetings or organizing activities, they often ran into each other.

Yet, they had never spoken a word to each other. The avoidance and coldness between Zoe Young and Andrew Lane was intentional on both sides, but the vague, indescribable atmosphere between Zoe Young and Charlotte Lee was impossible to figure out. Maybe it was because she was Andrew Lane’s good friend, so... just like Charles Johnson, she needed to keep her distance from me. That’s what Zoe Young thought, recalling the hidden reasons behind it. Although there was a brief sting, she accepted it calmly, accepted the occasional proud, probing glances Charlotte Lee would cast her way during squad meetings.

She didn’t know that she had only guessed half right. Zoe Young seemed to have long forgotten who it was that stuffed the Empress’s calendar into her hands back then, and who it was, at sunset, that led a group of concubines, ministers, palace maids, and eunuchs in chasing her and the emperor. Childhood games really weren’t worth holding grudges over for so long, but clearly, Charlotte Lee hadn’t grown up enough to let go.

Zoe Young had never imagined that the “palace coup” from their childhood would, in the end, truly change everyone’s fate.

“This isn’t yours.” Charlotte Lee’s voice actually had a hint of malice. The same sense of hostility Zoe Young had just instinctively felt now crept up her back again. It was this feeling—

The Charlotte Lee she’d just seen at the bathroom door, leading a group of girls running over with gifts, had actually known all along whose gift it was.

Zoe Young was silent. This kind of silence was an innate talent, honed over time to be both smooth and sharp. Whenever she faced difficulties, she would always fall silent.

Silence handed the choice and the dilemma to the anxious other person; it was irresponsible, a way to avoid getting hurt. To Andrew Lane, I would never say the gift was mine; to you, I would never say the gift was Tina Young’s. However the other person interpreted her silence—guilt, acquiescence, shyness, or impatience—the choice was in their hands. Zoe Young tilted her head and smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Claire Daniels had once said offhandedly, “Zoe, you’re a bit like my brother.”

Alan Carter? Zoe Young and Claire Daniels never brought up Alan Carter, since he was much older than them, already a second-year high school student, living in a completely different world. Zoe Young just smiled, saying nothing. Claire Daniels immediately jumped up, pointing at her smile: “See, see, that’s it! You’re just like him, he always has that look…” That look? Zoe Young didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. When she said she was like Alan Carter, there was a strange feeling in her heart. At that moment, Andrew Lane was already frowning and waving at Charlotte Lee impatiently: “Go play already, or the snow will melt.”

“The snow will melt”… Such nonsense was practically the biggest insult to Charlotte Lee. She swallowed, adjusted her expression, trying not to let the girls around her catch her looking resentful, and instead put on a gossipy smile, saying to the girls, “Let’s go, let’s go, the lovebirds are getting anxious, we’re just third wheels!”

Only then did the girls burst out laughing, scattering in all directions, whispering in small groups, glancing back as they walked away. Zoe Young was unfazed by the term “lovebirds,” but Andrew Lane hurried to explain, only making it worse: “What are you talking about? Who’s a couple with who?!”

“You and Zoe Young, are you blushing?” one girl called out with a laugh, but before she could finish, Charlotte Lee quickly dragged her away.

At last, it was quiet. Worried that the snow on his gloves would wet the wrapping paper, Andrew Lane had already taken off his gloves and was holding the not-too-big box in his arms, his face really turning red, eyes darting everywhere, clearing his throat several times but unable to say a word. “You…”

“The gift isn’t mine.” Zoe Young, who hadn’t said a word since coming out of the bathroom, finally spoke. Her voice was clear and even. Andrew Lane’s shoulders, tense with nerves, suddenly slumped.

“What?” “The gift isn’t mine.” She repeated.

“Then why did you just…” Andrew Lane’s tone had a hint of frustration. Zoe Young looked at him in surprise, not understanding what was wrong with him.

Maybe she had some idea, otherwise she wouldn’t have misled Andrew Lane into thinking the gift was hers. As if, by being so certain, Andrew Lane, who had originally been indifferent about the gift, would, because of the misunderstanding, go out of his way to side with her.

Deep down, she was so sure. So naturally sure, never even questioning why.

Zoe Young was suddenly startled by her own thoughts. She hurriedly pushed that idea back down, pretending she hadn’t just glimpsed the truth beneath the surface.

“What did I do?” She avoided his gaze. “Why did you say…” Andrew Lane was stunned. Right, Zoe Young had never actually said the gift was hers.

“I was just like you, thinking they shouldn’t mess with other people’s things.” Zoe Young put on an innocent smile. Andrew Lane suddenly felt a surge of anger, an inexplicable anger, squeezing the little box in his hands so hard it was about to deform.

Zoe Young stared at the box and said softly, “Be gentle, you’ll break it.” “None of your business!” Andrew Lane muttered through gritted teeth, but still loosened his grip. The two of them stood in silence for a while, then Andrew Lane forced a smile, quickly lowered his head, and tore open the wrapping paper. Under Zoe Young’s surprised gaze, he took out a purple apple wrapped in white foam.

The purple glass apple, set against the white snow, glimmered faintly. It was beautiful. What a lovely apple. Zoe Young wanted to compliment the gift, but in the end kept her mouth shut. She had a feeling that if she said anything now, Andrew Lane would immediately throw the apple over the wall. A small slip of paper fell out of the box; Zoe Young bent down to pick it up and handed it to Andrew Lane. She didn’t mean to peek, but the card wasn’t folded, so she caught a glimpse of the contents. Just two lines.

Happy birthday. You’ve always been the best squad leader in my heart. No signature. Zoe Young suddenly felt a wave of tenderness—her little cousin’s delicate feelings had been touched by her, just like that. Andrew Lane was puzzled for a long time: “Who is this from?” Zoe Young smiled, “She doesn’t want you to know, so you don’t need to know. Isn’t that nice?” Isn’t that beautiful.

But Andrew Lane’s mouth twitched: “…My birthday is in March…” Zoe Young was stunned—who knew Tina Young’s information could be so off! She stammered, “Well… you… just pretend it’s your lunar birthday…” “My birthday is in spring! How can your family’s lunar and solar birthdays be half a year apart?!” Zoe Young burst out laughing, her eyes curving into crescents, just like when they first met in kindergarten. She used the same words Andrew Lane had used to send Charlotte Lee away to tease him back.

“What’s there to worry about, the snow’s almost melted.” The tension gradually faded, and Andrew Lane lowered his head, gently gazing at the card in his hand, smiling. Zoe Young looked up at the sky, now a pale gray but no longer gloomy, and finally dared to speak. “What a beautiful apple.” She smiled. Then she looked up and saw that, at some point, Andrew Lane’s parents were already standing at the back door, quietly watching them.

Watching them holding the apple and the box. Andrew Lane panicked for a moment.

“Long time no see, Zoe… you’ve grown so much.” Andrew Lane’s mother smiled gently.

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9. The Antagonist

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Andrew Lane’s mother smiled kindly, but her eyes were fixed on the gift in Andrew Lane’s hands, as if waiting for one of them to explain.

Andrew Lane was still trying to figure out where to start, but Zoe Young was already smiling, bowing politely to Andrew Lane’s mother and father: “Hello, Uncle and Auntie.”

Then she turned to Andrew Lane and said, “Your parents must need you for something. I’ll go find my classmates. Bye.” Andrew Lane stared blankly as Zoe Young politely said goodbye to his parents, and before he could react, that dark gray figure had already darted away. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling—it was as if Zoe Young had suddenly transformed. The girl was still standing beside him, but he couldn’t feel her presence anymore.

After Zoe Young left, Andrew Lane’s mother stopped smiling. She scrutinized Andrew Lane and his apple from head to toe, almost staring a crack into the glass apple. She wanted to say something, but in the end just glanced at her husband.