It was the ninth day since their separation.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, casting slanting rays on the wooden desks and landing on Su Yun’s drooping hair ends, coating them with a soft golden halo.
She had just sat down by the window, her fingertips not yet touching the spread-out Magic Tome, when the seat beside her sank slightly.
Mo Qingqing silently slid over and sat down next to her.
Without a word, without any extra movement, Mo Qingqing simply sat there quietly, her back straight, her profile still cold and aloof, but the low pressure around her was much lighter than before, replaced by an indescribable awkwardness.
Su Yun’s fingers curled almost imperceptibly, her heart beating a little faster—nervous, and also somehow complicated.
She didn’t quite understand what Mo Qingqing was trying to do—was she going to interrogate her, make peace, or just find a seat to sit in?
But she didn’t intend to speak first.
She lowered her eyes, pretending to focus on the law patterns in the textbook, but her gaze kept shifting to the person beside her in her peripheral vision.
The distance between them was absurdly close, their elbows almost touching.
Though only a line separated them, it felt like an insurmountable chasm, and the air was thick with awkward silence, making even breathing cautious.
Mo Qingqing didn’t speak either.
She just sat there, her gaze fixed on the blackboard ahead, but her eyes were unfocused, her mind not on the class at all.
Her gaze kept straying uncontrollably to Su Yun’s profile, watching her slightly pursed lips, her fair cheeks.
A thousand words churned inside her, but she didn’t know where to start, so she could only suppress them, letting bitterness and panic spread, her long lashes casting faint shadows under her eyes.
As time ticked by, the lecturer mage’s voice faded into background noise.
The two sat in silence—one pretending to be attentive, the other distracted—neither breaking the strange stillness.
Finally, the bell rang crisp and clear, shattering the classroom’s oppressive atmosphere.
Su Yun sighed in relief, stood up, and headed for the restroom.
But as she took a step, she found her path blocked by Mo Qingqing, who was sitting firmly in front of her.
Mo Qingqing sat there, her posture straight, her cold, beautiful face expressionless, but deep in her eyes hid a tension and anticipation she herself wasn’t fully aware of.
The atmosphere reached an awkward peak.
They stared at each other.
Su Yun’s gaze was calm and unruffled, while Mo Qingqing’s was complex—flustered, uneasy, unwilling, and with a hint of barely discernible appeasement.
A thousand words stuck in her throat, but she couldn’t find a way to say them.
They just stared, the air seemingly solidifying.
Just as Su Yun expected Mo Qingqing to say something or make a forceful move, Mo Qingqing suddenly understood.
It was as if she grasped Su Yun’s intention, or as if she had finally set aside all her pride and stubbornness.
She silently stepped back, clearing the way for Su Yun.
This surprised Su Yun for a moment.
The old Mo Qingqing had always been domineering and strong, never giving way to others, let alone acting so cautiously.
Yet today, she was so compliant, so silent, even a little humble.
Pushing aside the strange feeling, Su Yun didn’t think twice.
She quickly walked past Mo Qingqing, speedily left her seat, and headed toward the restroom.
Mo Qingqing remained standing by her seat.
When Su Yun returned from the restroom and reached the classroom door, Mo Qingqing saw her come back.
Without a word, she silently pulled out the chair next to Su Yun and stepped back, leaving enough space for Su Yun to walk in and sit down.
This continued until school ended.
For the entire afternoon, Mo Qingqing was like a silent shadow, sitting beside Su Yun, not talking, not interfering, just quietly accompanying, silently giving way, silently guarding—using her own clumsy and humble way to try to get close to Su Yun.
The sun set, casting golden afterglow across the classroom.
Students packed up and left, and soon the room was empty.
Su Yun packed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and was about to leave when a voice, slightly hoarse and a little awkward, came from behind.
Mo Qingqing suddenly stood up, stepped quickly in front of Su Yun, blocking her path.
“Um…”
Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her usually cold eyes were now filled with nervousness and expectation, even her breathing becoming a little hurried.
“…When are you going home?”
“Huh?”
Su Yun was startled, turning sharply to look at Mo Qingqing.
She noticed with surprise that Mo Qingqing’s ever-cold, ever-proud face actually carried a faint blush, as if shy or nervous.
Her deep eyes no longer held the usual coldness and dominance but were full of anticipation—like a child waiting for a parent to come home.
This made Su Yun heave a sigh of relief inside.
It seemed her previous efforts hadn’t been in vain.
Mo Qingqing had finally panicked, finally started caring about her, finally put aside her pride and strength, and began to take the initiative to approach her.
But it wasn’t time to harvest yet.
She couldn’t let Mo Qingqing think that if she lowered her head, Su Yun would immediately return to her side.
She had to make Mo Qingqing fully understand that Su Yun was not her accessory, not her pet, not something she could discard and pick up at will.
A flicker of cunning flashed in Su Yun’s eyes.
She quickly composed herself, put on a faint, distant smile, and spoke in a calm tone with a barely noticeable sense of distance.
“I’m going home right now.”
Mo Qingqing was stunned.
The expectation in her eyes instantly grew stronger, and the corner of her mouth even lifted slightly, revealing a trace of a smile, thinking Su Yun was finally willing to go back with her.
However, Su Yun didn’t give her time to rejoice.
The next sentence came like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing all her anticipation.
“I just bought a house. It’s very small, but it’s my own home, and I really like it.”
With that, Su Yun didn’t look at Mo Qingqing again.
She turned and walked toward the classroom door, her steps brisk, without a hint of reluctance.
Only Mo Qingqing remained frozen in place, at a loss.
She stood there, stiff, the blush on her face fading instantly, replaced by pallor.
The expectation and joy in her eyes vanished without a trace, leaving only shock and bewilderment.
Su Yun had lied.
Her new home wasn’t small at all.
In fact, it was even bigger than Mo Qingqing’s villa—spacious and bright with exquisite layout—a gift from the Sovereign of Time.
But the latter part was true.
She really did love this home that belonged only to her.
Even though it was still empty, without much furniture or warmth, it was the first place in this world that truly was hers after over a decade—a place of shelter, a safe harbor, something that could be called a “home.”
Mo Qingqing stood in the empty classroom.
The setting sun’s rays fell on her, but they couldn’t warm the chill in her heart.
For the first time, her cold, beautiful face showed visible confusion, along with a panic she didn’t want to admit.
In a daze, she had a feeling that was both absurd and terrifyingly real.
She had been abandoned.
Abandoned by the little bundle of warmth that had once clung to her step by step, taking her as her only support.
Su Yun had her own home, her own life.
She no longer needed her, no longer wanted to return to her side.
Once that thought took root, it pierced her heart like a sharp needle, hurting so much she could barely breathe.
She watched Su Yun’s disappearing figure at the door, looked at the empty classroom, at the space beside her where the soft, sweet little girl who used to call her master was no more.
The already hollow corner of her heart was once again filled with overwhelming loss and regret, almost drowning her.
She finally understood that the “home” Su Yun spoke of was never her villa, never her side.
And she had truly lost her little bundle.