He was already strikingly handsome. That air of noble, aloof elegance set him apart from all the ordinary boys at school.
His slightly arched brows were both sharp and refined. That calm confidence in his eyes immediately drew the interest of several girls.
“We really do have time!” An Ke turned to Cecilia Ye, her eyes sparkling with playful pleading, as sweet and adorable as ever. “Ms. Ye, can we? Please?”
“...”
The girls behind her all looked at Cecilia Ye as well—it was impossible to say no.
“If you want to draw, go ahead.”
A stubborn feeling suddenly surged in Cecilia Ye's heart. Xavier Foster obviously knew she couldn’t refuse people. He must have done this on purpose.
Ignoring them, Cecilia Ye went to sit alone by the window and started sketching herself.
Xavier Foster naturally noticed her mood, but he really just wanted to be a little closer to her, even if she wasn’t happy about it.
Well, I’ll coax her later, he thought.
He stood up, his slender fingers shrugging off his overcoat. He bent down and placed the black coat over the armrest of the sofa where Cecilia Ye was sitting—a subtle but intimate gesture.
It was just like those boys on the school field who’d place their belongings beside their girlfriend before heading into the game.
Cecilia Ye bit down on her lip, pretending not to care. But her pencil hovered over the paper, unable to draw anything at all.
A low murmur of conversation drifted from the other side: “So, what should we call you?”
“Xavier Foster.”
The girls called Cecilia Ye 'Teacher,' but none of them seemed willing to call her friend by his name directly. After all, Xavier Foster’s aura screamed ‘high-powered executive’ from head to toe.
“Mr. Fu, it is, then. Please take that seat and try not to move too much,” An Ke chattered away, directing him. By contrast, Zhou Ya was far more mature.
She’d felt for days that he looked strangely familiar but couldn’t put her finger on it. When he finally introduced himself as Xavier Foster, Zhou Ya’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
Xavier Foster—THE Xavier Foster from the capital? My god.
“Keke, let’s get back to drawing!” Zhou Ya called An Ke over, handing her a freshly sharpened pencil. Who knew what a big-shot CEO would do if he got annoyed.
Suddenly remembering something, An Ke added, “Mr. Fu, would you like a book or something to kill time?”
Xavier Foster shook his head with a faint smile, simply turning a little to gaze at the girl by the window.
There was nothing else he cared to occupy his time—he could happily spend all of it just watching Cecilia.
Sitting right in the middle, a girl with curling hair watched Xavier Foster with open curiosity from behind her easel.
For a moment, a hush fell over the studio—only the scratch of pencils on sketch paper could be heard.
Xavier Foster’s gaze was open and palpable; before long, it was clear to all the girls who he was looking at.
An Ke couldn’t help but whisper, tilting her head, “See? I told you, he’s totally after Ms. Ye. Tsk, tsk.”
Zhou Ya pinched her cheek. “Focus on your drawing and quit messing around.”
Even the girl by the window, pencil in hand, randomly sketching the hibiscus outside, caught every word in the studio with her keen ears.
Her mind was in such a mess that not even her favorite sketching could help her focus, especially under the relentless, needle-sharp sensation of his gaze on her skin.
She tried to hold it in, but finally, Cecilia Ye slammed her pencil down, spun around, and glared at Xavier Foster.
Her eyes, bright as glass, now flashed with anger. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, warning him not to look at her any longer.
When their eyes met, Xavier Foster’s lips curled into a small, meaningful smile.
Amid all the earnest art students, they shared a glance that only the two of them could understand.
She was still obviously upset, but in that tension, something undeniably intimate sparked between them.
Fine, I give up. If I can’t win, I’ll just retreat. Cecilia Ye got up and left the studio.
She crouched in the garden, tending to the hibiscus. She couldn’t help feeling ridiculous—Xavier Foster had helped her, so why did it make her angry?
Maybe it was because he so easily stepped into the safe space she’d carved out for herself.
Or maybe it was because everything he did seemed to throw her heart into chaos.
She kept rolling a hibiscus leaf between her fingers, her thoughts as tangled as a knotted string, with no way to unravel it all.
Sketch class ended quickly on Saturdays, wrapping up after just three or four hours. By then, Cecilia Ye was feeling unwell and went upstairs to rest.
She closed the bathroom door, turned on the faucet, and threw up yet again.
When she finally came downstairs, the one who had been modeling in the front room was now seated by the window.
An Ke and the others were clustered together, excitedly comparing sketches. They waved goodbye to her before heading out.
Seeing Xavier Foster on the sofa by the window gave Cecilia Ye a headache, but she still walked over. “Thank you.”
Xavier Foster was looking at her sketchbook. On the page, a hibiscus flower bloomed, drawn just as beautifully as those she’d done back at the Fu home. He remembered the one that had been ruined before and felt almost stupid with regret.
“I’m sorry, Cecilia.”
His dark eyes fixed on hers, filled with layers of emotion.
In that moment, Cecilia Ye seemed to understand—it wasn’t just an apology for today.
Her hand tightened and then relaxed. She bent over to close her sketchbook, but didn’t say it was okay.
“It’s lunchtime. What do you want? I’ll order for you.”
Cecilia Ye shook her head. Just the thought of oily takeout made her queasy.
“I’ll just make myself something simple. I don’t want anything from outside.”
“Can I have some too?”
Xavier Foster looked up at her, inexplicably pitiful.
Why did he suddenly remind her of an overgrown puppy… Cecilia Ye shook her head to dislodge that thought.
It was just a meal, after all. Considering he’d brought her breakfast and sat around as a model for hours this morning…
“...Fine. I just want some small wontons.”
“Anything’s fine.”
Xavier Foster was completely agreeable, trailing after Cecilia Ye up to the kitchen.
She found the leftover wontons she’d wrapped the day before.
The water bubbled in the pot, her slender hands dropping in the little dumplings.
Soon, the two of them sat together at the dining table. Hot, fragrant wonton soup steamed in their bowls, garnished with fresh cilantro.
Neither said a word. Cecilia Ye didn’t know how to start. She’d never expected her supposed escape to end so quickly—she was already sharing a meal with Xavier Foster again.
“Eat before it gets cold,” Xavier Foster reminded her when she hesitated.
She scooped up a steamy wonton, tasted it, and—though it had been delicious just yesterday—nausea suddenly welled up again.
She tried to fight it down, but morning sickness is never so easily ignored. She dropped her spoon, rushed to the bathroom, hand clapped desperately over her mouth.
The more she tried to hold back the violent retching, the worse it got. Xavier Foster hurried after her, worry written all over his face as he gently steadyed her fragile shoulders and patted her back.
Xavier Foster was stunned, heart clenching as a thousand worries flashed through his mind. How could she be this unwell?
“Cecilia…”
When her stomach was finally empty, all the strength left Cecilia Ye’s body and she nearly collapsed.
Xavier Foster caught her at once, pulling her tightly into his arms. “What’s wrong? Why are you so sick?”
Cecilia Ye’s brow stayed tightly furrowed; the nausea would not fade. She couldn’t even stand and could only let Xavier Foster hold her.
But this couldn’t go on. Xavier Foster bent down and carried her back to her room.
He laid her on the bed, fetched a towel to wipe her face, poured her some water to rinse her mouth.
Sitting at the edge of the small bed, his large frame hunched over, he finally gave in and embraced her tightly.
“Cecilia Ye, is this how you take care of yourself?”