"Ling, when you get a chance, check your email!" Fang Yucheng's message buzzed onto Ling Hanlu's phone just before eleven o'clock at night. He was certain she wasn’t asleep yet. Most likely, she was still immersed in work, lost in her thoughts.

　　In his mind, he pictured her in a flowing, pure white gown. Maybe she had gotten tired of sitting and was now pacing her bedroom, her hair cascading down as she pondered... just like the heroine "Christine" in his email.

　　But reality couldn’t be further from Fang’s imagination. When Ling Hanlu got the message, she was leaning back in her study chair, staring at the ceiling. She was dressed in gray and white plaid pajamas, and her hair was tied up in a messy bun on the back of her head. Far from the untouchable, ethereal figure Fang had envisioned.

　　Ling had been in that position for nearly an hour. After Gu Pan dropped off her late-night snack and left, she had decided to take the night off to enjoy the treat and forget about her research progress for a while.

　　The young man had made her a bowl of sweet rice wine dumplings with peach gum and goji berries. He didn’t come in; he just handed her the little glass jar and quickly turned to leave. As the elevator doors closed, he called out, "Eat it while it's hot, or it'll get mushy!"

　　Wasn't that something Dad used to say? Is this little guy trying to spoil me? As she held the warm late-night treat, Ling Hanlu couldn’t suppress a burst of happiness.

　　She carried the small glass jar into her study and set it next to her computer. It joined a cup of floral tea she’d brewed earlier but hadn’t had the chance to sip.

　　**This kid really knows how to whip up something special!** Ling thought, as she lifted the glass lid and gently stirred the slightly thick soup. She took a sip—it was perfectly sweet. A few spoonfuls of this warm, silky treat seemed to melt away the heavy cloud that had hung over her chest for days.

　　It was just a dessert; she wasn’t tipsy. But after finishing that small jar, she felt like all her motivation had just slipped away. Long hours of academic research had made her appear perpetually calm and stern, especially when alone. But now, all those rigid constraints that usually bound her felt like they had disappeared. She slumped in her chair, one leg tossed over the armrest, stretching out as much as she could. In the gentle, sweet warmth of the dessert, she let her mind wander, relishing the indulgent laziness that deep nights like this should bring.

　　A text notification jolted her back to reality.

　　In her inbox was a beautifully crafted invitation from Fang Yucheng. The message attached read: “An internationally renowned musical theater troupe is coming to City A. The timing and venue are perfect; the ‘human’ depends on you, Professor Ling.”

　　He was inviting Ling Hanlu to join him for the performance that weekend.

　　Ling read the phrase “human” twice. She knew Fang Yucheng, as the project leader, was putting in a lot of effort to boost team spirit and encourage his colleagues. The part about it “depending on you” seemed to hint at her role as the co-lead, setting an example for everyone. Accepting the invitation felt like a necessary gesture, showing her willingness to lead, even beyond work duties.

　　Ling rarely analyzed everyday interactions so intensely. But it was the only way she could convince herself.

　　She replied briefly, “Sure, thank you!”

　　2

　　The day before the performance, Ling Hanlu got another email from Fang Yucheng about the musical. He "gently reminded" her that to really enjoy the show, a bit of prep work was crucial. He suggested she learn the main characters' names and get familiar with the basic plot. This way, she wouldn’t get lost in all the dazzling visuals and music. He made sure to stress that this musical was totally worth the effort!

　　The show Fang Yucheng was talking about was *The Phantom of the Opera*.

　　Taking his advice to heart, Ling went online to dig up more info. Truth be told, she wasn’t a total stranger to the musical. Back during her undergrad days at the Foreign Languages University, a bunch of exchange students had come to her school. During a cultural event, a British student performed a live rendition of a classic song from *The Phantom of the Opera*. Before that, Ling Hanlu had little exposure to musicals, but hearing that powerful and grand performance in person was nothing short of breathtaking.

　　Later on, as a volunteer, she had the chance to chat with that British student. Their conversations gave her a deeper insight into the plot and the artistic flair of musical theater. Yet, seeing a full live performance of the show remained an unfulfilled dream.

　　The fact that Fang Yucheng was the one making this dream come true left Ling both surprised and deeply grateful.

　　He sat in his car, eagerly waiting to see how his “Christine” would appear. Dressed to the nines in a sleek suit, Fang Yucheng felt a bit stiff, unable to settle comfortably in the driver’s seat because of its tailored fit. At least he had the freedom to look around, his eyes sweeping through the window, watching people come and go from the complex.

　　Before Ling Hanlu came into view, he noticed a familiar face—a young boy with a buzz cut pedaling his bike towards him. Fang assumed the kid would pass by, but to his surprise, the boy turned and rode through the gates.

　　**Does this kid live here too?** Fang held his breath, a sense of discomfort creeping in. This wasn’t just a casual coincidence. It reminded him of the unexpected encounter at the New Year’s Eve fireworks. Since that night, his “Christine” seemed vulnerable to unwanted influences, and the unease he felt had only grown stronger.

　　Tap, tap. Two light knocks on the window. Ling Hanlu’s smile greeted Fang Yucheng through the glass.

　　He warmly welcomed her into the car, as attentive as always. With a gentle touch, he brushed away a stray hair from her shoulder, admiring her outfit. She wore the white knit top he had envisioned. White — it was the perfect color for her. Relief washed over him, more comforting than the ten sprays of hand sanitizer he usually relied on.

　　As the musical entered its second act, Ling Hanlu was completely captivated. She immersed herself in the Phantom's intense and borderline obsessive love for Christine—an emotion both profoundly moving and hauntingly possessive. Beside her, Fang Yucheng seemed acutely attuned to how Ling Hanlu interpreted the tangled emotions unfolding on stage. Quietly observing her, he discerned her absorption, admiration, and underlying fear mirrored in her eyes.

　　Not long after the second act began, Ling Hanlu began to feel distracted. A dull ache in her chest resurfaced, making concentration impossible. Initially trying to endure it, she soon felt sweat beading on her forehead and her breath quickening, forcing her to leave the auditorium.

　　Fang Yucheng followed closely behind.

　　Outside under the night sky, Ling Hanlu stood, breathing heavily. Fang Yucheng approached and gently steadied her.

　　"Hanlu... Professor Ling, are you feeling unwell?" He supported her carefully, mindful of maintaining proper boundaries. He knew she deserved his utmost care. "Can you hold on? Should I help you to the car to rest?"

　　"I... I think I can manage. It's just my chest, it feels tight, and I feel dizzy... I'm sorry for disrupting your evening..." Ling Hanlu's voice trailed off as she struggled to stay upright, her strength failing.

　　Fang Yucheng lifted her tenderly and guided her towards the parking lot.

　　Once inside the car, he opened the sunroof and lowered the front and rear windows halfway. He helped Ling Hanlu lie down on the back seat, staying close, attentively waiting for her condition to improve.

　　He positioned himself close to Ling Hanlu's feet, seizing his first opportunity to closely examine her ankles. Wrapped delicately in dark gray stockings, they were slender and exquisite. Her feet extended gracefully into smooth, well-shaped calves. There was a silky texture around her knees, devoid of any excess flesh. Yet, it was the part concealed by her knee-length brown skirt that troubled Fang Yucheng's thoughts.

　　His mature experience and acute observational skills enabled him to discern the most enticing secrets of a woman's body, even through thick fabric. However, he detested this ability now, facing Ling Hanlu in this moment.

　　So, he lifted his gaze. Her facial features were motionless, almost unnervingly so, which stirred his concern. Yet, her serenity, as if detached from the world and under his watchful eye, also brought him a strange comfort.

　　He scarcely looked away until Ling Hanlu regained her composure and opened her eyes. The moment their gazes locked, he felt almost scorched.

　　"Director Fang, you're here?" Ling Hanlu may not have realized she was in Fang Yucheng's car at that moment. What surprised her was finding the car's owner not in the driver's seat but sitting right beside her.

　　"Oh, got it. I was worried you might need something, and it wouldn't be good if I couldn't hear from up front," Fang Yucheng shifted towards the car door.

　　"Thank you! So... is the show over?" she asked weakly.

　　Fang Yucheng checked the time. "It should be."

　　"I'm really sorry," Ling Hanlu tried to sit up. There wasn't much else she could do but express her apologies in a relatively dignified manner. However, she was struggling.

　　"It's an accident. Don't blame yourself," Fang Yucheng offered her a pillow.

　　"I'm feeling better now, I...," Ling Hanlu attempted to sit up again, but Fang Yucheng gently held her arm. "No rush. Let's chat for a bit, take it easy, there's still plenty of time."

　　"Okay, sure. Director Fang, I guess it will be hard to catch The Phantom of the Opera near home again," she sighed.

　　"Maybe. But it's okay to have regrets; they give us something to look forward to in the future," Fang Yucheng furrowed his brow slightly. "Of course, right now I'm more concerned about your health. Try not to stay up late finishing tasks recently, okay? I reviewed what you've done, the quality is excellent, really top-notch."

　　"Director Fang, you're too kind. As for my health, I'll take care of it myself," surprisingly, Ling Hanlu found her leader's words inspiring even in her discomfort. "You can rest assured."

　　"Alright, alright..." Fang Yucheng felt the conversation was losing steam, so he quickly changed the subject. "By the way, where were we just now?"

　　"I think, it's like this: Christine is afraid that if the Phantom finds out she's secretly engaged to Raoul, he might do something terrible to threaten their lives. So she asks her fiancé to keep it a secret and wears the engagement ring on a necklace instead of on her finger. It's a way to deceive others..." Ling Hanlu recalled the details from the play. After all, before leaving the hall, she had been so deeply intoxicated by the actors' outstanding performances and vocal skills.

　　"Does Christine love the Phantom? What do you think?" Fang Yucheng's voice emerged from deep within his chest, refined by experience and deep emotions alike.

　　"Well... to some extent, Christine admires and appreciates the Phantom. After all, she couldn't have improved her singing skills and earned the role of leading lady without his secret help. But later on, it's more about fear. After all, the way the Phantom loves is too extreme."

　　"Do women desire to have both a soulmate and a life partner at the same time? Oh, this question is also inspired by the play, I hope it's not too abrupt."

　　"I don't think so. But are you asking about me or about women in general? If it's about me, I don't think I have the energy to juggle partners in two different dimensions. If you're asking about women, I can't speak for them."

　　"Let me rephrase, do you think the Phantom's love for Christine is great?" Fang Yucheng had subtly shifted towards the car door and then silently moved closer again, even closer than when he initially sat next to Ling Hanlu. He understood he harbored no "impure" thoughts; he simply wanted to hear the woman's interpretation clearly. "I'd like to hear Professor Ling's thoughts on this."

　　"In the drama, the existence of such a character adds tension to the story. It's unusual, self-centered, cruel, and obsessive, making the human world uneasy. Of course, from an aesthetic perspective, it adds aesthetic value. Because ordinary, pure-hearted people find it hard to generate dramatic sparks with each other. But when you talk about love, I believe love has a universal definition, but also a personal one. Only psychologically healthy individuals can practice what they consider love without it becoming a disaster."

　　Fang Yucheng listened and then turned his gaze to the window beside Ling Hanlu. Her calm explanation resonated with him, but at the same time, he felt a tinge of frustration. He lacked the confidence to continue feigning casual curiosity about that boy, or rather, about Ling Hanlu and that boy.

　　His chest tightened, and his throat felt dry, causing him to cough incessantly.

　　"Director Fang, are you okay?" Ling Hanlu sat up, concerned.

　　Fang Yucheng decisively opened the car door this time and returned to the driver's seat. He cleared his throat. "Oh, I'm fine. By the way, did you know my favorite domestic musical actress is from our city, A? She starred in The Phantom of the Opera."

　　"Oh? Did she play Christine?" Ling Hanlu asked.

　　"Yes, she did. And I had the privilege of hearing her sing Christine's aria up close, absolutely exquisite! But unfortunately..."

　　"What happened?"

　　"Do you know what 'talented but flawed' means? Despite her exceptional talent and acclaim, her personal life was not exemplary."

　　"I see..." Ling Hanlu never readily agreed to comments about someone's conduct or lifestyle; it was never an area she felt comfortable weighing in on. "So where is she now? Is she still performing?"

　　"She's gone abroad. I'm not sure about her recent whereabouts."

　　"Oh. That's a shame, she's such a talented woman..."

　　"Well, Professor Ling, anyway, it's still a beautiful night. Thank you!" Fang Yucheng concluded as he steered the car into the mist, where the stars above contrasted starkly against the darkening fog ahead.