The villa felt different.
Not louder. Not colder.
Just quieter, in a dangerous kind of way.
The producers introduced a new group activity that morning—"The Mirror Game." Each contestant would write an anonymous message to another person in the villa. Honest. Blunt. No names, just truths.
They read the notes one by one over lunch.
> *"You make me feel like I'm just another page in your journal. I want to be the chapter."*
> *"Stop pretending your indifference is elegance. It's not."*
> *"I would have trusted you more if you hadn't smiled while pulling away."*
Ruoxi didn't react.
She stirred her tea slowly. Every note sounded like it was written to her—and that was fine.
It meant they were watching.
Still trying.
Still caught.
Except one.
---
Gu Zeyan hadn't looked at her all morning.
Not once.
He hadn't smiled when she brushed past him. He hadn't flinched when she leaned over to pass him a towel by the pool, letting her hand graze his forearm. He hadn't even acknowledged the strawberry she pressed into his palm with a wink.
No reaction.
It wasn't rejection.
It was worse.
It was neutrality.
And Shen Ruoxi knew how to handle desire. She knew how to handle resentment.
But indifference?
That made her spine itch.
---
That night, while everyone else gathered for drinks, Ruoxi found him on the roof terrace. The ocean glittered below, endless and unbothered.
She didn't flirt this time.
She just walked up beside him and asked quietly, "Are you avoiding me?"
"No," he said, voice low. "I'm just not chasing you."
She folded her arms. "I didn't ask you to."
"No," he said again, "but you expected it."
She looked at him then, not with teasing or heat—but with something colder. "You're upset because I didn't pick you."
"I'm not upset," he replied calmly. "I just realized you want everyone to chase you, so you never have to choose."
Something in her face flickered. Then reset.
"Is that a diagnosis, Doctor Gu?"
"You tell me," he said. "Aren't you the one who plays with symptoms?"
Silence.
The tension between them wasn't romantic now. It was surgical. Clean. Sharp.
"You were interesting," she said finally. "But maybe I expected too much."
He turned to face her.
"No," he said. "You expected I'd stay interested no matter what you did."
Then he walked away.
And—for the first time—she didn't call after him.
---
**Confessional booth, after midnight.**
She didn't smile this time. Her voice was quieter. More honest than she meant it to be.
"I don't mind when people don't like me," she said. "I mind when the ones I respect start pulling away."
She swallowed.
"I think I liked him… because he was the only one who looked at me and didn't ask himself how to win me."
A pause.
"He just saw me. And now he's not looking at all."
She leaned her head back, eyes closed for a second too long.
"Maybe I deserved that."
Blackout.