The Fallen, Stubborn Prince - Chapter 3
The three of them walked along the flower-lined path under the setting sun. The air smelled faintly of grass and dust, and the evening glow painted everything gold.
Lan Qian followed a few steps behind. She wasn’t exactly the friendly or chatty type, so she kept to herself, not saying a word to Su Qian. She wasn’t being rude — that was just how she was.
This path was the only way out of the school grounds. It led straight to the bus stop and every direction beyond, so Fang Xian didn’t bother asking where Su Qian was headed. She just walked quietly beside him.
A couple of times, she pretended not to notice him glancing at her hand — but eventually, she gave in and slowed down.
“Um…” she said softly, “do you want your invoice back?”
Su Qian’s eyes lit up. The poor boy must’ve been thinking about it the entire walk.
“Do you… want it too?” he asked cautiously.
Fang Xian smiled at his nervousness. “No. But… it’s broken.”
Su Qian looked down, shoulders drooping, his shy expression so pitiful that Fang Xian couldn’t help but laugh.
“Here,” she said, holding it out. The torn invoice was still slightly warm from her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I was too rough earlier… I’ll find another one like it someday and give it back, okay?”
But even as she said that, she didn’t believe it herself. She doubted they’d ever cross paths again.
Su Qian held the paper carefully, like it was something precious. He wasn’t stupid — he understood perfectly what had happened. He just didn’t know how to say anything back.
Watching him like that made Fang Xian’s heart ache. She couldn’t imagine how many times he’d been through something like this — bullied, laughed at, ignored. Did anyone ever stand up for him before today?
She sighed and said gently, “That guy from earlier — Ling Huanchen. Stay away from him next time, okay?”
Su Qian nodded. “My uncle says… if someone’s bad, I should stay away.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. That sounded like something a guardian or maybe a therapist would say.
So, if someone isn’t bad, he’s supposed to force himself to get along with them? That’s not how life works, she thought, annoyed at the idea.
“Then,” she asked, “can you tell who’s good and who’s bad?”
She didn’t mean to sound harsh — she was just being straightforward, the way she always was.
Su Qian scratched the back of his neck. “You’re a good person!”
Then, after a quick glance over his shoulder, he added in a small voice, “And… that one behind you too.”
That one? Fang Xian almost laughed. Did he mean Lan Qian?
Behind them, Lan Qian’s lips twitched. Seriously? ‘That one’? I can hear you, you know.
Fang Xian turned her head and smiled. “She’s not ‘that one.’ Her name is Lan Qian. She just looks mean — but she’s a good person underneath.”
Lan Qian rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say,” she muttered.
After a while, Fang Xian looked back at Su Qian thoughtfully. “You don’t like people asking your name, do you?”
He blinked in surprise, then nodded hard. “Every time, I have to explain for so long,” he admitted. “It’s tiring.”
Fang Xian smiled knowingly. “I get it. I’m the same. I hate repeating myself — especially when people don’t bother to remember.”
That made Su Qian brighten instantly, as if he’d just found someone who understood him. “So your name is hard to remember too?”
“It’s not that,” Fang Xian said, laughing softly. “It’s just… hard to explain. Like yours.”
“Then… what do you do?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll show you.”
She stopped walking, took the pen clipped to her schoolbag, and gently held Su Qian’s hand.
Her handwriting flowed gracefully as she wrote across the blank corner of an invoice.
Su Qian froze, staring down at her hair as it swayed under the sunlight. Her scent — light and clean, like the wind after rain — filled his senses. It was the first time anyone had ever come this close to him.
“Next time someone asks your name,” she said softly, “don’t explain. Just write it down and hand it over. Simple, right?”
Su Qian stared at the neat characters, completely absorbed.
At that moment, Fang Xian didn’t feel like a classmate — she felt like something bright and unreachable, a beam of light that had suddenly entered his small, quiet world.
He looked up, dazed. “What if… I don’t have paper or a pen?”
Fang Xian blinked, then said seriously, “Then carve it on the ground with a stick.”
“Huh?” His face went blank. “That’s… not a good idea.”
She burst out laughing. “I’m kidding! Just bring a pen next time, silly.”
Lan Qian groaned. “You two are impossible.”
The three of them walked on, laughing as the last bit of sunlight disappeared.
When they reached the end of the alley, they all stopped at the same time.
A man stood waiting under the streetlight — tall, neatly dressed, his posture calm and steady. He looked to be in his thirties, refined but unremarkable at first glance.
“Uncle,” Su Qian called softly.
The man smiled, nodding at him, then at the two girls. “Thank you for walking with him,” he said politely.
Fang Xian smiled back. “So that’s who’s picking you up. Alright then… goodbye—” She hesitated. “Or… maybe I shouldn’t say that?”
“Don’t say goodbye,” Su Qian said quickly, his voice firm but nervous. “Say ‘see you tomorrow.’ Okay?”
Fang Xian froze for a second — then laughed softly. “See you tomorrow, then.”
But before she could turn away, Su Qian suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“Ah Qian!” his uncle said sharply, walking over and gently prying his hand away. “What did I tell you about touching people without permission?”
Fang Xian quickly shook her head. “It’s fine! Really — it was just instinct.”
Her heart was pounding, though she didn’t know why. Maybe because, for the first time, someone had held onto her like they didn’t want her to leave.
The man nodded gratefully. “Thank you for understanding, miss. Perhaps fate will let you meet again someday.”
He led Su Qian away. The boy kept glancing back, holding the invoice tightly in his hand until his figure disappeared under the streetlight.
Fang Xian stood still for a while before Lan Qian tugged her arm.
“Let’s go,” she said softly.
But even as they walked away, Fang Xian couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end —
that somehow, somewhere, she’d see Su Qian again.
That night, under the silver moonlight, Su Qian sat by his window as usual, knees tucked up, chin resting in one hand.
Across from him sat his uncle, their chessboard between them.
But tonight, Su Qian’s moves were clumsy and distracted. His mind was far away — replaying the sunlight in Fang Xian’s hair, her gentle voice, the warmth of her hand.
His uncle finally smiled. “Ah Qian,” he said quietly, “who was that girl?”