No matter how long the lunch break was, it had to end eventually.
When the school bell rang, the two who had already finalized their weekend plans stood up and headed for the door.
Mary stopped at the doorway, waited for Russell to come forward, then took his hand and led him back into the classroom.
Throughout the afternoon, the two sitting in the very back row seemed somewhat absentminded.
Mary stared intently at the blackboard. The board was filled with writing, but her mind was already overflowing with thoughts about what she would do when Russell came over on the weekend.
What kind of black tea and desserts should she prepare?
What topics should they discuss during afternoon tea?
And what activities should they do besides afternoon tea?
She had experienced things like this many times before—attending boring literary salons or having audiences with Princess Louise at Buckingham Palace.
Hadn't Mary always taken the lead, serving as the theme guide for the entire event?
Sometimes she had to handle more than five guests at once, remembering each person's preferences and conversation topics.
But this time, there was only one guest, and he was extremely easy to talk to—yet she found herself at a complete loss about what to do.
He had no likes or dislikes and could do anything, so it seemed like there was nothing he was bad at.
No matter what topic she brought up, he would listen attentively. If he was knowledgeable about it, he would share his own views. If he didn't understand, he would act as the perfect listener, occasionally asking questions and providing the speaker with sufficient emotional value.
But would he be happy? No—if it was him, he would probably be happy.
The problem was whether she herself could be happy.
Mary furrowed her brows.
She desperately wanted to grab that man by the collar right now, interrogate him about what he wanted to do and what he wanted to talk about, and drag out a clear answer.
But she already knew without thinking what kind of response she would get if she actually did that.
Thinking this, the girl couldn't help but sigh and glance at Russell sitting beside her.
At that moment, Russell was leaning against the wall, half-asleep, as though desperately fighting off drowsiness.
The girl slowly looked away. The professor continued his eloquent lecture from the podium.
The notes and knowledge written on the blackboard didn't register in her brain at all. She could only watch helplessly as her thoughts slipped little by little toward the weekend, like a thin rope with no strength.
What kind of black tea should she prepare? He didn't seem particularly particular about black tea. He always came to the Faidon Teahouse with her.
But Mary suddenly recalled the time he had ordered Darjeeling. After finishing it, Russell had said, "This has a very clean taste."
Darjeeling.
Thinking this, she picked up her pen and wrote the name "Darjeeling" in her notebook.
What about desserts?
Besides cookies, there had to be something else.
Scones were a must, served with cream and jam—the classic of afternoon tea.
She had also planned to prepare macarons, but they might be too sweet for him, so cake might be better.
Furthermore, the kitchen should also prepare sandwiches. Desserts alone might not be enough to fill him up.
The girl silently wrote a list on the paper, lightly tapping her fingertips on the table.
The preparations for afternoon tea seemed quite thorough.
But what should they do after afternoon tea?
Just because the meal was over didn't mean she could leave him alone. That would be far too wasteful.
By the way, she could also take him on a tour of the mansion. Although the Morstan family mansion wasn't as magnificent as the hereditary noble estates or Buckingham Palace, it still had its own charm.
Paintings and antiques… Though he might not be particularly interested in those.
Ah, and there was even a dedicated glass greenhouse!
Mary's eyes lit up. How wonderful it would be to have afternoon tea in the flower room!
She would sit beside him, with sunlight streaming in through the glass roof illuminating the two of them.
She could casually move closer to him, pretending to offer snacks or introduce the flowers. All these casual gestures would seem completely natural.
Thinking this, the girl's cheeks flushed slightly.
She quickly lowered her head, pretending to take notes diligently like a reporter, using her loosely hanging hair to hide her reddened ear tips.
For now, let's stop here.
There was still plenty of time to think, and she didn't have to decide everything right away.
Mary took a deep breath, closed her notebook, and tried to focus on the lesson.
And she failed.
In the end, while tormented by thoughts she couldn't suppress, the girl endured until the end of class.
…
Russell woke from his dream to the sound of voices and footsteps.
He yawned and dazedly raised his head. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Mary sitting beside him.
The girl's cheeks were slightly flushed. It was hard to tell whether it was because of the sunset light or if they had always been that color.
Noticing his gaze, she gave her usual pure and lovely smile and smiled lightly.
"Are you awake?"
"Mm…" Russell rubbed his eyes. "Is class over?"
"It just ended, so let's sit a little longer."
Mary said, "Let's talk after most people have left."
Hearing this, Russell immediately understood what she was trying to do. His previously sleepy head instantly cleared.
"I think we already finished this at noon."
He said, trying to save face.
"One at a time."
There was no room for argument in the girl's tone.
"The one at noon was punishment for you carrying someone else's scent, but this one is to get you used to that scent."
"Actually, there's no need to get used to something like that, right?"
Russell looked at her.
Mary didn't answer. After confirming that everyone around them had left, she extended her hand toward Russell with an affectionate smile.
The meaning was extremely clear.
In the past few times, she had been the one to take the initiative, but this time it was Russell's turn to take the lead.
Russell looked at the hand extended toward him, then at the girl's expectant smile.
Those two hands hung suspended in the air like a passage, waiting for something to fall in the middle.
Russell suddenly realized that every hug since yesterday had been initiated by her.
She had pulled him into her arms, drawn him into a field of white camellias, and enveloped him in a maternal embrace.
She had never asked him for anything.
He had always been passive and had never once thought about giving.
This felt a little unfair.
In life, one should always be mindful of reciprocity.
After a moment of hesitation, Russell took a deep breath and extended both hands, as though about to make a gamble.
He wrapped his arms around Mary's waist. The sensation was very soft, like a delicate willow branch that might break with the slightest force.
It took an enormous amount of courage, but Russell managed to do it.
He pressed his face against Mary's chest, listening to her heartbeat quicken even more, and felt the white-tea fragrance once again envelop him.
Mary was completely stunned. Her smile froze as though time had stopped.
She sat there, both hands resting on Russell's shoulders, her entire presence like a beautiful sculpture.
This is… a little strange.
The girl's heart was pounding violently.
The result was exactly what she had wanted, but something felt a little off.
Russell couldn't see it, but her fair face was now glowing with a rosy hue.
This is bad… It's more dangerous than I thought.
Mary's breathing quickened, as though she were about to suffocate. She had never felt this way even when she took the initiative herself. Her hands unconsciously wrapped around Russell's neck and tightened.
Those blue eyes were almost unfocused in this moment. The eyes that were usually filled with smiles now seemed covered in mist and sparkling.
No… I can't let this continue.
Just before her rationality collapsed, Mary regained her strength.
She pushed hard against Russell's shoulders and pulled him away from her.
"Wait, hold on, Russell."
Mary kept her head lowered, afraid of Russell seeing her like this.
"What's wrong?"
Russell looked at the girl in front of him, somewhat surprised by her reaction.
"This is…" Mary took a deep breath, her tone somewhat disjointed.
"This is bad for the body… bad for the heart."
She said, "Don't ever do that again…."
"But you were fine at noon and yesterday too. Besides, who was the one who told me to 'get used to it' just now?"
"That's… that's unnecessary!"
Mary's cheeks grew even hotter.
She unconsciously raised her hand and pressed the back of it against her face, trying to cool the heat.
"I… just…" She stammered, unable to find the right words.
"What are you thinking?"
Russell pressed further.
Mary raised her face and glared at him with moist blue eyes. That gaze was filled with shame, anger, and resentment.
"You did that on purpose!"
"I only did what you asked."
Russell shrugged.
The girl looked at his innocent expression and gritted her teeth, but there was nothing she could do.
Who would have imagined it would turn out to be this fun?
She turned her face away and could only express her protest through silence.
Russell looked at her stubborn profile and the earlobes glowing pink in the sunset, and deepened his smile.
"Let's go."
He stood up, glanced out the window, and said, "It's getting dark."
Mary didn't move and didn't speak.
"Are you really angry?"
Russell asked cautiously.
The girl remained silent.
"Fine, fine. I admit I was wrong, okay?"
Russell sighed and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.
Mary finally turned to face him, but there was still a trace of embarrassment and irritation in her blue eyes.
"You know you were wrong, right?"
"I knew."
"What's wrong?"
"I shouldn't be the ones taking the initiative."
Russell apologized sincerely. "From now on, I'll definitely wait until you act first."
"..."
Mary felt her cheeks growing hot again.
"Stop talking!"
She reached out and covered his mouth to stop him from saying anything embarrassing.
The girl's hand was soft and slightly cool. Her palm pressed against his lips, and the white-tea fragrance once again drifted right beside him.
Russell looked at her. He looked at her eyes right in front of him—filled with shame, anger, and panic—and said nothing more.
Mary also looked at him.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then, as though she had been burned, she quickly withdrew her hand and took a step back.
"Alright! Let's go!"
After saying this, she hurriedly turned around and walked out of the classroom at a quick pace.
Russell looked at her retreating figure, which seemed to be fleeing in a panic, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He stood up and followed her at a leisurely pace.
The two walked one after another down the empty hallway.
Mary walked ahead at a faster pace than usual, as though sulking.
Russell followed behind her, maintaining just the right distance—neither too close nor too far.
Everything felt just like yesterday.
The time was different, but the place was the same, and he had made the girl in front of him angry again.
Then she stopped a little ahead, turned around, extended her hand toward him, pouted while looking back at him.
Everything felt just like yesterday.
Russell chuckled and shook his head, then stepped forward, took her hand, and walked out through the school gate.
As Mary approached the school gate, her pace finally slowed.
She stopped in front of the carriage, took a deep breath, and then turned around.
The redness on her face had almost disappeared. Her blue eyes had returned to their usual calmness, but a faint trace of embarrassment still lingered in their depths.
"See you tomorrow."
She said.
"Got it." Russell nodded. "See you tomorrow."
Mary looked at him and suddenly took a step forward.
Just as Russell thought everything would proceed the same as yesterday, Mary suddenly stopped.
"Not today."
The girl said slyly. "This is punishment."
"Punishment?"
Russell raised one eyebrow.
"Who told someone to deliberately make me angry?"
The girl spoke in a deliberately fierce, threatening tone.
However, her brightly shining eyes revealed her true feelings.
"Okay," she said and took a step back to create some distance. "I'm going now."
After saying this, she turned around and walked toward the carriage.
The carriage curtains lowered, hiding her slender figure.
Russell stood there and watched until the carriage slowly drove away and disappeared around the street corner.
He raised his hand and touched his chest. His heart was still pounding violently.
"This is definitely not good for the heart…"
He shook his head and sighed.
…
When Russel returned to Baker Street, Charlotte was sitting at the dining table with the evening paper in her hands.
"You're back?"
Hearing the sound of the door opening, she raised her face and glanced at Russell.
Her gaze was sharp, as though she were thoroughly investigating a criminal and trying to uncover every suspicious point about that person.
Russell felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze, but he tried to remain calm, closed the door, and sat down across from Charlotte.
"There's that white-tea scent again."
Charlotte suddenly spoke.
Russell was stunned.
"What?"
"On your body."
Charlotte said. "The scent of white tea. That's Mary's scent."
Hearing this, Russell couldn't help but lower his gaze, then casually looked away.
"We got a little too close. It ended up on us."
"Mm."
Charlotte nodded without showing any particular reaction.
After a night and a full day of rest and reflection, she seemed to have entered a state of deep clarity.
Russell was attending Imperial College, which was in Mary's territory.
She had no authority over what happened there.
But that didn't matter. Russell would have to return to Baker Street sooner or later, and Baker Street was her home ground.
Compared to Mary, she had more time, more freedom, and a more comfortable environment.
Charlotte picked up her teacup, slowly took a sip, and then suddenly stopped moving.
She realized she was thinking about the problem in a completely different way than before.
It wasn't deduction or logic, nor analysis based on evidence and reason.
It was comparison—but not comparison.
She was comparing herself to Mary.
The question was who treated him better, who understood him better, and who was more worthy of standing by his side.
For Charlotte, this way of thinking was unfamiliar and even somewhat uncomfortable.
But what made her even more uncomfortable was realizing that she was actually enjoying this feeling.
It was as though she had finally found an opponent worthy of her.
An opponent she had to take seriously.
…