Chapter 35: The Gentle Breeze

—The roller coaster plummeted from its peak to the bottom once again.

All the excitement and joy along the way were instantly wiped out. Perhaps unrequited love was always this turbulent; a hundred lemons forcibly turned into a thousand, their sourness accompanied by an indescribable panic that tormented her. For a moment, Yin Mengxi even felt like she was about to lose her composure.

—A confession?

In public?

They had been outside talking for ten minutes?

How would he respond?

Would he agree?

When they returned together… would they become lovers?

Chaotic thoughts kept crashing through her mind. On this hot summer day, in the steaming hotpot restaurant, her palms inexplicably grew cold. Anxiety flooded over her head, suffocating her. After enduring this torment for who knows how long, teasing laughter and whistles suddenly erupted around her. She quickly turned to look and saw them returning—one in front of the other.

Who was Tang Fei?

Just days ago, she had fought with Han Yunqiao in front of everyone but remained composed enough to stay in the drama club and continue playing the role of the second female lead. Even though the entire school had secretly gossiped about her on the forum, today she still performed confidently on stage and took photos proudly with her mother, the vice-secretary. Her composure far exceeded Yin Mengxi’s, making it hard for others to discern her true feelings. When Tang Fei returned with Xiao Zhi, she wore a faint smile, revealing no hints of whether things had gone well or not.

But Guo Yue was smart. His sharp eyes caught the slight redness at the corner of Tang Fei’s eyes and the subtle stiffness in her smile. He guessed that Xiao Zhi probably hadn’t agreed—after all, if he had, he would have done so immediately. Taking her outside to talk likely meant he wanted to soften the blow of rejection.

Unfortunately, others weren’t as perceptive as him. Drunk and rowdy, especially some of the boys, they loudly teased, “Has our drama club just formed another couple?” They even shouted for Tang Fei and Xiao Zhi to drink a toast together, which only made Tang Fei’s smile grow more forced.

“What kind of toast? How vulgar!” Guo Yue might lack conflict resolution skills, but he excelled at smoothing things over. Sensing the awkward atmosphere, he quickly jumped in to defuse the tension. Holding his glass of alcohol, he stood up and declared, “Today is our celebration banquet! Let’s broaden our perspectives and stop with the nonsense!”

Afraid others wouldn’t buy it, he downed his glass and said, “I’ll drink first. If you can handle it, show some respect!”

After this noisy maneuver, the burning curiosity in the room was temporarily quelled.

—But Yin Mengxi couldn’t be easily distracted.

The logistics team wasn’t seated at the same table as the actors, so she sat at a distance from both Xiao Zhi and Tang Fei. This prevented her from clearly seeing their expressions or demeanor, leaving her unable to determine whether they had become a couple. Like an ant on a hot pan, her mind was already a chaotic mess. Amidst the lively chatter and drinking, she couldn’t help but repeatedly turn her head to look at them. At one point, her gaze happened to meet Xiao Zhi’s.

He was always a gentle and polite person, making others feel as if basking in a spring breeze even when he wasn’t smiling. But at that moment, his brows seemed slightly heavy, suggesting his mood wasn’t high. Upon seeing her, he appeared momentarily startled, then his expression softened, and a gentle breeze seemed to brush past, making him look less unhappy.

That glance rekindled her desire. She wanted to go over to him, show him how her name appeared on the school’s official website, ask if he was with anyone else, and whether he would still exchange birthday gifts with her next year. But before she could act, she suddenly felt another piercing gaze—sharp and cold. Turning her head, she met Tang Fei’s scrutinizing glare.

Tang Fei seemed to sneer at her, then turned away to chat with Yang Yuanyuan beside her. Soon after, Yang Yuanyuan also glanced at Yin Mengxi, her eyes filled with indescribable malice. Yin Mengxi froze, unsure how to react. Just then, Guo Yue arrived at their table with a glass of alcohol. A group of boys stood up, clinking glasses and cheering each other on.

Their jostling knocked Peng Zechuan, who was already a bit tipsy, causing him to stumble and knock Yin Mengxi’s bag off her chair. It fell with a “thud,” spilling her belongings—her books, pencil case, wallet, and… her little notebook.

“Sorry, sorry…”

Peng Zechuan scratched his head and apologized while hurriedly bending down to help her pick up her things.

“…I’m a bit drunk…”

Yin Mengxi was known for her easygoing nature.

She did whatever the drama club asked without complaint, fulfilling any request regardless of personal cost. Yet at that moment, her face changed. Despite Peng Zechuan’s repeated apologies, she didn’t respond, focusing solely on picking up her items.

—Why?

Because she needed to quickly hide her little notebook.

Inside it was a welcome bookmark from the College of Literature, a note he had handwritten for her in the library, and…

“Wow, what’s this?”

Yang Yuanyuan’s shrill voice suddenly rang out, loud enough for half the hotpot restaurant to hear. Who knew that the notebook was so slippery, landing perfectly at Yang Yuanyuan’s feet? She picked it up without asking the owner’s permission and flipped it open, exposing the hidden photo. All the delicate, fragile emotions of unrequited love were laid bare.

“‘L-i-k-e’—Oh, who does our junior like?”

It was as if someone had slapped her across the face. Her blood rushed backward in an instant, and uncontrollable physiological trembling overtook her. Yin Mengxi couldn’t tell whether it was shame or fear that triggered it all.

She rushed over, trying to snatch her belongings back from Yang Yuanyuan, her voice trembling as she repeatedly said, “Give it back—it’s mine…”

Yang Yuanyuan ignored her, her eyes gleaming as if she’d uncovered a rare treasure. With one hand blocking Yin Mengxi’s attempts to reclaim the notebook, she held the photo high, showing it to everyone and shouting louder, “Whose hand is this? Did you secretly take this picture, junior?”

Secretly taking pictures…

Everyone was drunk and high-spirited, failing to realize that what was happening was a form of disgraceful bullying. They laughed and teased—

“Xixi has someone she likes? Who is it?”

“Did it work out? If not, tell us, and we’ll help you strategize!”

“Oh, how foolish. Isn’t it obvious this is unrequited love? Why ask so directly…”

…Endless chatter.

Yin Mengxi was surrounded by these words, which carried no apparent malice, yet she felt as if her clothes had been stripped off, standing naked under everyone’s scrutiny. She dared not look at anyone, especially not Xiao Zhi. She desperately tried to snatch her things back, but just as she was about to reach them, Tang Fei snatched the photo away.

“Xiao Zhi, isn’t this your hand?”

Her tone was indifferent, but her voice carried across the room. More striking was the condescending tone, cold and mocking, as if she had stumbled upon some ridiculous joke.

“You like him?”

She looked at her sidelong, her eyes honest windows, revealing unmistakable contempt and disdain. Thorny brambles lashed against her bare skin, leaving Yin Mengxi bleeding profusely.

—What happened next?

She didn’t remember.

Perhaps people naturally avoided those horrific memories. The instinct for survival always kicked in at critical moments. Yin Mengxi later forgot how Tang Fei’s words had stirred chaos in the room and how others’ astonished or mocking gazes felt on her. She only remembered running out of the hotpot restaurant, carrying a heart pierced by a dagger—a heart that bled endlessly and couldn’t heal for a very, very long time.

—Unrequited love?

How utterly foolish.

Only naive children untouched by society would indulge in such futile acts, unaware that these two words inherently meant endless bitterness and pain. The logic was simple: the purer the heart you hid for someone, the harder it was to heal when it got hurt.

—For what?

Don’t you have value too?

At twenty-nine, Yin Mengxi thought indifferently. Memories spanned several months, but in reality, only a few seconds had passed. She still stood with Yao Anqi and Wei Chi on the newly renovated Xiaohongding staircase. The group photo on the art wall from over a decade ago now looked somewhat faded. The present-day her couldn’t understand why the younger, naive version of herself had the courage to embed the nail of unrequited love so deeply into her heart, affecting even the current her.

“Yes, it’s me.”

She answered Yao Anqi’s earlier question, her voice still indifferent, seemingly devoid of emotion.

“It was taken during a club activity back then, it’s…”

Before she finished speaking, the door to Xiaohongding opened with a faint sound, startling her. She instinctively turned to look down the stairs. Thirty-one-year-old Xiao Zhi walked in, more handsome and mature than in his student days.

How long does it take to enter a door? Just a few seconds. Yet in their eyes, it felt prolonged—a familiar environment that had been renovated, a familiar person whose changes were unknown. Together, they sparked some chemical reaction.

She suddenly felt her eyes heat up, just like during their phone call a few days ago. Perhaps this person truly had some extraordinary ability to magnify tiny emotions a hundredfold—but she wouldn’t cry now, no matter how much she wanted to. She wouldn’t even greet him politely out of courtesy. She just stood there on the stairs, head bowed, waiting for him to make some passive decision.

—He didn’t contest with her, always going along with her wishes. If she didn’t want to come downstairs, he came upstairs. If she didn’t want to greet him, he offered an explanation first. His gentleness and consideration from student days hadn’t changed—he was still the person who brought her comfort and ease.

“Sorry I’m late. There was an unexpected issue with the defense…”

He finally reached her, his breathing slightly uneven, perhaps having rushed here. His deep eyes gazed at her, and the treetops, tranquil for many years, trembled gently once again, telling her that the gentle breeze still blew.

Always… blowing.