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“It’s fine, we know Teacher Xiao is very busy.”
Her tone was deliberately flat, almost too formal.
“Time is precious. Let’s get started now.”
Her voice was a bit too rigid, even Yao Anqi, still a child in many ways, could sense something was off. Xiao Zhi glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
“Let’s start in fifteen minutes,” he glanced at his watch. “I still have a few points on the outline I’d like to confirm.”
He was talking about work too, but his tone was much gentler, making it hard for her to object. After a moment of thought, she replied, “That works—what points?”
…Still uncooperative.
She wasn’t oblivious to his intentions. He clearly wanted to speak with her privately, but she stubbornly resisted, as if determined to oppose him. What benefit she hoped to gain from this rebellion, she herself didn’t know.
Yao Anqi listened silently, sensing the atmosphere growing increasingly delicate. She stole glances at Teacher Xiao and then Teacher Yin, feeling like an intruder who should’ve stayed under the radar. Grabbing Wei Chi, she said, “Let’s give the two teachers some time. We’ll go adjust the equipment.”
Wei Chi immediately protested, unwilling to leave room for a rival. “The equipment is already set up. No need to touch it,” he said bluntly, utterly clueless. Yao Anqi felt exhausted, realizing that among everyone present, she was perhaps the most reliable. With another tug, she dragged Wei Chi away.
“Trust me, we need to adjust the camera angle. We can’t use the same background as Teacher Zhang…”
As she spoke, she pulled Wei Chi along, leaving the staircase empty except for the two of them.
Yin Mengxi kept her eyes half-lowered, the silence brief yet heavy.
“I didn’t mean to be late…”
His voice broke the quiet, softer than before, as if patiently explaining to her.
“…One of my students had issues with their thesis proposal defense, so it took longer than expected.”
—Was this an explanation? Did he fear she thought he didn’t value her?
No.
That wasn’t why she was upset.
“Oh,” she kept her eyes lowered, her tone still stiff. “I see.”
Then she heard him sigh, just as he always did, a mix of helplessness and tenderness.
“Are you angry?”
He hesitated slightly.
“Or… are you thinking about something unpleasant?”
—Unpleasant?
She pressed her lips together, her nose suddenly stinging. The hundred, no, thousand lemons from over a decade ago were still fresh, their sourness unchanged, ready to bring tears to her eyes at the slightest taste.
She refused to show weakness, forcing the tears back. Speaking would distract her from maintaining her composure, so she chose not to respond.
He knew what she was doing. He was familiar with how she looked when holding back tears. Though she was more skilled at it now, deep down, she was still her.
“It’s my fault…”
His voice grew even softer, like a whisper during the height of infatuation.
“…It’s always been my fault.”
—His fault?
No.
Comforting words sounded nice but weren’t the truth. Perhaps the reason she couldn’t let go after all these years was that he was too good, and whether in the past or now, she couldn’t handle his goodness.
She didn’t want to continue speaking with him, fearing she might break down. She decided to leave and focus on work, but as she passed him, she felt a faint coolness on her wrist—he had gently taken hold of her.
“Can we talk seriously?” He seemed helpless, his touch cautious. “How about dinner after we finish today?”
She barely heard what he said; all her attention was on the hand lightly gripping her wrist. She knew it well—long, clean, with distinct joints, always a little cool to the touch, regardless of the season. Now, it began to warm, leaving a burning sensation on her skin, slowly tracing her hand and fingers until he fully held her hand.
Gently.
Tightly.
Their heartbeats overlapped in that moment, just as intense as the first time he held her hand—or perhaps slightly less so, since that night he had also given her an initial embrace.
—That night.
The night her secret crush was exposed to everyone’s eyes.
She ran out of the hotpot restaurant, the summer night breeze doing nothing to warm her heart, which had fallen into an icy abyss. Her tears had already flowed uncontrollably, and passersby stared at her in astonishment—it wasn’t every day one saw a girl crying while running down the street.
Someone called her name from behind, but she neither heard nor cared, focused only on running, as if escaping Earth and severing ties with everything that had just happened. Yet, she was stopped by a hand—the same hand she had secretly photographed and tucked into her notebook. It gently but firmly grasped her wrist, carrying a coolness that lingered in her memory.
When she turned around, she saw him, unable to hide in those strikingly beautiful eyes. Perhaps high school had left too deep an impression on her, making her, even as a college student, feel that liking someone was overly precocious and worthy of criticism. Shame exploded in her mind, and she must have looked utterly miserable.
No.
Don’t look at me.
She tried to pull her hand free, her thoughts still consumed by escape. If she could dig a hole, she would have hidden deep within the earth by now. But he, unusually unaccommodating, refused to let her go. Her tears fell harder, feeling as though he was joining the others in bullying her, knowing she didn’t want to be discovered yet still subjecting her to piercing scrutiny.
But that wasn’t true.
—Because no one else would gently pull her into an embrace like he did.
How to describe it?
It was a prematurely ripened hug.
They had known each other for less than nine months, with most of that time spent apart. Their brief encounters had only allowed for vague feelings and floating ambiguity. Like water simmering on low heat, it should have taken much longer to boil, but tonight it met with sudden high power, the temperature rising sharply, causing bubbles to burst forth.
The embrace shouldn’t have happened then, but he didn’t know how else to comfort her. Or perhaps that extreme situation was the last straw on the camel’s back, giving him the chance to do what he had delayed for so long.
“If you’re willing…”
She heard him speak, his voice close, almost next to her ear.
“…Shall we try being together?”
How should one handle unexpected blessings that fall from the sky?
Yin Mengxi had imagined such scenarios as a child—hitting the jackpot in a lottery, her parents telling her their area was marked for demolition compensation, or receiving a call from University A’s admissions office saying she was accepted without needing to take the college entrance exam.
Logically, she should have been ecstatic. But when the surprise came too suddenly and carried too much weight, digesting such emotions wasn’t easy. At least, Yin Mengxi didn’t have time to feel joy in that moment.
She was stunned.
At a loss.
In a daze, he led her by the hand from the main road back to campus. By then, it was nearly 9:30 PM, and though fewer people were around, many still recognized him. Seeing him holding hands with a girl caused surprise, curious gazes following them.
She had just endured similar scrutiny in the hotpot restaurant and now instinctively wanted to hide behind him. Noticing her discomfort, he realized his mistake and looked at her apologetically, his grip on her hand loosening.
—It was a reasonable solution. If holding hands drew unwanted attention, it was better to let go. She understood that, but as he began to release her, she felt an even stronger discomfort. At the last moment, she tightly grabbed his fingertips, head still bowed, unable to look at him.
All she could see was his hand—more beautiful than in photos. Once she held it, he didn’t try to let go but instead held her hand more firmly. She didn’t see his expression but could imagine the softness and tranquility in his eyes, offering infinite comfort.
“Are you hungry?”
She heard him ask.
“…Huh?”
“You probably haven’t eaten yet,” he reminded her. “The cafeteria should still have late-night snacks.”
“No…” she responded in a slightly hoarse voice. “…Not really hungry.”
—Actually, she was hungry, but she didn’t want to go to crowded places or face prying eyes.
He seemed to understand her real thoughts, paused for a moment, then asked, “What about buying something from the convenience store? A sandwich?”
She kept her head down, her gaze expanding slightly beyond his hand to the elongated shadow cast by the streetlight.
“…Okay,” she whispered softly.
He went to the convenience store to buy her a sandwich and milk. She didn’t follow, sitting on a bench along the path behind the store, waiting for him. He didn’t keep her waiting long, returning in about five minutes. Sitting beside her, he unwrapped the sandwich and handed it to her.
…Like taking care of a child.
She didn’t need such care. More than anything, she wanted to ask if he could keep holding her hand, but lacked the courage. Instead, she silently took a bite of the sandwich, unable to taste its flavor.
“Are you feeling better?”
He was the first to ask. The campus was especially quiet at night, and with him sitting beside her, the world seemed magnified.
She was still somewhat dazed, replying with a faint “Mm,” then fell silent, unsure what else to say. The silence lingered between them, amplifying her insecurity.
Yet he moved again, reaching into his bag and slowly handing her something. Her heart tightened upon seeing it—it was her little notebook.
“…I retrieved this.”
His tone was hesitant, his voice slightly tense.
“But I left in a hurry earlier and forgot your bag. I told Guo Yue; he’ll bring it to me later.”
She: “…”
—What to say?
Something had to be said.
But she was mute, her mind a chaotic mess. Seeing her once-secret possession now in his hands, she felt an overwhelming sense of injustice. The tears she had just managed to stop returned, falling heavily onto the notebook’s cover.
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