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Because the events of the day had been so bizarre, Lin Zhe Xia had a dream that night.
She seemed to have dreamed of a “parallel world.”
In the dream, neither she nor Chi Yao felt quite real.
She found herself back in Haicheng, standing by the beach again. When Chi Yao asked her, “What’s wrong?” she actually said, “I think I’ve fallen for you.”
The Chi Yao in her dream was blurry, and she felt like someone awaiting judgment.
After a long while, Chi Yao opened his mouth, but before she could hear what he wanted to say, the dream suddenly collapsed.
“Beep.”
“Beep beep beep.”
Lin Zhe Xia extended a hand from under the covers and pressed the alarm clock switch by muscle memory.
The world fell silent.
She sat up with messy hair, her first thought surfacing from deep within: Thank goodness it was just a dream.
“It was a dream,” Lin Zhe Xia murmured, trying to calm her still-racing heart. “It wasn’t real.”
She got up, washed her face, and went to the dining room for breakfast.
Wei Ping was reading the newspaper. “Up already? Sit down and eat. Do you want soy milk or milk?”
Lin Zhe Xia tightened her thick pajamas around her and said, “Milk.”
Lin He was busy in the kitchen.
When she brought over the milk and toast, Lin Zhe Xia said, “Thanks, Xiao He.”
Lin He shot her a glare. “Don’t be disrespectful.”
Lin Zhe Xia shrank her neck slightly and started scrolling through her phone as she ate.
Today, their group chat was buzzing with activity.
She tapped in, scrolled to the top, and began reading from the first unread message. The source of the commotion turned out to be He Yang showing off comments on his social media post.
He Yang: Bro, I forgot to tag you guys when I posted the photo yesterday.
He Yang: No worries, I’ll show it to my brothers in the group.
The screenshot displayed a Qixi Festival caption and photo:
“The movie wasn’t the highlight.”
[/Picture]
But the most important part wasn’t the post itself—it was the comments below. To ensure no one missed it, He Yang had circled a section in red pen to indicate its significance.
Comments:
“Wow.”
“666.”
“Classic you.”
And even one: “This girl’s hand looks nice—so slender and long. Does she play piano?”
Lin Zhe Xia nearly spat out her breakfast.
Lin He: “What’s wrong?”
Lin Zhe Xia: “I saw a really funny news article and couldn’t hold it in.”
The winter break passed in a flash, and everyone became busier as the second semester of their sophomore year began.
Lin Zhe Xia, consciously or not, started keeping her distance from Chi Yao.
“I’m walking home with Chen Lin today,” she told Chi Yao before school ended, stopping by his classroom window. “You can go ahead without waiting for me.”
Chi Yao: “?”
Lin Zhe Xia: “It’s girl stuff. You don’t need to ask about it.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Chi Yao said, twirling a pen in his hand. “I’m just saying, if you get into trouble again, don’t call me crying.”
Lin Zhe Xia thought about the embarrassing incident from her freshman year and paused briefly. “We’re going for dessert. I shouldn’t get into trouble.”
Hearing this, Chi Yao’s fingers moved slightly on the pen. “Got it.”
________________________________________
After school.
Chen Lin slung her backpack over her shoulder, holding Tang Shuxuan with one hand and Lin Zhe Xia with the other.
As they walked, she looked at Lin Zhe Xia and asked, puzzled, “Why do you suddenly want to eat dessert?”
Lin Zhe Xia instinctively tightened her grip on her backpack strap and tried to sound natural. “I saw it while scrolling through my phone yesterday while doing homework. It looked pretty good.”
Tang Shuxuan, carefree as always, didn’t sense anything odd. “Perfect timing—I’m hungry too.”
The dessert shop was crowded, and the three of them had to wait in line outside for a bit. Once it was their turn, they sat side by side by the window chatting.
They talked about how fast the pace of learning had become, getting a taste of senior year life, and how Tang Shuxuan’s crush—the senior she liked—was about to graduate.
Tang Shuxuan felt a little sad but tried to stay upbeat. “I can try to get into the same school as him.”
“Oh yeah,” Chen Lin said. “Our school’s apparently hosting an anniversary event next month. Each class has to put on a performance.”
Tang Shuxuan nodded. “That’s right. I heard about it in the teacher’s office today when I handed in my homework.”
Chen Lin: “I wonder what kind of performance our class will do. I heard Old Xu wants to organize a poetry recitation.”
Tang Shuxuan: “… Not that uncreative, surely?”
Chen Lin: “He said it’s his strategy and even gave it a tactical name: ‘Class 7’s Clumsy Birds Take Flight First.’ The idea is to focus on studying while other classes are preparing their performances.”
“…”
Lin Zhe Xia absentmindedly spooned her mille-feuille cake, half-listening. Her phone buzzed beside her.
A new message from “Chi Yao” appeared.
It was probably asking if she’d finished dessert and gone home.
Lin Zhe Xia didn’t open it or reply.
While eating, she thought about what excuse she could use tomorrow to avoid Chi Yao again.
She was afraid.
Afraid that if she got too close, her feelings would spill uncontrollably from her heart.
Afraid she wouldn’t be able to hide them, like in that dream about the parallel world.
Afraid he’d find out.
________________________________________
On the bumpy bus ride home, Chi Yao sat in the back row, one earbud in his ear, his phone casually resting on his lap.
But every now and then, he flipped it over to check for new messages.
After a while, the phone vibrated.
A WeChat notification popped up, but the sender was “Chi Hanshan.”
Chi Hanshan: [Message withdrawn]
Chi Yao hesitated, typing a “?” before deleting it and directly calling Chi Hanshan.
The call connected quickly.
“Dad,” Chi Yao said.
“…”
The voice on the other end was noisy, but after a moment, Chi Hanshan’s voice came through. “Oh, hold on. It was too loud just now.”
Father and son rarely talked, so Chi Yao sounded distant without realizing it. “What did you want?”
Chi Hanshan: “Nothing important. I sent the message by mistake.”
At this point, the conversation seemed about to end.
Chi Yao: “Oh.”
Chi Hanshan added, “How have you been lately? Everything okay?”
Chi Yao: “Fine.”
There was nothing more to say, but just before hanging up, Chi Hanshan gave an unusually long and rare piece of advice: “Be careful at home. Don’t talk to strangers who approach you, and check your doors and windows before sleeping.”
Chi Yao wondered what had gotten into Chi Hanshan today. Maybe he’d watched some random news. After a pause, he said, “Got it. You should watch less news.”
After hanging up, he exited the chat and glanced at the pinned conversation.
The chat labeled “Coward” remained silent.
________________________________________
Lin Zhe Xia hadn’t walked home with Chi Yao for three consecutive days after school.
Her excuses varied wildly: eating dessert, bonding with friends, and visiting Chen Lin’s uncle in the hospital because she hadn’t been there in a while.
On the fourth day, she stood at the door of Class 1. When Chi Yao asked, “What’s your excuse today?” she struggled for a moment before blurting out, “I met a fortune-teller this morning before leaving.”
“?”
“The fortune-teller said I must go home alone today.”
“If we walk together,” Lin Zhe Xia continued awkwardly, “… there’ll be bloodshed.”
Chi Yao, slinging his bag over one shoulder and leaning against the classroom doorframe, raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you meet this fortune-teller?”
Lin Zhe Xia: “This morning, by the roadside in the neighborhood.”
Chi Yao coolly responded, “Oh. Why didn’t I see him?”
Lin Zhe Xia ventured, “Your eyesight’s bad, and… maybe he had a special connection with me.”
This time, Chi Yao didn’t bother arguing. He grabbed her backpack strap and pulled her forward. “Fine, let’s test it. See if you’ll have any bloodshed today.”
Lin Zhe Xia: “…!”
Because they’d delayed a bit, the bus was already packed when they swiped their cards to board.
Lin Zhe Xia squeezed in, finding a spot to stand and gripping the back of the seat in front of her.
Chi Yao stood behind her, reaching for the overhead handrail.
The two were very close. Without turning around, Lin Zhe Xia could feel an invisible shadow looming behind her, shielding her from the crowd.
She lowered her head, trying to ignore it.
It was only because the bus was so crowded that they were standing so close.
Only because it was so packed.
…
She repeated this mantra in her mind, finally pretending everything was normal. But then the person behind her moved—Chi Yao leaned down to speak to her.
From an outsider’s perspective, their posture looked intimate.
The boy in his uniform, backpack slung over his shoulder, leaned down to speak near her ear, bringing them even closer. His bangs fell forward, revealing the sharp lines of his neck and the prominent vertebrae, making him look aloof yet somehow lowering his guard through this action.
“Lin Zhe Xia.”
Chi Yao rarely used her full name.
His breath lightly brushed against the side of her neck, sending tingles down her spine.
Lin Zhe Xia stiffened.
Then, the sensation returned, and his voice followed: “… What are you avoiding?”
Lin Zhe Xia pretended not to understand, tightening her grip on the seatback. “What avoidance?”
Chi Yao, still leaning down, his expression obscured: “Avoiding me.”
“…”
Chi Yao elaborated: “You’ve been avoiding me these past few days. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“And you’re not replying to my messages.”
Chi Yao said, “Before, you talked so much I almost wanted to block you. Now you’re acting like a mute.”
Lin Zhe Xia didn’t know what to say. Finally, she managed, “… I’m not.”
But her denial felt weak.
She used to chat endlessly with Chi Yao, filling baskets of nonsense.
Whether she had something to say or not, she’d always poke him.
Even an old joke she saw online would make her want to retell it to him.
So now, after reducing their conversations, she felt uneasy.
She realized there were suddenly fewer places to share her thoughts—or perhaps she didn’t have that much to say. She only talked so much because it was Chi Yao.
Lin Zhe Xia guiltily stared out the window at the passing scenery.
Her worst fear had come true.
She felt like she was shooting herself in the foot.
She and Chi Yao were too familiar. So familiar that her attempt at distancing herself was instantly seen through.
“Fine,” Lin Zhe Xia lowered her head, staring at her toes and dramatically sighing. “Since it’s come to this, I’ll tell you.”
“Originally—I wanted to deal with this pressure on my own. But since you’re so concerned, I’ll be honest. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed by the pressure of studying lately.”
“…”
The warm breath on her neck disappeared.
Chi Yao fell silent.
“The pressure of the college entrance exam is suffocating. I just want some time alone to calm down.”
“…”
The scenery outside the window kept changing.
As Lin Zhe Xia spoke, she mentally completed the thoughts she hadn’t finished earlier:
Thankfully, she and Chi Yao were so familiar. Familiar enough that she knew exactly how to respond to dispel his suspicions.
“And you even mentioned wanting to block me. Can’t I act aloof sometimes?” Lin Zhe Xia grew indignant, fully believing her own words. “You even considered blocking me—how cruel of you!”
“…”
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