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Lin Zhan had braced herself for countless questions he might ask—but never expected him to ask if the “novelty had worn off.”
She frowned. “Huh?”
“No, no,” she hurriedly denied once she processed his words. “It hasn’t. Still fresh. I’ve been keeping it fresh.”
Shen Xi: “Then why didn’t you want to see me?”
Lin Zhan bit the soft flesh inside her lower lip, lowering her gaze without answering.
A small patch of ice had gathered on the toe of her shoe.
When she remained silent, staring at the ground as she walked, Shen Xi stopped in the middle of the path.
Lin Zhan kept moving forward.
Shen Xi called firmly, “Lin Zhan.”
Reluctantly, she backtracked, tucking her bangs behind her ear.
She met his eyes—unusually serious.
There was no point hiding anymore. Gritting her teeth, she finally admitted, “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just felt… guilty.”
The furrow between Shen Xi’s brows deepened.
Lin Zhan hastily clarified, “Not like I cheated on you or anything—”
Shen Xi’s expression eased slightly.
“Since you insist on asking, I’ll tell you,” Lin Zhan blinked rapidly, hesitating. “The night before the competition, you called me. I slept really well…”
“But I did terribly. Didn’t win anything.”
“I felt so guilty. You spent so much time on me, but I had nothing to show for it…”
The moment she mentioned her poor performance, Shen Xi understood.
It was like a proud student, specially tutored by a teacher, still failing to improve—too ashamed to face them.
Or like repeat exam-takers who, despite their parents’ sacrifices, still couldn’t get into good schools.
Lin Zhan was like that.
She felt she’d wasted his time. She’d slept better than before any competition, yet still underperformed.
So she couldn’t face him—especially not when he might bring up the competition.
She kept explaining, wanting him to know her distance wasn’t arbitrary, detailing her thought process over the past days.
Lin Zhan: “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you. I just wanted to achieve something good first before telling you.”
Shen Xi softened his voice. “You’ve got it wrong.”
Lin Zhan: “What’s wrong?”
He leaned slightly closer. “That’s your perspective. Then tell me—why do you think I called you?”
Why did I comfort you?
Lin Zhan pressed her lips together. “So I’d do well in the competition.”
“No,” Shen Xi said. “Calling you wasn’t just about your performance. So your failure doesn’t mean you let me down or have to avoid me.”
Lin Zhan’s heart sprouted vines, flowers blooming one after another.
“Then… why?”
Shen Xi straightened, his tone light. “I just wanted you to sleep well, without so much pressure.”
That was all.
I called because I wanted to.
________________________________________
Shen Xi started walking again. Lin Zhan stood still for a moment, pondering the deeper meaning behind his words.
This felt different from their usual interactions—but she couldn’t pinpoint how.
After a few steps, whether by luck or intuition, Shen Xi found the maze exit.
The moment they stepped out, a countdown blared overhead. Confused, Lin Zhan looked up as the lights dimmed sequentially.
Before she could react, the entire venue plunged into darkness with a soft click.
A few startled gasps came from nearby—quiet, not screams.
Maybe everyone knew this was part of the experience?
Blind in the dark, Lin Zhan relied on sound.
Then something warm closed around her wrist.
Shen Xi’s voice came through the blackness: “Lin Zhan?”
Lin Zhan instinctively responded, “I’m—”
Halfway through her reply, electricity crackled, and the venue flooded with light.
Shen Xi turned—just as Lin Zhan looked up.
Their eyes met.
Lin Zhan quickly glanced away.
“What was that…?” She scanned the area. “Some kind of surprise feature?”
When nothing happened, realization dawned.
She looked at Shen Xi, grinning. “The miracle’s here. See it?”
Pink lights softened her features with a blush.
Shen Xi: “...What?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Even her beauty mark seemed to glow.
“Right in front of you—isn’t this a fairy?”
It wasn’t her first time saying something like this.
But for the first time, Shen Xi felt scalded. He released her wrist, his palm burning as if branded.
He heard distinct thumping—
His own heartbeat.
Lin Zhan studied her wrist, still smiling.
“Damn, you guys got out so fast!” Qi Lijie emerged first. “Waiting for us here?”
Lin Zhan: “...”
Not wanting to admit the truth, she played along: “Yeah, but not long.”
Sun Hong caught up: “We wandered forever in there. Just as we chose a path, some ‘10-Second Confession’ thing popped up. When the lights came back, we were lost again.”
Lin Zhan: “‘10-Second Confession’? What’s that?”
Sun Hong: “Didn’t you see the sign at the entrance? What were you doing?!”
Lin Zhan: “...”
Looking at the ground.
Sun Hong explained: “It’s for confessions. The ten-second blackout is a gimmick here.”
“Legend says someone once planned a confession here and asked the venue to cut the lights so he could hold the girl’s hand.”
“Now those ten seconds are called the ‘Confession Miracle.’ They say if you hold hands during it, you’ll end up together...”
There had been notices at the entrance about the scheduled blackout, ensuring safety by halting rides beforehand.
But Lin Zhan had missed them.
Qi Lijie fumed: “Who says holding hands means you’re together?!”
Lin Zhan gave him a strange look.
Jiang Qin whispered: “When it went dark, Sun Hong grabbed Qi Lijie’s hand...”
Sun Hong: “I have night blindness! Scared me, okay? Gay much?”
Qi Lijie: “...”
Jiang Qin told Zheng Yimian: “Their daily routine is just calling each other gay.”
Zheng Yimian: “Undefeated. They could keep this up for months.”
________________________________________
For the rest of the evening, Shen Xi seemed distracted.
Even the ice roller coaster couldn’t smooth the crease between his brows.
As she fastened her seatbelt, Lin Zhan asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Shen Xi paused, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
Lin Zhan eyed the tracks ahead eagerly. “You’ve got something bothering you? I’ve confessed everything. Why do you still look troubled?”
Shen Xi lowered his gaze.
Because something uncontrollable had happened to him.
Something undeniable.
And now, the cause—or rather, the girl tied to these feelings—was sitting right beside him.
Zhang Ze, who’d witnessed this before, sat behind them.
What had he said months ago?
—If I like her, I’ll write my name backward.
Shen Xi mentally tried it.
...
Even more absurd—he wasn’t questioning why he liked her, but why he’d ever made such a stupid declaration.
The coaster launched.
As it plunged, Lin Zhan clung to the safety bar, screaming. Wind whipped through her bangs, noise roaring past.
Zhang Ze whooped from behind: “So intense!!”
Preoccupied, Shen Xi spent the entire ride wondering how to make writing his name backward as smooth as the coaster’s descent.
________________________________________
They dispersed at 3 a.m.
A dangerous hour.
So they decided the boys would escort the girls home to ensure safety.
Shen Xi, whose route aligned with no one’s, was assigned to Lin Zhan.
He hailed a cab, opening the door and gesturing for her to enter first.
Still buzzing, Lin Zhan sighed playfully: “First time a guy’s opened the car door for me.”
Shen Xi: “Probably because you never gave them the chance.”
Lin Zhan patted his shoulder: “So sharp!”
Shen Xi lived far—delivering Lin Zhan meant detouring three streets to get home.
Yet he still walked her to her building.
Giddy as if tipsy, Lin Zhan waved from the entrance: “Thanks for seeing me home! Goodnight!”
Walking back, he studied his elongated shadow on the pavement.
For some reason, he recalled a line from The Little Prince:
—It’s the time you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important.
Lin Zhan’s confession tonight had made him realize—
Just how different she was to him.
Not until she asked why he’d called had he understood his own motives.
He’d just wanted to comfort her.
And when she’d inexplicably cut contact, he’d actually felt… anxious.
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