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Lin Zhan looked at Shen Xi and suddenly broke into a smile.
With a hint of mischief, she said to the person who was clearly preparing something: “Mwah.”
“...”
After a long pause, Shen Xi reluctantly gave in. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”
They walked through the noisy streets, leaving the shouts of vendors and bursts of laughter behind them. The small path ahead was quiet and smooth.
The scene stirred her memories.
Lin Zhan spoke slowly: “The first time I saw you, it was in a place just like this. I was painting but couldn’t find any inspiration. The kind of calm aura I was looking for—I only found it in you. So, like a fool, I followed you... Then you hid in an alley and even blocked the entrance with a rock. So mean.”
Shen Xi listened to her unhurried tone and sincere voice, confirming once again that she truly hadn’t recognized him back then.
He coughed lightly.
“Because people kept following me. I had no choice. I didn’t expect you to move the rock.”
“That’s nothing,” Lin Zhan muttered. “I can carry water dispensers too. And throw shot puts, twist open bottle caps—there’s nothing I can’t do.”
She asked, “By the way, why weren’t you wearing your school uniform that day? Sun Hong kept saying he’d take me to see Shen Xi from Class 1, but since you weren’t in uniform, I never went.”
Shen Xi: “My uniform was still wet from washing.”
Lin Zhan was speechless.
The truth was often disappointingly mundane.
She didn’t respond, but Shen Xi steered the conversation back.
“You carry water dispensers?”
“Yeah. Sometimes when there are no boys in class and everyone’s thirsty, I’m the one who changes them.”
Her tone was casual, as if it were completely normal.
Shen Xi frowned. “Your class has plenty of guys, yet they make a girl change the water?”
Who gave them the nerve?
“They see me as one of the guys. I usually hang out with the boys—moving books, carrying chairs, stuff like that. Oh, and girls have confessed to me before...” She started counting. “At least five.”
“Don’t change the water anymore. If you need to, come find me. I’ll do it for you.”
Lin Zhan froze for a moment.
She had never heard words like that before.
When she said she could do anything, when she pushed herself to stand at the front—someone had told her, Stop doing those things. Let me handle it.
People knew she was strong, so they assigned her tougher tasks. She never thought it was unfair because, to her, it wasn’t a big deal.
It was as if she had always been the capable one—fearless, unyielding, rarely shedding tears.
She had a tear mole but seldom cried. Even when she tumbled down the stairs as a child, her skin torn and bleeding, she hadn’t made a sound.
But why, on this night where even the breeze felt tender, did she suddenly feel the urge to cry?
Maybe because she had never known what it felt like to be cared for.
Silently, she thought to herself: Even if Shen Xi’s confession was vague, this one sentence is enough.
These small, instinctive acts of consideration felt more real and reliable than any sweet words.
He didn’t just say he liked her.
He meant it.
///
At her doorstep, Lin Zhan took out her access card and turned to Shen Xi. “Will you come pick me up tomorrow?”
Shen Xi replied coolly, “We’ll see.”
“Hey!”
He chuckled. “I will. I’ll come get you every day.”
///
That night, Lin Zhan was engulfed in an indescribable mood.
The symptoms were obvious—everything seemed adorable, and she couldn’t stop smiling.
Even Jiang Wan noticed her unusual excitement. “What’s got you so happy today?”
“Ah,” Lin Zhan brushed it off. “I finished a painting, and my teacher agreed to submit it to an exhibition.”
From the couch, Lin Zhengping remarked coldly, “You couldn’t paint properly during the competition, but now you’re thrilled over something like this. When will you ever grow out of this rebellious phase?”
Lin Zhan ignored him and went to her room.
Not even Lin Zhengping’s harsh words could extinguish the fire in her heart.
She idly sat at her desk, turning her phone on and off, unsure what she even wanted to do.
But whenever she tried to focus on something, her mind wandered.
Cross-legged, she tapped her fingers rhythmically against the wooden desk.
The sound was steady, one finger after another.
After several minutes, her hand grew numb.
She decided to gather her clothes and take a shower.
Since she was seeing Shen Xi tomorrow, she washed her hair too.
After drying it, she lay on her bed, hands behind her head, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Shen Xi confessed...
She hadn’t even had the chance to make a grand confession herself, yet he’d beaten her to it.
Lin Zhan grabbed the edge of her blanket and yanked it up to her eyes.
She blinked, then closed them, inhaling deeply the scent of laundry detergent on the sheets.
“Mom!” she called out. “Next time it’s sunny, remember to air out my blanket!”
After sunning, it would smell just like Shen Xi’s.
Just as she thought she had all the time in the world to revel in her thoughts, her screen lit up—Shen Xi was calling.
Before tonight, it wouldn’t have meant much. But now, everything was different.
Lin Zhan glanced at the door before answering.
“Hello?”
“What are you doing?”
Anticipating that tonight would be another “sleepless night” for Lin Zhan, Shen Xi had deliberately put on his earphones early and called.
Lin Zhan, of course, wouldn’t tell the truth.
“Studying seriously. What’s up?”
A soft click came from the other end—probably Shen Xi adjusting his desk lamp.
His voice came through clearly, as if he were right beside her.
“Go to sleep early.”
Lin Zhan sighed. “Fine, I’ll try.”
After what had just happened, did he really expect her to fall asleep so easily? Not everyone could stay as composed as him.
The thought made her grin. “If the sky ever falls, and everyone’s running around in panic, you’d probably just stand there and say, Don’t panic.”
“No,” Shen Xi’s voice was steady. “I’d pull you along and run.”
Lin Zhan teased, “But where would we even run to? At that point, shouldn’t you say, Lin Zhan, you have to accept nature’s way. If it’s time to die, then it’s time to die.”
Shen Xi: “...”
“If I were alone, I might not run.”
But with you here, even if there’s only a sliver of hope, I won’t give up.
“Tsk,” Lin Zhan chuckled. “You’re really sweet tonight.”
Because reunion after loss was the most beautiful phrase in the world.
That’s what Shen Xi thought.
If he hadn’t lost her, he wouldn’t have realized just how much she meant to him.
“Alright,” Shen Xi tapped the wooden desk twice. “Go to sleep.”
Lin Zhan lay down and pulled the blanket up. “Then sing me a song.”
Three seconds of awkward silence.
Lin Zhan quickly amended, “Or just read something.”
...
It was like a child insisting on a bedtime story.
As if only within those tales could they feel safe and loved.
He thought Lin Zhan was the same—except she carried more worries than a child ever could.
Only when listening to stories could she fully let go of her anxieties—no need to think about how others would judge her if she failed a competition, what the next contest’s theme would be, or the heavy expectations placed on her.
She seemed like heaven’s favorite, but at the same time, she bore too much.
Talent was her double-edged sword.
///
That night, Lin Zhan fell asleep peacefully within half an hour.
Meanwhile, the ever-composed Shen Xi—who supposedly remained unshaken even if Mount Tai collapsed on him—suffered his first-ever bout of insomnia.
The next morning, he consoled himself: Maybe it was just the rare tension from last night throwing off my body’s rhythm.
At school, as soon as he sat down, Zhang Ze rushed over. “What did you do last night?”
Shen Xi ignored him.
Zhang Ze pointed at his own under-eye area, then at Shen Xi’s. “Look at those dark circles. Spill it—did you...?”
Shen Xi shot him a look. “Got nothing better to do?”
Zhang Ze pressed on. “Something big must’ve happened, or you wouldn’t lose sleep! What was it? Come on, I wanna know!”
Shen Xi said flatly, “Nothing major.”
Just then, Zhang Ze received a test paper from the class monitor.
Holding it up, he squinted at the score. “Huh?”
Shen Xi replied nonchalantly, “I just confessed, that’s all.”
Riiip. Zhang Ze tore his paper in half.
Zhang Ze: “WHAT THE F—?!”
“Zhang Ze, what the hell are you yelling about?” someone shouted from the back. “You scared me!”
Zhang Ze turned, wide-eyed. “Earthquake. Tsunami. Mountains crumbling, rivers flowing backward. Holy shit.”
“What? What earthquake?”
Zhang Ze grabbed the guy’s shoulders and shook him.
“You don’t get it. What just happened is even crazier than all that...”
“What happened? Did you rip your test? Old Zhang’s gonna make you copy it ten times if he finds out.”
Zhang Ze: “...”
///
From his seat, Zhang Ze noticed that ever since Lin Zhan left school, Shen Xi rarely stepped out of the classroom—except to use the bathroom.
Now, his break-time activities consisted of: Check phone. Check phone. Check phone.
Even though there were never any reactions afterward.
Zhang Ze figured Lin Zhan’s art studio probably restricted phone use.
Shen Xi knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself—he didn’t want to miss a single message from her.
Any man who falls hard is doomed.
After school, Zhang Ze sidled up to Shen Xi. “Shen Xi, you’re doomed.”
Shen Xi neatly stacked his papers into a folder.
Aside from a correction notebook and this week’s homework, he hadn’t brought anything else.
Zhang Ze added, “So, are you two long-distance now?”
“Her studio is right across from my place. Not long-distance,” Shen Xi said. “I can go see her.”
“Oho, seems like that misunderstanding taught you a lesson,” Zhang Ze clapped his back. “Good, you’re learning.”
Shen Xi said dryly, “Thanks to you.”
“...”
Zhang Ze mused, “You know, after watching you two, I’ve realized all relationships are about balance. Lin Zhan’s so sociable and fun, yet she fell for a block of wood like you.”
A chill flickered in Shen Xi’s eyes.
Zhang Ze hastily added, “But even though she’s more interesting than you, her mental resilience isn’t as strong. So, you two are actually a perfect match.”
“It’s not that she’s weak,” Shen Xi frowned. “She just has too much to worry about.”
“Wow, wow, wow, I say one little thing, and you’re already defending her? So protective!” Zhang Ze grinned.
Shen Xi: “...”
///
Finally, Friday arrived. Lin Zhan exhaled in relief.
Two days of rest.
Near the end of class, she was sketching a pair of shoes.
The art teacher, bored, opened the door and called out, “Come in and sit. It’s too quiet out there.”
Amid the students’ teasing ”Ooooh—”, Shen Xi walked in.
Zheng Yimian whispered, “Zhanzhan, we’re doomed. I bet some girls will try to sneak his number.”
Lin Zhan: “Shen Xi won’t give it to them.”
Zheng Yimian: “You’re underestimating some of these girls. He’s wearing Chonggao’s uniform—they’ll figure out who he is without even asking.”
Sure enough, murmurs came from the other side of the room.
“Is that Shen Xi or Liang Yu?”
“...What if it’s neither?”
“Possible. Rumor has it they’re both indifferent to girls. Maybe he’s an undiscovered gem at Chonggao. Ugh, I should’ve transferred there—at least there’s eye candy.”
“You can look now. He’s right there on the couch.”
“What’s the point? This one’s already taken.”
...
The “taken” Shen Xi sat on the lounge sofa, his sharp silhouette contrasting against the rigid sculptures behind him—yet he held his own against them.
Lin Zhan’s ears burned.
Shen Xi noticed her gaze and glanced over, his eyes conveying three words:
Focus on painting.
Lin Zhan stuck out her tongue at him.
After class, the teacher assigned homework and dismissed them.
Lin Zhan grabbed her phone and left without packing anything.
On the way, she compared her hair length to her shadow. “It’s gotten longer.”
Shen Xi hummed in agreement.
She turned to him. “Let’s go out tomorrow. You can come with me to get a haircut?”
Now that they were together, she dared to make any request.
As expected, Shen Xi nodded. “Okay.”
“After the haircut, we can explore the area,” Lin Zhan said. “Where do you usually hang out?”
Shen Xi: “I don’t go out much.”
Lin Zhan paused. “Isn’t it boring staying home alone?”
“A little.”
“See? You should go out more. Staying cooped up isn’t good. It’s refreshing, broadens your horizons. I hate being stuck at home.”
Shen Xi said, “We’ll go wherever you want.”
As long as she was with him, it wouldn’t be dull.
Lin Zhan blinked. “Shen Xi, your life is seriously too bland.”
When he didn’t respond, she added smugly, “I must be the oasis in your barren desert.”
Shen Xi chuckled. “So you’re saying you’re green?”
Lin Zhan slowed her steps and gestured above her head.
“Well, you’ll just have to forgive me then.”
///
The next morning, Lin Zhan sat in the salon, getting her long hair trimmed to a chic bob.
She’d tried other styles, but short hair suited her lively personality best.
After an hour or two, the stylist finally finished, blow-drying the ends inward.
When Lin Zhan went to pay, the receptionist said, “It’s already been taken care of.”
She glanced over—Shen Xi was sitting in a chair, scrolling through his phone, seemingly engrossed.
Mischievously, she tiptoed behind him to peek at his screen.
...
...Ape Question Bank.
He was doing biology problems?!
While out with her, he was studying?
Wow. The学霸 (top student) image is truly unshakable.
Once he finished the question, he finally noticed her.
Turning, he found Lin Zhan leaning against the counter, pretending to scroll through her phone.
Shen Xi: “What are you looking at?”
Lin Zhan: “Memorizing English vocabulary.”
“...”
///
Outside, Lin Zhan searched for nearby attractions.
“There’s a science museum and an aquarium. Which do you prefer? You’d probably like the science museum.”
Shen Xi shrugged. “Either is fine. The aquarium works.”
(She’d probably enjoy that more.)
They settled on the aquarium.
Lin Zhan asked, “Do you usually take the subway or a taxi?”
Shen Xi: “Whichever’s faster. But I prefer taxis.”
Lin Zhan nodded. “Because it’s quieter, right?”
“Yeah.”
But weekends meant traffic, so they opted for the subway.
The train to the commercial district was crowded.
Shen Xi found a corner and gripped the overhead handrail.
Lin Zhan felt herself being pulled aside, her back hitting the cold metal wall as the scent of sunlight—overwhelming and warm—filled her senses.
Shen Xi glanced at the burly man beside them, then reached for another handrail, caging her in the small space.
Lin Zhan held her breath, not daring to move—yet she couldn’t resist inhaling softly.
No longer the stale sweat of the train.
Just him—clean, gentle, and bright.
Unable to help herself, she inched forward, her arms brushing against his back, the pose almost like an embrace.
Lost in her own romantic fantasy, she thought: I just want to bury my face in his chest... It must feel amazing.
So she stealthily shuffled closer.
Shen Xi looked down at her fluffy head.
“Too hot?”
Lin Zhan blinked up. “Huh? N-No, not really.”
Shen Xi frowned. “Then why are you fidgeting? And why’s your face red?”
Lin Zhan bit her lip. “...It is hot.”
At the next stop, they moved toward the doors. Shen Xi exited first.
To avoid getting separated, he turned slightly, hand reaching back.
Before she could react, Lin Zhan had already stepped up beside him.
...
Shen Xi: “...”
Outside the station, Lin Zhan leaned in conspiratorially.
Shen Xi: “Hm?”
She wiggled her fingers, eyes sparkling. “Shen Xi, were you trying to hold my hand just now?”
Stunned by her bluntness, Shen Xi stayed silent.
Lin Zhan whispered, “Your ears... are kinda red.”
Finally, he sighed. “Do you still want to go to the aquarium or not?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, feigning innocence. “What’s more fun than you?”
///
Inside the aquarium, everything was bathed in blue.
The moment Lin Zhan stepped in, she was swallowed by the endless waves of light and shadow.
Glowing ripples danced across the water’s surface, fractured yet dazzling.
Marine life drifted past, tails flicking, leaving faint trails in their wake.
Rocks, seaweed, coral.
Lin Zhan moved slowly, passing a couple taking photos.
Shen Xi asked, “Want me to take one for you?”
Lin Zhan brightened. “Sure! But do you know how?”
“It’s not hard,” Shen Xi said. “Just stand still.”
(He’d never taken portrait shots before.)
Nearby, a photographer was directing his girlfriend into different poses, crouching to make her appear taller.
Shen Xi observed for a moment, then mimicked the stance.
Lin Zhan burst out laughing when she saw him crouch.
Shen Xi snapped the shot. “What’s so funny?”
Tilting her head up, fractured light spilled across her face.
“You.”
He handed her the phone. “Take a look.”
She hadn’t expected much, but the photo was surprisingly good.
“Not bad. You learn fast.”
She’d meant it literally—but the moment the words left her mouth, they sounded suggestive.
Clearing her throat, she tried to brush it off—until she met Shen Xi’s gaze.
Dark and unreadable.
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