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Jiang Huan never imagined she’d experience half a lifetime’s worth of events within just 24 hours. After getting off the plane, taking the train, and failing to find suitable transportation, she trudged through deep snow, spotted a dog sled, and walked for forty minutes before finally seeing the aurora. What was even more mind-blowing was that, in the blink of an eye, she found herself back in her Shanghai home—frost still clinging to her scarf.
And there stood the culprit, completely unfazed, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The biting cold still clung to both of them, so Jiang Huan suggested, “The best way to get rid of the chill is to take off our coats.”
With that, she hastily removed her jacket. Her scarf, wrapped tightly around her neck multiple times, was gently untangled by Bai Jingchuan. As soon as the coat came off, Jiang Huan froze—literally and figuratively. Sitting on the couch, the moment felt far too intimate, especially since they hadn’t turned on the lights. The pale moonlight filtering through the blinds did little to dispel the charged atmosphere.
Bai Jingchuan took off his own coat, and in the next second, it vanished. Jiang Huan stammered, “W-where did your coat go?”
“It’s back in Beicun.”
“...”
The lamp behind Bai Jingchuan cast soft shadows; turning it on would naturally pull her into his arms—but the posture felt far too much like an invitation to kiss him. She tried to stand up, but Bai Jingchuan held her hand. Reluctant to let go of the warmth of his touch, she stayed put. All she could see was his jawline and chin; she didn’t dare look up, fearing their eyes meeting would make things irreparable. But his fingertips brushed against her hand, and she melted like butter, exuding sweetness. Past games, novels, and manga had provided enough references—she wasn’t entirely clueless. With the atmosphere thick and their breathing audible, his warm breath near her head sent shivers down her spine.
She realized she didn’t want to turn on the light. Bai Jingchuan’s lips touched hers, still carrying the cold of the north—a reminder of the natural wonder she’d just witnessed, something she’d fought hard to see, not some undeserved romance. She reached out to touch his arm, feeling the firm muscles beneath the cool surface, which quickly warmed under her touch. Bai Jingchuan was different from how she’d written him—gentle and respectful, yet his grip left no room for resistance. His palm gradually warmed, his touch trailing over her ear, making it burn, her shoulders trembling slightly. She felt her spine melting.
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +1000.”
She felt unsteady, her back supported as she leaned backward. Wait—was this really happening?
Before her was Bai Jingchuan’s face, his lips still tingling from their earlier touch. Her body ignited, hoping he’d come closer again. He leaned over her, brushing her hair aside. Though she couldn’t see the depth of his feelings, his voice carried a slight rasp.
“You seem tense. What are you afraid of?”
“...I’m not tense.”
“Your whole body is rigid.”
Of course Jiang Huan knew! Her body wasn’t just stiff—it could pass for an iron board if it weren’t for her racing heart and rising temperature. Bai Jingchuan leaned down to kiss her, their fingers intertwined for a long time. His hands moved from her elbows to her palms, calculated and deliberate. With both hands held firmly, Jiang Huan grew unbearably hot. She reached out to wrap her arms around his neck but accidentally hit his eye socket with too much force.
“I’m sorry!” Jiang Huan panicked and tried to sit up, but he caught her hand and kissed it lightly: “Am I really this fragile?”
“But…”
“I should go.”
“What?”
“I’ve disturbed your rest. You’ve traveled all this way and were brought back by me—you must be exhausted.”
She nearly tripped over her clothes, but Bai Jingchuan caught her in time: “Why are you so careless?”
Jiang Huan almost forgot—Li Junzhu’s character archetype included being an old fisherman. Nothing inappropriate could happen tonight. Returning from the aurora, the kiss was merely a confirmation of feelings. How could there be anything more? Extreme respect often hid extreme push-and-pull tactics. Especially for someone with thin skin, being hit in the eye socket was practically a polite dismissal.
Now this felt like his character!
She flicked on the light: “Wait, I need to tell you something from my heart…”
Though Li Junzhu loved being confessed to and wooed, this didn’t count as completing the route. She needed to bare her true feelings.
Bai Jingchuan, who had already reached the door, stopped. Jiang Huan ran over and grabbed his hand: “Taking a plane, then a train, and finally a sled to reach your place—I never expected it to be so difficult. But we can’t let misunderstandings linger or avoid each other for days. I thought, whatever gets me to you fastest is what I’ll do. Luckily, you appeared soon enough. I only walked forty minutes in the snow, and seeing your figure was enough for me. It felt like a promise fulfilled. I know you weren’t angry. The aurora was a gift, a blessing from the geomagnetic storm, but I didn’t chase it for the aurora. I worked hard to witness a miracle—the magnetic storm was caused by celestial phenomena, so my miracle wasn’t the aurora.”
Bai Jingchuan’s expression was complex, his gaze still tender, though his brows were furrowed. Jiang Huan tiptoed to kiss his lips: “Sleep well. I know you can teleport home in an instant. Goodnight.”
She politely escorted him to the door, not waiting for a reply, and closed the door silently. Clutching her hair, she jumped around excitedly for a while. Her legs felt weak as she went to turn on the shower, but the showerhead malfunctioned, falling to the ground and cracking. Water sprayed upward, soaking her fully. That sobered her up—serves her right for having impure thoughts about a paper-thin man. Karma sure works fast, doesn’t it?
Another failed playthrough, and she felt like she’d been counter-played instead.
Li Junzhu, you sly fox—pulling these push-and-pull tactics? You’re my creation; don’t think I don’t know how to keep you up all night.
After a clumsy shower, every inch of her skin tingled under the loofah. She lowered the water temperature by two degrees to calm herself. In the mirror, she saw her flushed cheeks and overheated ears and muttered—damn!
________________________________________
Early the next morning, Jiang Huan exited the subway station and intentionally crossed the overpass early—thinking she’d kept Bai Jingchuan awake all night, she herself had barely slept due to excitement. Between planes, trains, and sleepless nights, she nearly slipped down the stairs, too exhausted to keep her eyes open. The weather was gloomy; she glanced across the street and saw Bai Jingchuan walking parallel to her. Every time Jiang Huan swayed, so did Bai Jingchuan. When she bent down to tie her shoelaces, he mirrored her movement. Realizing it was raining, she checked her bag for an umbrella—none to be found. It was still a five-minute walk to the office. No big deal; she could endure it. For sleep-deprived office workers, this drizzle wasn’t enough to quicken their pace.
The rain stopped after a few steps. Jiang Huan suspected Bai Jingchuan’s influence. Glancing at him, the man on the opposite side strolled leisurely, slowly ascending the overpass. Jiang Huan walked briskly toward the office, careful not to attract attention. Encountering him in the morning and walking alongside him boosted her happiness a bit.
A girl on the overpass exclaimed, “What a huge rainbow!”
At the end of the road leading to the office, bathed in dazzling sunlight, a rainbow indeed appeared—surely Bai Jingchuan’s morning gift. Entering the office building, Jiang Huan deliberately chose a different elevator from Bai Jingchuan’s—she didn’t want to see his lips, ears, or jawline and blush uncontrollably all morning.
The elevator beeped an overload warning, forcing Jiang Huan to exit and re-enter Bai Jingchuan’s elevator. Bad luck struck again; her back and head brushed against his suit. Exhausted and overstimulated, she felt like a machine restarting repeatedly. At the office, Bai Jingchuan led the first meeting, hinting at integrating the male lead into the 2028 project. Jiang Huan initially didn’t understand—now that the project was independent, shouldn’t it operate separately? The other side emphasized pure virtual life—custom faces, self-built houses, and DIY furniture—so why send their male protagonist there?
Bai Jingchuan smiled gracefully: “To ensure players who hate the production team can still enjoy 2028 without needing to create avatars. Who can guarantee we won’t get criticized once launched? After all, our pay-to-win schedules are packed.”
The office erupted in laughter, which felt like thunder to Jiang Huan’s sleep-deprived ears.
Two meetings later, it was afternoon. Someone in the department group messaged: “Anyone interested in seeing Chicago ? First-row tickets, limited availability.”
The production team’s group always had a lively atmosphere, helping each other grab tickets for Phantom of the Opera or limited-edition dolls. But with so much work now, Chicago had gone unappreciated when previously organized.
“No one wants the tickets? I’m sick and have no energy, but I’d really like to go.”
Bai Jingchuan replied in the group: “Can I take them?”
The group fell silent for a few seconds: “Teacher Bai, you’re full of surprises.”
No explanation followed—just a transfer receipt confirming the purchase. Bai Jingchuan entered the office holding two tickets. The small group exploded: “Oh no, our god has descended! Who’s dating Teacher Bai?”
Jiang Huan appeared silent, diligently working on Unity and typing away on her keyboard, but secretly checked the group every three seconds, terrified of missing any gossip. If they were in a relationship, she’d have sternly told Bai Jingchuan not to publicize their office romance. She wanted to be recognized for her work, not her connections—not even giving others a chance to gossip. But without discussing it with Bai Jingchuan, he attended meetings, traveled for business, and didn’t mention the tickets until evening, when he privately sent her a photo of the ticket stub: “Would you like to join me? Are you willing?”
Jiang Huan waited a moment before replying with a simple “ok.” It seemed concise, but inside, she was itching with anticipation. She went downstairs, bought an ice cream, devoured it in large bites, and chased it with a can of cola, suppressing her burps until her red face and racing heart calmed.
She wanted to feel cared for, to be acknowledged. Bai Jingchuan’s greatest strength was his ability to keep secrets.
By nightfall, the entire production team was still at work. Jiang Huan followed Akira to the break room, where the faint twilight filtered through a small window, giving the city a contemplative air.
“Um… how long did it take you and your boyfriend to get to…?” Jiang Huan gestured awkwardly, unable to articulate her question, already feeling mortified.
“The first night.”
Jiang Huan gave a thumbs-up: “That’s impressive.”
“I was heartbroken at the time. Everyone was going to Tibet on pilgrimages, so I went too. I even prostrated myself around the Potala Palace, scraping my forehead raw. Then I fatefully met my younger brother. Our eyes locked, and during a four-person hike, we didn’t speak—just stared at each other. Even when we walked apart, we kept looking back. That night, he followed me into my room. We didn’t stop all night… I miss it. I remember clearly—Tibet’s eight o’clock is still dark. Watching the light creep through the curtains, I felt terrible. But the next morning, he went out to buy breakfast and ended up moving in. People need courage to encounter love. Desire might come first, and you might think the order is wrong, but if you’re lucky, you’ll meet the right person. Order, conditions, societal norms—they’re just constraints people use to choose partners, aren’t they?”
As night fell, the sleeping city gradually awakened. In the dim break room, Jiang Huan was lost in thought. Akira added, “I might guess who you’re talking about, and I sense something’s happening. Loving someone too much can make you retreat. Why don’t you ask him?”
“How could I possibly ask?”
“Do you think he’s a flower without fragrance? Without sexual tension, incapable of stirring desire?”
“What do you think?” Jiang Huan pressed her forehead: “Isn’t he the type to blush just from eye contact? He better not unbutton his shirt, loosen his belt, or play with his cuffs. Even fully clothed, I’m thunderstruck by the occasional glimpse of his skin.”
“My goodness,” Akira gasped. “Jiang Huan, are you living in a shoujo manga?”
“...”
“I won’t name names, but if you don’t act, you’ll regret it.”
The break room fell silent. Jiang Huan couldn’t reconcile the heartfelt conversation from three minutes ago.
________________________________________
Bai Jingchuan seemed unfamiliar with classic plays. While Emotional Tide had been successful, Chicago was entirely unique. Jiang Huan enthusiastically explained the poster to him for half an hour. Bai Jingchuan’s gaze lingered on her, absorbing knowledge effortlessly, while she grew both exhilarated and exhausted just from explaining. The crowd was dense as they queued for entry, but Bai Jingchuan shielded her with his body—his gentlemanly manners and gentle reminders to “take it slow” made her feel like she was floating. Once seated, Jiang Huan fought off drowsiness, pinching her thigh to stay awake—this was her first proper date with Bai Jingchuan at the theater, and it was Chicago ! She couldn’t fall asleep!
She held Bai Jingchuan’s hand, tracing his fingers to his palm, tapping rhythmically like playing a piano. He didn’t pull away. They watched the performance intently, stealing glances at each other. Jiang Huan thought, even if her leg cramped from pinching, she couldn’t fall asleep. These front-row tickets, with Bai Jingchuan as her companion, were simply non-negotiable!
When the actors took their bows, Jiang Huan suddenly gripped Bai Jingchuan’s hand: “Teacher Bai.”
“Yes?” He leaned closer.
“Can we wait a bit before leaving? I want to lie down for five minutes…”
When Jiang Huan opened her eyes again, she was home. Seeing Bai Jingchuan sitting at the desk reading, cradling a custom-made Li Junzhu pillow, she felt wary of his teleportation ability: “Why are you here?”
“You said you were sleepy, so I brought you back.”
Indeed, after enduring Chicago until the end, Jiang Huan had passed out instantly. Waking up, she found Bai Jingchuan sitting beside her bed, smoothing her hair. Then he said something that left her speechless:
“Generally speaking… how long does it take from meeting someone to… becoming intimate?”
“You’re really straightforward,” Jiang Huan’s lips quivered, careful not to reveal she’d asked the same question.
“I’m just curious about these things.”
Jiang Huan cleared her throat: “Some characters are born with sexual tension. Right after launch, they’ll have endless fanfiction and fanart—sometimes explicit enough to require bypassing firewalls.”
“Do you design characters with sexual tension as an element?”
“What kind of element is that? Sexual tension and pure love aren’t the best dowries for every male lead?”
“But it seems since we’ve known each other, I haven’t seen you fantasize about Li Junzhu.”
Was he really asking this directly? Jiang Huan blushed from her neck to her ears: “No, I’m a serious person. I don’t fangirl. My feelings for him are pure love, true love—no impure thoughts whatsoever.”
“So… you feel no desire for Li Junzhu?”
“Not for him.” Jiang Huan spoke solemnly, sounding completely sincere: “Who plays otome games without indulging in fantasies? But I swear, I have no impure thoughts about him.”
“Alright, understood.”
What did he understand? How did he know? What exactly did he know? Jiang Huan was utterly frustrated—did he not even bother to ask? She was pulling the ultimate reverse psychology play, and he didn’t get it at all!
Bai Jingchuan seemed unconcerned, tossing his tea-stained dress into the washing machine. While searching for detergent, he noticed the broken showerhead. Jiang Huan suddenly remembered: “Uh, don’t turn on the faucet—it leaks with strong pressure—”
Too late. In the bathroom, Bai Jingchuan turned around, his shirt and pants soaked, revealing his chest. He sat on the floor and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Jiang Huan expected a smug “Are you satisfied now? Will you accept my advances?” Instead, he looked up, his expression innocent and pitiful:
“Cold. Can you help me?”
P.S.: Finally! You know what they say...
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