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After washing up and lying down, Le Ya couldn’t fall asleep.

She had turned off all the lights in her room. Her father, Le Yi Jian, hadn’t returned from work yet, and Aunt Zhang was on leave. The house was practically empty except for her.

A dim night light glowed faintly on the wall.

With nothing to do, Le Ya sent a message to Xie Qingyu, but there was no reply—she had probably gone to sleep.

Le Ya browsed through some news articles, but eventually returned to WeChat. Her desire to chat with someone was strong, almost overwhelming.

She wanted to unload all her emotions.

Most of the contacts in her phone were classmates, and she rarely talked to them. Recently, the only person she had been chatting with was Xie Qingyu, along with occasional interactions in the class group chat—but she didn’t participate much there either.

The most recent contact was that person with the blank profile picture.

He seemed to be the type who spoke very little—his username was just “c,” which was extremely minimalist. At least she had used the initials of her name.

Le Ya thought for a moment, then re-added him as a friend.

After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he had helped her several times. Plus, she still owed him a drink. He had said to find her when he wanted milk tea—but who knew when that would be?

Le Ya pursed her lips slightly. After adding him back, she scrolled through her Moments feed.

Xie Qingyu had posted something half an hour ago: “Why can’t I be like an eagle, able to stay awake for days without sleeping?”

Le Ya almost burst out laughing.

Lately, Xie Qingyu had been complaining about her dark circles, which were stubborn and wouldn’t fade even after using expensive serums.

Le Ya liked the post.

As soon as she did, her phone vibrated.

A notification flashed across the screen: “Still awake?”

Le Ya hadn’t expected him to notice her adding him as a friend. Only then did she remember that adding someone triggered a notification.

She went back to the main page and, after thinking for a moment, replied: “Yes.”

Le Ya held her phone with both hands, lying face-down on the bed, wondering what he would reply—or whether he’d delete her again like she had done to him.

This sense of uncertainty felt oddly thrilling.

C: “Good students don’t sleep?”

Clearly, he was mocking her earlier statement.

Le Ya replied: “Didn’t you say you’re Chen Yang? You’re not sleeping either.”

After a while, he responded: “I’m outside.”

Before Le Ya could reply, he added: “Do you sing?”

Of course, Le Ya didn’t sing—but she couldn’t let her guard down now. She replied confidently: “Yes.”

After all, he had no way of knowing whether she could sing or not.

C: “If you’re not sleeping, sing a song.”

Le Ya shot back: “No. Can you sing?”

C: “No.”

Le Ya smirked. So there were things he couldn’t do? From what she’d seen, he seemed almost perfect—but here he admitted he couldn’t sing.

She teased: “I don’t believe you. Sing a song.”

There was silence on the other end.

After sending the message, Le Ya realized how unreasonable she had been and quickly retracted it. “I’m going to sleep.”

Still, there was no response.

The sadness that had momentarily faded began to creep back into her heart. Le Ya lay on her back, aimlessly scrolling through her phone.

After a long while, just as she was about to turn it off, a new message arrived. It was a voice note.

Forty-three seconds long.

Le Ya had no idea what he had suddenly sent, and it was so long. She waited a full minute before mustering the courage to play it.

She was afraid he might be yelling at her.

If that were the case, she definitely wouldn’t be able to argue back.

When she tapped play, the first few seconds were static. Then, a deep, magnetic voice emerged—not speaking, but singing.

“My baby, baby,

Let me give you something sweet,

To make your night restful…”

Perhaps because he was walking outside, the sound fluctuated slightly, accompanied by faint breaths.

Those breaths tickled her ears like soft feathers brushing against them.

Le Ya heard the distant blare of a car horn cutting through one or two words, but the rest of the lyrics came through clearly.

She imagined the scene vividly.

A boy standing by the roadside, singing into his phone. His brows were slightly furrowed, his thin lips parting and closing as his voice spilled out.

She had heard this song before—there were many versions online, sung by both men and women—but none of them sounded as good as his.

Le Ya’s heart skipped a beat with every syllable.

Suddenly, she loosened her grip on the phone, and it fell softly onto the bed. The sound became muffled for a moment but reached its final stage.

She touched her cheek—it felt unusually warm.

Just then, the beautiful male voice abruptly stopped.

The small alarm clock on her bedside table continued ticking. The room was so quiet that even the drop of a pin could be heard, let alone the pounding of her own heart.

For the first time, Le Ya felt grateful for her sharp hearing.

It was as if the entire world was within her ears.

________________________________________

Chen Yang leaned against a streetlamp.

There was no one around, and most of the shops were closed except for a few marked “24-hour service.”

Though his features were stern, there was a hint of softness in his brow—but it quickly disappeared, leaving only patience behind.

Chen Yang sent a message: “Are you done listening?”

YY: “Yes.”

So few words, not even bothering to give an evaluation. Chen Yang ran his thumb over his lips, thinking perhaps she found it unpleasant.

YY: “It’s late. Go home quickly.”

C: “How many times did you listen?”

After a while, Le Ya’s message finally arrived: “Just once! It’s late, I’m going to sleep.”

Chen Yang casually plucked a leaf from a nearby tree, twirled it between his fingers, and placed it on his lips as if smoking.

He sent another message, but there was no reply.

She must have really gone to sleep.

At least he hadn’t wasted his efforts singing.

Chen Yang glanced at his phone screen and chuckled softly. “Good night,” he murmured.

________________________________________

The weather was gradually cooling, and even the morning light was slow to arrive. When Chen Yang arrived at school at six o’clock, it was still a bit dark.

Class 17, morning reading session.

“I didn’t sleep until after one o’clock last night,” Liang Qian complained irritably. “I’m so tired. I’ll probably fall asleep in class today.”

Zhao Mingri mocked him: “Hahaha, I went to bed an hour earlier than you.”

They had returned from the basketball court at eleven-thirty, cleaned up, and it was already past midnight. After browsing Weibo and chatting with people, time flew by.

But they still had to wake up early for class today.

Liang Qian yawned.

The back door opened, and Chen Yang entered wearing his uniform. He pulled out his chair and silently opened his study materials.

Zhao Mingri asked: “Brother Yang, what time did you sleep last night?”

Chen Yang casually replied: “I don’t remember.”

“Do you think Brother Yang is like you?” Liang Qian rolled his eyes. “He definitely slept early. Brother Yang is a good student.”

He said several sentences, but Chen Yang didn’t respond.

Zhao Mingri initially thought Liang Qian was right—until break time, when he passed by the window and happened to see Chen Yang.

There were faint dark circles under his eyes.

They weren’t obvious, but because of his fair skin, they stood out slightly. However, rather than looking bad, they gave him a kind of rugged charm.

Zhao Mingri silently marveled at how different people truly were.

________________________________________

The last class was English.

As lunchtime approached, few people were paying attention. Their minds were already on the cafeteria or small restaurants outside.

Liang Qian was watching a video when a sudden notification popped up.

He nearly jumped in surprise. Zhao Mingri scolded him: “What’s wrong with you? You scared me—I thought the homeroom teacher had arrived.”

Liang Qian opened the message: “My food delivery has arrived.”

Last time, someone had recommended him a bottle of crab roe sauce. They said it was delicious, and since he was tired of Laoganma, he decided to try it. Now, he could use it in the school cafeteria.

Zhao Mingri casually asked: “What food? How much did it cost?”

“Over a hundred yuan.” Liang Qian grimaced. “It’s for nobles. Don’t ask anymore—you poor guy can’t afford it.”

Zhao Mingri threw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

Just then, the bell rang.

The English teacher hadn’t announced the end of class yet, but the boys in the back row were already standing up. “Class is over!”

The English teacher could only reluctantly declare the end of class.

Liang Qian laughed loudly and jumped up from his seat. “School’s out! I’m going to pick up my crab roe sauce!”

Happy and excited, he headed to the security office. It was lunchtime, and since students were allowed to leave, there were quite a few people at the school gate.

There were guards in the security office.

To retrieve packages, students needed their ID cards or student IDs. Liang Qian quickly located his package box.

“Hmm.”

The box of crab roe sauce wasn’t large, and as Liang Qian was about to leave, several nearby delivery boxes caught his attention.

He moved closer to take a look.

Sure enough, Chen Yang’s name was on them—more than one package.

On the shelf, there were five or six packages, all labeled with Chen Yang’s name, but none of them were from the same place.

Liang Qian turned and asked, “When did these arrive?”

The security guard replied, “These? They arrived this morning.”

Liang Qian nodded.

The security guard added, “Class 17, Senior Three—the same class as you. You should take them with you. Remind him to come pick them up soon. We can’t store so many here.”

Liang Qian agreed, “Alright.”

He carefully examined the nearest package.

The phone number on the label had been partially scribbled out, but whoever had done it hadn’t put much effort into it—it was still easy to make out the original digits.

This poorly applied “mosaic” deserved criticism.

Liang Qian studied it closely and exclaimed, “Wow, though the phone numbers don’t match, the name is definitely Chen Yang’s. The rest belong to various sellers.”

The packages came from all over the country, clearly sent by different merchants.

As he was examining them, Zhao Mingri called him, angrily yelling, “Did you fall into the delivery pile while picking up your package?”

Liang Qian said, “Come to the security office. There’s something interesting.”

After waiting a few minutes, Zhao Mingri finally arrived.

As soon as he entered the security office, Liang Qian dragged him in front of the shelves. “What are you looking at? What’s so interesting?”

Liang Qian said, “Brother Yang’s deliveries.”

“Who sent them?” Zhao Mingri looked up and down. “Doing good deeds without leaving a name? Is this how people pursue someone these days?”

Everyone knew that Chen Yang never shopped online, let alone receiving so many packages at once. This behavior didn’t align with his personality.

Liang Qian pointed to the note: “It says it’s from a girl who secretly likes him.”

Indeed, each package was labeled as being sent by a girl who had a crush on Chen Yang. It seemed she had bought them online and shipped them directly to the school.

Zhao Mingri said, “This will end badly.”

Even if the sender delivered them in person, Chen Yang wouldn’t accept them. Let alone anonymously sent gifts—it was even less likely he’d take them.

Liang Qian asked, “Can we find out whose phone number this is?”

Zhao Mingri stroked his chin. “Probably not. Besides, we shouldn’t investigate. That would be doxxing.”

Actually, they could try recharging the number to see who it belonged to, but he wasn’t sure if the labels still showed the names after being partially obscured. In the past, you could see the mosaicked names.

Liang Qian thought it made sense.

Zhao Mingri suggested, “Call Brother Yang.”

Obediently, Liang Qian pulled out his phone, found Chen Yang’s number, and dialed. After about ten seconds, the call connected.

He said, “Brother Yang, there are several packages for you at the security office.”

Chen Yang: “What?”

Liang Qian explained, “There are several packages for you at the security office. The notes say they’re from a girl who secretly likes you.”

He deliberately mentioned the note.

Not knowing what Chen Yang was doing, Liang Qian heard his calm voice: “I didn’t buy anything. Handle them yourselves—either throw them away or send them back.”

“But these—”

Before Liang Qian could finish, the call was abruptly disconnected, without mercy.

Holding his phone and hugging his crab roe sauce, Liang Qian sighed in frustration, “What should we do? Are we really throwing them away?”

The problem was that there were too many items. If it were just a small trinket, it could be discarded easily. But with so many packages, the sender must have spent quite a bit of money.

“There’s so much stuff,” Zhao Mingri patted the delivery boxes. “Why don’t we return them to the addresses listed?”

Liang Qian asked, “Do you think returning them will work?”

“Why not?” Zhao Mingri replied. “And usually, when people chase after someone, they write their own names. Who would hide their identity like this?”

Take Lin Xinqiao, for example—she would definitely write her name.

That way, Chen Yang would know her feelings.

Which girl secretly liking Chen Yang would write such a note and then obscure her phone number? Clearly, she didn’t want him to know who she was.

Who would do something like this?

Liang Qian shook his own package and took a closer look at the contents of each package, utterly confused.

If someone really liked Chen Yang, wouldn’t they send obvious confession items? At the very least, they should have some deep meaning.

But these… it’s like they’re encouraging him to eat a lot…

Zhao Mingri leaned in to examine them and said, “Maybe it’s a birthday gift for Brother Yang.”

But very few people knew when Chen Yang’s birthday was.

Liang Qian counted on his fingers—he couldn’t think of more than ten or twenty people. Lin Xinqiao only knew because she worked hard to find out.

He still wanted to figure out who sent them before returning the packages.

Liang Qian pondered for a moment, feeling something was off. He said, “Wait, I just had an idea. I need to check something.”

Zhao Mingri asked curiously, “What idea?”

Liang Qian didn’t explain.

Mainly because he felt his idea was too far-fetched, but his intuition told him to follow through.

If his hunch was correct, he thought he might get overly excited today.

Asking wouldn’t hurt, and checking before returning the packages would give peace of mind. He remembered he had a few large group chats.

Liang Qian squatted outside the security office.

He scrolled through the list, recalling a male student from last time who mentioned having classmates in the main campus’ Senior Three. He opened a private chat and messaged him directly: “Hey, does your classmate study in Senior Three of the main campus?”

The boy was flattered and quickly replied, “Yes, yes! He’s in Senior Three of the main campus. Is there something you need?”

Liang Qian asked, “Do you know anyone from Class One?”

The other side replied, “Let me ask around—I think I know someone.”

Liang Qian grew impatient, scratching his head until his bright red hair was a mess. Finally, he received the answer: “I know the class monitor.”

Knowing the class monitor was great!

Only the monitor would have everyone’s phone numbers. Liang Qian’s eyes lit up. “Ask for the math representative’s phone number. Be careful not to raise suspicion.”

Five minutes later, the boy sent over a string of numbers.

Liang Qian stood up, compared it with the poorly obscured phone number on the delivery box, and instantly transformed into a prairie dog: “Ahhhh! I solved the case!”