After Ling Chen finished speaking, he finally pulled the electric kettle out from the cabinet.

Zhu Wenshu’s gaze followed him up and down as he first rinsed out the interior with water, then, once it had boiled, turned and went back to the living room.

Zhu Wenshu’s cold hadn’t fully cleared up yet, and she’d still had a stuffy nose these past couple of days, so she’d brought two boxes of cold medicine powder with her. She hadn’t gotten around to taking any since arriving in Li City, and had simply left them on the coffee table in the living room.

Ling Chen returned with the medicine, washed a cup, tore open the packet, all without saying a word the entire time.

Once the water boiled, he poured it all out into the sink and set the kettle to boil a second time.

The hotel’s kettle was small, so it only took a few minutes.

There was a crackle of electric current, and Ling Chen, after a moment of silence, finally turned around, leaning against the cabinet to look at Zhu Wenshu.

His whole posture was loose and unguarded, his back slightly hunched, eyes drooping as he looked over at her, as if a haze had settled over them.

But he kept quiet, staring unmoving at the person across from him.

Zhu Wenshu found herself completely unable to handle that look. The words she’d carefully prepared suddenly seemed to lose all their force.

“What’s with you.” Zhu Wenshu felt exposed under his gaze and wanted to step closer, but wasn’t sure what to say.

Ling Chen didn’t seem particularly angry. The room had the heat on, and yet Zhu Wenshu couldn’t figure out how he managed to look like a drowned cat.

“Calling me this late,” he said, turning to grab a spoon and rinse it under the tap, his voice calm, “was there something urgent?”

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

She really wished Ling Chen would be like in the dramas—grab her shoulders and shake her, shouting “Do you still love him! Can’t you forget him!”—so she could cover her ears and yell back, “No! Let me explain! I’m done with him, I only love you!”

And then the two of them would sob hysterically, hug each other, kiss passionately, and the whole thing would be behind them.

Instead of this—him clearly upset but pretending indifference, calmly asking if there’d been an emergency.

“He was just asking about something.”

Zhu Wenshu slowly walked up behind him. “Everyone thinks that ‘see you Monday’ thing was us, and that we’ve apparently been together for years.”

Ling Chen made a noncommittal sound. “What’s it to him?”

Zhu Wenshu: “Some people think you’re the other man, breaking us up.”

Ling Chen: “…”

The spoon had already been rinsed clean, but the water was still running.

After a moment, Ling Chen finally turned off the tap and said flatly, “Even if I wanted to be the other man, would Teacher Zhu give me that chance?”

“Of course not.”

Zhu Wenshu said firmly. “I’m a teacher. How could I possibly do something like that?”

She’d actually answered seriously.

Ling Chen was both annoyed and amused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he poured the medicine powder into the cup.

“Then what’s he got to doubt about.”

“It’s mostly that other classmates assume it.”

Zhu Wenshu said. “He didn’t think too much of it himself.”

Ling Chen’s motion paused for a beat.

“Is that so?”

Not necessarily.

If there was anyone from their three years of high school who might have guessed at Ling Chen’s feelings for Zhu Wenshu, it could only be Yin Yueze.

One summer during their freshman year, Ling Chen had come out of a bookstore, planning to head home to make dinner.

It was pouring rain outside, and without an umbrella, he’d made his way home hugging the eaves for cover.

Just as he entered Baihua Alley, the corner store owner spotted him passing and told him his father had just gotten home and been hit by a skidding motorcycle, his knee bleeding badly, and that whoever was riding it had taken one look at his father’s dazed, foolish state and just driven off.

Ling Chen paid no more attention to the rain and ran straight home.

By the time he’d climbed the stairs, soaked through, he saw his father sitting by the door, talking to someone.

The stairwell of the old building had poor lighting, and the motion-sensor light had been broken for years. Ling Chen couldn’t make out who it was, only heard his father’s voice, and called out “Dad” as he walked up.

The middle-aged man let out an “ah,” and just then, Ling Chen turned the corner of the stairs and saw Yin Yueze standing beside his father.

Yin Yueze’s hair and shoulders were wet too, as if he’d also been caught in the rain.

In that instant, Ling Chen’s legs turned to lead, refusing to move another step.

Yin Yueze looked up, his eyes full of shock.

“Is he…” He glanced at the man sitting on the ground beside him. “Your father?”

For a long moment, Ling Chen could only force out an “mm” from his throat.

After that he said nothing more. Under Yin Yueze’s complicated gaze, he stepped forward and crouched down in front of his father.

The knee really was injured, and there was a pile of blood-stained tissues on the ground.

He didn’t need to ask to know who had helped clean him up.

Without looking up, Ling Chen said, “Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.”

Yin Yueze stood off to the side, watching Ling Chen gather up the tissues on the ground, and finally said, “I happened to be passing by and saw your uncle was hurt, so I brought him home. He didn’t have his key, so I waited here with him.”

Ling Chen kept his head down, balling up the tissues, and after a while, simply said “mm” again.

Once everything was cleaned up, he didn’t know what to do next.

He really didn’t want to open the door and let Yin Yueze see his home.

But then Yin Yueze said, “Could I borrow a towel to dry my hair? I’ve used up all my tissues.”

Ling Chen’s hand clenched, then relaxed, all within an instant.

Yin Yueze had an umbrella with him—clearly, he’d gotten wet from sharing it with Ling Chen’s father.

Ling Chen finally stood up and, without a word, opened the door.

The apartment was tiny, subdivided by the landlord to squeeze in more rent, just a single room where everything happened—sleeping, eating, everything—all laid bare.

But Yin Yueze, following him inside, didn’t look around, didn’t even walk more than a few steps, just stood by the door.

Because the room was so small, right as he pulled out his phone, Ling Chen had already brought over a clean towel.

Yin Yueze wiped his hair, then the back of his neck.

As he turned his head, he caught sight of a rather old-looking guitar leaning by the table.

“You play guitar?”

Ling Chen said flatly, “It’s the neighbor’s.”

“Oh.”

Yin Yueze wiped his arm once more and handed the towel back to Ling Chen. “I should get going.”

Ling Chen nodded, taking the towel to hang it up to dry.

Just then, his father, who had been sitting quietly since entering, suddenly stood up and pulled open the drawer of the cabinet next to Yin Yueze.

“I’ll give you some candy.”

The cabinet was as old as Ling Chen himself, and the moment it opened, a musty smell of rotting wood wafted out.

Yin Yueze said there was no need, but Ling Chen’s father acted as though he hadn’t heard, rummaging through the drawer.

“Here, let me help you look.”

Just as Yin Yueze said that, before he could even reach out, he saw Ling Chen’s father pull out a sheet of drawing paper.

He looked at it closely.

Ling Chen didn’t know whether Yin Yueze had gotten a clear look at it, but by the time he turned and saw the scene, he’d already lunged forward, snatching it from his father’s hand and slamming the drawer shut.

There was a loud bang, and both Yin Yueze and his father froze.

In the dim room, Ling Chen felt as if he’d been rooted to the spot, the air around him suddenly growing heavy, pressing down on him.

After a long silence, Yin Yueze didn’t ask further and simply said, “I’ll head back. Take good care of your father.”

After that, Ling Chen spent the rest of the summer in a constant state of unease.

He couldn’t be sure whether Yin Yueze had recognized the person in the drawing as Zhu Wenshu, or whether he’d tell anyone about his family’s circumstances.

But once school started, Yin Yueze’s attitude toward Ling Chen didn’t change in the slightest, and he never brought up what happened that day.

As if nothing had happened at all, Ling Chen eventually let out a breath of relief.

Then, over a year later, after a P.E. class, Yin Yueze and a few other boys came back from playing basketball, crowding into the back of the classroom to change.

They were talking about how a senior boy had stopped Zhu Wenshu that day to ask for her number, and someone joked, “Yin Yueze, you sure have a lot of rivals.”

Ling Chen, sitting nearby, saw Yin Yueze glance over at him.

Just a brief glance, barely any expression at all.

“I’m used to it.”

He’d replied lightly, then laughed and shook his head, as if to say—I don’t consider any of these rivals a real threat at all.

—

Thinking back on all this now, Ling Chen just found his younger self needlessly anxious, guilty over nothing.

Even if Yin Yueze had known, it wouldn’t have mattered—he’d never have seen Ling Chen as any kind of threat.

But after all these years, so much had changed, and Zhu Wenshu had actually become the girlfriend of the very rival Yin Yueze had never bothered considering back then.

Whether he’d overthink it now, who could say.

“Never mind, let him think whatever he wants.”

Ling Chen straightened up and walked over, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. “If I’d stayed in touch with you back when I first became famous, who knows, maybe I really would have ended up the other man.”

“Watch how you talk, don’t say things like ‘the other man’ to a teacher of the people.”

Zhu Wenshu threw a punch at his back. “Besides, by the time you got famous we’d already broken up ages ago. You wouldn’t have had the chance to be anyone’s ‘other man.'”

“…”

Ling Chen, hand still in the fridge, froze for a moment before turning around. “Didn’t you say you two broke up in your third year of college?”

“…I lied about that.”

Zhu Wenshu sighed, leaning against the sink. “We actually broke up before the summer after our senior year of high school even ended. I was too embarrassed to tell our classmates.”

Ling Chen’s brow furrowed, shock and understanding both crossing his face.

“He wasn’t good to you?”

“No, it’s not that. He was very good to me.”

Zhu Wenshu, saying this out loud for the first time, felt a sense of relief at setting down the burden, though she also didn’t want to badmouth an ex in front of her current boyfriend. “It’s just that we weren’t compatible.”

“Took you that long to figure out you weren’t compatible?”

“How should I put it—I probably had rose-colored glasses on for him. Before we were officially together, no matter what, we were just friends, and outside that line, everything seemed fine. But once we actually got together and things changed, I realized he was the kind of person better suited to being a friend, not a boyfriend.”

She finished speaking just as the water finished boiling, and hurried to switch off the kettle before pouring the water into the cup with the medicine powder.

Amid the faint sound of running water, she didn’t notice Ling Chen make any further movement.

Not until she picked up the spoon to stir the drink did someone suddenly wrap their arms around her from behind.

Ling Chen rested his chin on her shoulder, rubbing against it a couple of times.

Zhu Wenshu couldn’t see his face, but she could tell his mood had improved considerably.

“You’re really happy about this?” Zhu Wenshu said, exasperated. “Ling Chen, this is starting to look a little like a petty man gloating over his victory.”

“I am petty.”

Ling Chen said, voice muffled against her. “And right now I’m gloating plenty.”

“…”

Zhu Wenshu let him be, not wanting to give this petty man any more reason to go “looking for trouble.”

She stirred the medicine powder and heard Ling Chen ask, “So what kind of person do you think makes a good boyfriend?”

Zhu Wenshu occasionally thought about this question herself; at different times she’d had different ideas, piecing together a vague, blurry image of a boyfriend that had nothing to do with celebrities.

But right now, with Ling Chen asking, the image in her mind suddenly grew clear.

Though, ironically, his profession, personality, and demeanor were the complete opposite of what she’d always envisioned.

Zhu Wenshu lowered her head, adding a bit of water to the cup, took a sip of the medicine, and said, a little bashfully, “I think you’re actually a pretty good fit.”

Ling Chen made a soft “mm,” his arms tightening, palm resting against her waist, and murmured against her ear, “Then tonight, I want to sleep in your room.”

Zhu Wenshu: “…Do you think that’s appropriate?”

—

After Ling Chen left, Zhu Wenshu downed her cold medicine in one go, then went to take a shower, coming out past ten.

Zhu Wenshu normally would already be asleep by this time, but tonight, lying on the bed, she found herself completely without any drowsiness.

Aside from just not being used to the unfamiliar bed, this was also the first time Zhu Wenshu had ever stayed in a hotel alone. In the past, whether traveling or on a work trip, she’d always had a companion with her. Staring out at the pitch-black night sky, she suddenly began to understand why Shi Xue’er didn’t dare stay in hotels alone.

The slightest bit of noise outside would send her thoughts spiraling toward all those horror stories about hotels she’d read online.

Seriously.

The internet had done real damage to people!

After tossing and turning for over half an hour, Zhu Wenshu pulled out her phone, first sorting through the photos Xiao Yu had taken for her that day, then reading a bit of a novel.

She only felt herself growing more wide awake.

After some deliberation, she sent Ling Chen a message.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Asleep?

The reply came instantly.

[c]: No.

[Zhu Wenshu]: What are you up to?

[c]: Watching a movie.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Don’t you have work tomorrow?

[c]: Looking for inspiration.

[Zhu Wenshu]: …Oh, what movie are you watching?

Ling Chen sent over a screenshot.

Zhu Wenshu opened it to see a pitch-black frame with an emaciated woman grinning eerily straight at the camera.

She glanced at it once and closed the photo.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Watching that kind of movie this late at night, aren’t you scared?

[c]: Not scared

“Well aren’t you brave—”

[c]: Just kidding.

[Zhu Wenshu]: ?

[c]: Now that you mention it, this is actually pretty creepy.

Zhu Wenshu stared at her phone, not quite sure if Ling Chen was genuinely scared or just pretending.

[c]: Whatever, I’ve already started, can’t quit halfway.

[c]: Worst case, I’ll just leave the lights on all night.

[c]: I’ll be fine.

Alright, mystery solved—he was definitely pretending.

Good thing Ling Chen didn’t act in films, or he’d be subjecting audiences everywhere to his terrible acting.

But Zhu Wenshu, who could see right through him, still clutched her phone and typed out two lines, blushing.

[Zhu Wenshu]: So, um… want to come over?

[Zhu Wenshu]: Two people means less scary.

A while later.

[c]: Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?

[Zhu Wenshu]: ?

[c]: I said—I sell my talent, not my body.

“…”

[Zhu Wenshu]: Fine, don’t come then.

She sent that and buried her head under the blanket.

Actually, she hadn’t originally meant to chase him off entirely. When she’d decided to come to Li City to see him, she’d thought that it was perfectly normal for a couple to share a bed while traveling together.

But he’d been so blunt about it earlier that she couldn’t bring herself to match his shamelessness.

Now that she’d finally worked up the nerve to be this direct herself, this grown man was actually playing hard to get.

But a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Zhu Wenshu slowly poked her eyes out from under the blanket, looking toward the door.

Somehow, she wasn’t even surprised.

The knocking sounded a bit impatient, growing faster and faster, just like her own heartbeat.

After a good while, Zhu Wenshu finally got up out of bed.

But catching her reflection in the window, she found herself almost impressed—even at a moment like this, she was still worrying about whether her hair looked messy.

Not only did she think it, she actually started heading toward the bathroom to fix her hair.

But she’d barely taken two steps when the door lock gave two beeps—the sound of a key card.

Zhu Wenshu had never moved so fast in her life, completing in two seconds a full dive onto the bed and roll into the covers, wrapping herself up tight.

Immediately after, the door opened.

But for the next few seconds, Zhu Wenshu heard nothing else, only her own heartbeat in her ears.

Not until the person walked into the room did the footsteps make the faintest sound against the carpet.

Zhu Wenshu kept her eyes shut, listening to his breathing, and somehow couldn’t feel her own breath at all anymore.

It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Then the edge of the bed dipped down.

Zhu Wenshu’s whole body tensed, every sense amplified a hundredfold, so much so that even the faint rustle of his clothes sounded deafening.

The few seconds it took him to lie down felt impossibly long.

Zhu Wenshu felt herself floating up and dropping down several times before the person beside her finally settled.

After that, neither of them moved.

Outside, the night was thick with darkness, occasional car horns sounding in the distance; inside the room, pitch black, only the sound of overlapping breaths.

Zhu Wenshu knew Ling Chen was keeping a distance between them, hadn’t pressed close at all.

But his body heat seemed to seep through the sheets anyway, leaving Zhu Wenshu’s whole body feeling warm.

She kept her eyes tightly shut, and amid a long, echoing car horn outside, she quietly said his name.

“Ling Chen.”

“Mm?”

His voice seemed right by her ear, and yet also far away.

Zhu Wenshu felt her senses malfunction again in an instant, feeling as though he were pressed tightly against her back.

“Your heart’s beating really fast.”

Zhu Wenshu said.

“Mm.”

Ling Chen replied calmly, not denying it.

The next second, he turned and wrapped his arms around Zhu Wenshu, chin pressed against the back of her neck, breathing in deeply, greedily.

“I was so scared.”