His slender fingers gripped the phone, the knuckles standing out, tense.

Jiang Wen glanced at Feng Ning, as if on the verge of erupting.

She couldn’t quite hold her expression, pretending to be distracted, her eyes fixed elsewhere.

The others finally couldn’t help bursting into laughter—at this age, boys could get all sorts of ideas just from a single look. Xi Gaoyuan laughed until his cheeks ached, and once he’d laughed himself out, he said, “Feng Ning, you ‘like it’? Like what? Like Jiang Wen kneeling?”

Zhao Weichen, a thoroughly straightforward guy, had no idea what “kneeling in formal wear” or “S&M” meant, so he’d specifically looked it up on Baidu. Having read through a long string of results, he still couldn’t quite grasp the appeal of it, utterly baffled. “Why would he need to kneel? Did Jiang Wen offend you? Why is your mind so set on humiliating a classmate?”

“What humiliating a classmate?” Xi Gaoyuan cackled with a lewd laugh. “You country bumpkin, can you be any more of a hick?”

Shuang Yao’s expression turned somewhat awkward. She lowered her head and took a sip of water, silently begging Feng Ning with her eyes: don’t sell me out!!!!!!

Zhao Weichen asked the waiter who was serving the dishes, “Do you guys have any yellow broth here?”

“Sorry, sir, we don’t have that here.”

Once the waiter finished serving and left, Shuang Yao asked, “What do you want yellow broth for?”

“I wanted to force-feed you and Sister Ning a bowl each.”

After a slight pause, Shuang Yao asked, “What do you mean by that?”

Zhao Weichen sighed. “Pour the yellow broth down your throat—nothing sobers up a dog better.”

Xi Gaoyuan suddenly realized. “So that chat log was you two?”

“We…” Shuang Yao’s face flushed bright red, and she mumbled an explanation toward Jiang Wen, “Classmate Jiang, don’t misunderstand—the two of us were just messing around privately, nothing else to it. Please don’t take it to heart.”

“Who’s the dog,” Feng Ning smacked the back of Zhao Weichen’s head. “How dare you talk about your idol like that?!”

He flinched, shrinking his neck in pain.

“And you.” Feng Ning pointed at her, scolding Shuang Yao from across the table. “No more saying such improper things from now on.”

Shuang Yao: “……”

She calmly took her phone back from Jiang Wen as if nothing had happened, then, feigning righteous indignation, added, “Look at you, day after day, not studying hard, and instead always fantasizing about your classmates! Ugh, honestly speechless.”

When a person is shameless enough, they become unstoppable.

Feng Ning put this into practice with full effort—as long as I’m not the one embarrassed, the embarrassment belongs to someone else.

“Do you have any shame at all.” Shuang Yao really couldn’t take it anymore, slamming her teacup down hard on the table, raising her voice to fight back. “In the end it’s always me who ends up taking the blame. Why don’t you think about yourself for once—didn’t you fantasize about someone too?!”

“Why are you so fierce about it.” Feng Ning stood her ground righteously. “Alright, enough of that. Are we still playing or not?”

“Not playing anymore, the food’s all here, let’s eat.”

This Hunanese restaurant genuinely lived up to its hype as a trustworthy popular spot. Feng Ning, starving, was eating with relish when Jiang Wen suddenly threw a piece of paper at her out of nowhere. She still had half a chicken drumstick in her mouth, chopsticks never pausing. “What?”

Jiang Wen stared wordlessly at her greasy, shining mouth, saying with disdain, “Can you please wipe your mouth.”

She complained, “Why do you have to make such a fuss even over eating?”

“Your appearance right now is seriously ruining my appetite.”

Feng Ning grabbed the paper and wiped her mouth carelessly. “Then just don’t look at me and it’s solved!”

Said without thinking, but heard with feeling. Jiang Wen suddenly grew displeased, lowering his voice, his bravado thin. “Who’s looking at you?”

Feng Ning glanced at him lightly. “Fine, fine, you weren’t looking at me. It’s me looking at you. Happy now?”

Zhao Binlin noticed the two of them whispering to each other and tapped his bowl with his chopsticks, grinning in a way that was both amused and mischievous. “Everyone’s chatting together here, you two shouldn’t go off on your own, whispering secrets.”

Another round of teasing followed.

Zhao Weichen, not understanding the situation, quietly asked Shuang Yao, “Is there something going on between Sister Ning and that handsome guy next to her?”

“How would I know.”

Zhao Weichen, having a decent sense for these things, felt this person seemed rather close to Feng Ning. He guessed, “Sister Ning has a secret crush on someone?”

Shuang Yao smiled without answering.

In everyone else’s eyes, Feng Ning was surely the one throwing herself at Jiang Wen—this was the most reasonable inference to draw, considering looks and family background and the like.

Who could have imagined that Jiang Wen, adored by everyone, had already been rejected by Feng Ning directly and indirectly several times over? If they knew, they’d probably all be shocked out of their minds.

At first, Jiang Wen too had found it humiliating, but after being tormented by Feng Ning so many times, hurt so many times, he’d developed something of a self-destructive streak.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t lower himself before her—it was just that, being used to arrogance, he wasn’t yet accustomed to it, wasn’t yet skilled at it, didn’t yet know how to please another person. In the long time to come, Jiang Wen would gradually come to realize that the scales of affection could never balance evenly—there would always be one side held high above, and the other prostrate on the ground.

Humbling himself again and again, he eventually grew used to being humble.

Partway through the meal, Zhao Weichen, flushed red from drinking with them, grew excited once he’d had a bit too much, becoming especially talkative. “Is Sister Ning really domineering at school too, usually?”

“That’s a given.” Xi Gaoyuan recounted, one by one, Feng Ning’s various feats since the start of the school term. “Sometimes I even suspect she might be a man dressed as a woman, she’s so fierce.”

Someone had forwarded him the video of Li Qifei getting kicked into the fountain by Feng Ning, and he found it utterly astonishing. Thinking of this, Xi Gaoyuan asked, “Feng Ning, did you study taekwondo? Your combat power is too strong.”

“Nope.” Feng Ning raised her eyes. “But I did study martial arts.”

“Damn.” Zhao Binlin looked at Jiang Wen worriedly. “Then you won’t end up beating your husband, will you?”

Jiang Wen: “……”

“Well, that’s really hard to say. Sister Ning’s had violent tendencies since she was little.”

Zhao Weichen was the most qualified person present to speak on this. “She and Shuang Yao, the two of them, have been bullies since childhood. Not only did they eat a ton, they grew up big and strong too, and they loved teaming up to bully people.”

Meng Taoyu picked up on his words. “How did they bully you?”

Whenever Zhao Weichen brought this up, his face and neck flushed red. “There was this famous fried snack stall by our school gate when we were in elementary school. Somehow they found out about it and had me bring back a portion for them. That day after school, I specifically bought two big bags of fried skewers and chicken strips.”

“But I was young back then, and couldn’t resist the craving, so on the way home I accidentally ate all the chicken strips myself. When I got back, Shuang Yao and Sister Ning were jumping rope at the mouth of the alley. When they came over and found my bag of chicken strips empty, they didn’t say a word, just pinned me down and gave me a good beating—brought Shuang Yao’s mom running out too.”

Shuang Yao teased him about it. “And you still have the nerve to bring this up—weren’t you the one who plopped down on the ground, crying like the world was ending? Who would even bother with you?”

“You all really can’t imagine how ruthless they were.” To this day, Zhao Weichen still hadn’t quite let go of the grievance. “For a long time afterward, whenever I saw someone else eating chicken strips, I’d get scared. They gave me actual psychological trauma from that beating.”

Hearing this, everyone started laughing, except for Jiang Wen, who stayed detached from it all.

Zhao Binlin nudged him. “Jealous, are you?”

“Jealous of what.” Jiang Wen’s gaze shifted, glancing over sideways.

Zhao Binlin mocked him. “Jealous of them growing up together since childhood, of course.”

Jiang Wen’s expression turned cold; it took a moment before he answered. “You’re sick.”

Xi Gaoyuan drank while playing rock-paper-scissors with people around him. A meal that had started as a spontaneous joining of two groups lasted nearly two hours, lively and boisterous throughout. Jiang Wen couldn’t really hold his liquor at all, his tolerance genuinely mediocre, but they’d forced quite a bit of it on him regardless.

Meng Taoyu got a call from someone at home urging her to return, so she left first.

Zhao Weichen and Zhao Binlin agreed to go to the bathroom together for a smoke and a bathroom break. Xi Gaoyuan got a phone call and stood up as well, following them out. “Ah, my girlfriend’s here, I’m going to go meet her.”

With the alcohol taking effect, Jiang Wen sat in his seat, unwilling to move.

The table left in disarray, Shuang Yao and Feng Ning chatted quietly. She pointed vaguely at Jiang Wen. “Is he okay?”

Feng Ning also turned to look at him. “Should be fine, right?”

Jiang Wen’s fine-featured face was blank, the corners of his eyes reddened, staring at the cup in front of him without a word.

After a full day of playing, everyone was getting a little tired. Shuang Yao suddenly remembered something. “I need to go buy some things at Watsons, are you coming with me?”

Feng Ning propped her chin on one hand. “You go ahead, I’m too full and don’t feel like moving.”

“Alright then, watch my bag for me.”

Once Shuang Yao left, only the two of them remained. Separated from the outside only by a curtain, with the noise of people beyond it.

Feng Ning glanced downward and asked with composure, “How much longer are you planning to hold onto my hand?”

Under the bright lighting, Jiang Wen’s right hand hung at his side, and at an angle no one else could see, he had a grip on her wrist. Hearing what she said, he still didn’t move.

After waiting a while and seeing that Jiang Wen still showed no sign of moving, Feng Ning found it funny. “Why is it that the moment you have a bit to drink, you like to play dumb and act crazy? Should I help sober you up?”

Jiang Wen’s lips moved, and he spoke. “Sober up? You slapped me last time.”

“You still remember that?”

He repeated softly, “You slapped me.”

She coaxed him along. “Mm, I slapped you.”

He went on, adding, “That was a lot of force.”

Feng Ning nearly laughed out loud. “If it wasn’t a lot of force, how would you have come to your senses?”

“I want to hit you back too.”

Feng Ning paused. Jiang Wen was about eighty percent drunk—otherwise there was no way he’d say something like this. She nodded, humoring him. “You’ve got quite the vengeful streak. Go ahead then, hit me back.” She leaned to the side a little, deliberately bringing her face closer. “If you have the nerve, then do it.”

Jiang Wen genuinely did have the nerve. He finally released the grip he’d had on her hand, raised it slightly, making as if to slap her.

Feng Ning wasn’t the least bit afraid. Just as his hand was about to land on her face, the speed suddenly slowed. Just as she was about to mock Jiang Wen for it, he abruptly changed motion, cupping her cheek with one hand instead, squeezing it inward with force.

They stared at each other for several dozen seconds. Feng Ning narrowed her eyes, neither dodging nor flinching, watching him, letting him carry on however he pleased.

Because of this motion, the distance between the two of them had drawn very close.

Someone was pretending to be drunk. Someone was pretending to be sober.

It seemed as if all ambiguity born of alcohol could be forgiven, could be considered as nothing.

Jiang Wen’s gaze bore straight into her. As he leaned in closer, his attention drifted downward for a moment—her lips were slightly puckered, stained red from the chili. He abruptly stopped, his eyelashes trembling.

At last, as if he’d finally made some decision, he leaned forward just slightly—when suddenly, a pair of hands covered his eyes.

Jiang Wen’s movement stopped instantly.

Feng Ning shook her head and easily slipped free from his grip, pulling back a little.

Jiang Wen had had no strength to begin with; his hand hung limply, and he leaned crookedly against the back of the seat.

He stayed obedient, letting her turn the world before his eyes into darkness.

“You’re drunk,” she said, her voice very calm.

“Mm.”

They’d parted on bad terms just a couple of days before—neither of them had lost their memory of it. Feng Ning never went back on a decision once she’d made it, so regardless of whether he was actually drunk or not, she went straight to the point. “I gave you two choices. The way you’re groping at me right now—have you thought it through?”

The hand covering his eyes was pulled away.

When Jiang Wen was upset, his eyes turned dark and striking, riveting. “Whoever falls in love first deserves what they get, is that it?”

He was deep in his cups, and yet he’d said something so youthfully sentimental. Feng Ning thought to herself, mockingly, it seemed she couldn’t escape starring in a youthful, painful idol drama after all.

She played along with his performance. “Yes, you deserve it.”

The idol drama’s male lead was indeed thoroughly drunk, using the alcohol to numb himself. Having completely abandoned all reserve, he asked the female lead, slurring, “Then what should I do? Tell me.”

The female lead, oblivious to romantic nuance, answered, “Nothing to be done about it.”

The female lead tilted her head, continuing, “I’ll tell you a method that will never get you rejected.”

“Mm, what is it?”

“Never confess.”

Knowing she was joking, Jiang Wen still felt a bit sad. He asked stubbornly, “Is being with me really that difficult?”

Feng Ning said with a smile, “Being liked by you is my honor.”

“I’ve secretly felt proud of that, but—we’re not suited for each other. At least not for now, the two of us aren’t suited.”

She wasn’t feeling inferior, but from every practical, realistic angle, the gap between them really was too vast.

Cinderella’s fairy tale exists on paper, while reality is always a mess strewn about.

His gaze stayed fixed on Feng Ning’s face, but Jiang Wen seemed to no longer understand what she was saying. His eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, and at last he collapsed drunkenly against her.

Feng Ning’s hand froze mid-air, but in the end she didn’t push him away. After a long while, she gently patted Jiang Wen’s back.

His head rested on her shoulder, his lips nearly touching the curve of her neck. His breath came out faintly hot and long, quickly bouncing back against her, his mind growing hazier and hazier.

The two of them stayed in this position, unmoving, neither saying a word.

Once Jiang Wen had fallen fast asleep, Feng Ning said softly, “Let’s just be friends. Starting too early, ending too soon.”

Someone lifted the curtain and came in. She looked up—it was Xi Gaoyuan and his girlfriend.

Seeing the two of them leaning together like that, Lin Ru looked a bit stunned. Xi Gaoyuan asked, “He’s drunk again?”

Feng Ning gave a soft “mm,” gently straightening Jiang Wen’s body, letting him slump forward onto the table. She stood up, took Shuang Yao’s bag. “I’m heading out. Take good care of him.”

Xi Gaoyuan glanced at Jiang Wen and sat down beside him. Footsteps came and went, sometimes near, sometimes far. Someone came in, someone left.

After some unknown length of time, Jiang Wen opened his eyes—already bloodshot.

The restaurant was nearly closing. Downstairs in the shopping mall, a languid love song played.

If this is all we can ever end up as, then I’d rather you had never appeared at all.

He brought his phone up in front of his eyes and, slowly, typed out a line of text—

Fine, let’s be friends.