That brief moment of eye contact seemed to last an eternity.

The guitarist on stage finished playing, and for an instant, the entire bar fell silent.

Through this fleeting silence, Lin Zhexia finally found her voice: “…What are you doing here?”

The very next second.

She realized an impossible reason.

“Did you apply to Lian University?” she asked, “Weren’t you supposed to go to Jing University…”

Chi Yao cut her off with one sentence: “When did I ever say I was going to Jing University?”

“…”

He never said that.

Lin Zhexia remembered that she never dared to ask.

So why had he applied to Lian University?

Lin Zhexia wanted to ask what major he was studying—after all, Jing University’s physics department was the most renowned.

But before she could ask, a new band took the stage, and deafening rock music immediately filled the bar—

She was violently startled by the sudden blast of rock music.

Chi Yao walked up to her, and afraid she wouldn’t hear him clearly, he bent down, his chin nearly touching her neck as he spoke right next to her ear: “Where’s your seat?”

“In the back,” Lin Zhexia pointed, “but I need to go to the restroom first.”

Chi Yao pointed out the restroom sign to her. She responded with an “oh” and walked over as if sleepwalking.

A few minutes later, as she washed her hands in front of the mirror, she slowly pieced together what had just happened.

She recalled the message Chi Yao had sent her that afternoon: “Where are you now?”

So at that time, he was also at Lian University for freshman registration?

…

After washing her hands, Lin Zhexia went out to find Chi Yao waiting for her in the hallway.

The young man was leaning against the wall, his distinctly knuckled fingers holding a cigarette. He lowered his head to take a drag, then flicked off the ash. The lighting had been too dim earlier, so she hadn’t seen clearly, but after more than a year apart, some changes had occurred in Chi Yao.

The sharp edges that had once defined him had somewhat settled. He still gave off an arrogant impression, but now that arrogance was mixed with a depth she couldn’t quite understand.

Seemingly not expecting her to come out so quickly, Chi Yao was momentarily stunned, then immediately put out his cigarette.

Lin Zhexia walked up to him, smelling the lingering smoke in the air: “When did you start smoking?”

Chi Yao pinched his dry index finger knuckle, rare for him to have this caught-in-the-act feeling in front of Lin Zhexia: “About half a year ago.”

“Why,” she asked again, “why did you start smoking?”

Chi Yao didn’t hide anything from her. After a moment of silence, he said: “Half a year ago, my mom’s condition suddenly worsened after surgery, and the situation with my dad hadn’t been resolved either. Every day after school, I had to go to the hospital to look after her, and her mental state was really bad for a while.”

He had never mentioned any of this during their online chats, afraid she would worry.

“During that time, I stayed in the hospital at night and couldn’t sleep well.”

He only told half the story, leaving the rest unsaid.

What he didn’t tell her was that during that period, they were both busy and communicated less. On sleepless nights, he would sit in the hospital corridor, open their pinned chat, scroll through their increasingly sparse conversations, wanting to talk to her but afraid of disturbing her studies.

Besides, telling her these things would only make her worry along with him, serving no purpose.

Then one day, he went to the convenience store downstairs to buy something and picked up a pack of cigarettes.

He sat on a bench near the hospital, facing the dawning light, and took his first drag, inhaling the harsh tobacco taste.

Lin Zhexia didn’t speak for a long time.

More than anger, what she felt was heartache and sadness.

Before their unexpected meeting, she had thought that the blank year between her and Chi Yao would result in silence.

After the meeting, she discovered that what stood between them wasn’t silence, but genuine experiences that the other couldn’t participate in, and in these experiences, both she and Chi Yao had undergone subtle changes.

That period must have been incredibly difficult, she knew.

So Lin Zhexia had no standing to criticize his behavior.

Finally, she asked the question she’d wanted to ask earlier: “How did you end up at Lian University? What major did you choose? Jing University’s physics department is better.”

After speaking, she truly began to feel angry about this matter, and thinking back to when Chi Yao hadn’t gone to No. 1 High School, she had guessed he didn’t want to be too far from home. This time she couldn’t find any other reason, only concluding that he probably didn’t want to stay in Jing City: “Even if you felt that after living in Lian Yun for so long, you wouldn’t adapt to Jing City’s environment and wanted to return, you should have considered more carefully. Your college choice is very important, much more important than the environment. Teachers always emphasized how college choice affects your future. Besides, don’t you really like physics? You—”

Lin Zhexia’s “you” stopped there, unable to continue.

She wasn’t good at arguing, and finally managed to say: “Didn’t your parents try to stop you from doing this?”

“I got into one of the nation’s top programs,” Chi Yao said, looking at her, his mood improving somewhat because of her anger. He slightly tugged down the corner of his mouth and said, “Why would they stop me?”

“…Huh?”

“What’s going on in your head?”

Chi Yao raised his hand and, just like before, gently pressed it on top of her head. “You think physics is only about those few things? I don’t want to go into research. Lian University’s Systems Engineering and Science program isn’t inferior to Jing University’s, and the content direction is more flexible.”

Interest is interest.

When it comes to choosing a major, the considerations become much more complex.

Moreover, watching Chi Hanshan rushing about this past year made him realize early on that he, too, carried responsibilities on his shoulders.

He had discussed it with Chi Hanshan.

Chi Hanshan had told him at the time: “You don’t need to overthink it, just choose what you like.”

Chi Yao had replied: “I don’t dislike this major.”

After a while, he had added, “And… there’s an important friend in Lian Yun.”

Father and son were never good with words. Chi Hanshan eventually consulted the homeroom teacher and said: “If you like it, that’s good, that’s good. I also asked your teacher, who said Lian University’s program is quite excellent, and there’s a famous professor teaching in that major. You’ve lived in Lian Yun City since childhood, so you’d certainly adapt better there. Your mother and I don’t insist on keeping you in Jing City. Make your own choice.”

“…”

Lin Zhexia was dumbfounded.

As someone who had struggled desperately just to end up at Lian University, the best university in all of Lian Yun City, where she didn’t have much choice in majors, she had never imagined today’s situation.

It seemed she had been stubbornly and wrongly fixated, too afraid to ask about the growing distance between them, just assuming Chi Yao would choose Jing University.

Thinking back, she had been too caught up in her sadness to pay attention to Wei Ping’s comforting words: many majors at Lian University are even better than at Jing University.

“So,” only now did she grasp the true feeling of meeting Chi Yao again, with joy gradually blooming in her heart, “when I called you that time, and you told me to apply to Lian University, it was because you were applying here too?”

“What else?”

“…”

Outside, the rock music on stage stopped again, entering a brief intermission.

Lin Zhexia: “With you, it’s entirely possible you just wanted to mock and humiliate me by telling me not to aspire to Jing University.”

Chi Yao gave his characteristic cool “Oh”: “That wasn’t entirely absent from my reasons either.”

“…”

They’d barely reunited, and she already wanted to hit him again.

But undeniably, that familiar feeling was gradually returning.

Lin Zhexia: “I don’t want to talk to you for a while.”

Chi Yao wasn’t bothered: “Let’s go, I’ll come with you.”

Lin Zhexia led him back to her roommates’ table.

As they passed through the crowd surrounding the stage, Chi Yao, afraid she might get separated in the throng, placed his hand on her shoulder.

Then, in the brief interval while walking back to the table, she heard Chi Yao’s voice mixed among the other chaotic sounds, saying to her, “Scaredy-cat, you did pretty well this past year.”

Lin Zhexia’s footsteps faltered.

She knew Chi Yao was referring to how her academic performance had improved greatly over the past year.

Her efforts to catch up to him hadn’t been in vain.

Before Lin Zhexia could feel proud, he added from behind: “I originally thought with me at Lian University, you’d be at the nearby Lian University Technical College.”

“…”

Lin Zhexia couldn’t hold her head high anymore: “You’re insulting me. Lian University Technical College? I could get in there with my eyes closed. If you’re going to belittle me, at least pick He Yang’s school.”

Chi Yao didn’t respond.

He looked at her through the colorful lights—the girl in front of him seemed taller than in high school, her hair longer too, not tied up as it had been in high school, but falling loose.

As he looked at her, he thought that his earlier words weren’t just about their senior year of high school, but also about that year in ninth grade.

In ninth grade, although he wanted to stay in Cheng’an District to be closer to her and had applied to Cheng’an No. 2 High School, he never expected Lin Zhexia would perform exceptionally well and get into No. 2. He had assumed she would most likely end up like He Yang, at another nearby school.

His plan then was that even if she went to a nearby school, it wouldn’t matter—he could still accompany her to and from school every day.

…

But unexpectedly, Lin Zhexia had done well and squeezed into No. 2—

As Lin Zhexia led Chi Yao back, she was still thinking about how to introduce him to her newly met roommates.

Like this—let me formally introduce everyone, this is a close friend of many years.

She arrived at the dining table, but before she could make introductions, she saw Lan Xiaoxue and the others huddled around a phone, engaged in animated discussion: “—What did I tell you? This face, even in candid shots, looks like this; in person, he must be—”

Lan Xiaoxue’s words came to an abrupt halt.

Because she had unexpectedly looked up and seen Lin Zhexia and the person behind her.

Lan Xiaoxue: “…”

After a moment, Lan Xiaoxue asked, as if sharing a secret code with Lin Zhexia: “Surname Chi?”

Lin Zhexia: “Huh?”

Lan Xiaoxue pointed behind her and continued asking: “Chi Yao?”

Lin Zhexia: “Ah.”

“The one from our school in that super high-threshold major that most people can’t get into, Chi Yao?”

As Lan Xiaoxue spoke, she had already confirmed it herself and finished her interrupted sentence, “—In person, he’s even more striking than in photos.”

Lin Zhexia was a bit confused: “You know him?”

Lan Xiaoxue: “That’s what we should be asking you.” She put down her phone, and all five pairs of eyes turned toward the two of them like spotlights.

Lin Zhexia was slow to react. Before she could understand what was happening, Chi Yao stepped in first and introduced himself: “I’m her…”

Chi Yao paused here, drawing out his tone slightly, hesitating for half a beat.

In that half-beat, several terms flashed through Lin Zhexia’s mind.

Good buddy.

Childhood friend.

Someone who grew up together.

…

After that half-beat, Chi Yao coolly uttered two words: “…brother.”

“…???”

Lin Zhexia’s eyes widened.

This person, did he have no shame?

These two people didn’t share the same surname, yet he claimed to be her “brother” in such a suggestive manner.

Lan Xiaoxue and the other roommates drew out a long “Ohhhh”: “We understand, we understand.”

“No,” Lin Zhexia hastily explained, “he’s not my brother, he’s my childhood friend, we’ve known each other…”

Known each other for many years.

But no one was listening to her anymore.

The person who had swept through the entire school since the start of the semester suddenly appeared before them, satisfying these roommates’ strong desire for gossip.

Not to mention that his appearance was particularly impactful—they had raised their heads while looking at posts together and suddenly saw the real person.

Lan Xiaoxue offered her seat: “Please sit, you sit next to Zhexia, I’ll sit across.”

After they sat down, everyone was momentarily speechless, facing Chi Yao’s overly dazzling face under the bar lights.

After a moment, Lan Xiaoxue asked like an interviewer: “I heard many people were trying to get your contact info today, is that true? How many friend requests did you accept?”

Chi Yao said, “Verification is turned off, not sure.”

Lan Xiaoxue: “…The world of the elite.”

In the second half of the evening, Lin Zhexia seemed to become the one Chi Yao had brought along. She sat beside him, listening to their conversation, and Chi Yao acted like her “brother,” giving her a look when she eagerly tried to drink alcohol.

Later, he paid the bill early, and remarkably, added her roommates’ contact information before leaving, saying with unusual civility: “Please take care of her in the future.”

After that, Lan Xiaoxue and the others wanted to explore around campus, so they left first.

After they left, only Lin Zhexia and Chi Yao remained.

Lan Xiaoxue sent her several messages afterward—

I never expected the person I was gossiping about would suddenly appear today—

Creating a private world for you and your brother—

You’re welcome

Lin Zhexia wanted to say: It’s not what you think.

But in the end, she didn’t send it.

She figured it probably couldn’t be explained clearly anyway.

After leaving the bar, the two walked along the path decorated with string lights toward the girls’ dormitory.

Chi Yao asked her: “Did you drink?”

After leaving the noisy, dark bar, Lin Zhexia stared at their shadows on the path and began to feel uncomfortable: “With your eyes turning into daggers the moment I touched a glass, how could I drink?”

“What about before I arrived?”

“Didn’t drink then either.”

“Then what were you doing sitting in a bar?”

“…Eating chicken wings.”

“…”

“By the way,” Lin Zhexia, fearing the conversation would end and they’d fall into silence again, quickly found a new topic, “He Yang is our spiritual schoolmate again. Did he tell you? He’s at the neighboring teachers’ college.”

“He mentioned it briefly.”

Lin Zhexia said, “I never thought that after leaving Nanxiang Street, we’d still be so close to each other.”

Lin Zhexia: “By the way, did you come alone today? Why didn’t you tell me in advance?”

Chi Yao: “Wanted to surprise you.”

Then, in that neither warm nor cold tone, he added, “Pretty unexpected, isn’t it?”

This sentence seemed to have some time-transcending magic.

Lin Zhexia was instantly transported back to that summer after the middle school entrance exam, when she used her key to open Chi Yao’s door.

So she slowly continued his line, following the scenario from back then: “…Your dad came back again?”

“…”

As they talked, they were approaching the entrance of the girls’ dormitory building.

After saying “goodbye” to him, Lin Zhexia suddenly remembered something.

So she ran back to Chi Yao, looked up at him, and said very seriously: “Don’t smoke anymore in the future, smoking is bad for your health.”

Chi Yao lowered his gaze to look at her.

“If you can’t sleep,” Lin Zhexia continued, “you can call me at night, or send me messages, but please don’t smoke anymore.”

After a while, Chi Yao grunted an acknowledgment from his throat.

Then this person with such a proud face actually “submissively” asked: “Want to confiscate them?”

Lin Zhexia asked back: “…Can I?”

Chi Yao: “You can. The cigarettes are in my left pocket. Take them yourself.”

Chi Yao wasn’t wearing a jacket today, so the pocket was only… in his pants.

Lin Zhexia hesitated a bit, but her desire to stop him from smoking eventually overcame that hesitation.

She carefully reached out to retrieve the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

The pocket was tight, and the more she tried to avoid touching him, the more sensitive her fingertips became.

Finally, just before she was about to give up, she managed to pull out the cigarette pack with reddened ears.

Chi Yao reminded her: “There’s also a lighter.”

“…”

After confiscating his cigarettes and lighter, she waved at him somewhat frantically and ran toward the girls’ dormitory: “I’m going back to my room.”

When she returned to her dorm, Lan Xiaoxue and the others hadn’t come back yet.

The empty room had only her.

She leaned against the door, trying hard to calm her flustered emotions.

More than a year had passed.

The only thing that hadn’t changed, it seemed, was the way her heart raced for him.

Author’s Note:

Here it is! I didn’t expect to finish early!!!

Also, regarding Chi Yao’s top university program setting, you don’t need to look for a factual basis in reality. This is fiction, thank you~-

PS, I’m reposting the author’s note from the daytime chapter.

1. Minors should fill out their college applications under the guidance of teachers and parents. Regardless of how the protagonist chooses and considers, the behavior in the novel is not meant as a reference.

2. All cities and schools in this story are fictional. When Jing City first appeared, it was described as very far away, taking two days to travel back and forth, + very suitable for building factories. In my original conception, it’s a distant, resource-rich, very industrial city, so it has nothing to do with Beijing. No need to compare with real schools.

3. In my setting, the two universities are not a case of one being much better than the other; this Zhu Xia – Chapter also mentions that Lian University has better programs than Jing University. The male lead hasn’t given up his dream, and in a sweet story, I don’t need to make him choose between dreams and love. There are just major differences in specialization and career direction, and in this career direction, Lian University would have more advantages. It’s just that from the female lead’s perspective, she doesn’t understand this. The reason I made her unaware is that, from a plot arrangement perspective, the female lead thinking they were about to embark on separate life paths is an important point in my outline. I wouldn’t make my character choose a worse major for no reason.

4. As a fictional work that doesn’t involve reality, readers who still can’t accept the above, that’s fine. Everyone has the right to different opinions. I’m not writing irresponsibly, I can only say I’m sorry I can’t accommodate everyone. Finally, thank you all