“Sorry, you’re too well-behaved.”…

“I just wanted to keep it as a memento.” Xu Sui retreated at the last moment, hurriedly explaining.

With everyone still there, Hu Qianxi could tell from Xu Sui’s expression that she had changed her mind. To save her from embarrassment, Hu Qianxi spoke up before Sheng Nanzhou could respond: “Yeah, so what if we medical students haven’t seen much of the world? Sheng Nanzhou, I want your badge, you better win it for me.”

Sheng Nanzhou was suddenly called out, and by Hu Qianxi asking for his badge no less. His expression became somewhat unnatural as he coughed: “Of course I can win.”

It was just a badge after all. Zhou Jingze didn’t seem to take it to heart. He looked down at his phone without raising his head: “Eight o’clock tonight at Red Crane.”

One of the guys snapped his fingers, with others chiming in: “Boss Zhou is generous!”

“Alright, stop talking nonsense and get lost.” Zhou Jingze let out a cold laugh.

After the group dispersed, Hu Qianxi and Xu Sui walked back to school arm in arm. The young miss looked puzzled: “Sui, that was the perfect opportunity to confess just now. Why did you lose your nerve halfway?”

“I wasn’t ready.” Xu Sui shook her head.

With so many onlookers just now and Zhou Jingze so close, the moment Xu Sui made eye contact with him, her legs went weak and her mind went blank. Besides, she really wasn’t prepared.

“Then what are you planning—” Hu Qianxi asked tentatively.

Xu Sui took a deep breath, her black eyes filled with determination: “Tonight.”

“Yes! Good luck with your confession!” Hu Qianxi snapped her fingers.

Xu Sui smiled without responding, clutching the small golden badge tightly in her palm.

Secret love means choosing to bear the loss before even getting it.

At six in the evening, the midsummer sunset was brilliant but brief. Xu Sui chose a white dress and casually tousled the ends of her hair, looking graceful and composed overall.

Hu Qianxi applied light makeup for her, and after finishing, she opened her eyes wide in amazement: “Wow, Sui Sui, you’re so beautiful.”

The Xu Sui in the mirror had fair skin and dark eyes. With lipstick applied, she gained a touch of alluring charm—pure yet captivating.

While Hu Qianxi went outside to get water, Xu Sui lay on her desk, hesitating for a long time before finally taking out that letter and tucking it into her pocket.

The letter she had written on and off for so many years should finally be delivered.

—

Zhou Jingze first returned to his home on Amber Lane to shower. When he came out, his hair was wet and dripping water onto the floor. He shook his head to the side to flick off the water droplets, then picked up his phone from the low cabinet to send a message to his grandfather.

With a white towel draped around his neck, Zhou Jingze took a can of cold Coke from the refrigerator and sat on the sofa. His well-defined fingers gripped the can as he pulled the tab open and took a sip, finally soothing his throat. Captain lay at his feet, occasionally biting at his pant legs.

He seemed to be getting internal heat lately—his throat was so hoarse it felt like it was smoking.

Zhou Jingze leaned back against the sofa, using his thumb to wipe away the condensation on his phone screen, and sent his grandfather the sunrise photo he had taken on the plane that morning.

His grandfather quickly replied: 【How did the test flight go?】

Zhou Jingze was editing “Not bad” in the message box and about to send it when his phone suddenly rang with urgent ringtones. The caller ID showed Shi Yuejie.

Zhou Jingze instinctively frowned but still answered, his voice cold: “What is it?”

The background was noisy on Shi Yuejie’s end. He seemed to have moved to a different location to make the call, asking: “Jingze, where are you right now?”

Zhou Jingze leaned forward to fish out a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table, biting it between his lips as he let out a scoff: “Where am I? That doesn’t seem to be any of your business, bro-ther.”

Zhou Jingze’s direct, barbed retort didn’t anger Shi Yuejie, who maintained his gentle tone but with a hint of urgency: “If you have time, come home. Dad seems to be… moving Auntie’s memorial tablet away.”

“I’ll be right there.” Zhou Jingze stood up abruptly, his voice ice-cold.

Zhou Jingze didn’t even have time to dry his hair. He grabbed his phone and cigarettes from the table and ran out. Zhou Jingze mounted his motorcycle, stomped hard on the gas pedal, and shot forward like an arrow released from its bow, leaving Captain standing at the door, barking anxiously at his retreating figure.

The wind on the road was strong, whooshing past. The plane trees on both sides retreated rapidly like piano keys. On his way to that home, Zhou Jingze thought about many things.

Like how his mother was the most excellent and renowned cellist who, even after choosing marriage, remained elegant and kind, giving Zhou Jingze much care and tenderness.

After his mother died, before even the first seven days of mourning had passed, Zhou Zhengguo brought Zhu Ling into the house, grabbing Zhou Jingze by the hair and forcing him to call a stranger with no blood relation “brother.”

The evening wind swept past, cold and fierce, making Zhou Jingze’s eyes sting. He accelerated, his face grim as he ignored the guard’s attempts to stop him and charged directly into the villa’s courtyard.

Zhou Jingze parked his bike and walked straight in. Upon reaching the main hall, sure enough, a group of people were standing there with Zhu Ling among them, directing them to remove the memorial tablet.

Hearing the commotion, Zhu Ling turned to look. When she saw who it was, she froze for a moment, then quickly put on a gentle smile: “Jingze, when did you arrive? Have you eaten?”

After asking, Zhu Ling turned to the staff, her tone gentle: “Hey, you all take away the fruit offerings in front of the tablet. I’ll move it myself—I’m afraid you won’t do it properly.”

Zhou Jingze’s brow twitched as he said word by word: “Don’t. Touch. Her.”

When Zhou Jingze spoke very slowly and used few words, it meant he was angry. Zhu Ling’s hand froze in mid-air, looking thoroughly embarrassed. Thinking Zhou Jingze only minded because it was her doing it, she said: “Then you all move it, be careful.”

Two men in black clothes stepped forward, about to move the memorial tablet. Zhou Jingze stood there, his dark eyes scanning the room, then spotted a baseball bat in the corner. His hand hanging at his trouser seam twitched, then he strode over, pulled out the baseball bat, and without even blinking, swung it hard at an antique vase nearby.

“Bang!” The vase shattered into pieces, crashing to the ground. Zhu Ling screamed in fright. Zhou Jingze gripped the baseball bat, his sharp gaze fixed on them, his voice ice-cold: “Try touching her again.”

The scene was too chaotic and the commotion too loud. Zhou Zhengguo rushed downstairs and, seeing the scene before him, shook with rage. He couldn’t understand how things had escalated to this point when he had only gone upstairs to take a phone call.

Shi Yuejie also followed the commotion over. Seeing Zhu Ling’s pale, frightened face, he walked over and put his arm around her shoulders, asking: “Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Zhu Ling’s voice was weak.

To maintain his authority, Zhou Zhengguo pointed at him: “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now? Look how you’ve frightened your aunt.”

Hearing this, Zhou Jingze lowered his head and slowly smiled, his face full of cynicism, his tone casual: “If it weren’t for Mom’s tablet being removed, I really wouldn’t want to come to your house.”

Zhou Zhengguo was momentarily speechless. That clearly wasn’t what he meant. Just as he was about to explain, Zhou Jingze abruptly cut him off, his eyes cold and filled with a sense of finality:

“Can’t you tolerate her that much? From now on, just pretend you don’t have me as a son.”

As those words hit the ground, the air itself seemed to freeze. Zhou Zhengguo flew into a rage, rushing over in two or three steps to slap Zhou Jingze hard across the face.

Zhou Jingze staggered and couldn’t steady himself, his face turning to the side. The slap left him hearing a buzzing tinnitus. Zhou Zhengguo was still furious, his voice loud: “What kind of nonsense are you spouting? When have I ever not tolerated your mother? A feng shui master came and calculated that I should move the tablet to another room. You suddenly rush over and cause this scene—what does that look like?”

Zhou Jingze instantly understood—he had been played.

“Who told you I was moving your mother’s tablet, huh?!” Zhou Zhengguo’s chest heaved continuously.

Zhou Jingze didn’t speak, looking toward Shi Yuejie. The latter stepped forward, taking on the stance of an older brother, beginning to explain gently: “Sorry, Dad, I didn’t get the situation clear before telling Jingze. I thought… I was afraid he’d worry.”

“Look at you! Always so impulsive, charging in here to cause trouble without understanding the situation. Then look at your brother—he’s always thinking of you, always taking care of me. And you? I’ve wasted all these years raising you!”

Half of Zhou Jingze’s face still stung from the slap. He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva into the trash can, raised his sharp eyes to look at everyone present, and smiled with relief: “Since that’s the case, I won’t disturb your family reunion.”

“The day you really don’t want my mom’s tablet anymore, just let me know. I’ll take her away.”

Zhou Jingze’s face, which had barely regained some color, instantly turned pale again, and his breathing became labored: “You… you ungrateful son!”

Seeing Zhou Zhengguo so angry he was having an episode, Shi Yuejie quickly patted his back to help him breathe: “Dad, let me help you back to your room to take your medicine. Don’t let anger harm your health.”

After speaking, Shi Yuejie supported Zhou Zhengguo as they left, with Zhu Ling following alongside. The family of three’s retreating figures looked incredibly harmonious. Zhou Zhengguo held his head, sighing: “A biological son isn’t as close as the son by my side.”

Zhou Zhengguo’s lamenting voice carried over. Zhou Jingze listened expressionlessly, his hands hanging at his trouser seams slowly clenching into fists.

As Zhou Jingze walked out of the house, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw Sheng Nanzhou calling, so he answered.

“Hello.” Only when he spoke did Zhou Jingze realize how hoarse his voice was.

Sheng Nanzhou was in a private room where karaoke was blasting. He laughed and asked: “Buddy, where are you? We’ve been waiting for you for ages. You don’t know how that guy Da Liu got himself drunk like a fool.”

Zhou Jingze let out a light laugh: “Coming right away.”

After hanging up, Zhou Jingze stood by the roadside and silently smoked three cigarettes. Only after calming his mood did he ride his motorcycle toward Red Crane Club.

Sitting in the crowded private room, Xu Sui still felt uncomfortable. Every time someone entered through the door, she would instinctively look toward the entrance, but it was never Zhou Jingze.

Disappointment was written on her face.

Xu Sui checked the time—8:45. Nearly an hour had passed. Was he not coming?

She leaned forward to pick up the juice on the table and took a sip. The next second, someone pushed through the door. Sheng Nanzhou shouted from the side: “Why are you only getting here now?”

Xu Sui looked up reflexively. Light and shadow cut across as Zhou Jingze entered the private room wearing a black T-shirt. His lips bore a bloody wound, his skin was cold and pale, and his expression was inscrutable, making him look both dissolute and unrestrained.

“Had some business.” Zhou Jingze smiled lightly.

Zhou Jingze glanced vaguely at everyone. When his gaze met Xu Sui’s, he nodded coolly and indifferently, then walked over to sit down.

The people in the middle of the sofa automatically made space for him. Da Liu, sitting nearby and drunk, saw the wound on Zhou Jingze’s face and was startled, speaking without thinking: “Buddy, what happened to the injury on your face?”

Everyone fell silent. Zhou Jingze threw his lighter and cigarettes on the table, leaned forward to find a fork to spear a piece of watermelon and put it in his mouth, his tone lazy: “What else could it be? Hit something while riding.”

“Hahahaha, even you have days like this.” Da Liu patted his shoulder and laughed loudly.

Many people had come to the private room today. Zhou Jingze had many friends, plus they brought their companions. Some played games, some sang karaoke—the private room was lively.

Those familiar with Zhou Jingze knew he was in a bad mood today, with low pressure, so Sheng Nanzhou tactfully didn’t bother him. This gave a girl from the Business English department an opportunity.

Xu Sui had some impression of her—seductive looks, good figure, called Liu Sijin. She had also been at the last band competition victory celebration.

Zhou Jingze was in an extremely foul mood today, expressionlessly slouched on the sofa, opening a bottle of XO and wanting to drink straight from it.

Liu Sijin, sitting beside him, reached out to stop him. Zhou Jingze raised his thin eyelids to glance at her. The girl wasn’t intimidated, smiling as she said: “Do you want to drink yourself to death here? Use a glass.”

Zhou Jingze released his grip, letting her lean over to pour wine into the glass. Zhou Jingze drank glass after glass, his profile silent and stern.

Xu Sui sat in the corner, watching Zhou Jingze with a seductive woman beside him. He was drinking while occasionally Liu Sijin would crook her finger at him.

Zhou Jingze would lean down to listen, his lips lazy. The woman’s long curls brushed against his arm, and he neither pushed away nor took initiative.

Dissolute and ambiguous.

Xu Sui secretly clenched her palms, the pain from her nails digging into her palms making her numb. Her eyes grew hot as she looked away, not wanting to torture herself by watching this scene anymore.

She stood up and walked to the karaoke machine, selecting a song—Fiona Sit’s “Chilo Reeves Writes Back.”

As long as she turned her back to them, it would be fine if she couldn’t see.

Red neon lights flashed. Just as Xu Sui gripped the microphone and was about to sing, someone tugged at the hem of her clothes.

Xu Sui turned around and saw Hu Qianxi pulling her hand, leaning close to her ear: “Sui Sui, come out for a moment.”

She had to put the microphone back on the stand, jump down from the high stool, and the two of them, hand in hand, crouched as they passed in front of the screen and walked out.

In the corridor, Hu Qianxi asked her: “Sui, didn’t we agree you were going to confess? Why has there been no movement?”

Xu Sui lowered her eyelashes and took a breath: “He… has someone sitting next to him.”

Hu Qianxi immediately understood, patting her shoulder: “Hey, you don’t know my uncle. If he really liked that woman, he would have made his move long ago. When he’s in a bad mood, he gets that dead expression, and anyone can chat him up. But the next second, if you step on his landmine, he won’t be so easy to talk to.”

“But Liu Sijin keeps clinging to my uncle. If you don’t make your move, that woman will practically climb on top of him, like a spider demon.” Hu Qianxi’s tone was indignant.

“Don’t be afraid, Sui Sui. If you don’t try, you’ll never know the answer. What if?” Hu Qianxi encouraged.

Xu Sui was silent for a long moment before finally nodding: “Okay.”

The two returned, and Xu Sui sat back in the corner position. With her hands on her knees, she was still nervous. Alcohol emboldens the timid—in the thunderously loud private room, she silently downed three glasses of alcohol in one go.

That was her first time drinking.

All those online claims about alcohol tasting good and being addictive—Xu Sui didn’t experience any of that. The first sip of alcohol down her throat made her eyes nearly tear up from the burning sensation.

Sheng Nanzhou happened to be sitting nearby and noticed her abnormal behavior, asking with concern: “Sister Xu, are you alright?”

Xu Sui shook her head, reached up to wipe the beer foam from the corner of her lips, stood up, put her hand in her pocket to grasp the corner of the letter, and walked toward Zhou Jingze through the ambiguous floating lights.

Zhou Jingze was bent over pouring drinks, a nonchalant smile hanging on his face, his hand holding the wine glass also holding a cigarette. A slender figure cast a shadow over him, blocking his view.

“What is it?” Zhou Jingze looked up, the corners of his lips curving upward.

Xu Sui looked at him, her voice slightly nervous: “Could you come out for a moment?”

Zhou Jingze was stunned for a second, then loosened his grip on the wine glass, raised his hand to extinguish the cigarette and was about to stand up, but was held back by Liu Sijin grabbing his arm. Her voice was as seductive as always but tinged with anxiety:

“What can’t be said here?”

Liu Sijin had long noticed this girl—clean, refined, well-behaved, completely out of place in this dissolute establishment, yet making her feel threatened.

She deliberately spoke loudly, and just then someone had cut to a song with a long instrumental intro and only faint accompaniment. Everyone’s attention turned their way, and the entire private room unconsciously quieted down.

Zhou Jingze’s smile faded. Being in a bad mood and not wanting to talk didn’t mean Liu Sijin could act like his girlfriend. His respect for women didn’t mean she could behave this way.

He raised his eyelids to glance at Liu Sijin with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, his eyes carrying a warning. Liu Sijin’s heart went cold, and she instinctively released her grip.

Zhou Jingze stood up intending to go out with Xu Sui, but Xu Sui had made up her mind, as if not wanting to leave herself an escape route. She suddenly blocked his path, standing in front of him.

Under the witness of more than ten people, Xu Sui stood in the dim private room. Zhou Jingze was a full head taller than her, requiring her to look up for their eyes to meet.

Sensing the wrong atmosphere, the surrounding people all tactfully quieted down. One clever guy let out a sharp whistle. Xu Sui’s heart beat arrhythmically, so nervous she couldn’t utter a single word.

Just then, the song Xu Sui had selected played through. With no one singing, only Fiona Sit’s voice echoed in the private room, her voice firm yet tinged with bitterness:

Every day writing letters filled with six hundred sentences of “I love you” Written for ten years, never finding it too tedious Continue being passive, being ordinary among the masses Really useless, willingly unafraid of blushing Stubbornly attacking, fighting for that recognition Like every immortal martyr throughout dynasties fighting bravely Knowing we’re separated by space Still putting my love into envelopes every day

Xu Sui’s right hand was in her pocket, the letter inside crumpled from her grip, its edges torn. Though she didn’t dare look at him, she forced herself to meet his gaze directly. Her pitch-black eyelashes trembled as her voice shook:

“Zhou Jingze, I… like you.”

Finally, she had said it. The crowd immediately erupted in screams and shouts of “Get together! Get together!” from both men and women. After speaking, Xu Sui quickly looked away, not daring to look at him again, fumbling in her pocket for that letter.

Zhou Jingze was taken aback for a moment, then nonchalantly curved his lips, his voice as pleasant as always:

“Sorry, you’re too well-behaved.”

He spoke very quietly, probably considering Xu Sui’s dignity as a girl. The surrounding people couldn’t hear Zhou Jingze’s voice and were still making noise.

Zhou Jingze stood with one hand in his pants pocket, raising his thin eyelids to glance at those blindly making noise. They immediately fell silent.

It was an unexpected answer. Xu Sui released her grip on the letter, lowered her eyes, feeling only soreness in them. Good thing she didn’t take out that letter.

Yes, she would never be Zhou Jingze’s type.

Xu Sui wore a white camisole dress, exposing her fair shoulders. Even with some makeup, she remained plain and pure—the well-behaved type. Even when drinking, she was the kind of person who would choke herself to tears.

She was obedient, quiet, often lost in crowds. Like a blank sheet of paper—well-behaved while yearning for adventure, but the boldest thing Xu Sui had ever done was playing games behind her parents’ backs and insisting on learning drums.

Her greatest wish was nothing more than hoping her family stayed healthy and that she could live well.

Zhou Jingze was dissolute, rebellious, and free, often doing adventurous things—bungee jumping, racing, skydiving in the Grand Canyon, hoping that when he died someday, he might just catch sight of Sunset Boulevard.

They were like people from two different worlds.

Zhou Jingze looked down at Xu Sui, whose eyes were red as she tried hard not to cry. For a moment, he was lost in thought. Rejecting others was routine, but facing her, he felt somewhat at a loss and experienced an indescribable emotion.

His slender fingers hanging at his trouser seams twitched, wanting to reach out and wipe away her tears.

Suddenly, Zhou Jingze inadvertently glanced outside and caught sight of a figure beyond the private room door. Hatred surged up almost instantly. He touched his tongue to his lower jaw and smiled, his tone shifting:

“But we could try.”