“Are you going?”

“If you go, I’ll go.”

These two lines sounded like perfectly ordinary conversation — nothing out of place on the surface — yet Lin Tao felt that something was off about all of it. What exactly, she couldn’t put her finger on.

And it wasn’t just the two lines that felt off. She even felt like the person standing in front of her right now was a little off — like someone else had taken over his body.

When she’d asked, she’d expected him to say something like what’s the point of looking at the ocean, it’s so stupid and childish, I’m not going — the kind of response that would perfectly fit the great one’s established image.

Instead, he came out with something that made it very easy to get ideas.

This was all deeply off.

This didn’t match the great one’s style at all.

Lin Tao frantically tried to decode any other meaning hidden in those two lines, and came up empty. She had no idea why everything the great one said lately sounded like flirting.

Maybe the great one had also reached the age when first feelings begin to stir.

Only, the great one’s reputation was so formidable that most of the girls at school didn’t have the nerve to get close to him, leaving the great one with a whole arsenal of flirting skills and no one to deploy them on — a dry spell with all technique, no target.

And she, as the great one’s deskmate, close companion, and sole female acquaintance, had naturally become the outlet for the great one’s surplus charm.

Well, that explained it — even the great one was tempted by the allure of that ship called early romance.

Thinking through it like this, Lin Tao seemed to understand the great one’s off-ness this entire afternoon, and felt a clarity settle into her. She blinked, looked at the boy in front of her: “I’m not sure yet — I don’t know if my parents have anything else planned.”

She paused, then added: “If I go, I’ll let you know.”

Jiang Yan looked at her briefly, smiled in a way that was barely visible. “Okay.”

Once the big cleaning session was over, Old Yu started into another lengthy set of reminders: “This holiday is quite long — please make sure to stay safe when going out. Although we haven’t assigned any holiday homework due to the exams, don’t let your guard down too much during the break. Make sure to review and reinforce your weak areas, go back over any questions from these exams you couldn’t answer, and also — Xixi City will have a significant temperature drop over the next two days, so please dress warmly and don’t catch colds…”

As Old Yu talked on, he actually pulled out a sheet of A4 paper from his trouser pocket. The students below were all stunned. Was this really happening? How long was he going to keep going?

We choose death.

Lin Tao wasn’t particularly impatient. She dug her phone out of her bag, only to discover that she’d silenced it at the start of the exam and forgotten to switch it back on.

She pressed the power button and turned it on.

The phone took a few seconds to respond. Before she could even unlock it, several unread WeChat notifications and one missed call flooded the notification bar — all from Fang Yisong, sent over an hour ago.

Lin Tao opened the messages —

Wanwan, when does your exam finish?

Give Mom a call when it’s done — I’m waiting for you outside the school gates.

Your dad came home today — we’ll all have dinner together tonight.

At that last line, Lin Tao paused. She furrowed her brow and counted back the days — and realized she hadn’t seen Lin Yongcheng in nearly a month.

Now that she thought about it, she actually did miss her dad a little.

Lin Tao quickly messaged Fang Yisong back, and when she looked up, Old Yu was still going strong. She leaned against her palm and started chatting with the great one. “How long is Old Yu going to talk?”

Jiang Yan had been busy with competition prep lately and hadn’t touched any games in a while. He was playing on his phone now, and glanced up at Old Yu when Lin Tao spoke, then looked back down. “Probably a while longer.”

Seeing how absorbed he was in the game, Lin Tao leaned over curiously, resting her chin on his arm. “What game are you playing now?”

As soon as she asked, she recognized a familiar game screen — one she’d seen once before, a long time ago.

“Isn’t that the palace drama game you were playing before? You still haven’t become Empress?”

Lin Tao remembered that the first time she’d seen him playing it, he’d already been Noble Consort.

Jiang Yan registered the weight on his arm and glanced sideways at her.

Up close, the girl’s skin was very white, very fine — close enough that you could almost make out the soft downy layer on her cheeks.

Her lashes were like two little fans, fluttering with every blink. Adorably small nose. Red lips. Somehow everything about her was adorable.

He looked away slightly, finger tapping through the storyline. “Almost — just a few more chapters and it’ll be done.”

“Also, winning isn’t about becoming Empress.”

“Then what counts as winning?” Lin Tao looked at him, puzzled. Wasn’t the whole point of a palace drama game to become Empress?

Jiang Yan finished one story segment, and NPC characters began to appear on screen. He leaned back against the desk and met her gaze, enunciating each word clearly: “The last one standing wins.”

The way he said it — voice cool and detached, with a faint air of towering over all rivals.

Lin Tao watched him, and whether it was her imagination or not, she thought she could read four words in that cold, regal air of his.

Sovereign over all.

At the thought, Lin Tao’s mind automatically conjured the image of the great one draped in imperial robes, a phoenix crown on his head, holding the arm of the supreme emperor — master of one, revered by ten thousand. The mental image was both horrifying and indescribable, and she couldn’t hold back the laughter — she pressed her face onto the desk and broke down.

Lin Tao sometimes felt that Jiang Yan was different from all the “great ones” she’d heard of or met before.

Not only did his grades and looks leave the average school overlord in the dust by several city blocks — even the games he played on his downtime were incomparable to an ordinary school overlord’s.

To be completely objective: Jiang Yan didn’t seem the least bit like a school overlord.

If it weren’t for the posts Meng Xin had shared with her during summer vacation about the great one’s glorious past history, she genuinely would not have been able to connect this person — currently deep in a palace romance game — to the one who’d once single-handedly taken on the entire No. 9 High School.

Two completely different people.

Old Yu’s pre-holiday address ran for a full half hour. By the time it finished, night had nearly fallen outside, the amber light being slowly consumed by a creeping darkness.

These two days of exams hadn’t left Lin Tao with much to pack up. Once Old Yu left, she picked up her not-very-heavy bag and stood.

Jiang Yan stood up alongside her.

She slung her bag on, phone in hand, and looked up at him. “I won’t be going to dinner with you guys tonight — my mom came to pick me up.”

Jiang Yan leaned against the wall, expression unchanged.

It was Hu Hanghang who made a disappointed noise. “Ah, okay then.”

Then he fished out his phone and looked at Lin Tao. “Oh right, Tao-mei — what’s your WeChat? Let me add you — I’ll pull you into a group, and when you’ve sorted out your schedule for the holiday, just let us know in there.”

“Hold on — let me find my QR code.” Lin Tao opened her WeChat QR code and passed her phone over. “Go ahead.”

Hu Hanghang scanned it, sent the friend request quickly. “Done.”

Lin Tao looked down to accept it, saw that his profile picture was an extremely striking close-up selfie, and couldn’t help laughing. “Pangpang, I have to rate this picture.”

“That’s right.” Hu Hanghang, not even slightly modest.

Lin Tao laughed and put her phone away, not lingering in the classroom. “I’m heading out then — you guys get back early.”

“Yep, stay safe on the way.”

Lin Tao looked up once more at Jiang Yan standing nearby, raised her hand and gave a small wave. “Jiang Yan — see you.”

The classroom lights were on, bright and even.

Jiang Yan’s eyes met hers, the outer corners of his lashes lifting slightly, the corner of his mouth slowly easing into a faint curve. His voice was light and unhurried. “See you.”

Out of school, Lin Tao spotted Fang Yisong’s car parked at the roadside at once. She walked quickly to the passenger side and pulled open the door.

Fang Yisong put away her phone at the sound, and looked at her. “Why so late today?”

Lin Tao was buckling her seatbelt. “We had a big cleaning session, and then Old Yu — my homeroom teacher — he talks forever. He gave us a whole speech before he let us go.”

Lin Tao talked about perfectly ordinary things, but Fang Yisong didn’t show a trace of impatience — just kept that smile at the corners of her lips, listening as she spoke.

The white BMW pulled away from the road shortly after.

Not long afterward, four boys came out of the school gates in good spirits, laughing and talking. They crossed the road and ducked into the alleyway beside it.

The alley was deep, the light poor.

Xu Yichuan fished out his phone and turned on the flashlight, then in an affected way leaned against Song Yuan. “Yuanyuan, I’m so scared.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Song Yuan shoved his head away. “Get off me.”

Xu Yichuan then sulkily leaned into Hu Hanghang instead. “Pangpang, look at Yuanyuan — how can he be like this?”

Hu Hanghang played along perfectly, wrapping his arm around Xu Yichuan, patting his shoulder. “Chuanchuan, don’t be scared — big Pangpang will protect you.”

“Pangpang, you’re so good.”

The two of them clung together like conjoined twins.

“…”

Jiang Yan, walking alongside them with his head down looking at his phone, thought of something, looked up at the two in front of him. “Pangpang — pass me your phone.”

“Hm?” Hu Hanghang fished out his phone and handed it over. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Jiang Yan took the phone, opened the WeChat on the home screen, and saw the most recent chat thread at the top. He tapped into it.

Then sent a message to his own WeChat.

Before exiting, he also made sure to delete the message history first — then handed the phone back to Hu Hanghang.

The internet café was just ahead.

All four walked in one after another.

Guan Che had gotten back there already and was watching TV behind the front counter. Seeing the four of them come in, he smiled and called out a greeting. “Evening, everyone.”

Hu Hanghang and the others were close to Guan Che because of Jiang Yan and treated the internet café like their own home.

“Che-ge, don’t you have evening classes at your school tonight?” Hu Hanghang craned over to peek at Guan Che’s computer screen and couldn’t hold back a comment: “Damn — you and Yan-ge have the same taste, both equally… unique.”

“One’s addicted to melodramatic prime-time soaps. The other’s into teenage romance dramas.” Hu Hanghang was genuinely in awe. “You two are truly a perfect pair of best friends.”

Guan Che leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head, his peach-blossom eyes curving as a smile settled quietly in their depths. “What about it?”

Mention of Jiang Yan made Guan Che glance around. “Where’s Jiang Yan? Wasn’t he just here?”

“Went to his room.” Xu Yichuan stroked the white jade cabbage sitting on the counter. “While you were talking just now.”

The four of them chatted for a bit at the front, and then Xu Yichuan started clamouring to get the machines going. Guan Che grabbed the cards and took the three upstairs to one of the private rooms.

After opening the room, he was about to head back downstairs, thought for a moment, then went to the third floor instead.

Jiang Yan’s room was the innermost one. The door was slightly ajar, unlocked. Guan Che stood at the entrance for three seconds, then pushed it open and walked in.

The room’s window was open, but no one was there — the door to the bathroom was closed, the lights on.

Guan Che crossed his legs and sat down on the long sofa. Not long after, he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening behind him. He turned — and saw Jiang Yan in pajamas, hair damp, walking out.

Clearly he hadn’t expected to find someone in the room. Jiang Yan’s footstep faltered when he saw Guan Che — but he recovered quickly.

He walked to the desk, closed one of the windows, then picked up a towel and gave his hair a couple of rough swipes before tossing it carelessly around his neck. He bent over and picked up the remote from the desk, turned on some background noise. “Something up?”

“Can’t I come see you for nothing?”

Jiang Yan gave him a look, then idly opened the wardrobe and pulled out a clean black T-shirt. He turned back. “If nothing, then go.”

“Come on — I still have more to say.” Guan Che settled back into the sofa. “Yu Fengyan came by this afternoon. She said she wants you to come back to the old house during the holiday.”

Honestly, when he’d seen Yu Fengyan this afternoon, he’d nearly told her to leave. But however she’d behaved — Yu Fengyan was technically an elder, and technically Jiang Yan’s mother. Whatever she’d done wrong, it wasn’t their place as juniors to be disrespectful.

“Not going.” Jiang Yan’s expression carried little emotion. Running into Yu Fengyan at the hospital before had been too sudden — he hadn’t had time to steady himself then.

“Fine — I’m just passing on the message. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out you wouldn’t go.” Guan Che reached up and brushed back his hair. “But you can’t just keep putting it off indefinitely either. Sooner or later something’s going to give.”

“Give it some more time.” Jiang Yan was looking down, his head bowed. The phone on the desk lit up, and a WeChat notification appeared in the notification bar —

Jiang Yan?

No name in the display.

Jiang Yan hadn’t yet processed it when Guan Che reached over and picked up the phone before he could, opening the message without hesitation, taking one look — and then the phone was snatched back.

“Who’s that? Who is this?” Guan Che had only caught a glimpse of a delicate, feminine profile picture and was very curious. “An actual girl managed to get our Yan-ge’s WeChat — remarkable.”

Jiang Yan slipped the phone into his pocket, pushed Guan Che aside. “Nobody.”

Guan Che took one look at him and had a pretty good idea. “It’s Lin Tao, isn’t it?”

“…”

Jiang Yan didn’t look at him — walked toward the bed.

Guan Che sat on the sofa without moving, smiling with deep amusement. “I knew it was Lin-mei. Come on — adding your own deskmate’s WeChat, what’s there to hide? It’s not like it’s some remarkable event.”

“You talk too much.” Jiang Yan had found a clean black T-shirt in the wardrobe. He turned back, looked at Guan Che. “Get out.”

“Why — I’m not done yet.”

Jiang Yan couldn’t be bothered with him. He grabbed the hem of his pajama top with both hands and pulled it off in one smooth move — a lean torso, shoulder blades visible, the line of his back clean and fluid.

Guan Che sat on the sofa, not looking, scrolling through his phone. “Hey, send me Lin-mei’s WeChat too.”

Jiang Yan didn’t react — just picked up the T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn’t bother to straighten it, leaving the shirt hanging loose, one side of his collarbone exposed.

He walked over and sat down on the sofa, pulling out his phone and opening the message from a few minutes ago, ignoring the person sitting beside him.

Guan Che, seeing this, leaned in and kept pushing. “Come on, give me Lin-mei’s WeChat.”

Jiang Yan looked at him, fringe slightly long, the ends nearly poking his eyelids. Voice flat. “Get out.”

“…”

Guan Che laughed lightly and leaned back. “Fine, I’ll go—”

Mid-sentence, he suddenly shot out his hand, trying to snatch the phone. Jiang Yan, who knew this trick exactly, raised his hand and dodged.

Guan Che hadn’t expected the reaction to be that fast — his whole body, carried by momentum, pitched toward Jiang Yan. His forearm hit Jiang Yan in the chest; his knee landed on Jiang Yan’s thigh.

The two of them collapsed into each other in a thoroughly indescribable position.

The phone clattered to the floor.

“What the—” Jiang Yan had taken a solid elbow to the ribs and couldn’t hold back. “Are you completely out of your mind?”

Guan Che grinned, apologizing while pushing himself up off the armrest.

Rapid footsteps in the corridor outside.

The next second, Hu Hanghang burst through the door, phone raised. “Yan-ge, Tao-mei says she has time during the holiday to—”

He stopped dead.

Guan Che, sprawled on the sofa, and Jiang Yan both looked up at Hu Hanghang, expressions blank — more like they hadn’t registered what was happening yet.

Hu Hanghang had frozen completely.

What in the world is going on?

What — what — what?! Tao-mei is getting cheated on??

The thought of Lin Tao made Hu Hanghang suddenly realize the video call on his phone was still live, and seeing the same expression of disbelief on Lin Tao’s face in the screen, his first instinct was to defend Jiang Yan: “Tao-mei — it’s not like that, it’s not what it looks like — you have to trust Yan-ge.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Only then did Jiang Yan notice the phone in Hu Hanghang’s hand. He shoved Guan Che off him, voice heavy with exasperation. “I’m going to be driven to an early death by you people.”

Guan Che genuinely hadn’t seen this development coming either. He let out a string of chuckles, and while Jiang Yan hadn’t yet moved to hit him, made himself scarce from the sofa quickly.

On his way out the door, he even greeted Lin Tao in the video call. “Evening, Lin-mei.”

The next second.

His head took a direct hit from a member of the social world.

Guan Che bent down, picked up the pillow that had fallen at his feet, and pressed it into Hu Hanghang’s arms, his voice solemn and desolate: “Brother — take care of yourself.”

He left, and the room went quiet.

Jiang Yan sat on the sofa, dark hair still damp, wet ends dripping, eyes lowered as he looked at him — expression blank. “What is it?”

Hu Hanghang stood there, swallowed silently, feeling unprecedented pressure. “…Tao-mei said she has time during the holiday to go out with us — she’s asking for everyone’s ID numbers. Her dad is having someone handle the plane tickets.”

“Got it.” Jiang Yan bent down, picked up the phone that had fallen on the floor, and found that Lin Tao had also messaged him two minutes earlier —

Jiang Yan, what’s your ID number? My dad’s having someone get the plane tickets for us.

Hu Hanghang said his piece and immediately bolted. Jiang Yan sat on the sofa, opened the chat box — and found the other person’s status had changed to typing.

He stopped. He waited for Lin Tao to send her message first.

Five minutes passed.

Jiang Yan: “…”

Is she writing a thesis?

He reached up to knead the back of his neck, stretched out his long legs, and typed one-handed — sent his ID number.

Less than a second later, a message came back —

[okay.jpg]

A few seconds after that, another message and an emoji —

Jiang Yan, I get it now —

[sudden realization.jpg]

Jiang Yan, baffled, sent a question mark.

The other person’s status changed to typing again. A little while later, it stopped — and at the same moment, a new message arrived —

Do you like guys?

(Author’s note: — Yan-ge: sunshine in the east, sunshine everywhere — whatever kind of idiot you are, you match — Yan-ge: everyone clear out, there’ll be no more romance — what is there even to romance — Yan-ge: forget it, my heart can’t take it 🙂 — Starting today, all updates will be in the morning!! Something came up recently!! So adjusting the schedule wuwuwuwuwu qwq)