The “Secret Hidden Feelings” post quickly overtook the previous gossip thread in heat. Views and replies stayed sky-high, and it sat pinned on No. 10 High’s school forum front page for a full week.
By the time it had fully spread, everyone in the school — top to bottom — knew that school delinquent Jiang Yan was secretly in love with his deskmate, Lin. The carefully maintained image he’d built over the years had crumbled.
What was astonishing was how fast the rumor spread and how far it reached. Within just a few days, even Mr. Yu, who generally didn’t involve himself in such matters, had caught wind of the whispers.
Mr. Yu didn’t quite believe the rumors, honestly. But considering the impression Lin Tao had already left on him earlier — a lingering suspicion of something resembling an early romance — he set aside a time and quietly called her into his office.
The last PE period on Friday. With final exams a month away, all second-year PE classes had been forcibly converted to study periods.
Called study periods, they had no supervising teacher in practice — discipline was mainly left to the class representative and the academic affairs student to manage.
But Class 18’s class representative Jiang Yan and academic affairs student Du Wenbo were anomalies — they managed nothing, and involved themselves in nothing.
The classroom heating was going strong. The atmosphere was lively.
Lin Tao was slumped over her desk, her phone hidden beneath the wide sleeve of her school uniform, furtively opening up No. 10 High’s school forum. The moment she got in, there was the thread pinned right at the top of the front page:
The School Delinquent’s Secret History of Hidden Feelings [Featured]
The reply count had already surpassed five thousand.
Lin Tao genuinely felt: well, wasn’t that something.
When she’d first posted, she hadn’t imagined it would cause this big of a stir. Her original intention was to circulate it within a small range, then find an opportunity to let Mr. Yu see the thread.
Who could have guessed the delinquent’s influence would be this powerful? Not even a week after it went up, it had already been automatically promoted to a featured post.
“……”
Lin Tao thought this situation was starting to look a little serious. Lately, wherever she went, she could hear people around her talking about this post.
The number of girls coming to Class 18 every day was several times more than before. Some had even gotten so bold as to shove their phones in front of her and Jiang Yan to snap photos of them together.
And those weren’t even the key issues.
The most critical problem was that Lin Tao had noticed the school delinquent seemed to be in a rather sour mood lately — not really engaging with anyone as a baseline.
Though Jiang Yan had never been particularly sociable, he still liked to bicker with her when nothing was going on. Lately, forget bickering — even basic conversation between the two of them had nearly ground to a halt.
This was a far cry from the storyline she’d envisioned.
Lin Tao exhaled softly, closed the forum, and put her phone away. She pulled out her physics textbook from the desk and started reviewing.
She hadn’t even made it through a single page before Xu Huanhuan came rushing in from outside the classroom. She sat down in the empty seat up front, and within seconds had twisted around with her head pressed close.
“Lin Tao.” Her voice was low, barely above a breath.
Lin Tao looked up at her. “What’s up?”
Xu Huanhuan leaned in a little closer, voice hushed. “I just passed Mr. Yu on my way back. He wants you to go by his office later — and told me not to make a big deal of it.”
“……Okay.”
Lin Tao’s heart gave a small lurch.
Based on that post she’d read a few days ago, this was right about the point where Mr. Yu was supposed to appear, play the villain, and push the romantic plot between the male and female leads forward.
But right now the story had completely derailed, and Lin Tao hadn’t prepared herself to face an oncoming storm.
She stalled in the classroom for over ten minutes before reluctantly getting to her feet. The noise she made wasn’t loud — just accidentally hooking the leg of her stool as she stood up.
The stool scraped across the floor with a sharp, grating screech.
Students in front, behind, and on both sides looked up at her.
Jiang Yan looked up too, expression calm. He paused for a few seconds, then — fulfilling his basic responsibilities as a deskmate — opened his mouth and asked: “What’s wrong?”
Lin Tao remembered Xu Huanhuan’s warning about not making a big deal of it. She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just going to get some hot water.”
With that, she reached out and picked up the thermos cup from her desk.
The cup was a clean pale pink, no pattern on the surface — Jiang Yan’s Christmas gift to her.
He had a matching blue one.
Lin Tao took the cup and walked out.
The water room and Mr. Yu’s office were in opposite directions. Jiang Yan was leaning against the wall; through the window beside him, he watched her walk the wrong way — away from the water room.
A few seconds later, Jiang Yan pulled his gaze back, lowered his head, and went back to working on his test paper. The black ballpoint pen traced a few dark lines across the page.
After a long pause, he set down the pen and leaned forward slightly. The tip of his shoe nudged the chair of the boy sitting in front of him. A light tap. “Hey.”
The boy turned around.
Jiang Yan produced what he believed was an agreeable smile. “Could you let your deskmate know for me?”
This was Lin Tao’s second time in Mr. Yu’s office.
She was a bundle of nerves the entire way there.
Lin Tao stood in the hallway, took several deep breaths facing the door in front of her, then raised her knuckles and knocked.
There was a response from inside. Lin Tao pushed the door open and stepped in. Warm air hit her immediately. She stood in the same position she’d stood in last time, though her state of mind was entirely different now. “Mr. Yu, you wanted to see me?”
Mr. Yu was just as he’d always been — smiling warmly. He had her sit down first, then picked up his teacup and took a sip of hot tea, and asked conversationally, “How’s your studying going lately?”
“?” This question was so entirely unlike what she’d braced herself for that Lin Tao stared blankly for a full ten seconds before she thought to answer. “Pretty well.”
“Good, that’s good to hear. Final exams are coming up — can’t let yourself get lazy.”
“I know.”
Lin Tao sat and listened to Mr. Yu pull open every drawer of his conversational cabinet — an endless stream of random but inescapable questions. She answered them one by one, the tension she’d walked in with slowly loosening.
Seeing the moment was right, Mr. Yu switched gears without warning. “Have you seen that post going around the school forum lately?”
The question came out of nowhere.
Like someone who’d been speaking gently and warmly a second ago suddenly plunging a knife straight into your chest.
Lin Tao couldn’t quite collect herself, and she actually felt a faint ache in her chest for a genuine moment. After a long beat she remembered to speak. “Which post are you referring to?”
“……”
Lin Tao had discovered: when dealing with Mr. Yu, playing dumb was the best approach.
Yu Bingshan also knew full well Lin Tao was playing dumb with him — but he didn’t push it. He smiled, opened his desk drawer, found his phone with practiced ease, pulled up the post, and slid the phone across to her. “This one. Something about a secret history of hidden feelings.”
Lin Tao glanced at it, then made an exaggerated sound of recognition. “Oh, that one — I’ve read it. Is there a problem?”
“……”
Yu Bingshan felt this conversation was becoming somewhat difficult to continue.
He wouldn’t speak, and Lin Tao wouldn’t take the initiative either.
A brief silence.
Yu Bingshan picked up his teacup again for another sip — as though giving himself a dose of fortification — then slowly began. “Well, what do you make of this post?”
Lin Tao furrowed her brow, thought about it seriously, and replied, “I have thoughts.”
“Go ahead.”
Lin Tao sat up straight, her shoulders and neck slightly tense, and answered with perfect seriousness: “I think this post is nothing but wild nonsense.”
“Think about it, Mr. Yu — is my deskmate someone who operates through secret pining? Would he even need to secretly pine for someone? With everything he has going for him, shouldn’t everyone else be lining up to secretly pine for him?”
Yu Bingshan sank into contemplation.
Lin Tao continued piling on. “And furthermore, I have reason to believe that the ultimate goal of the person who posted this is to prevent Classmate Jiang from placing first again in the finals.”
“Think about it, Mr. Yu — if you believed this post, wouldn’t you naturally start to view Classmate Jiang differently?” Lin Tao spoke as though she had evidence for everything. “Of course you would — and just like that, a crack has formed in the trust between teacher and student.”
“Classmate Jiang, overcome with a deep sense of grievance, would rage-quit school and skip the exam in protest. Year-level first place — handed to someone else.”
Lin Tao shook her head gravely. “Mr. Yu, you absolutely cannot fall for someone else’s scheme.”
“……”
Mr. Yu felt the stakes of the situation had suddenly escalated from a small personal matter to a matter of class honor — which was quite serious indeed.
After all that rambling, Lin Tao made a clean exit, emerging from the office feeling refreshed and light on her feet, quietly humming a little tune as she walked to the hot water room with her cup — completely failing to notice a figure who slipped past just beside her.
Lin Tao’s original plan had actually been this: manufacture some public opinion, then have her and Jiang Yan called into the office together for a scolding in front of each other, after which she’d put on a wounded look. With any luck, Jiang Yan might say something to make the “accusations official.”
But now, seeing how Jiang Yan’s reaction over these past few days had diverged so completely from her plan, Lin Tao weighed the two options and abandoned the original idea. If Mr. Yu really bought the rumor and said something too pointed, knowing Jiang Yan’s temperament, he might genuinely rage-quit school or skip an exam.
That would be far too costly.
Lin Tao decided she still needed to play the long game.
When she returned to the classroom and saw Jiang Yan sitting in his seat, completely in the dark about everything, she felt a twinge of guilt in her chest alongside the sheepishness.
After all, she was the one who’d started the post. And the content of it wasn’t exactly accurate — it had toppled the school delinquent’s image without any warning.
She could somewhat understand why he’d been in a low mood this whole time. Having your image brought crashing down without your knowledge — no one could accept that. Least of all someone as image-conscious as him. He must have been feeling wretched on the inside.
“……”
When she thought about it that way, Lin Tao felt like she was genuinely a terrible person.
She picked up her thermos cup and returned to her seat, then dug through her schoolbag and pulled out a few of the milk candies left over from last time. She leaned over, voice soft. “Classmate Jiang.”
Jiang Yan looked up at her, his tone flat. “What?”
“Have a candy.” Lin Tao set it at the corner of his desk.
He reached out, peeled one open, and put it in his mouth.
Lin Tao exhaled quietly. She pressed her fingers against the stack of books beside her desk, hesitating before she opened her mouth to reassure him. “About that post lately — I honestly haven’t been taking it seriously. Don’t let it weigh on you either.”
“Is that so?” The boy chewed the candy, jaw tight.
She nodded, meeting his eyes, her voice sincere. “Don’t worry — I’ll definitely help you track down whoever posted it.”
If the heat of the post hadn’t gotten quite so out of hand, Lin Tao had originally planned to come clean to him and then properly apologize. But now that things had escalated beyond what she’d imagined, it was beyond salvageable.
“……”
The boy turned toward her, and the two of them held each other’s gaze for several minutes. Then Jiang Yan looked away, picked up his pen again, and said with cool indifference, “Do whatever you want.”
Jiang Yan felt a kind of inner heat he couldn’t release — everything he looked at seemed off. He was irritable and stifled, as though there was a fire burning somewhere inside him with nowhere to go.
The immediate cause was that inexplicable “secret hidden feelings” post. But what truly stoked his irritation was Lin Tao’s reaction upon seeing it.
He’d expected her, at the very least, to come ask him whether it was true. Instead, she’d said absolutely nothing — not only hadn’t asked, but even encouraged him not to let it get to him.
He was truly done with it.
When she’d been called away by Mr. Yu, Jiang Yan had still been worried. He’d asked Xu Huanhuan what was going on and then followed her to Mr. Yu’s office, intending that if Mr. Yu gave her a hard time in any way, he’d push straight in and take all the responsibility onto himself — so that at the very least, she wouldn’t have to bear a single bit of that burden.
But he genuinely hadn’t anticipated that not only would she come away completely unscathed, she’d also left Mr. Yu thoroughly bewildered and confused. Standing outside listening to everything she said, he’d had to physically restrain himself from walking in and giving her a round of applause.
Jiang Yan had known his feelings for the girl for a long time. He thought he’d been obvious enough about showing them. But she was like a block of wood — not a single response. Nothing.
He genuinely felt if he held out much longer, he’d reach enlightenment.
It didn’t take long for Jiang Yan’s low pressure to catch Guan Che’s attention.
The two of them had known each other since they were young. Jiang Yan’s father, Fang Hai, and Guan Che’s father, Old Guan, had been university roommates. After graduating, they’d both ended up teaching at the same school, and they’d stayed close ever since. During the years when Yufengyan had taken Jiang Yan away, Old Guan hadn’t gone easy with his words about that woman back at home.
After that, the two boys had lost touch for a few years — until Jiang Yan came to Xixi City for school, and they found each other again.
Jiang Yan’s temperament was something Guan Che had long since mapped out completely. Asking directly would obviously get nowhere.
As luck would have it, Hu Hanghang and some of the others showed up Saturday night to use the internet café. Guan Che booked a large private room, dragged a chair over, and sat himself down in front of the three of them. “Has anything happened to Jiang Yan lately?”
Hu Hanghang looked thoroughly baffled. “No? Nothing? He’s super popular at our school right now — like a celebrity. Cameras everywhere he goes.”
“What about between him and Lin Tao — have they had some kind of falling out?”
“That’s even less possible.” Hu Hanghang waved his hand. “You have no idea — half the girls in our school are basically fans of those two as a couple. They crowd outside our classroom every day just to see them in the same frame.”
“……”
Guan Che decided asking these guys was less useful than just confronting Jiang Yan directly. He thought about it for a moment, then headed straight up to the third floor.
……
Jiang Yan had spent a few consecutive all-nighters before the academic competition. After finishing, he’d been seizing every chance to catch up on sleep. His room was a mess.
The weekend finally gave him a chance to clean up. Fortunately the room was small, so it didn’t take long. Once it was done, he took a shower, and sank into the couch to watch TV.
The phone on the table gave a faint flash.
He reached over and glanced at it:
Lin Tao: Have you made any enemies lately? I need to narrow down the suspect pool.
Jiang Yan stared at the screen for three whole seconds before he figured out what she was talking about. A vague irritation rose in him. He didn’t feel like replying — set the phone back on the table with a loud thunk.
Guan Che’s stride faltered at the door. He raised an eyebrow, walked over, and dropped into the single armchair beside the couch. “What’s going on with you?” he asked, unhurried.
“Nothing.”
“Give it a rest. We’ve known each other this long — you think I don’t know what you’re like?” Guan Che wasn’t really worried about some incident at school. His greater concern was that Jiang Yan had gotten into another confrontation with Yufengyan. “You’re not… again…”
Jiang Yan glanced at him, and from that one look understood exactly what he was getting at. His tone settled. “No. Don’t overthink it.”
“Then why are you looking so completely wrecked these past couple days.”
Just as the words landed, the phone Jiang Yan had tossed on the table flashed again. Guan Che glanced at it, then nudged Jiang Yan’s foot where it was resting on the floor. “Lin’s looking for you.”
The person didn’t move.
Guan Che suddenly clicked. All that buildup — and it was just a relationship problem. He leaned back against the couch cushion, a smile spreading across his face. “You two were trending not long ago, weren’t you? How’d you manage to get on each other’s nerves after all that?”
Jiang Yan was most irritated by the very source of their trending — namely, that post. He gave Guan Che an indifferent sideways look. “Could you shut up for once?”
“Alright.” Guan Che was unbothered. “I’ll drop it.”
The room fell into silence, only the sound of the TV filling the air. It didn’t last long before Guan Che sidled back over. “But what’s actually going on between you two right now?”
“……” Jiang Yan tossed a throw pillow at him. “None of your business.”
“I’m just looking out for you.” Guan Che caught the pillow that hit him in the face and held it to his chest. “Though honestly, speaking of that secret feelings post — it reads just like the real thing. If I didn’t know what you’re actually like, I’d have believed every word of it.”
At the mention of that, Jiang Yan’s gaze shifted to Guan Che. Staring at his completely gleeful expression, a very bold idea began taking shape in Jiang Yan’s mind.
Guan Che felt his skin prickle under the stare, and casually chucked the throw pillow back. “Why the hell are you looking at me like that — it’s not like I wrote the post.”
Him saying that only made Jiang Yan more convinced he was guilty of a guilty conscience. He gave him a cold look. “Funny, I’m starting to think you’re exactly the one behind it.”
“……” Guan Che had nothing to say in his defense. He simply threw down a hard promise: “Fine. You just wait — I’ll find out for you who exactly wrote this thing.”
With that declaration made, his figure flashed out of the room. In the time it took Jiang Yan to get up and grab his phone, Guan Che had already come back, clutching a laptop. He plopped himself on the floor without ceremony. “Watch and learn — I’ll show you what I can do today.”
Day-to-day, Guan Che coasted along so casually that Jiang Yan had almost forgotten: the guy was actually a computer whiz.
Guan Che spent over an hour writing an automated tracking program. When it was done, he cracked his sore fingers. “Now we wait.”
Jiang Yan didn’t pass judgment. He got up to get some water downstairs. By the time he came back, the room was empty. He didn’t think much of it, turned off the TV, and got ready to sleep.
He’d barely pulled back the covers when a burst of rapid footsteps came from behind him, and the next second Guan Che burst back in holding his laptop — saying nothing, just looking at him with a grin.
“……Are you unwell?”
“You absolutely will not guess who posted this.”
When Guan Che had first traced the address, it had felt strangely familiar — like he’d heard it somewhere before but couldn’t quite place it. So he’d gone and asked Hu Hanghang and the others.
Hu Hanghang recognized it immediately. “That’s Taotao’s residential complex, isn’t it.”
Guan Che was stunned.
Hu Hanghang looked at him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just suddenly remembered something.”
It was, after all, someone else’s private business. Guan Che didn’t say more. After he left the room, he went through every method he could think of, even calling in a few friends from the computer science department at Qingda University to help him verify.
He genuinely had not seen this coming.
Jiang Yan even less so. He stood there, frozen, for a long moment.
After quite a while.
A quiet laugh broke the silence in the room. Jiang Yan released the corner of the blanket, raised a hand and ran it through his hair, a feeling he couldn’t quite name washing over him.
It was like being out for a perfectly ordinary walk when someone runs up and tells you: you’ve won the lottery — five million.
Jiang Yan stood there in the warm glow of the amber light, the color bleeding softly into his brows and eyes. He looked down, and then, out of nowhere, let out a baffled, laughing curse: “Damn five-million lottery.”
Once the truth had come to light, Jiang Yan forced Guan Che — with a healthy dose of physical persuasion — to swear an oath of absolute secrecy on pain of terrible misfortune, and then efficiently showed him the door.
Guan Che was utterly speechless. Standing in front of the firmly shut door, he erupted. “Jiang Yan, what kind of person are you?! I worked this hard for this long, and this is how you treat me?!”
His tone was thoroughly aggrieved — like a wronged, abandoned spouse.
The next second.
The phone in his pocket buzzed, and at the same moment a crisp, rhythmic electronic voice rose from it:
Alipay transfer received — ten thousand yuan!
From behind the door: “Payment for services.”
“……I’m not that kind of person.” Guan Che said — and promptly moved the funds into his own bank account at high speed.
In his room, Jiang Yan hadn’t fully recovered from that piece of news. He walked back and forth across the room.
The “secret feelings” post.
Posted by Lin Tao.
What did she mean by it…?
Ten thousand thoughts surfaced in his mind at once, but in the end, every single one of them collapsed into a single conclusion:
She liked him.
Jiang Yan stopped mid-step. His breath felt briefly unsteady. He swept his gaze around the room, then pulled back the covers and lay down, burying himself inside.
After a long moment, he pulled the covers back, stared up at the ceiling light, felt his own heartbeat moving far too fast — and, unable to help himself, swore.
……Damn.
Then he started laughing.
Empty, quiet room. The warm amber light tangled with the hazy, colorful glow beyond the window. The boy lay sprawled on the bed, blanket shoved carelessly to one side — as if trying to make up for all the smiles he’d been holding back for years — laughing and laughing without stopping.
The heaviness that had been sitting in his chest all this time dissolved in the sound of that laughter.
When he’d finally had enough, Jiang Yan took a few deep breaths and settled himself. He reached over and picked up his phone from beside him, opened Lin Tao’s last messages:
Have you made any enemies lately? I need to narrow down the suspect pool —
Classmate Jiang? —
Are you asleep? —
…… —
Looks like you really are asleep —
You go to sleep so early —
Goodnight then.
This was…
Entirely too adorable.
Jiang Yan raised a hand and rubbed his cheek — the one that had been aching from smiling so much — and typed back two words:
Goodnight.
The next afternoon, Lin Tao headed out with her parents for lunch. After they headed back to work, she texted Meng Xin and they made plans to see a movie.
Two-hour film. It was still only after four by the time they came out. Meng Xin dragged her off to a nearby internet café.
With finals coming up, the internet café was no less crowded than usual.
Jiang Yan and Guan Che had gone out to grab supplies. The front desk attendant was the same young guy from before — this time he didn’t try to stop them, and even, after they’d gone upstairs, took out his phone and sent Guan Che a message:
Brother Che, the boss lady’s here.
Not long after, Jiang Yan and Guan Che came back carrying their haul. The cold weather had made them decide on hotpot for the evening.
Guan Che’s phone was dead, so he never saw the message. Jiang Yan also hadn’t been told Lin Tao was upstairs.
The two of them dropped everything in the kitchen.
Jiang Yan went straight back to his room. Guan Che caught his breath, then followed.
Seven o’clock in the evening.
Lin Tao and Meng Xin were hungry from all the gaming and got up to go out for food. At the top of the staircase they ran straight into Jiang Yan — who’d just woken up from a nap and was heading downstairs to eat.
Jiang Yan blinked for a moment, then was the first to collect himself. “When did you get here?”
“This afternoon.” Lin Tao rubbed her eyes. “Around four or five.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Going to eat now.”
Jiang Yan was leaning against the side of the staircase, elbow propped on the railing. “Guan Che and the others are doing hotpot. Want to join?”
Lin Tao looked at him, smiled. “Sure.”
The three of them headed downstairs together.
Guan Che saw the messages on his phone only after it was charged enough to turn back on. He’d been meaning to bring it up to Jiang Yan but then got distracted by something and forgot all about it — so seeing them now he remembered, and smiled and called out a greeting to the two of them.
“Good evening.”
Lin Tao and Meng Xin answered, “Good evening.”
Everyone settled around the table.
Guan Che had a massive secret lodged inside him. With both of its subjects sitting right there in front of him, he could barely contain himself. He watched Lin Tao and smiled a smile that meant far more than it said.
At first Lin Tao didn’t notice. But halfway through reaching for something in the hotpot, she happened to glance over at him — and paused. “Why do you keep smiling at me like that, Guan Che-ge?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Guan Che smiled pleasantly and looked away — straight into Jiang Yan’s mildly warning gaze. He quietly mimed zipping his lips.
Three seconds of quiet.
Jiang Yan suddenly remembered something Lin Tao had just said. His pale, fine fingers gave a light tap on the table. “What did you just call him?”
Lin Tao had a fish ball between her teeth and looked up at him. “Guan Che-ge……”
“……” Jiang Yan looked at her — oddly, still couldn’t work up real irritation — and said flatly, “Eat.”
“Oh.”
After the meal, Guan Che volunteered to clean up.
Meng Xin and the new front desk attendant got into an argument over a game — the two of them were squeezed behind the counter, determined to settle who was right once and for all.
Lin Tao was full and comfortable and starting to feel drowsy, standing there looking a little listless.
Jiang Yan came back from throwing out the trash, fished a small carton of yogurt from the cabinet, and handed it to her. “Want to go sit upstairs for a bit?”
Lin Tao nodded, a little vaguely. “Sure.”
The room was much tidier than it had been any of the previous times.
Jiang Yan put on the TV and scrolled to a movie at random.
The two of them sat side by side on the couch.
Lin Tao drank the yogurt and found she wasn’t that tired anymore. She stared at the screen for a bit and asked idly, “What movie is this?”
“No idea, just picked something random.” He leaned forward, picked up the remote from the table, clicked through a few things, and said the name of a movie Lin Tao hadn’t heard of.
Lin Tao glanced over at Jiang Yan and thought he didn’t seem as heavy-spirited as before. The guilt sitting in her chest lightened a little.
The movie’s content was a bit dry, but Lin Tao noticed that Jiang Yan seemed to be watching it fairly earnestly, so she didn’t say anything — just watched along idly, drowsiness creeping up in waves.
Jiang Yan wasn’t really taking any of it in either. His mind had been drifting the whole time — until something suddenly weighed down on his shoulder and snapped him back.
The girl’s head had rested lightly against his shoulder. Soft black hair brushed against the side of his neck, a few strands tickling faintly.
Jiang Yan’s breath caught for a moment. He tilted his head slightly to the side, sat still for a while — then turned, just about to do something, when she suddenly woke up, looking at him in bleary confusion.
He let go of whatever he’d been reaching for and asked quietly, “You’re up?”
Lin Tao stared back at him for a long moment, unmoving.
Jiang Yan didn’t move either, watching her. “Spaced out?”
She waited a few more seconds.
“……No.” Lin Tao rubbed her eyes. “Just haven’t quite come back to myself yet.”
The short nap had actually cleared her head considerably.
Lin Tao realized the earlier movie was still playing, and she couldn’t take it anymore — she grabbed the remote and switched over to the variety show she normally watched.
The room immediately got a lot livelier.
The two of them watched for a while. Lin Tao took out her phone and sent Fang Yisong a message saying she was out having fun.
Fang Yisong was apparently busy — she never replied.
Lin Tao didn’t think much of it. When she went back out of the message, she noticed the chat thread with Jiang Yan, and casually asked, “By the way — the question I asked you on WeChat yesterday, have you thought of anything?”
Jiang Yan paused for three full seconds before he remembered what she’d asked him last night. He looked at her with an unreadable expression and said slowly, “No.”
“Then it’s going to be hard to track down.” Lin Tao felt his gaze on her and hurriedly looked away, fidgeting out of habit with the edge of the couch cushion beneath her.
“Hard to track down.” Jiang Yan leaned back, forearm resting against his brow, as though mentioning something offhand. “Though my guess would be it’s someone close to me.”
“……” Lin Tao swallowed nervously, dark eyes fixed on him. “Who do you think it is?”
“Just a guess. Not sure yet.” He said it casually, tone carrying a trace of exasperation. “Don’t even know who it is — so inconsiderate.”
Lin Tao watched him for a moment, pressing down the anxiety in her chest, and chimed in in agreement. “Right, I think it’s completely inconsiderate too! If I ever caught whoever this is, I would absolutely——”
She hadn’t finished the sentence before Jiang Yan cut her off. “Absolutely what?”
Play the role all the way through.
Lin Tao fired back with righteous indignation: “Absolutely finish them off!”
Jiang Yan said nothing. His gaze rested steadily on her. The room was lit by only the floor lamp, the curtain mostly drawn, letting in only thin seams of the night outside.
The girl’s eyes widened slightly. In the low light, they appeared strangely luminous — curling lashes trembling faintly, like two little fans.
Warm breath hung between them, familiar and close.
Out of nowhere, a bold thought surfaced in his mind.
The next second.
Without any warning, Jiang Yan leaned toward her. The distance between them collapsed. His clear, handsome features filled her entire field of vision.
He dipped his head slightly. The outer corners of his eyes traced a beautiful line. His smile was careless and self-assured. “Finishing me off is a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“……?”