Liangou: Why are you being so obedient today?

Right then, Qiao Qi felt that the medicine on her shoulder had mostly dried. She reached up to touch it — only a thin, faint tackiness remained under her fingertip.

Good enough.

So Qiao Qi put her bathrobe on properly, picked up her phone, and got up to walk toward the bedroom, replying to Li’ang along the way.

7: Isn’t it good that I’m being obedient? 7: Do you deserve it or not?

Liangou: …I was just curious why you didn’t join me in scolding your coworker.

7: I already told you, he didn’t mean it. 7: How petty are you?

Liangou: Me, petty? Liangou: Who do you think I’m doing this for?

7: … 7: Sorry. 7: [facing-the-wall-in-reflection.jpg]

Liangou: Hmph. Liangou: I’m mad! Liangou: You actually snapped at me for the sake of your coworker! Liangou: Wait. Liangou: You wouldn’t have taken a liking to your coworker, would you? Liangou: Are you two-timing me???

Qiao Qi stared at that message, stunned, and it took her a long while before she replied.

7: I’m not. 7: I’m single. Whose two boats would I even be on.

Liangou: …

In the next second, the other side sent a voice call directly.

Qiao Qi couldn’t tell whether she was nervous or guilty, but she hung up without thinking.

Liangou: ? Liangou: ?? Liangou: Are you trying to make me furious on purpose?

7: …

She pressed her lips together and changed the subject.

7: What were you doing tonight? 7: You didn’t reply for a long time. 7: And you didn’t tell me beforehand that you’d be working overtime.

On an ordinary day, Qiao Qi probably wouldn’t have minded so much.

But today was different.

Today she was…

A little unhappy.

But he wasn’t by her side.

Qiao Qi pressed her lips together and gripped her phone tighter. She stared at the nickname saved on her screen, then shifted her gaze to his WeChat avatar, and then read through every message he’d sent, one by one.

A little irritated.

She suddenly didn’t like this way of being together.

Her nail scratched lightly at the phone case, and the force of it sent a faint sting through her finger.

Something in Qiao Qi’s mind — some thread — suddenly snapped in that instant.

That thread felt just like the pulling and tension between her and Li’ang.

Before, there had still been the give-and-take, the fun of it. But now the string had been stretched to its very limit — one more pull from either side, and it would hurt them both.

Qiao Qi lowered her eyes, expression unreadable.

Since that was how it was.

Might as well let it snap.

She lifted her eyes again, and in an instant a layer of resolve rose in them.

She was going to meet him.

Liangou: I ran into something at the last minute tonight. Liangou: My phone died.

7: Oh.

Liangou: …It’s true.

7: I believe you.

Then the two of them fell into an inexplicable, faintly awkward silence, as if once the paper window had been poked through, neither dared to take another step forward.

Because sizing someone up, peering at them — that took time.

Qiao Qi felt she’d already taken that first step, and didn’t want to go further.

So she tilted her head slightly, tapping her finger against the screen again and again, waiting for the other side to message first.

Nearly a minute later.

A message popped up on the chat screen.

Liangou: Why did you change the subject.

Qiao Qi raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curving into a subtle arc.

7: What subject did I change?

Liangou: Don’t play dumb with me. Liangou: [image]

Qiao Qi opened it and saw it was a screenshot.

It was the message where she’d just said she was single.

Liangou: Explain yourself!

Amusement rose in Qiao Qi’s eyes, and she couldn’t hold back a smile at the corner of her mouth.

She reached over and turned on the desk lamp beside her; the light spilled over, making the smile on her face plain to see.

7: Isn’t that the truth? 7: What is there to explain?

The other side, this time, first flung over a string of furious emoji stickers, then another screenshot.

It was the nickname he’d saved her under.

Liangou: I saved a single woman under this nickname? Liangou: Are you trying to play me? Liangou: You’re baiting me!

Even though everything sent over was just text, Qiao Qi felt the other side sounded flustered and loud, and impossibly cute.

She couldn’t help laughing out loud, and it was a good while before she replied.

7: I haven’t even met you yet.

The other side went quiet again for a long time.

Liangou: You want to meet me?

7: Don’t you want to meet me? 7: Then, bye-bye. 7: I’m going to go ask my coworker out.

Liangou: … Liangou: Aren’t you very busy with work?

7: I can take time off.

Seeing this message, Liang Yan let out a sigh. He was sitting on the sofa, head tilted, one hand holding his phone, the other propped against his temple. A few seconds later, he picked up his work phone and sent a message in the group chat.

Ming Yan: Sorry about tonight, everyone. Ming Yan: Dinner together tomorrow night? Ming Yan: @Director Cheng, give us half a day off tomorrow, would you?

A crowd of people below cheered him on.

Finally, Director Cheng, jolted awake in the middle of the night, replied with an aggressive voice message: Got it! You brat, sneaking around with someone instead of sleeping in the middle of the night!

Ming Yan: Haven’t gotten anywhere yet. Ming Yan: I’ll let you know when I do.

Business in that group settled, he turned back to talk to his own precious little treasure.

Liang: Don’t bother taking time off. Liang: I’ll come find you tomorrow night.

Liangou’s Baby: ? Liangou’s Baby: You’re not busy?

Liang Yan scoffed and sent a voice message straight over.

“Stop playing games with me.”

Provoking first, then testing the waters — did she really think he was that stupid?

…That hadn’t actually been her intention.

But she also hadn’t expected it to be so sudden.

Qiao Qi wasn’t even prepared. Were they really going to just meet at the film set?

That didn’t seem great.

7: … 7: I am pretty busy, though…

But she should still be able to take time off, right?

Qiao Qi thought this over while fumbling for her work phone, trying to figure out how to ask the director for time off, when she suddenly noticed a crowd of people going wild with text in the work group.

Qiao Qi: “?”

What were they all doing awake at this hour?

Falling in love online, apparently?

She clicked in, and her eyes lit up instantly.

She spun around and told Li’ang.

7: But we have a day off!!

Seeing that exclamation mark, the corner of Liang Yan’s mouth curled up.

Liang: So excited? Liang: Really want to see me?

Qiao Qi paused; under the warm lamplight, her fair ears suddenly flushed red, the skin nearly translucent.

7: Take it or leave it. 7: Bye-bye!

Liang Yan couldn’t hold back a laugh, having teased her into a fluster that he’d now have to coax back down himself.

Liang: Fine, fine, fine. Liang: See you, see you, see you. Liang: I really want to see what my online boyfriend looks like. Liang: Whether we celebrate Singles’ Day or not is up to you.

Qiao Qi gave a soft “hmph.”

7: Go ahead and celebrate it, then.

Liangou: Okay. Liangou: We’ll celebrate it together.

7: Ptooey! 7: There’s no way I’m celebrating it.

Liangou: ? Liangou: Going after your coworker again, is that it? Liangou: Tomorrow I’ll go beat your coworker up in the street.

7: Then we really will only be able to meet each other [in prison].

Liangou: [voice message, 3”]

“I think you’re just trying to make me furious.”

The room was silent, which made the voice message sound especially clear. At first Qiao Qi was amused by his helpless yet deliberately fierce tone — but then she suddenly felt something was off.

She thought of the voice message he’d sent earlier and, without thinking, tapped it open again.

Then, after it finished, she tapped the newest one again.

The difference was subtle, but Qiao Qi still caught it.

She listened a few more times, a little puzzled, and finally, once she was certain she hadn’t misheard, she asked.

7: Your two voice messages — why do they sound a little different?

Liangou: …

7: ?

Liangou: I’ll tell you when we meet.

Qiao Qi suddenly recalled that he’d once mentioned his work touched on the entertainment industry a little too. Putting the pieces together, she asked.

7: Are you a voice actor? 7: Like, a dub artist?

Liang Yan tapped his index finger against his own temple, once, twice, and replied with a mysterious, four-character answer.

Liang: Something like that. Liang: I’ll tell you in person.

Reading this message, Qiao Qi immediately deleted the line she’d already typed in the message box — “Funny coincidence, I’m an actor too.”

Fine.

They’d talk about it in person, then.

Honestly, she was curious what his attitude toward her would be, too.

An unrehearsed reaction was the most honest one, after all.

The two of them chatted a bit more, neither bringing up the idea of exchanging addresses first — as if by tacit agreement, they each wanted to give the other a surprise.

7: I’m going to sleep, then?

Liangou: Mm. Liangou: See you tomorrow. Liangou: [cute-and-adorable, no head.jpg]

7: I hope you’re just as cute tomorrow.

Liangou: … Liangou: Bye-bye.

He turned off his phone and lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep — Liang Yan’s mind was full of that girl who’d nearly been bullied in a foreign country.

What did she look like now? Was she taller? Or was she still that same skinny little bean sprout?

He vaguely remembered following behind her back then, the girl thin and alone, caught in pouring rain, her soaked trousers plastered tight to her legs by the wind.

She’d been very thin.

But her spine had been ramrod straight, as if she stubbornly refused to admit she’d been wronged.

Liang Yan shifted his position, arms pillowed behind his head, staring straight up at the ceiling.

The only light in the room was the faint moonlight slipping through the gap in the curtains, casting a layer of swaying shadow across the ceiling, like shimmering ripples on water.

He stared at it for a long time before finally picking up his phone and, in the dead of night, sharing a song on his major public Weibo account.

The lyrics were tender and lingering, both blunt and veiled, both restrained and unrestrained.

A single song — that alone wouldn’t have meant much.

What meant something was that he’d shared it in the middle of the night without sleeping, and that it was a love song.

His fans exploded instantly.

【???】

【As everyone knows, once a celebrity starts sharing a Weibo post that no one else can decode, it definitely means someone out there can — just not you】

[Hiss… this commenter, hush!]

[Giao! Why do I feel like that actually makes sense?]

[@Anti-hate squad, come block this — block this sister right out of existence!]

[Suggest blocking this one too, @Liang Yan]

[Hahahahaha the person above has some nerve!]

Within just a few hours, as the sun rose in the east, the internet exploded — fans old and new lost their minds in confusion, marketing accounts reposted everywhere in a frenzy.

All because the top comment under Liang Yan’s Weibo post read:

[Um? Did you get your heart broken, or did we? Give us a straight answer?]

Liang Yan himself replied at three in the morning: [? How could a face like mine possibly get heartbroken? You’re thinking of peaches.]

Fans: “…Oh.”

So it was us who got our hearts broken, then.

…Huh?

Huh huh huh?

We got our hearts broken??

Damn it!

Did the man himself actually fall in love?!

The house has collapsed, holy crap!

Author’s Note: “See” you tonight at ten [doge]