Qiao Qi thought it over for quite a while and, knowing she was in the wrong, decided to accept Liang Yan’s friend request first, and then release “Li’ang” from the blacklist afterward.

Both accounts sent messages almost simultaneously.

Liangou: Explain yourself! Liangou (2): You’d better explain yourself properly! Liangou: I’m genuinely heartbroken! Liangou (2): Extremely heartbroken! Liangou: Disappointed! Liangou (2): Utterly disappointed!

…Since when did these two turn into a comedy duo?

Can you even use two WeChat accounts like this?

Thoroughly exasperated, Qiao Qi first sent account number one a “Facing-the-Wall-in-Reflection.jpg” sticker, then earnestly turned to account number two for enlightenment.

7: Which chat window do I explain myself in?

Liangou: You think you have a choice here?

Liangou (2): Explain to each one separately!

Tch.

And who’s going to explain to me all that nonsense you posted on Weibo?!

Qiao Qi mashed her keyboard viciously, fired off six dots at Liangou, then switched over to the Liangou (2) chat window.

7: That’s about enough. 7: Cut it out already.

Liangou (2): ?

Liangou (2): You blocked me and you’re still coming at me all fierce?

Liangou (2): Do you know how embarrassed I was earlier!

Liangou (2): I was in the middle of telling people how amazing my online-dating girlfriend is, and right in front of them I got hit with a bunch of red exclamation marks!

“…”

Picturing the scene, Qiao Qi couldn’t help herself and fired off a whole string of:

7: Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

Liangou (2): ?

Liangou (2): You’re LAUGHING?!

7: Let me see!

7: Let me see!

7: Let me see the screenshot.

Liangou (2): Not giving it to you!

Liangou (2): [Hands-on-hips-fuming.jpg]

Liangou (2): You coax me first!

How exactly is she supposed to coax him?

There was no way she could actually admit the real reason for the block, so Qiao Qi lied without so much as a blush.

7: A kid at home was playing with my phone and had fun with it.

7: Must’ve been her who accidentally blocked you.

7: She doesn’t understand any of this, she didn’t mean to.

7: See, if you hadn’t added me, I wouldn’t even have known you got blocked.

Liangou (2): [smile]

Liangou (2): Bet you I don’t believe that.

7: ?

7: This needs betting on?

7: You don’t believe me?

7: How could you not believe me?

7: [Hands-on-hips-fuming.jpg]

7: You don’t believe me!

7: Fine.

7: Believe whatever you want.

7: 886.

Liangou (2): …

Liangou (2): ?

Somehow ending up on the losing end of the conversation without quite understanding how, Liang Yan got a real, firsthand lesson in why you shouldn’t get into a spat with your girlfriend — because in the end, not only did you not get what you wanted, you might end up owing her something extra on top.

So, in the next instant, Liang Yan switched over to account number one with tremendous survival instinct.

Pretending everything that had happened on account two simply didn’t exist.

Liangou: [hehe.jpg]

The moment he sent that sticker, Qiao Qi knew she’d won again.

So, quite reasonably, she typed back three words.

7: Let me see.

Liangou: Fine, I’ll show you.

Liangou: Not like it’s some big deal.

The toughest possible tone, delivering the most pathetic possible surrender.

Amused, Qiao Qi couldn’t help but tease anyway.

7: Why so fierce about it?

7: If you don’t want to show me, don’t show me.

7: Not like it’s some big deal.

Liang Yan: “…?”

This actually works on me?

Wearing a face full of question marks, Liang Yan silently recalled two messages.

The moment Qiao Qi saw the system notice that the other party had recalled a message, she nearly collapsed onto the bed laughing.

She lay on her side, one hand propping up her head, the other holding her phone, waiting expectantly for him to send the screenshot.

But once she actually saw the content of the screenshot, Qiao Qi couldn’t laugh anymore.

How old are you again, exactly?

Oh, and where do you work?

What do you do?

Three questions of death.

…She should never have looked!

Qiao Qi was stunned.

She practically shot upright on the bed, her spine straightening on reflex from the sudden tension, her grip on the phone tightening bit by bit, her knuckles going white with strain.

She stared at the questions on her screen, deeply conflicted.

Should I use this chance to have a real conversation?

But…

Qiao Qi remembered how, at the hospital, he’d panicked and fled just from her grabbing his hand. If she told him now that she was Qiao Qi — wouldn’t she be the next one blocked?

Probably… probably would, right? Right?

And just like that, whatever courage Qiao Qi had managed to gather vanished again.

Unable to help herself, she puffed out her cheeks, her expression a mix of frustration and regret — frustrated that she’d never been able to find the right moment to tell the truth, regretful that she’d ever glanced at Liang Yan’s phone in that KTV room in the first place.

If I hadn’t glanced at it, none of this would have happened!

Even though she’d been so curious about “Li’ang’s” identity back then, she’d never imagined that shouldering this truth alone would be quite this exhausting.

Probably because she’d gone silent for so long, Liang Yan considerately sent another message first.

And offered her a way down the ladder while he was at it.

Liangou: Finished reading it?

Liangou: Whatever, my friends aren’t around anymore anyway, respond or don’t, up to you.

Liangou: I’ve already lost every last shred of face and dignity here.

Liangou: Whatever happens, happens.

Liangou: Doesn’t matter.

Then he sent a sticker that looked distinctly like it did, in fact, matter.

Liangou: [Blankly-staring-at-the-back-of-a-distant-panda.jpg]

“…”

That sticker only made Qiao Qi’s already tangled inner state worse.

She bit her lip, staring at the phone screen, the cold light reflected in her eyes making her inner turmoil plainly visible.

Just as she still couldn’t bring herself to decide, Qiao Qi received a WeChat message from Tong Shuqu.

Tong Shuqu: Maiya just woke up from a nightmare, I stayed and talked with her for a bit.

Tong Shuqu: Took the chance to ask about the thing between her and Liang Xumo.

Tong Shuqu: She still didn’t say, and very seriously told me to stop asking.

Tong Shuqu: She said I’m so good to her, she doesn’t want to lie to me, doesn’t want to deceive me.

Tong Shuqu: She looked pretty upset about it, maybe we really shouldn’t ask anymore.

Tong Shuqu had sent a whole string of messages at once. Qiao Qi quickly worked through all of them, replied with a single “okay,” and then let her gaze settle on the second-to-last message.

— “She said I’m so good to her, she doesn’t want to lie to me, doesn’t want to deceive me.”

Without meaning to, Qiao Qi thought of Liang Yan. She couldn’t help but ask herself — was he good to her?

Setting aside “Liang Yan” and “Qiao Qi” for a moment — was “Li’ang” good to “7”?

The answer was obvious.

Her blurred vision cleared, and the heart that had been leaping up and down finally settled back into place.

Her lips curved into a relieved smile, and she switched her WeChat window over to Li’ang’s chat.

When she typed her reply, Qiao Qi’s expression was very serious.

7: Twenty-two this year.

7: Currently living in North City.

Qiao Qi had originally meant to say properly that she worked in media, but on reflection — her drama had wrapped, she wasn’t signed to any company, and she hadn’t joined a new production either.

So she played a little word game with Liang Yan instead.

7: Currently unemployed, staying at home.

Liangou: North City?

Liangou: You’ve always been in North City?

Qiao Qi knew Liang Yan was a North City local, but after thinking it over, decided to answer honestly.

7: Yes.

She worried that if the conversation went on much longer, and she kept trying to honor her “no lying, no deceiving” principle, she’d inevitably slip up. So she seized the initiative and redirected the topic to him instead.

7: What about you?

7: Still in the country?

Being a bit of a guilty conscience herself naturally made her sharp at catching guilt in others; the moment she asked that question, sure enough, the other side went quiet.

A subtle sense of triumph washed over her. Qiao Qi’s lips curved upward, and no longer tense, she relaxed back onto the bed.

She lay flat, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, holding her phone up above her.

The phone’s cold glow lit up her face, pale and bright.

She wondered — would he keep lying?

Actually, the two of them had already come close to the point of meeting in person before; surely he wouldn’t keep making things up now?

The next moment, a message popped up in the chat.

Liangou: Nope.

Liangou: Not here anymore.

Liangou: Left ages ago.

Fury shot straight to Qiao Qi’s head, and in her distraction, the phone slipped from her hand and landed square on her face.

Qiao Qi let out an “Ow!” and clutched her face, the pain nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

She held her nose with one hand, and with disbelief picked her phone back up, staring at his reply over and over, before finally hurling it away in fury.

Honesty, my ass!

She should’ve just said she was fifty-two years old this year!

Unemployed! Homeless! Sleeping under the sky with the earth as her bed!

—

Liang Yan felt like he’d probably developed some kind of trauma from Qiao Qi. He’d chatted with his pinned girlfriend pretty late into the night before, but since the other party had honestly shared a few pieces of real-world personal information, he’d fallen asleep in a pretty good mood.

Except he hadn’t expected to dream about Qiao Qi.

It felt as though he’d been yanked straight from his bed into Tong Shuqu’s office at the hospital — the exact same scene, him standing up, his hand caught by someone.

Somewhat dazed, he turned around, and met Qiao Qi’s small face tilted up toward him.

Her eyes, though clearly and vividly drawn out by makeup, striking and womanly, showed him something in those irises he’d never seen before — an unprecedented cleanness, and worry.

Like an innocent child gazing at something she wanted with pure, unguarded intent.

Yet also anxious, betraying a flicker of vulnerability at the fear of not getting it.

…Wanted… something?

Who? What is the something? Who is the something?

In dreams, emotions get magnified endlessly, senses growing sharper.

Liang Yan felt as if his wrist had been scalded by intense heat, the searing warmth crawling from the skin of his wrist along his pulse, all the way up to the tip of his heart.

Caught off guard.

His heart trembled.

Trembled almost beyond his control.

His whole body gave an involuntary, subtle shudder too, and then, his neck stiff, he turned his head, his gaze moving inch by inch, until finally meeting Qiao Qi’s eyes.

This time, he couldn’t escape.

Because the space around them had transformed into something resembling a galaxy, a cosmic expanse.

As though the only two people left between heaven and earth were the two of them.

Liang Yan tried to pull his hand back, only to find he couldn’t move at all.

But Qiao Qi could move.

She even stood up, taking a step right up to him.

Then she took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Liang Yan stared, wide-eyed, saying nothing. The next moment, he saw Qiao Qi’s other hand slowly rise.

Liang Yan watched her place her hand over his chest, and then heard her say: “Look, in here — I’m in there.”

Liang Yan couldn’t move, but he could still speak. He said, “No. I have a girlfriend.”

Qiao Qi smiled, the corners of her beautiful eyes carrying a distinctly womanly allure.

She rose onto her toes, the hand resting against his chest slowly sliding down to wrap around his lean waist, pulling her body flush against his.

Their bodies fit together almost perfectly.

Then, Liang Yan heard Qiao Qi say:

“But I am the girlfriend.”

Liang Yan startled, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

The next moment, something pierced straight through his chest.

Liang Yan choked, his eyes widening even further.

And then, he watched as Qiao Qi pulled a heart out of his own chest.

Qiao Qi held the bloody heart up, shaking it in front of him — and on it, two characters: Qiao Qi.

Qiao Qi smiled. “You’ve been lying, you know.”

“Qiao Qi?!”

Liang Yan’s eyes snapped open. The curtains in his room had somehow been thrown open.

Daylight had fully broken.

For a long moment he stayed dazed before slowly sitting up. He touched his forehead — covered in cold sweat.

He covered his face and let out a long breath, and just then, a voice sounded near his ear.

“What’s wrong?”

Startled, Liang Yan whipped his head up and found Liang Xumo standing by the window.

His face went pale. “Sis? What are you doing in my room?”

Liang Xumo said, “Came to call you for breakfast. Knocked forever with no answer, thought something was wrong, so I came in to check — and found you frowning, drenched in sweat.”

“The moment I opened the curtains, you woke right up.”

“What’s wrong? Did you have a dream?”

Liang Yan opened his mouth, then quietly shook his head, saying nothing.

He still hadn’t fully recovered; his expression looked distinctly off.

Liang Xumo, smiling, handed him a wet wipe to freshen up his face. Liang Yan took it and wiped a couple of times without feeling much better, and finally just threw off the covers and headed for the bathroom.

The weather was lovely today, sunlight abundant, streaming through the window and falling across Liang Yan’s back, highlighting his tall, lean figure.

Standing off to the side, Liang Xumo seemed, in that moment, to realize that the little young master of the Liang family, whom she’d indulged for so long, had truly grown up after all.

Like bamboo shooting up joint by joint, he’d grown up without her even noticing.

His shoulders had broadened, and without a word he now carried the weight of the entire sunlit sky.

And yet his hair was still tousled and messy, his gait still lazy and unhurried, seemingly no different at all from the boy in her memory who’d never wanted to do anything properly.

At times, from certain angles.

He still seemed like that same little brother who used to swing on her arm.

Watching him, Liang Xumo suddenly called out: “Liang Yan.”

Liang Yan gave a “Hm?” and, yawning lazily, turned around.

Having just gotten up, every joint in his body still soft and loose, he had to lean against the wall beside him as he turned. “What?”

Liang Xumo hesitated for only a moment before asking: “Did you dream about Qiao Qi?”

Liang Yan froze.

Liang Xumo smiled faintly, saying, as though it were nothing at all: “I heard you say her name just now. What is it? A bad dream?”

Despite waking in a cold sweat, thinking back on the dream’s content, Liang Yan still said no.

“It wasn’t really a bad dream, I guess…” He thought it over and still couldn’t quite find the words to describe it, and could only offer a dismissive, “Doesn’t matter. I’ve almost forgotten what it was about already.”

Liang Xumo smiled again, apparently not intending to let him off that easily.

“They say what’s on your mind by day shows up in your dreams by night. So, what — do you like Qiao Qi?”

At those words, Liang Yan startled, his lazily lowered eyelids suddenly lifting halfway.

Facing the sunlight, his eyes caught the light, bright and clear.

Countless emotions swirled within them, and yet he stayed silent, offering no denial.

Author’s Note: I’ll write another chapter in a bit, should post around 1 or 2 AM.