Naturally, Teacher Liang had no intention of getting lost—not only did he not leave, the moment he heard the door open across the hall, he ran straight out too.

Qiao Qi had just stepped out to grab her delivery order; the hotel didn’t allow delivery drivers up, so she’d had them leave her food at the front desk. By now, so much time had passed the food was probably no longer edible.

So her only option was to try her luck at the restaurant.

But the moment she stepped out, Liang Yan’s door across the hall opened too.

…This behavior was clearly premeditated.

“Where are you headed, Teacher Qiao?” Liang Yan had, at some point, changed into a turtleneck sweater, thick-knit, which made his already-slight frame look pleasantly soft and fluffy.

He looked like some giant, extremely huggable pet.

Qiao Qi couldn’t help but curl the hand in her pocket into a fist against her own lambswool coat.

But her face still showed no expression, looking for all the world like she genuinely just considered Liang Yan a fellow cast member.

Absolutely no other thoughts whatsoever.

She looked away indifferently, walking toward the elevator. “Getting food.”

Not a firm “none of your business,” nor a cold “just wandering around”—instead, she’d stated her exact destination.

What did that mean?

Obviously an invitation to join her!

But the girl had her pride—how could she just say it outright?

So Liang Yan, quite considerately, didn’t call out Qiao Qi on it, and instead said, gentlemanly, “Let’s go together, I haven’t eaten either.”

Qiao Qi shot him a cool glance at that but said nothing else.

So Liang Yan tagged along with even more confidence.

—

Fortunately, the hotel was thoughtful enough to keep the restaurant open even at this hour.

Both Liang Yan and Qiao Qi had scenes to film the next day, so they couldn’t eat anything too oily or heavily flavored, and ended up ordering a simple meal.

Qiao Qi stayed quiet through the meal, occasionally replying to messages on her phone.

Replying to messages wasn’t unusual in itself, but why was she smiling while doing it?

Liang Yan gradually lost his appetite, tossed his chopsticks aside, leaned back against his chair, and stared at Qiao Qi with lazy, half-lidded eyes.

Qiao Qi noticed and glanced up at him.

Liang Yan curved his lips into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, then generously lifted his chin. “It’s fine, go on with your chat.”

Qiao Qi: “…What do you mean by that?”

Liang Yan wasn’t feeling generous this time; he suddenly leaned his arms on the table, closing in toward Qiao Qi. “Look at my hair.”

Qiao Qi didn’t understand.

Liang Yan: “Look.”

Qiao Qi glanced up at his hair, seeing nothing unusual.

Short as it was, it still looked crisp and neat.

The young master’s handsome face made any hairstyle look good—it just gave him a different kind of aura.

“Done looking?” Liang Yan asked.

His tone serious enough that Qiao Qi couldn’t help but take it seriously too.

She nodded, asking, “What’s wrong?”

The next second, all she heard was him ask, “Green?”

Qiao Qi: “…”

As he said this, his gaze slid meaningfully toward the phone in Qiao Qi’s hand.

Qiao Qi instantly got it.

“…Get lost.”

“If I get lost, you won’t get to chat anymore,” Liang Yan said, his tone sour. “Switching to phone calls now, is that it?”

Qiao Qi found this thoroughly exasperating; she set down her own chopsticks too, done eating. “What are you even thinking? I was chatting with Tong Shuqu about Maiya…” She stopped halfway through explaining, then suddenly caught herself—why was she even explaining herself to him?

What relationship did they even have?

Were they that close?

So instead, she said, “What business is it of yours?”

But it was too late—Liang Yan had already caught on. “Oh, go ahead and chat then, and say hi to the little one for me.”

As he said this, he suddenly recalled something. “Oh, right? Didn’t you mention you went to visit family at the hospital that one time? Was that visiting Maiya?”

His question reminded Qiao Qi that she’d gone to see Liang Xumo before joining the production, and had promised Liang Xumo she’d let Liang Yan know to find time to visit her.

She’d gotten busy and completely forgotten.

“No, I went to see you—” Her voice cut off abruptly.

…She couldn’t say that.

She’d gone to see Liang Xumo, but had told Liang Yan she was visiting “family.”

What kind of relationship chain was that supposed to be?

Qiao Qi choked for a moment, then, under Liang Yan’s puzzled gaze, said, casually, “I wasn’t visiting her—I went specifically to see her, on purpose.”

Liang Yan didn’t quite understand what the distinction in wording was supposed to mean, but he didn’t dare ask either.

He gave a quiet “oh,” then looked down at Qiao Qi’s bowl, still nearly full, and frowned in displeasure. “Keep eating.”

“I’m done.” Eating too much before bed wasn’t good.

She hadn’t actually meant it as dieting—she just genuinely felt uncomfortable eating too much before sleep—but Liang Yan assumed she was prepping for tomorrow’s on-camera appearance.

He said, thoroughly disapproving, “This kind of food won’t puff up your face. Besides, you’re skinny enough already—being even skinnier doesn’t necessarily look better on camera.”

Qiao Qi silently glanced at Liang Yan, thinking he was talking nonsense.

Liang Yan, entirely unfazed, said, “What are you looking at, I’m the senior here, I call the shots.”

As he spoke, he reached over, picked up the chopsticks by Qiao Qi’s bowl, and handed them back to her, coaxing her like a child, “A couple more bites.”

As he reached out, his wrist emerged briefly from the warm white sweater cuff; the restaurant lighting happened to be warm yellow too, falling from the strands of his hair onto his shoulders, then down onto his thin but not frail-looking wrist, the wrist bone clearly visible.

He was, if anything, even thinner than her.

So Qiao Qi merely gave it a light glance before turning back to Liang Yan, delivering her soul-baring conclusion: “You’re thinner than me.”

Liang Yan paused, and after a few seconds of quiet eye contact with Qiao Qi, his peach-blossom eyes suddenly crinkled with a smile.

Qiao Qi: “?”

Liang Yan lifted his lips. “Worried about me?”

Qiao Qi: “…?”

Liang Yan: “If you wanted me to eat with you, you could’ve just said so.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

As he spoke, Liang Yan forcibly took the phone out of Qiao Qi’s hand, pressed the chopsticks into her fingers, then picked up his own chopsticks. “Let’s eat together.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

Fine, if that’s how it was, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Just as Qiao Qi was thinking this, her lips curving into a small smile, the man across from her suddenly lowered his voice, as if about to say something scandalous, “Why is your hand so soft.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

Forget eating—let’s just flip the table!

Or better yet, kill this shameless pervert first, then eat!

But of course, this wish—while there weren’t many people left in the restaurant at this hour—still couldn’t be fulfilled in public, because she had filming tomorrow.

She still needed Rooftop’s Best Actor to play her leading man.

After dinner, the two of them returned to their respective rooms in remarkably harmonious spirits; Qiao Qi was clearly in a good mood, chatting with Tong Shuqu with noticeably more words than usual.

Tong Shuqu picked up on it too, and asked: everything go smoothly today?

Qiao Qi: Pretty good.

Tong Shuqu: You seem happy.

Qiao Qi paused, then, recalling that she’d also been in a good mood the whole time eating with Liang Yan just now, pressed her lips together in a small smile and didn’t deny it.

Qiao Qi: Mm.

Qiao Qi: Is Maiya asleep already?

Tong Shuqu: I’m not on duty today.

Qiao Qi: I see.

Qiao Qi: So you’re not working overtime for once.

Qiao Qi: Get some rest early then.

Right after saying goodbye to Tong Shuqu, Qiao Qi remembered her earlier visit to Liang Xumo at the hospital, thought it over, and decided to mention it to Liang Yan anyway.

Qiao Qi: I saw your sister before, too. She said it’s been a while since she’s seen you.

About five minutes passed before he replied.

Liang Yan: !

Qiao Qi: ?

Liang Yan: So THAT’S who you meant by “family”!

Qiao Qi: …

Liang Yan: Tsk.

Qiao Qi didn’t reply.

But he kept going anyway.

Liang Yan: Tsk.

…So smug.

The smugness practically radiated through the screen.

Displeased, Qiao Qi promptly blocked him.

But she forgot there was still another entry sitting in her WeChat friend list—saved under the name Liangou (2).

7: …Exactly how many accounts do you have?

Liangou (2): No more.

Liangou (2): They’re all yours now.

7: Really?

7: I don’t believe you.

Liangou (2): Are you digging at that emcee teacher again?

Liangou (2): Screenshotting this.

Liangou (2): Posting you on Weibo.

Liangou (2): And revealing our relationship to the world while I’m at it.

7: …886.

Then, with practiced ease, she clicked into his profile and, without a shred of guilt, dragged him into the blacklist too.

Within thirty seconds, Qiao Qi received a text message from this same person.

Liang Yan: Goodnight.

Qiao Qi: “…”

Help!

She’d been stuck to a dog-skin plaster and couldn’t peel him off!

Author’s Note: Just a slice of daily life.

Advance warning: coming up, there’s a character you all dislike showing up in the story.

Not gonna lie to you all.

I only got off work tonight at 8:30.

So forgive the short update…