HomeFirst FrostNan Hong - Chapter 4

Nan Hong – Chapter 4

His voice was neither loud nor soft.

But it was like a sudden clap of thunder, instantly awakening Wen Yifan.

She remembered what she had said to Sang Yan when she came here a few days ago.

—”Sorry, we’re a respectable bar here.”

—”That’s quite a shame.”

“…”

Wen Yifan pressed her lips together slightly, overwhelmed by an all-encompassing sense of embarrassment.

Fortunately, it was noisy around them, and the bartender hadn’t heard Sang Yan’s words at all. He only asked puzzledly: “Boss, what are you doing?” Then, pointing to the drawer, he raised his voice: “Did you see the bracelet that was put here?”

Hearing this, Sang Yan glanced over lightly.

The bartender explained: “This customer was here a few days ago and lost a bracelet. Yu Zhuo found it that day, and I…”

He paused, then corrected himself: “You put it away.”

Sang Yan sat on a high stool, lazily letting out an “Ah.”

Bartender: “So where did you put it?”

Sang Yan withdrew his gaze, his expression casual: “Never seen it.”

“…” The bartender was at a loss for words, seemingly rendered speechless by his fickleness.

At the same time, two young women came to the bar to order drinks.

As if seeing a savior, the bartender threw a “Boss, you entertain them, I’ll work first” to Sang Yan, then immediately turned to attend to the two women.

Yu Zhuo had also left the area at some point.

Only the two of them remained.

Although in a crowded and noisy setting, it wasn’t much different from being alone. After all, the bartender had said those words. With one standing and one sitting, the atmosphere seemed disconnected from the surroundings, somewhat strange.

Sang Yan took a clean transparent glass and poured himself a drink, filling it halfway.

The next moment, Sang Yan pushed the glass in front of her.

Wen Yifan looked over in surprise.

The man’s black hair fell messily over his forehead, his eyelashes like crow’s feathers, his features half-lit in this lighting. He was still holding a half-empty beer can, raising an eyebrow: “How should I entertain you?”

This time, Wen Yifan truly felt as if she had come here for illicit purposes.

She paused for a moment, not touching the drink: “No need, thank you.”

—Awkward silence.

Probably because of the bartender’s explanation, Sang Yan also felt embarrassed and didn’t deliberately bring up the matter of contact information again. Thinking this was his territory, Wen Yifan decided to save face for him and didn’t mention it either.

She brought the conversation back to the original topic: “Does the boss always handle lost items here?”

Sang Yan smiled: “Who told you that?”

Wen Yifan pointed in the direction of the bartender.

Sang Yan looked over, relaxing his grip and suddenly tapping the beer can on the bar counter.

“He Mingbo.”

He Mingbo instinctively looked up: “Yes! What is it, boss?”

Sang Yan said flatly: “Since when have I been free enough to handle trivial matters like lost items?”

“…” He Mingbo hadn’t reacted, and since he was still busy, he only said, “Boss. Wait a moment, let me finish making this drink for the customer first.”

Sang Yan’s attitude could hardly be described as good.

Wen Yifan pressed her lips together and put the business card next to the glass: “Then I’ll leave my contact information here, you can just call this number when you find it, and I’ll come to pick it up. Thank you.”

Sang Yan didn’t even look up, perfunctorily humming in response.

Wen Yifan didn’t know.

If he treated every customer like this.

How this bar managed to stay in business.

Maybe it was just towards her.

Perhaps he was displeased by her previous words; or maybe he was still holding a grudge about past events, pretending not to recognize her, and not wanting to show any kindness when seeing her.

She had been to the police station in the early hours of this morning, and then visited three places for interviews. She still had to discuss early termination of the lease with the landlord, consider a new place to live, and be wary of retaliation from the man next door.

A pile of things awaited her.

In comparison, Sang Yan’s attitude seemed insignificant.

But for some reason.

Maybe because of the lingering morning temper, she inexplicably felt a bit stifled.

Wen Yifan softly added: “It’s a very important item, thank you for your trouble.”

She was about to leave.

Sang Yan: “Wait a moment.”

Wen Yifan stopped in her tracks.

Sang Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he called out again: “He Mingbo, what are you dawdling for?”

He Mingbo: “Huh?”

“Someone left something here,” Sang Yan looked at him, enunciating each word, “Aren’t you going to look for it?”

“…”

With Sang Yan saying this, He Mingbo could only reluctantly search again. This time, miraculously, he found it in the lower cabinet. He sighed in relief and immediately handed it to her: “Is this it?”

Wen Yifan took it: “Yes, thank you.”

He Mingbo glanced in Sang Yan’s direction, rubbing the back of his head: “No need, no need. We’re sorry for wasting so much of your time.”

Sang Yan continued drinking, not saying a word.

Wen Yifan nodded, said goodbye, and left.

Outside, it was wet and cold, with few people around. Looking down the street, it was desolate and empty.

Wen Yifan was too cold to want to touch her phone, quickly messaging Zhong Siqiao on WeChat “Found the bracelet,” before stuffing her hands back into her pockets. She sniffled, her mind wandering inexplicably.

Her thoughts were gradually filled with memories.

Because of the unpleasant yet somewhat familiar Sang Yan just now.

She recalled the scene of their first encounter.

On the first day of high school, Wen Yifan was late.

After arriving at school, she didn’t even have time to go to her dormitory. She asked her uncle to leave her luggage with the dorm supervisor, then hurriedly ran towards Building A where the first-year classrooms were located, climbing to the fourth floor.

Passing through a corridor, she walked towards the inner area. As she passed the school water dispenser, she saw Sang Yan for the first time.

The young man stood tall, wearing a blue and white striped school uniform, his backpack hanging loosely. His features were handsome and noble, his expression indifferent, looking somewhat unapproachable.

Completely different from her state.

As if unaware that the bell had already rung, he was getting water there, looking leisurely.

Wen Yifan was in a hurry to get to class, but only knew her class was on the fourth floor of this building, not the exact location.

Not wanting to waste time up here, she stopped and decided to ask for directions: “Excuse me.”

Sang Yan released the switch, and the sound of water stopped. He slowly screwed the bottle cap on and glanced over.

Just one look before he turned away, showing no intention of responding to her.

At that time, Wen Yifan didn’t know him yet, only thinking this person wasn’t afraid of being late, still casually getting water during class time, without any of the caution and trepidation of a new student.

More like an old hand who had traveled the world for years.

So she hesitated for a few seconds and changed her words: “…Senior?”

Sang Yan raised an eyebrow, looking over again.

“Excuse me,” Wen Yifan said, “do you know where Class 17 of the first year is?”

This time Sang Yan didn’t appear indifferent. He lifted his chin, very graciously speaking: “Go straight ahead and turn right.”

Wen Yifan nodded, waiting for his next words.

But Sang Yan didn’t speak again.

Wen Yifan also didn’t hear any concluding words like “and you’re there.”

Afraid he hadn’t finished, out of caution, she reluctantly asked again: “And then?”

“And then?” Sang Yan stepped forward, his tone leisurely and irritating, “Then look at the class numbers on the doors yourself, do you expect your senior to read them out one by one for you—”

He dragged out the last syllable, enunciating each word: “Ju-nior.”

“…”

Wen Yifan thanked him good-naturedly.

Following his directions, she turned right and saw the sign for Class 15. Further ahead, the innermost was Class 17. Wen Yifan quickened her pace, calling softly at the door: “Excuse me.”

The homeroom teacher on the podium looked at her, glanced down at the list, and asked: “Sang Yan?”

Wen Yifan shook her head: “Teacher, my name is Wen Yifan.”

“Ah, Yifan.” The teacher looked at the list again, somewhat surprised, “Only you and Sang Yan are left on the list. I thought this name sounded more like a girl’s, so I thought it was you.”

Before the teacher could ask her to come in, a male voice sounded behind Wen Yifan: “Excuse me.”

Following the voice, she instinctively turned her head.

She saw the “senior” who had just given her directions standing behind her. With only two steps between them, up close, she realized how tall he was.

She had to look up to see his face at this distance.

His aura was cold, adding a sense of pressure. There was a faint scent of sandalwood.

His emotions were indifferent as he said without much sincerity: “I’m sorry, teacher, I’m late.”

“You two come in first, your seats are there,” the teacher pointed to the only two remaining seats in the classroom, adding, “Why are you late on the first day? Did you come together?”

The direction the teacher pointed was in the last row of the innermost group.

The two seats were side by side.

Wen Yifan answered honestly: “We didn’t come together. My family had other things to do this morning, so they were a bit late in sending me. Plus, I didn’t know the way very well, so I arrived late.”

“I see.” The teacher nodded, looking at Sang Yan, “What about you?”

“My dad didn’t know I was already in high school,” Sang Yan walked directly to the outer seat, put his backpack on the desk, and said lazily, “He took me to the middle school.”

“…”

Dead silence.

Then in an instant, it was covered by waves of laughter. The quiet classroom became lively.

The corners of Wen Yifan’s lips also curved up secretly.

“Well, remind your dad when he drops you off in the future,” the teacher laughed along, “Alright, you two sit down.”

Sang Yan nodded in response. As he pulled out the chair, about to sit down, he suddenly noticed Wen Yifan standing not far away.

He paused: “Do you want to sit on the outside or inside?”

Their eyes met.

Wen Yifan quickly hid her smile, hesitating: “Inside, I guess.”

The classroom space was not large.

The desks were divided into four groups, each with seven rows and two columns. There wasn’t much space left in the last row, with chairs pressed against the wall. To get in, the person on the outside would have to make room.

Sang Yan said nothing, stepping out to make way for her.

On the podium, the homeroom teacher began speaking again: “Let me introduce myself once more. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the coming year, as well as your chemistry teacher.” She patted the blackboard: “This is my name.”

On the blackboard was neatly written “Zhang Wenhong” and a phone number.

Wen Yifan took out paper and pen from her backpack, carefully noting it down.

After a while, the boy in front suddenly leaned back, resting his elbow on Sang Yan’s desk. He seemed to know Sang Yan and turned his head slightly, grinning: “Miss Sang, your name does sound quite girly, huh.”

“…”

Wen Yifan was stunned for a moment.

She immediately recalled what Zhang Wenhong had said when they first entered the classroom.

—”Only you and Sang Yan are left on the list. I thought this name sounded more like a girl’s.”

Hearing this, Wen Yifan’s attention fell on Sang Yan.

He was tall, sitting in this narrow space, his long legs couldn’t fit under the desk, constrained. One leg was simply propped out to the side. His eyelids were drooping, always giving people a sleepy and somewhat impatient feeling.

He was expressionlessly looking at the boy.

“I’m not the one who said it, the teacher just did. But now that she mentions it, when I think about your name carefully, it really could make me lose my mind,” the boy said, trying hard to hold back his laughter. “If you were a girl, I’d try to date you.”

Sang Yan looked him up and down, then said slowly: “Su Hao’an, don’t you have any self-awareness?”

Su Hao’an: “What?”

“If I were a girl, would I be interested in a toad like you?”

“…” Su Hao’an’s face instantly darkened. After three seconds of silence, he said, “Get lost.”

Wen Yifan was distracted from listening to their conversation, feeling a bit amused.

This tone also reminded her of how Sang Yan had called himself a senior and her a junior earlier. She paused, muttering “shameless” in her heart.

At this time, Zhang Wenhong was called out by another teacher.

Without someone to keep order, the chatter in the classroom gradually increased.

“Also, about my name,” Sang Yan wasn’t finished, continuing to ramble, “My old man flipped through the Great Chinese Dictionary for seven days and seven nights, held eighty-odd family meetings, and then carefully selected—”

Wen Yifan rested her chin on her hand, her thoughts gradually drifting, listening to his words word by word.

She heard him pause for a few seconds, then finish nonchalantly: “—the most manly character.”

The extremely noisy background brought a sense of security. Wen Yifan stared at the words in her notebook, sighing softly, commenting inaudibly: “Still not as manly as mine.”

“…”

Su Hao’an scoffed: “Then why don’t you just call yourself Sang Manly?”

Wen Yifan was inexplicably tickled by this, lowering her head to laugh silently. After a long while, she suddenly realized that Sang Yan beside her hadn’t responded to Su Hao’an’s words.

Silent and wordless.

Now he was as quiet as if he didn’t exist.

She instinctively looked towards Sang Yan.

Only then did she realize that at some point, Sang Yan’s gaze had shifted to her. His dark, slightly cold eyes, with specks of sunlight falling on the corners, didn’t soften his appearance at all.

Direct and unrestrained, with a hint of scrutiny.

Wen Yifan’s heart skipped a beat.

What’s going on?

“…”

Did he hear what she just said…?

No way, right?

Surely not?

Before she could conclude.

Sang Yan’s fingertips lightly tapped the edge of the desk, and he said leisurely: “Ah, right. I haven’t had the chance to ask.”

Wen Yifan’s breath caught, gripping her pen tightly.

“New deskmate?” Sang Yan tilted his head, speaking somewhat arrogantly, “What’s your name?”

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