Most of the people who had come out were boys. Besides Lin Tao, the other girls were the cheerleaders from the basketball match.

The private room was lively with chatter. Hu Hanghang stood beside Jiang Yan with one foot propped up on the bench, doing a bottle-versus-bottle contest with Liu Sheng across the table.

Lin Tao was sitting in the corner against the wall. When Jiang Yan leaned toward her, Hu Hanghang happened to be standing right there — his tall frame blocking most of both of their silhouettes.

Jiang Yan in particular, viewed from the front, was barely visible — just a small corner of his clothing, the rest entirely obscured.

Xu Yichuan and Song Yuan, sitting across from them, chose to be selectively blind — even if they saw, they pretended they hadn’t.

The private room was noisy — the clinking of bottles, the sound of voices, someone shouting something in the background.

Lin Tao and Jiang Yan were pressed very close together.

The young man’s breathing was near at hand, his warm breath enveloping her from all sides.

She swallowed involuntarily, tilted her head slightly, and looked at him — momentarily at a loss for words.

Her boyfriend’s ways were too deep — what was she supposed to do when she couldn’t beat him at his own game?

What could she do?

What else could she do!?

……Just accept it gracefully.

After a silence, Lin Tao steadied herself, composed an internal slogan on the spot: Sweet-type girl Lin Tao — the name says it all, truly sweet.

Very serious. Very sincere.

“……”

Jiang Yan hadn’t expected this to be her response. He froze for a few seconds, then smiled and leaned back a little.

Lin Tao puffed out her cheeks. Her lips pressed into a flat line, and her tone had no patience whatsoever. “Classmate Jiang — I’d advise you to be kinder.”

Jiang Yan didn’t know what nerve she’d hit, but he laughed until he couldn’t stop — his shoulders even shaking with the laughter in small bursts.

Lin Tao: “……”

Fine.

Men were all like this.

Not a single word out of them, not even the punctuation marks, could be trusted.

Jiang Yan laughed for a full three or four minutes before stopping. Lin Tao had already given up talking to him and lowered her head to eat what was in her bowl.

Halfway through, Jiang Yan stood up to go outside and take a phone call.

Only a few minutes passed before he came back — but his expression was somewhat dazed when he returned, gripping his glass without seeming to know what he was thinking.

Lin Tao finished the last piece of watermelon before noticing her boyfriend’s odd state. She pulled out a tissue, wiped her hands clean, and leaned sideways toward him. “What’s wrong? You went to take a phone call and came back looking like you left your soul outside.”

“Hmm?” Jiang Yan was in the middle of his thoughts. He heard her voice, froze for three seconds, then came back to himself. “Nothing. Probably drank too fast — head’s a bit foggy.”

Lin Tao pressed her lips together and gave a small click of her tongue. She didn’t believe a word of it. “Boyfriend — lying is not a good habit.”

“Come on. Tell me. Leniency for those who confess, severity for those who resist.” She leaned close, the light falling into her eyes, bright and flickering. “Are you secretly messaging other girls?”

Jiang Yan couldn’t help a helpless laugh and looked away. “What kind of mess is your head filled with every day?”

“Nothing messy at all.” Lin Tao rested her fingers lightly on his wrist and traced them gently back and forth, like petting a small cat or dog — carrying a strong soothing intent. “Just you.”

Jiang Yan looked down and met her gaze. He let out a quiet sigh and explained, “It’s nothing major. Yu Fengyuan—”

He paused and corrected himself, “—it was my mother’s assistant calling. Said she’s not feeling well and wants me to come back for a visit.”

“Are you going?”

“No.” Jiang Yan lowered his head. Without the fringe covering his face, his features were fully exposed — cool and detached. “No need.”

When someone is sick, the person they should see is a doctor, not him.

If seeing him once could make someone better, he might as well be the reincarnation of a great healer.

Lin Tao couldn’t understand his coldness and his refusal to yield when it came to Yu Fengyuan — but as far as she was concerned, whatever Jiang Yan did, he had his own reasons.

She might not understand, but she always supported him, whatever the reason.

After the dinner wrapped up, the group, still reluctant for the night to end, went to the KTV on the next street. When Lin Tao asked Jiang Yan if he wanted to go, he — against all expectations — didn’t refuse.

“Let’s go.” Jiang Yan glanced at the boys who were stumbling ahead of them. “They’ve all had a lot to drink. Someone has to keep an eye on them.”

If something happened, Old Yu would have to be the one held responsible.

Old Yu had been kind enough to give them the evening off. They couldn’t let Old Yu’s good intentions go to waste.

It had to be said — Jiang Yan was the kind of person who used what does that have to do with me as a life motto. Yet when he inadvertently revealed his attentiveness, it was genuinely captivating.

His appeal didn’t come from what he said but was hidden in the things he did, one by one.

Defiant and arrogant as he was by nature, in how he conducted himself, there was always a considered line of thought — never overreaching, never pushing his luck.

Young and spirited, defiant and free.

How could anyone not be intoxicated by someone like that.

The group trooped noisily into the KTV.

A small-to-medium room couldn’t fit this many people. Jiang Yan went straight for a large room — and the KTV happened to be running a promotion: book the large room and redeem a voucher for an equal value of drinks, fruit platters, and snacks.

Jiang Yan paid and settled the bill. A uniformed staff member promptly hauled two crates of alcohol out from the back and set them on the front counter. “Shall I open them for you?”

“……”

Jiang Yan’s hand paused mid-signing and he looked back at the group flopped every which way across the lobby sofas. His eyelid gave a small twitch. “Skip the alcohol — swap it for juice.”

The staff member looked surprised. “Not a single bottle?”

Lin Tao, standing to one side, smiled and chimed in, “Not a single one. We’re all minors — we can’t drink.”

“……”

The staff member was silently screaming inside.

You’re lying!

Look at those people in the lobby! Not a single one of them isn’t visibly drunk!

You just don’t want our alcohol!

Lin Tao had no idea about the staff member’s unspoken protest. Once the room was ready, a dedicated staff member led the group over.

After adjusting the equipment in the room, the staff member changed the lighting mode. The previously bright light shifted to something dim and hazy.

“Enjoy yourselves,” the staff member said, and his figure flickered out behind the closing door.

As the door opened and closed, the sound of caterwauling from the corridor outside flashed through for a moment.

The private room was spacious, with a U-shaped sofa in the center that could seat about ten people, and a mahjong table off to the side.

Directly in front of the sofa was a flat-screen TV connected to the song-selection unit beside it.

The already-half-drunk Hu Hanghang was first to push to the front of the machine. He swiped through and picked several songs from a well-known domestic music group, then slid into the seat beside the standing microphone. He gave a light cough. “Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the international concert of ‘Hu.'”

Lin Tao, just feeling her way through the dark toward the sofa, stumbled at that, the whole of her going straight into Jiang Yan’s arms. Her chin knocked right into the zipper on the front of his jacket.

She hissed softly.

Jiang Yan caught her by the arm and pulled her upright, then leaned his head down close. “Did you bang it?”

“I’m fine.” Lin Tao rubbed her chin and sat down beside him, eyes on Hu Hanghang. “Is Pangpang drunk?”

The words had barely left her mouth when Hu Hanghang opened his lungs.

“When the world and I don’t see eye to eye / Then let me not see eye to eye / For me, perseverance means meeting stubbornness with stubbornness / If I compromise with myself / If I lie to myself / ……”

Hu Hanghang’s singing wasn’t bad at all. Back in Hai City, he’d sung songs by this same group — his voice had a distinct quality and recognizability. Not deep, but something more open and airy.

The song he was singing now was quite popular. Even people who didn’t know the title could instinctively join in once it hit the chorus.

A round of group sing-along broke out inside the room.

“……/ My last bit of stubbornness / Hands clenched, I will never let go / Is the next stop heaven / Even if I lose hope, I cannot despair / My proud stubbornness / I shout loudly in the wind / This one time, going crazy for myself / Just this once / My stubbornness / ……”

……

By the end of the song, everyone was still hungry for more.

The private room was filled with echoing song. Someone had adjusted the lighting again — the previously dim fluorescent light had been replaced by shifting, dappled colors.

Jiang Yan was starting to feel tired. He tilted his head back against the sofa, his eyes half-closed. The colored light drifted across the ceiling and a few points of it landed on his eyelids.

Lin Tao assumed he’d fallen asleep and reached out to block the light for him.

But Jiang Yan, who was only resting his eyes — not truly asleep — sensed something approaching. He snapped them open instantly and, in the dim shifting light of the room, caught sight of the palm hovering just in front of him.

Slender pale fingers. A palm with complex lines.

He reached up and took hold of the hand, warm fingertips closing around her fingers.

The sudden move startled Lin Tao. Her fingers curled instinctively. She turned her head and met his gaze. “Are you tired?”

Jiang Yan rubbed at the corner of his eye. “Not tired. Just weary.”

“Do you want to go back first?”

“No.”

The air in the private room wasn’t circulating well. Jiang Yan shed his jacket and draped it to one side, then picked up a can of cola from the table. His long fingers hooked the pull tab and gently tugged.

“Ding—!”

A breath of cold air escaped from the opening of the can.

He lifted it to his lips and took a sip.

The distinctive, sharp sensation of cola spread across his tongue — sweet and rich, with a strong carbonated kick and fizz.

Lin Tao caught the scent of the cola and felt a stirring want. She’d barely started to reach out when someone caught her hand.

“You can’t have it.” Jiang Yan set his can of cola on the edge of the table and picked up a bottle of plain water from the table, opened it, and handed it to her. “You only get this.”

“……” Lin Tao made one last desperate attempt. “My toothache only shows up sometimes — it doesn’t hurt all the time. A little bit won’t hurt.”

“No.” Jiang Yan moved all the cola and juice on the table further away. “Not even a little. Especially since these are all cold.”

“……”

Lin Tao had no choice but to drink the plain, tasteless water.

Inside the room, the singing had passed to Song Yuan and Xu Yichuan.

A popular boy-girl duet.

Song Yuan sang the girl’s part, Xu Yichuan took the boy’s.

What Lin Tao hadn’t expected was that those two could actually sing — nothing on par with Hu Hanghang or Jiang Yan, but at least the melody was the melody and the pitch was the pitch.

Those four were genuinely a treasure trove.

When the simple little love song ended, Xu Yichuan came walking over from the front and held the microphone out to Jiang Yan. “King of song — give us one?”

Everyone around who had been chatting looked over, curious.

To be honest, they’d never heard the school tyrant sing.

Having already counted themselves lucky enough to see the school tyrant play basketball in their lifetime — considered three lifetimes of fortune — they hadn’t expected there was even a chance to hear the school tyrant sing.

In their hearts, they thought: if they truly got to hear the school tyrant sing one song, even if it turned out to be terrible, it would still count as a life well-lived and a high school worth it.

Jiang Yan took the microphone without protest.

Song Yuan, holding the mic on his end, asked from where he stood by the song-selection unit, “Yan-bro, what do you want to sing? I’ll pick it for you.”

Lin Tao also watched Jiang Yan, wondering what song he would choose.

As it happened, Jiang Yan turned his head sideways and looked at her, asking quietly, “What do you want to hear?”

“……”

The room fell dead silent.

Hu Hanghang, not afraid of anything, let out a pointed wolf-whistle and stirred the pot on purpose. “Yan-bro~~~”

Lin Tao, unceremoniously shoved into the spotlight, couldn’t dodge it. She lowered her eyes, thought for a genuine moment, and called out a song title. “Listen to Mom?”

Jiang Yan: “?”

Everyone: “?”

The private room’s lighting shifted and shifted. The moment Jiang Yan dropped his gaze, a glittering scatter of colored light fell across his lower lashes — flickering and gone in a flash.

Like a shooting star streaking suddenly across an otherwise silent night sky.

There one moment, beyond reach the next.

Jiang Yan looked at the mischievous smile on her face, drew an almost imperceptible breath, stood up, and headed over to the song-selection unit.

Lin Tao watched Song Yuan give up the seat for him.

The young man sat on the stool, his back straight. Shifting, dappled colored light drifted around him. A pure white short-sleeved T-shirt, and a length of lean, muscled arm exposed. He lowered his head — the neat, short hair at the back of his neck came into view, the lines of his nape flowing smooth and curved, long legs pressing into the floor, one foot hooked against the rung of the stool.

Jiang Yan had ultimately chosen a love song.

He just sat there, looking at Lin Tao through the crowd of people, listening to the melody ease in, and began to sing.

“You on the left / Me pressed to the right / Our first photo together / too shy to be close / belonging to the two of us / faces too innocent / cheeks like apples / rosy with shyness / ……”

……

“……too long / too long / has it been too long / forgotten / forgotten / how it all started / drunk by the little stream we sang / I’ll love you forever — I once said so / ……”

Compared to the original singer’s voice, Jiang Yan’s was slightly lower. Unlike the coolness in his speaking voice, his singing was full of feeling.

A song, a line — conveying everything.

Not a single voice in the room spoke. Only that low, deep song filled the air.

When Jiang Yan sang, his gaze stayed fixed on Lin Tao. Brilliant lights fell into his eyes, spreading out like a glittering river of stars, every look and every expression suffused with a ten-thousand-fold tenderness.

Love is an elegant state of being, not a means to any end. Some people wait a second for it. Some people wait a lifetime.

Lin Tao and Jiang Yan were lucky enough. In the second of a meeting, they found a love for a lifetime.

“……/ no one / no one / no one will ever have / like you / like me / who understands each other’s tears and laughter / touching again / what my heart has hidden for so long / that softest corner / ……”

The last note of the song floated down.

The soft, gentle melody continued on.

Jiang Yan set down the microphone, stepped off the stool, walked unhurriedly to where Lin Tao was and paused a few seconds — then sat back down in his place.

The private room was quiet for a moment.

Hu Hanghang and the others had heard Jiang Yan sing before and knew his level. Beyond the first time they heard him at a KTV, when they’d been struck speechless, every subsequent time they’d calmly accepted reality.

After all, someone who was already blessed with good looks had already received the full favor of fate. Fate opening another window for him wasn’t a big deal.

But the other Class Eighteen students hadn’t heard Jiang Yan sing.

Let alone a love song in front of everyone.

Could such a gentle school tyrant really exist?

Were they honestly not dreaming?

Were they still alive?

Everyone was too shocked to speak, and it was Hu Hanghang who started clapping first. “So good! This is my Yan-bro! Incredible!”

Everyone came back to their senses and followed along with applause.

The quiet private room instantly burst back to life.

The moment passed quickly. The boys went on singing. The girls clustered and chatted.

Lin Tao was still immersed in the song from moments ago.

She had only heard Jiang Yan sing twice.

Once back in Hai City, when he sang Perfect for her.

Once here, when he sang Us Two for her.

Those two times.

The first time was the beginning of something.

The second time was being lost in it.

With consideration for the fact that there were classes the next morning and that the school dormitory had a curfew, Jiang Yan didn’t let things go too late — at just past eleven, he asked Hu Hanghang and Wu Wang to walk the three dormitory students who had passed out back to their rooms.

Most of the people who had come were dormitory students. The boys staying in the dorms walked the girls back to their dormitory first, and the few day students each called a car and went home.

By the time everything was arranged, only Lin Tao, Jiang Yan, Xu Yichuan, and Song Yuan were left.

There was a breeze at night, coming from all sides.

This street was centrally located — bustling and lively, with no tall skyscrapers in sight, just three- or four-story commercial buildings and shops of all kinds, their signs shimmering and flickering, adding a few splashes of color to the otherwise bare and dark night.

The four of them stood at the intersection.

Song Yuan rubbed his hand through his messy hair and kicked a pebble at his feet. “We’re not going home tonight — internet café. Let’s game.”

“Fine.” Jiang Yan had his jacket over his arm. He looked back at Lin Tao. “Want me to see you home then?”

“Hmm?” Lin Tao had just come out of that noisy environment and her head was still buzzing. She was half a beat behind. “No need. It’s not far from here — I’ll just get a cab.”

No sooner had she spoken than a taxi pulled up not far away, its windshield showing the available sign.

She raised her hand to flag it down.

As the car pulled to a stop, Lin Tao opened the door and turned to look at Jiang Yan. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“Alright.” Jiang Yan smiled and made a phone gesture by his ear. “Call me when you get home.”

“I know, I know!”

Lin Tao climbed into the car. As she pulled the door shut, she saw Jiang Yan circle around to the back of the car. She twisted around, and through the glass she saw him raise his phone to take a photo of the rear license plate.

Maybe he noticed her watching, because he then raised his phone and took a photo of her face too.

Lin Tao held up a fist in a mock threat.

Jiang Yan smiled and pocketed his phone, waving his hand at her.

“……”

The car pulled away.

Lin Tao looked back once more.

The young man’s figure stood where he was — his features beautifully drawn, the lively street behind him, city lights shimmering all around. The moonlight was lovely, and so was he.

Only after the car had gone completely out of sight did Jiang Yan and the others turn and head off in the other direction.

The street was busy, cars flowing in all directions, horns honking one after another.

On the way back, Jiang Yan spotted a roasted chestnut stall near an intersection and stopped to buy a bag. The vendor quickly weighed out a kilogram and handed it over. “Fifteen yuan.”

Jiang Yan took it, pulled out his phone, aimed it at the Alipay QR code on the stall, and tapped through the payment. “Done.”

“Great.”

He carried the packed chestnuts and crossed the road.

Not far ahead at the alley entrance, a black Porsche was parked in the shadows, blending almost seamlessly into the dark of the night.

He recognized the license plate.

Even as Jiang Yan stopped walking, the Porsche’s door was pushed open from within. Yu Fengyuan stepped out, wearing a custom-made qipao.

Yu Fengyuan’s features were striking.

Brows like distant mountains, eyes like autumn waters.

Every movement was graceful.

Jiang Yan’s features resembled hers by two parts — especially his amber, glass-like eyes, which looked as though they had been cast from the same mold.

Beyond those two parts of appearance, there was not a single other trace on Jiang Yan of any resemblance to her.

“Ayan.” Yu Fengyuan stood beside the car, her expression soft.

Jiang Yan’s eyelid gave a small twitch. He tightened his grip on what he was holding, lowered his eyes to conceal whatever emotion was in them, and said very quietly, his tone giving nothing away, “Mom.”

And then there was nothing more to say. The distance between mother and son had come to this — and Yu Fengyuan bore the greater share of the blame.

Perhaps she was aware of it herself. She was always trying to do something to make amends, but the results were never what she hoped for.

She didn’t understand Jiang Yan. She had no idea where his limits were.

What should have been the closest relationship in the world had ended up less than a passing stranger’s.

Yu Fengyuan could do nothing — and at the same time, she could not bring herself to let go.

“Your father’s birthday is next month.” Yu Fengyuan chose her words carefully before speaking. “Would you come with me to bring him a gift?”

Jiang Yan released the tight grip on his hand and looked at her without speaking.

Yu Fengyuan noticed what he was carrying. “What did you buy? May I have a little?”

“Just some chestnuts from a stall.”

Jiang Yan looked at her, sighed silently, reached into the bag, took out two split chestnuts, peeled away the hard shells, and revealed the plump kernels inside.

He peeled two and handed one to Yu Fengyuan.

Yu Fengyuan, taken aback by the gesture, reached out and took it. She bit off a small piece and curved the corners of her mouth. “It’s very good.”

Jiang Yan popped the remaining piece whole into his mouth, chewed it down, swallowed it, and rubbed the lingering traces off his fingertips. He said in a flat voice, “You probably haven’t eaten from a place like this in years, have you?”

Yu Fengyuan looked at him and didn’t know what to say.

True — for a family like the Jiang family, places like this street stall simply had no place at the table, not something they would ever touch.

To put it in extreme terms, the Jiang family’s three daily meals were all planned by a professional nutritionist, and the ingredients used were all specially imported from particular origins.

Jiang Yan looked at the chestnut in her hand — she’d only taken a small bite — and gave a hollow smile. “Yet I eat things like this every day.”

“These stalls you wouldn’t even glance at — they are my three meals a day.” Jiang Yan said. “Do you think I have any standing to go with you to celebrate his birthday?”

“Ayan, this is different.”

“What’s different?” Jiang Yan’s heart was completely calm. “From start to finish, I and the people of the Jiang family were never from the same world.”

“Ayan……”

“Mom.” Jiang Yan looked at her. “Please stop looking for me. No matter how many times you say it, I will never go back to the Jiang family.”

Yu Fengyuan’s eyes went red. “Are you still blaming me for taking you away from your father back then?”

Jiang Yan said nothing.

“If it’s that — I’ve already apologized to your father, and he’s forgiven me, hasn’t he? Can’t you forgive your mother too?” Yu Fengyuan gripped his arm, her voice breaking. “I also did it for your sake.”

Jiang Yan raised his hand and pulled her hand free. “Don’t say you did it for me. If you had truly done it for me, you never should have taken me away.”

“Ayan……”

“My father—” Jiang Yan started to say something, then thought better of it and left it unsaid. “In my heart, there are some things that simply are not worth being forgiven. It has nothing to do with magnanimity. Every person has their own line.”

“If either you or he had thought of my father’s feelings back then, he wouldn’t have left this world so soon.” Jiang Yan pressed his lips together. “His death — you both bear responsibility for it.”

At those words, Yu Fengyuan looked as though something had struck her. She reached out to grip the car door just to steady herself. “I…… we wronged him.”

Jiang Yan looked up and gazed at the glittering expanse of stars overhead.

He didn’t know which star might be Fang Hai’s form — he only knew that Fang Hai was somewhere out there watching over him, accompanying him.

“Not every ‘I’m sorry’ earns an ‘it’s alright.'” Jiang Yan said softly.

Yu Fengyuan left.

Without another word, she left.

Jiang Yan was already used to it. There was nothing inside his heart to feel troubled about.

He stood where he was, bent down and picked up the chestnut that had fallen on the ground — the one she’d only taken a small bite of — looked up as the car grew smaller and disappeared, then casually dropped the chestnut he’d just picked up into a nearby bin. He turned and walked into the alley.

There was nothing to feel sorry about.

Dropped things are dropped. Even if you wipe them clean, they never taste quite as good as they did at the start.

And some people and things can’t be seen and can’t be returned to.

A person can only look forward. The road ahead is the road you walk.

Sunday came quickly. Jiang Yan slept the entire morning, not waking until three or four in the afternoon.

Guan Che had found out about the showdown with He Wen. The moment the competition ended, he’d skipped the award ceremony entirely and flown straight back from Lake City.

Jiang Yan hadn’t planned on letting him come along. Guan Che wouldn’t hear of it.

“This matter started because of me — how can I let you face it alone?” Guan Che said. “Once my match is over tomorrow, I’m coming back.”

Jiang Yan didn’t stop him, and offered hollow well-wishes: “Good luck with your match.”

“Get lost.”

Sunday arrived, and Guan Che made good on his word — the moment his match ended, he hurried back. By the time he got to the internet café, Jiang Yan had only just woken up.

Hu Hanghang had ordered takeaway, and the four of them sat in the small sitting room.

When Guan Che walked in, Jiang Yan had just taken his first mouthful of food. Seeing him, he showed no particular reaction.

Guan Che dropped his suitcase in the corner. “I flew all the way back from another city to come support you, and that’s the reaction I get?”

Jiang Yan didn’t look up and kept picking out the cilantro from his bowl. “I think you’re right.”

“Hmm?”

“This matter did start because of you.” Jiang Yan set down his chopsticks. “Meaning you should be the one going to sort it out. In fact, you should be thanking me.”

“……”

Hu Hanghang let out a snort of laughter, got a yogurt from the fridge, and said, “Still, Yan-bro — do you actually know how many people He Wen will bring?”

“Don’t know. But definitely not a small number.” Jiang Yan pulled out a tissue and wiped his mouth. “Let’s go — we’ll see when we get there.”

“You’re really not going to say anything to Tao-mei?” Hu Hanghang was thinking ahead. “What if — and I mean what if — something happens to you? How are you going to explain it to Tao-mei?”

Jiang Yan picked up the black motorcycle jacket draped over the back of the chair and pulled it on, then dug two pieces of something from the drawer beside him, tucked them in his pocket, and cracked his fingers. In a flat voice he said, “I’m not telling her.”

After all, it wasn’t anything particularly admirable.

And besides, making plans to fight someone was inherently juvenile. Jiang Yan would absolutely never bring that up with Lin Tao.

The school tyrant did have a bit of a personal image to maintain.

“Fine, let’s head out.”

The five of them gathered their things and went out in a rush. At the alley entrance, Hu Hanghang stopped to buy cigarettes.

A taxi pulled up slowly at the roadside, and two people stepped out.

Everyone’s back was to the road, so no one noticed.

Jiang Yan peeled a mint candy and popped it in his mouth. “Once we get there, Guan Che and I will go in first. You three find somewhere to hide and stay put. Don’t show yourselves yet.”

“Got it.”

Hu Hanghang finished buying his cigarettes, turned around — and saw Lin Tao and Meng Xin walking toward them. He gave a startled yelp, “Yan-bro!”

Jiang Yan nearly jumped. “What’s wrong with you?”

“No, no —” Hu Hanghang pointed behind him. “Your girlfriend’s here……”

“How old are you — is this The Boy Who Cried Wolf?” Jiang Yan didn’t believe it at all. He turned and glanced over casually. “……”

Oh damn.