That deliberately ambiguous remark was, without question, intentional on Xu Huaisong’s part.

Having worked her way through all 327 messages like a reading comprehension exercise, Ruan Yu had arrived at a conclusion: this man’s inner self was far gentler than he appeared on the surface — but also far more wicked than he appeared on the surface.

Seven parts gentleman, three parts scoundrel. One arrow, straight through the heart of a girl.

And what “details” did he want to fine-tune right now, at a moment like this? Was she supposed to play along and explore the biomechanically optimal approach to embracing, then practice it a thousand times over?

She wrinkled her nose at him, deliberately refusing to take the bait, and said: “There actually is a detail I can’t figure out.” She turned and picked up the old phone from the table. “I’m curious — how did this thing manage to sit quietly for eight years with a battery in it and not rot away?”

Perhaps having been outmaneuvered so many times had made her wary. There was a faint trace of suspicion in her eyes as she said this, as though she suspected Xu Huaisong was still hiding something.

He gave a helpless smile. “Because eight years ago, I took the battery out.”

No matter how indestructible old non-smartphones were, none of them could survive eight years with a battery left inside. Before leaving, he had removed the battery and stored the phone in a dry box.

“Then where did this battery come from?” Ruan Yu asked, puzzled.

“Around that time, there was a demolition in the area — the landline phone was taken down. One day my grandmother was home alone sorting through the household belongings, and she found that her own phone had broken down. She couldn’t reach my mother, and she spotted this old phone of mine. So she pulled the battery from her own phone and swapped it in, wanting to see if it would work.”

As it turned out, the universal battery compatibility among old-model phones was a real thing.

“Don’t tell me,” Ruan Yu said, eyes wide, “your grandmother just got a new phone after that and never pulled this battery back out. And then Huaishi found this phone when she came to help clear out the house.”

Xu Huaisong nodded.

That impulsive rush back to the country back then hadn’t only been because of the secret hidden in those letters in Practice Room 301 — it was also because of this one-in-a-billion chance, like something fated to happen.

A miracle like that was enough to drive a person mad.

But after her wide-eyed surprise, Ruan Yu let out a quiet laugh and let it go.

They had indeed been visited by a miracle.

The city official who had signed off on the demolition order, Xu Huaisong’s grandmother whose phone had broken down, Xu Huaishi who had turned those messages into a story, Cen Sisi who had blown the plagiarism scandal wide open — every single one of these people had been indispensable to this miracle.

But what had set the miracle in motion?

It had begun with Xu Huaisong removing the battery and keeping the phone. With the faint thread of hope about her that he had left behind, somewhere in the back of his mind, as he was leaving.

The miracle had begun with him never letting her go.

Ruan Yu stood in place for a long, quiet moment. Then she let it all go, and vaguely pointed a finger toward the fourth button of his shirt — roughly where her stomach was: “After all that talk — aren’t you hungry?” She turned and headed to the kitchen.

Xu Huaisong smiled and followed her in. “I ate on the plane.”

“So I shouldn’t make a late-night snack?” She picked up a plate of chicken wings already coated in egg batter and breadcrumbs, and held it up for him to see.

Xu Huaisong was momentarily caught off guard. Then he understood why she had prepared that, and said with a smile: “Make them. I’ll eat.”

Ruan Yu turned back to tie on her apron, suppressing a laugh as she sighed. “Three hundred-odd messages, and over twenty of them mentioned fried chicken. I have to ask — how could you have had such simple aspirations back in school?”

Xu Huaisong cleared his throat. “It was because the school canteen was terrible.”

“But doesn’t fried chicken get old after a while?”

“That’s why we also got takeout hot pot.”

Ruan Yu looked up from washing her hands, startled. “Where did you eat it?”

“In the art gallery.”

Such a hallowed place, contaminated by something so thoroughly ordinary. No wonder Xu Huaisong had kept his real self so carefully concealed from her.

Going from Piano Prince to Hot Pot Bro — the disillusionment was not a small one.

She gave him a disdainful look.

He seemed half amused, half exasperated. “You said you wanted to start over and get to know me properly.”

“But what if someone had come?”

“I’d play the piano to cover for us.”

“…”

So all those piano pieces she had secretly listened to over the years had carried the scent of hot pot.

She laughed and sighed. “I want to go back to being sixteen.”

“What for?” To warn her sixteen-year-old self to open her eyes and realize Xu Huaisong was really nothing special?

But what Ruan Yu actually said was: “To hang around with you.” She grinned at him. “My high school life was a solid sixty out of a hundred — pretty dull. With you there’d be fried chicken and hot pot both. Sounds like it would’ve been a lot more fun.”

Xu Huaisong considered this seriously. “It would’ve been fun, provided your father didn’t beat me to death first.”

Both of them burst out laughing at the same time.

After a moment, Ruan Yu began pouring oil and turning on the flame: “If my parents hadn’t been teachers at our school, I might not have been so well-behaved…”

She trailed off without finishing. But Xu Huaisong understood.

She was saying she might not have been so obedient and restrained — that one day she might have worked up the courage to confess to him before graduation.

The kitchen fell quiet.

Both of them seemed to be imagining that “what if.”

Xu Huaisong felt he couldn’t be certain. He had been able to leave without knowing her feelings — but if she had told him outright, could he really have walked away just like that?

Probably not.

The oil beginning to bubble and spit cut through Ruan Yu’s imagining. She switched on the range hood and got ready to start frying the chicken wings, telling Xu Huaisong to step back.

But he refused to budge. By the time she finished frying the whole plate of wings, his shirt had soaked up the full aroma of frying oil.

At first it wasn’t too noticeable, but once the late-night snack was finished and the fried chicken was gone, the smell of fried chicken remained. And Xu Pipi, who should have been asleep by then, began to stir restlessly, rubbing himself insistently against Xu Huaisong in search of the scent. Ruan Yu knew exactly where the problem lay.

She sat across from him, watching from a distance as the orange cat proceeded to practically consume the man, and remarked: “This is truly the smell of everyday human life.”

Xu Huaisong held the cat and smiled. “Then why don’t you invite me to use your shower?”

Ruan Yu choked slightly, then suddenly realized: “You did that on purp—” She stopped herself halfway.

Knowing Xu Huaisong’s scheming mind, the whole reek of fried chicken on him was absolutely deliberate — there was no question about it. But pointing it out only made things worse, because the one who’d end up flustered was her.

After all, by any normal progression of events, an invitation to shower implied he’d be staying the night, didn’t it?

Her heart started thudding. She fumbled for words. “You… you didn’t bring a change of clothes either…”

“I did.”

Ruan Yu looked left and right. That didn’t seem right — she remembered very clearly that when he had pulled her into his arms, his hands had been empty.

“In the car downstairs.” Xu Huaisong explained.

Ah. So he had come prepared with two contingency plans. If she accepted, he could bring his things up at any moment. If not, he wouldn’t come across as having been overeager.

Ruan Yu’s gaze became slightly evasive.

Seeing that she hadn’t refused outright, Xu Huaisong set the cat down, stood up, and headed toward the door. “I’ll go get them.”

“Hey…” Ruan Yu grabbed his sleeve as he passed her, looked up at him, and asked in a slightly muddled voice: “Are you… planning to stay the night?”

Xu Huaisong raised his free hand, held his index and middle fingers together, and gave her a gentle flick on the forehead. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, I’m not thinking anything,” she said, sitting up very straight. “If you’re staying the night, I need to go tidy up the guest room.”

Xu Huaisong thought for a moment and said: “I’ll stay. Not sleep. My schedule has been all over the place lately.” He explained further: “You haven’t been sleeping well, haven’t you? That’s why I flew back. What’s the point — going back to a hotel just to do another voice call with you?”

Ruan Yu quietly said “oh” and told him to go ahead. The moment he left, she whipped out her phone and sent an urgent message to Shen Mingying.

Shen Mingying: No need to tidy up the guest room. At the beginning of a new relationship, roughly fifty percent of couples choose to play it modest when it comes to the question of sleeping arrangements — like booking a twin room at a hotel when one would do.

But the truth is, once it gets late and the night grows quiet, those two separate beds will inevitably become one. And the two of them will end up squeezed together on one small bed, both wondering why they hadn’t just booked a double room to begin with.

So if you tidy up the guest room now, you’ll definitely end up regretting the wasted effort.

After reading this piece of hard-won wisdom, Ruan Yu fell into deep thought — and was still thinking when Xu Huaisong came back, without having arrived at any conclusions whatsoever.

Seeing her sitting in exactly the same spot without having moved, his gaze visibly deepened as he walked toward her.

Meeting that look, Ruan Yu belatedly realized she had been led astray by Shen Mingying.

Whatever might or might not happen in the end, tidying up the guest room was a matter of establishing intent. If she didn’t even do that, how was it any different from openly inviting him to sleep in her room?

Oh no. This was not good.

She shot to her feet, spun around, and made a dash for the guest room.

Xu Huaisong caught the collar of her clothing with two fingers, as casually as picking up a small chicken. “You weren’t in any rush a moment ago. What’s the hurry now? It’s late. Go shower.”

She pulled her head back into her shoulders, turned to give him a politely awkward smile. “Maybe you go first?”

Xu Huaisong thought about it and decided that worked fine. He could wash his dirty clothes while she showered — no need to trouble her with them.

He nodded. “I’ll be quick.” He picked up his toiletry bag and headed inside. Just before pulling the bathroom door shut, he added: “I slept eight hours on the plane, so I genuinely won’t be sleeping tonight. Don’t bother tidying up.”

Ruan Yu said “oh” and began pacing anxiously outside the door.

When Xu Huaisong came out, he found her brow furrowed, pacing back and forth, right fist tapping rhythmically into the palm of her left hand — the picture of someone deliberating over matters of national importance.

At the click of the bathroom door, Ruan Yu turned around. She found him still perfectly put-together in his shirt and dress trousers, except that he had put on slippers, with his trouser cuffs rolled up one fold, revealing a strip of bare ankle.

Very fair, very nice-looking ankle.

She yanked her gaze away at once, picked up a laundry basket, and without another word went straight into the bathroom. She took her shower with ears primed and listening in all directions.

But when she came back out, she found Xu Huaisong on the balcony, searching for the drying rack to hang up his clothes.

So — while she had been in the bathroom, flustered and straining to hear every sound from outside, he had been calmly, serenely doing laundry the entire time, completely unmoved.

That kind of behavior was undeniably reassuring. But honestly — was this a normal reaction for a man to have in the presence of the woman he cared about?

This was nothing like anything the novels had told her to expect.

Hearing movement behind him, Xu Huaisong glanced back at her. “Why are you still up? Go to sleep. I’ll work in the living room.”

And that was… it?

Ruan Yu blinked blankly, said “oh,” went back to her room, and lay in bed for ten minutes. Hearing that it was genuinely dead silent outside, she fished out her phone and messaged Shen Mingying again.

Shen Mingying: …

Shen Mingying: And nothing happened? Even like this?

Shen Mingying: Is he maybe very tired lately?

Ruan Yu (Soft Jade): Seems like it. He said his schedule has been all over the place recently. But what does being tired have to do with anything?

Shen Mingying: Can’t get it up.

“…”

Author’s Note: Huaisong: …