Tan Yin had actually lied.

She hadn’t pursued Chu Hang the way she always claimed—just a casual chase, or three minutes of enthusiasm. Back then, she had pursued him purely because… because she truly liked him.

Jiang Yilu had always assumed Tan Yin first met Chu Hang during military training at the start of university, but that wasn’t true. Tan Yin’s family wasn’t from City A, but during the winter break of her senior year of high school, before taking the entrance exam for A University’s architecture program, her father had given her some money and sent her ahead to A University to look around—partly so she’d feel the atmosphere and be inspired to study seriously, burning her boats behind her, and partly so she could relax a little.

Burning her boats was, naturally, out of the question. Tan Yin pocketed the money and immediately set off on a spontaneous trip. She stayed for several days at the Hilton in the city center, treating herself to good food and comfortable living, and checked off every tourist attraction in the city—except for actually visiting A University to soak up any inspiration.

In the end, it was pure coincidence—and Zhou Ming’s doing—that got her there at all. Zhou Ming had already secured a recommended admission to A University’s law school thanks to his excellent grades, so that winter break he no longer needed to study. Being a young man concerned with the state of the nation and its people, he spent his time on volunteer work instead.

When he learned Tan Yin happened to be in City A too, he happily asked her for help. He was working with an NGO he volunteered for on a public service video meant to raise awareness and compassion for people with disabilities.

“You’ll just wear sunglasses and pretend to be blind. We’ll provide all the equipment—clothes, hairstyling, makeup, a cane. We’ll write the script too. All you have to do is act like you’re really blind, follow the script at the locations we’ve arranged, and our cameraman will secretly film how people react to you.” Zhou Ming’s expression was earnest. “According to our research, eighty percent of blind people, when they run into difficulties in daily life, rarely get help from people around them, even when there’s a crowd nearby. We want to use footage like this to show what blind people actually experience in society, and hopefully get more people to step up and help when they see someone with a disability. After editing, this video will be used to promote a fundraising campaign for our NGO.”

Tan Yin glanced over the script—it didn’t seem difficult at all. She just had to pretend to be blind, act troubled, and quietly wait. Zhou Ming’s team would film for half an hour and observe how bystanders reacted during that time.

“The reason we’re not using an actually blind person is that we’re worried this kind of filming and these situations might be too much for someone who’s already sensitive about it. Also, since they genuinely can’t see, and the script requires the difficulty to feel real, we can’t let them bring a guide dog. So even with our staff nearby to protect them, we’re worried something could go wrong during the half hour of filming,” Zhou Ming explained sincerely. “Tan Yin, please help us out. It won’t take too much of your time—just one morning. We’ll pick a few spots, you stay at each one for half an hour, and afterward I’ll treat you to the best buffet in the city. Sound good?”

Tan Yin had already been in City A for a while and was a little bored, so she agreed without much thought. She hadn’t expected that the filming locations Zhou Ming’s team had chosen would be near A University.

Zhou Ming explained this a bit sheepishly: “College students are generally considered a group with relatively good character, so we picked spots near campus. We wanted to see whether, even close to a university, blind people still get limited help and care—to show people that on a societal level, people with disabilities are still marginalized and need more humanistic concern.” He glanced at Tan Yin, a note of eagerness slipping through despite himself. “Also, I kind of wanted to go check out the law school at A University…”

Fine, Tan Yin thought. She hadn’t been to A University yet anyway, so she might as well take a look around while she was at it. She could have Zhou Ming snap a couple of “I was here” photos for her, so she’d have something to show her dad when she got home.

Zhou Ming’s team had chosen four locations in total: a supermarket, an alley, a parking lot, and a crosswalk with traffic lights, all near A University.

Wearing sunglasses and carrying a cane, Tan Yin diligently played the part of a blind woman according to the script. But at the supermarket, the alley, and the parking lot, she wandered for a long while without anyone stepping forward to help. Even though these three places were close to campus and had plenty of students around, most of them were either couples or groups of two or three friends, too absorbed in their own chatter to notice Tan Yin. The middle-aged passersby, meanwhile, all moved with hurried steps, too anxious about their own lives to spare a thought for anyone else.

It wasn’t until the last location—a busy intersection—that anything changed.

Tan Yin wandered there alone, watching the hurried flow of people, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and loneliness. So this was what a blind person’s life was like—as if cut off from the world of ordinary people. For the first time, she was observing everything around her from this vantage point, and beyond the novelty, she felt a certain melancholy and sympathy. She was only pretending to be blind—she could still see all these passing crowds. If she were truly blind, without a guide dog, standing at this bustling, traffic-choked intersection, how frightened and helpless would she really feel?

Just as Tan Yin was listlessly waiting out this seemingly fruitless half hour, a low, cool voice came from behind her—

“Do you need help?”

It was the first person all day who had actually asked.

Playing her part as a blind woman, Tan Yin turned blankly toward the sound of the voice.

And then she saw Chu Hang.

Handsome, aloof, tall—a young man like that.

His expression didn’t look the least bit warm or approachable; his brow was slightly furrowed, and he seemed hard to please or get close to. Even his voice was cool and distant, with none of the warmth one might expect from someone offering comfort. His eyes were almost unreasonably beautiful. And yet, he held out his hand to her.

For a moment, Tan Yin felt she really had gone blind—selectively blind, that is. Aside from the young man in front of her, she couldn’t see anything else around her at all.

It was, almost helplessly, love at first sight for Tan Yin.

Seeing her frozen in place, he asked again, “Are you trying to cross the street?”

This time, Tan Yin completely forgot Zhou Ming’s script. She was so nervous she nearly forgot whether she was supposed to be playing blind or mute today. After stammering for a good while, she finally managed, “Um, yes—I need to cross.”

“Follow me.” With that, the young man reached out and took hold of her sleeve without further ceremony. His manner seemed careless, almost indifferent, and yet despite his height and long stride, he deliberately slowed his pace, leading her steadily and patiently to the other side of the crossing.

The whole way across, he showed no interest in making conversation, simply leading her forward in silence—not gentle, not particularly easy to talk to. And yet Tan Yin’s heart was racing, so nervous she thought she might float away. Unfortunately, no matter how slowly they walked, the crossing eventually ended, and just as Tan Yin was mourning the moment they would part ways, she heard his voice again.

“Now that you’ve crossed, where are you headed?”

Tan Yin’s mind went blank for a second before she managed to catch up with her own thoughts. She wasn’t familiar with the area around A University, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “I—I need to get to a café.”

“The café on Shiying Road?”

Tan Yin had no idea where Shiying Road even was. She just nodded reflexively.

“Follow me.”

He was a man of few words, seemingly unwilling to say more than necessary, and his manner remained cool—more like a debt collector than someone doing a good deed. And yet, inexplicably, Tan Yin found that following him made her feel safe, and trusting.

So she let him lead her by the sleeve, walking slowly along for fifteen minutes…

And after those fifteen minutes, they still hadn’t arrived.

“The café on Shiying Road is an awkward distance from here—no direct bus, and it’s hard to catch a cab around here, so we’ll have to walk. We’re almost there.”

Tan Yin thought her hesitation had been barely noticeable, but the man beside her—who seemed utterly indifferent to her—had already caught every small detail. His voice was flat, without much inflection, and yet Tan Yin found it strangely gentle.

Probably a man who looked like this could seem gentle as a spring breeze no matter how fierce he actually was, simply because of that face.

Nervous and lacking courage, but seeing that fifteen minutes had already passed and they’d surely arrive soon, Tan Yin steeled herself and asked, “Um—may I ask if you’re a student at A University?”

“No.”

“Then…”

“I’m going to be a freshman there next year.”

Tan Yin perked up. “You got in through early recommendation?”

“Mm.”

Tan Yin wanted to keep asking which department he’d be in, but of course, that was exactly when the café came into view. He stopped. “We’re here.” He released her sleeve, his voice still flat. “Don’t cross the street alone next time. It’s dangerous.”

“Or maybe…”

Before Tan Yin could finish saying “leave me your contact information,” his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, frowned slightly, and answered. A loud voice immediately blared from the speaker.

“Chu Hang? Where’d you go? Didn’t we agree to look around A University together? I’ve been waiting at the gate for almost half an hour. Where are you?”

So his name was Chu Hang.

“Fine, got it. Go ahead and look around on your own.” The young man in front of her frowned slightly, then glanced at Tan Yin. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

Tan Yin was about to say “not really,” when—as if determined to sabotage her—Zhou Ming’s breathless voice rang out. “Finally found you! Why didn’t you follow the—”

Fortunately, Zhou Ming wasn’t entirely slow on the uptake. The moment he saw Chu Hang, he immediately caught himself and swallowed the rest of his sentence.

Chu Hang glanced at Zhou Ming. “You’re her friend?”

Zhou Ming nodded. “Thanks for the help.”

Chu Hang gave Zhou Ming a small nod in return. “I’ll get going, then. Don’t leave her by herself next time.” With that, he turned and walked out of the café without so much as another glance at Tan Yin.

Damn, so cold. But infuriatingly charming.

Watching Chu Hang’s retreating figure, Zhou Ming sighed with feeling. “I really didn’t expect that, in the very last scene, someone would actually step forward to help you. That guy’s a genuinely good person.”

Not long after Chu Hang left, the cameraman and director who had been trailing them came in as well, looking equally surprised. “That guy looked pretty hard to approach, but turns out he’s actually a good person. There really is warmth in this world. Society may not be perfect yet, but it’s definitely getting better, because there will always be some warmth to dispel the indifference…”

The director, however, gave Tan Yin a look. “Why didn’t you stick to the script, though? Weren’t you supposed to take off your sunglasses once he offered to help and tell him it was a filming setup, thank him for his kindness toward a blind person? Why’d you let him walk you that whole distance? We had to follow both of you, film everything, and stay hidden—we nearly died trying to pull that off…”

Tan Yin could hardly focus on what they were saying. She had already yanked off her sunglasses, still lost in the memory of Chu Hang’s tall, retreating back. She patted Zhou Ming on the shoulder. “Zhou Ming, you’ve reignited my passion for getting into A University.”

Zhou Ming clearly couldn’t keep up with the sudden leap in topic. “What?”

“Come on, let’s go look around A University. I want to see what my future school looks like. My life has a new purpose now. My dad was right—what’s the point of living if you can’t get into A University?”

Though Zhou Ming had no idea what had come over her, he still went along with Tan Yin to explore the campus. He had no idea, of course, that her real motive had nothing to do with sightseeing—her eyes kept scanning the crowds around A University, searching for Chu Hang.

Unfortunately, Tan Yin never got her wish that day.

But that little episode really did light a fire under her. She pushed herself to study until two in the morning every single night after that—and she really did get into A University in the end.

The next time she saw Chu Hang was at the architecture department’s military training. Even though everyone wore the same camouflage uniforms, Chu Hang still stood out from the crowd. He had the kind of build that could carry off anything—he could make a designer white shirt look effortless, and somehow made even cheap camouflage fabric look good. Under the scorching sun, everyone else tanned to a dark, roasted brown, but Chu Hang remained fair-skinned and tall and straight as ever. Unfortunately, so much time had passed, and she’d been wearing sunglasses and playing blind that day, that Chu Hang clearly had no memory of her at all.

Tan Yin tried several times to strike up a conversation, only to be met with unusual coldness each time, which made her wonder whether she’d have to actually blind herself to earn even a sliver of Chu Hang’s warmth.

But as the saying goes, aloofness wins hearts. The colder Chu Hang was toward the girls chasing him, the more determined they became. Military training wasn’t even over yet, and the girls pursuing him were already lining up one after another.

Among that army of admirers, Tan Yin refused to hold back either—she started writing him love letters. One after another. Tan Yin swore she had never been so diligent in her life, not even for her college entrance exams. Every letter had to say something meaningful, be written in neat handwriting, use beautiful phrasing—before slipping each one into Chu Hang’s desk in the lecture hall, she’d check it over three times for typos and awkward sentences.

She kept this up for half a year, but Chu Hang never read a single one. Although he treated all his other pursuers with the same detached indifference—returning gifts, ignoring confession letters unread—Tan Yin couldn’t shake the feeling, whether it was her imagination or not, that his coldness toward her in particular was especially pronounced, colder than toward anyone else.

Then came that misunderstanding at the café. Tan Yin, furious and humiliated, felt the little flame in her heart get thoroughly snuffed out. In that moment of complete disillusionment, her passion for writing love letters died, replaced by the fury of scorned love, which she poured instead into drawing comics.

But then… then, later, she learned the truth. Looking back now on everything that had happened at that café, Tan Yin realized just how impulsive and irrational she had been—but back then, faced with Chu Hang, she simply hadn’t been able to stay rational or calm. Just like now.

Even though she tried hard to act like she didn’t care about Chu Hang, constantly telling herself she’d long since moved on, even avoiding thinking too deeply about it, to the point where she’d fooled even herself—able to laugh and joke around him without a hitch—in this moment, Tan Yin knew she couldn’t keep up the act anymore. Some things didn’t disappear just because you refused to admit them. Feelings like this—the more you suppressed them, the more overwhelming they became the day they finally broke free. She had never truly moved on from Chu Hang. Not once.

Tan Yin felt utterly hopeless. That damned fox spirit of a man, Chu Hang—infuriatingly impossible to forget.