After having lunch with Cen Jin, Li Wu dutifully returned to school.

Back in his dorm room, Zhong Wenxuan and Wen Hui were still taking their afternoon nap, while Xu Shuo watched an e-sports competition livestream with headphones on.

After Li Wu took off his coat, Xu Shuo glanced at him, his expression suddenly turning mischievous—his implications were obvious.

His studious roommate had skipped class for the first time due to an “emergency” and returned home, only to come back wearing a black T-shirt instead of his original white one. His meaningful gaze said it all, but Li Wu pretended not to notice, taking out his phone to report to Cen Jin that he had arrived at the dorm.

The woman replied quickly with similar content.

One a student dog, one a corporate slave—they had to run their separate circles, somewhat powerless to be together every moment.

In the afternoon, after two major courses, Li Wu buried himself in the laboratory again.

To many of his department and schoolmates, Li Wu was always solitary and aloof, like an ascetic monk immersed in studies.

Only with Cen Jin did he switch to passionate lover mode, doing joyful things with his beloved.

The weekend arrived quickly, and Yi City’s temperature suddenly dropped to zero degrees, cold.

Li Wu went home Friday night. Since their relationship had advanced, he shared a bed with Cen Jin, and his former guest room became purely decorative.

With Christmas approaching, tasks multiplied, and Cen Jin was busy like a spinning top, whirling endlessly.

The next day at nine, she rushed to the company to handle PINA’s new PO. The client Song Ci was very satisfied with her and specifically requested that all future projects be handled by Cen Jin.

Cen Jin wasn’t the type to accept everything, but she had a good impression of Song Ci. She was a very organized communicator, with every word on point, never wasting time with irrelevant talk. Such efficient clients were rare and worth cherishing.

Moreover, the new cooperation with PINA was a big deal with three times the previous budget—who wouldn’t be tempted? Cen Jin certainly couldn’t resist.

She stayed at the company all morning, forgetting to eat in her dedication.

Li Wu had nothing to do, so he gathered Cen Jin’s coats and padded jackets that she’d only worn once or twice, along with his own two pieces from school, and took them to the dry cleaners.

Upon entering, Li Wu politely greeted the owner.

He’d been there several times before, and with his good looks, the owner naturally recognized him. After taking the clothes he brought, the owner enthusiastically called out: “Perfect timing—your jiejie left a coat here last time, it’s already cleaned. You can take it back.”

Then he turned to get the coat from inside.

Li Wu raised an eyebrow, nodded, and patiently waited with his hands on the counter.

Shortly after, the owner brought out the cleaned coat, spreading it on the counter: “Would you like to check it? Your jiejie said to clean it thoroughly last time.”

Hearing this, Li Wu nodded again, not daring to be careless.

The owner swiftly removed the dust cover.

A completely black man’s coat appeared before his eyes. Li Wu’s expression shifted slightly, his smooth brow furrowing in an instant.

He took it and placed it back on the counter, examining it carefully. The only two things he could be certain of were that this coat wasn’t his, nor was it Cen Jin’s.

Li Wu suppressed his emotions and continued checking. After looking at it for a while, he suddenly felt the coat seemed familiar.

He thought back, trying hard to untangle the mystery. Soon, he remembered—that morning when he delivered cigarettes to Zhou Sui’an, the man seemed to be wearing similar clothing.

Li Wu frowned, checking the receipt date clipped to the hanger—the night before he skipped class.

Certain suspicions he couldn’t prevent began stirring and growing in his heart. Li Wu felt lost.

The owner saw his gaze growing distant as if lost in thought and called out to him.

Li Wu snapped back to reality, pressing his lips together tightly, and asked the owner to cover it again before taking the coat home.

At home, he placed the coat on the coffee table and sat on the couch, silently thinking about some details.

That night when Cen Jin asked him to deliver the cigarettes, she had mentioned it was because of a copyright dispute on Weibo.

Li Wu took out his phone, determined to clarify this matter.

Li Wu rarely used Weibo, with Cen Jin being his only follow.

The woman didn’t post much original content either, being a dedicated meme sharer who only reposted interesting snippets and videos.

He opened Cen Jin’s following list, clicking into each account one by one, but found no blogger who looked like Zhou Sui’an.

Finding nothing, Li Wu turned to searching for Zhou Sui’an’s Weibo. Soon, the internet’s big data algorithms definitively locked onto a blogger called @Sui’an.

His finger hovered over the screen for a second before Li Wu clicked in.

His latest Weibo was about dining out, showing exquisite dishes with over eight hundred comments. The post content was about the white truffle’s taste and how to eat it.

Li Wu opened the comments section.

Zhou Sui’an’s replies were pinned at the top.

The first comment was: “Wow, is this ODM? I just ate there tonight!!”

Zhou Sui’an: “What a coincidence, I ate there last night.”

The second: “Oh ho! God Sui’an has something going on [dog face] I saw a lady sitting across from you! Her hands were so white and beautiful!”

Zhou Sui’an: “…[shush]”

A deep sense of dread crept up, making Li Wu’s back go cold. He returned to Zhou Sui’an’s homepage, afraid to check the full-size photos.

After an internal struggle, he finally swallowed hard and opened the first photo.

Li Wu’s heart began racing violently.

Visible in the photo’s upper left corner was a woman’s arm, the white sweater sleeve slightly rolled up. If he hadn’t been so familiar with that watch he had carefully chosen, Li Wu might have retained some small hope.

The young man took a deep breath, confirmed the Weibo post date, and then got up to compare it with the receipt on the coat.

Finally, he did one more thing—looked up ODM restaurant’s address.

Seeing the result with his own eyes, his mind crashed like a falling board.

Li Wu suddenly sat back down, his flowing blood turning to dried tar in an instant—black and heavy, unable to think, unable to accept, indescribable, incomprehensible.

The world’s light was extinguished entirely.

At nine that night, after a busy twelve-hour day, Cen Jin returned home.

She thought Li Wu had gone back to school and wondered why the house was completely dark. When she turned on the lights, she was startled by the young man sitting silently on the couch.

“What are you doing?” Cen Jin patted her chest, then noticed something was wrong with him.

His face was dark, like a plaster statue on an overcast day, having stayed there for a century, unable to move.

Hearing her voice, he looked up at her, his expression a kind of suppressed darkness, like the deep night sea before a storm.

Cen Jin then saw the black coat on the coffee table and had a moment of distraction.

At the same time, Li Wu slowly stood up, his voice hoarse: “Explain.”

Cen Jin met his gaze for a moment without speaking, then slowly unbuttoned her coat, her lips twisting ironically.

“Say something.” Li Wu’s voice rose slightly like a bitter winter wind slapping her face.

Cen Jin felt uncomfortable, took off her coat, and hung it up: “You already have your conclusions, don’t you? Look at yourself right now.”

Li Wu stood in place: “I don’t have conclusions. I just want to hear you say it.”

Cen Jin’s jaw tightened slightly: “It was just a meal.”

Li Wu’s face showed derision: “Right across from the company. This time you weren’t afraid of people asking questions.”

Cen Jin’s eyes rippled with small waves of surprise, unsure how he knew these details.

Her slightly changed expression was caught completely by him. Like silent testimony, Li Wu felt pain as if being forcibly separated from his flesh: “He’s acceptable, but I’m not.”

“When will you get out of this cycle?” Cen Jin tilted her head, letting out a long breath before looking back: “Zhou Sui’an and I are purely professional.”

“Purely professional?” Her dismissive attitude made Li Wu cut: “What about the coat? How do you explain that?”

Cen Jin: “He was worried about me getting rained on, and insisted on giving it to me.”

“Oh,” Li Wu curved his lips but without any hint of a smile, his whole face cold as an ice lake: “That day he wanted to lend me an umbrella too, I could refuse, why couldn’t you?”

His tone was grim: “Then hiding it at the dry cleaners, too afraid to bring it home?”

“Hiding?” His choice of words made Cen Jin’s anger rise: “Why should I bring it back?”

“Isn’t it because you didn’t want me to see it? Either you feel guilty or you’re afraid I’ll make a fuss. What else could it be?”

Cen Jin felt disturbed and started tying her hair: “See? I’m trying to talk to you properly, but you won’t listen to a single word.”

She tied it more times than usual in frustration until her scalp hurt from the tightness. Then she walked toward the bedroom, not wanting any more confrontation with Li Wu in his current state.

Li Wu caught up, grabbing her upper arm and forcefully turning her around to face him as if needing to express all his pent-up emotions: “That day I got soaked wanting to leave you the umbrella—where was your umbrella? What did you tell me the night before? That after delivering the cigarettes, everything would be fine. But that same night you had dinner with him. These were all things you could have refused, but you chose not to. When it comes to me, it’s completely different—you can refuse freely, push away, and get angry. I’m even starting to think delivering the cigarettes was just a cover so you could continue meeting him secretly. If I hadn’t found this coat, were you planning to see him again? Was I supposed to keep being kept in the dark?”

The young man’s nose reddened, almost choking up: “The most ridiculous part is that same night I waited up all night for you, and the next day I skipped class just because of one word from you. You’re right, I am an idiot.”

“Is this how you see me?” Cen Jin’s face turned white, laughing in disbelief: “So in your eyes, I’m that low.”

“Who’s low? Who would dare think you’re low,” Li Wu could only keep taking deep breaths to fight back his tears threatening to spill: “I’m the truly low one, there couldn’t be anyone lower than me, like a dog, treating your every word like an imperial edict, like fate, like faith, coming whenever you call, accommodating your schedule, your preferences, your moods, not daring to slack off even slightly, feeling like I’ve been reborn just from one smile from you. You care about your surroundings, care about what others think of you—do you think I don’t care at all? Do you know how my roommates describe me? Being kept, serving in bed, domestic slave, phone pet—I know they’re joking, but I’m not heartless, it still hurts to hear.”

Cen Jin’s cheeks tightened as she stared at him, saying lightly: “Oh, how unfortunate for you, top student.”

She looked at him steadily: “Who forced you to be this way?” Then pointed at herself innocently: “Surely not me?”

Like a heavy object crashing down, the already existing cracks shattered completely. His beautiful puzzle was just a puzzle after all. Li Wu collapsed: “It’s me. I chose this. It’s all my fault.”

How could he blame her? How could he ever blame her?

At first, just being allowed to like her was enough, enough to feel fortunate and grateful. But why did it change later? Becoming easily sharp, easily angry, fearing loss, fearing loneliness, wanting to demand equal love, and seeking a believable future.

The one who changed was him, not her.

He had pushed himself into a dead end, fighting against himself, taking everything too seriously, constantly hitting walls in the dense forest, yet never finding a way out.

At this moment, Li Wu completely lost his sense of direction.

He became dazed, releasing Cen Jin, dejected like light smoke about to dissipate completely.

Cen Jin couldn’t bear to see him like this, her heart jumping painfully, wanting to reach out with both hands to pull him back, to confirm he was still solid, still warm.

The moment she touched his knuckles, Li Wu jerked away as if stung, taking a step back as if afraid of being too slow.

Cen Jin choked up, her gaze suddenly darkening, not moving forward again.

“Stop pitying me, you don’t really like me,” the young man stood in the shadows, like someone who had lost too much blood, his face pale, making some final confession in a weakening voice, “If it wasn’t Zhou Sui’an, there would be other men, ones you could introduce openly, interact with, love mutually, while I’ll never be qualified. How can I catch up to you, why is it so hard, I really can’t run anymore.”

“Jiejie, I’m sorry for liking you and forcing you to like me back.”

With these words finished, he seemed to wake from a dream and strode toward the door.

Cen Jin’s scalp tingled as she chased after him.

Bang! The young man had already slammed the door shut.

A gust of wind swept in, and Cen Jin was decisively separated from him.

Li Wu walked rapidly without stopping, tears streaming down his face, his violent sobbing making the veins on his neck and temples stand out, like a child who had taken a hard fall and hurt all over.

In all his years, he could grit his teeth and endure any other pain, but with her—all his tears were because of her. He didn’t want to cry for her anymore.

“Li Wu!”

The woman’s call shot down the corridor like an arrow piercing his eardrums. Li Wu’s steps faltered slightly, then he roughly wiped his left eye and entered the elevator without looking back.

At that moment of turning, he saw Cen Jin outside through the elevator door’s gap.

She stood there, a thin figure, her face wooden and desolate, not chasing after him anymore, just watching him.

Li Wu turned his eyes away, then couldn’t help looking back, staring straight at her. Was he still resisting or hoping? He couldn’t tell.

The woman’s gaze seemed to hold judgment, regret, pity, farewell—everything except the desire to keep him.

In that instant, Li Wu’s brows twisted, afraid of inadvertently releasing the last of his fragile dignity. But he still couldn’t hold on, his eyes surging again, almost blinding his vision.

The next moment, the doors closed.

Like a guillotine, completely severing their line of sight.