By the time Zhu Qisen’s car stopped in front of the restaurant’s wooden fence gate, it was exactly six fifty-eight.

Zhu Qisen leaned over to look around and said, “Wow, you sure picked a classy spot. You’ll actually have an appetite eating in a place like this?”

“Just think of it as me coming for a vegetarian meal.”

Feeling the time crunch, Zhu Wenshu had no patience to banter with him and hurried out of the car toward the restaurant.

The restaurant, decorated in a Chinese style, had rather dim lighting; a five-meter-long folding screen blocked most of the windows, making the interior feel even more secluded.

Zhu Wenshu followed the host toward the reserved private room, and as they crossed over a small bridge above an artificial stream, she took out her phone to check.

It was almost seven, and Ling Chen still hadn’t messaged. She wondered if he’d arrived yet.

With that thought, she typed as she walked.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Are you here yet?

[c]: Haven’t left yet.

[Zhu Wenshu]: ?

Her steps paused.

Did this man have no concept of time at all?

[Zhu Wenshu]: Didn’t we agree on seven?

[c]: Yes.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Then may I ask what time it is on your end right now?

The moment she sent this message, the host’s footsteps suddenly stopped, and he reached out to push open the private room door in front of them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zhu Wenshu saw Ling Chen, dressed all in black, slouched lazily in a chair playing with his phone, a baseball cap pulled low and a face mask covering him thoroughly, leaving only his eyes visible.

And yet, with nowhere to put his long legs, he had them propped up on a nearby chair leg, without a shred of proper posture, as comfortable as if he were in his own happy little home.

If not for that posture, Zhu Wenshu might not have recognized him at all.

And the host’s footsteps opening the door hadn’t exactly been quiet, either, yet Ling Chen acted as if he hadn’t heard anything, not even lifting his head.

Only when Zhu Wenshu stood by the door and gave a light cough did Ling Chen lazily lift his eyes, his gaze leaving his phone and drifting upward without much interest—

As it passed over Zhu Wenshu, his eyes caught for a fraction of a second.

The setting sun was like scattered gold, drifting with dust motes. Beneath his deep-set brows, his dark pupils fixed intently on Zhu Wenshu, abruptly shattering the room’s stillness, like a rushing whirlpool that instantly swept a person in.

Under his gaze, Zhu Wenshu lowered her eyes for a moment and said, rather apologetically, “Sorry, I’m a bit late. I actually left pretty early, but I stopped to buy something along the way, and there ended up being more people in line than I expected, so it took some time.”

Although she wasn’t technically late, it still felt a bit inappropriate for the one treating to arrive after the guest.

But after she finished explaining, Ling Chen showed no reaction at all.

He simply lowered his eyelashes and casually flipped open the menu on the table.

Zhu Wenshu felt his silence should count as a kind of statement in itself.

Right.

From her shallow understanding of the entertainment industry, these big stars were the type to make people wait for hours without a second thought — there was no way they’d be the ones waiting on someone else.

While Ling Chen looked over the menu, Zhu Wenshu glanced around the room, her eyes eventually landing on the lemon water pitcher in front of him, now only half full.

Something occurred to her, and her heart gave a sudden thump. “Have you been waiting long?”

Ling Chen’s gaze paused for a moment, then he raised his hand, and under her watchful eyes, poured himself another glass from the pitcher, slowly looking up to meet her eyes, a hint of amusement in them.

“Yeah. Been waiting for you for over an hour.”

Maybe it was because his tone was so calm and matter-of-fact that Zhu Wenshu instead picked up a note of sarcasm in it.

Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do?

What kind of pointless question is that?

Zhu Wenshu muttered a bit to herself internally and pulled out her own chair.

At the same time, the host silently withdrew from the room, and only then did Ling Chen take off his cap and mask.

“What did you go buy?”

Just as she was about to sit down, Ling Chen suddenly spoke.

Zhu Wenshu, not having caught up, opened her mouth halfway, unsure how to explain.

At the same moment, her clothes caught on the armrest of the chair.

Feeling the obvious tug, she turned to pull it free, and as she raised her hand, the bag hanging on her forearm slipped off.

Luckily her reflexes were quick, and she managed to catch the scarf on top before the bag hit the ground.

But right after that, with a clack, a still-sealed CD fell out, the four large characters “Classmate Little Silkworm” glaring plainly into view.

Without thinking, Zhu Wenshu immediately crouched down to grab it.

But the moment her fingers touched the CD, she felt a shadow fall over her.

Looking up, she found herself face to face with Ling Chen.

His gaze fell on the CD, then, after a moment, slowly traveled upward.

When he looked at Zhu Wenshu again, his face had already settled into an expression that said, “So this is why you were queuing — fine, I forgive you for making me wait today.”

“No wonder it took that long.”

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

Still half-crouched, she thought for a long moment, unable to come up with anything to say, and finally picked up the CD stiffly, forcing a laugh. “I really like this album. Figured I’d spend a little to support an old classmate’s career.”

“Is that so.”

Ling Chen set down the menu, the corner of his mouth curving up, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So which song’s your favorite?”

“…”

Zhu Wenshu blinked and blurted out, “Classmate Little Silkworm.”

The lazily shifting sunlight passed over Ling Chen’s face, making his expression hard to read, only the curve at the corner of his mouth fading almost imperceptibly.

After a good while, he spoke softly.

“Mm. That’s my favorite too.”

Zhu Wenshu laughed awkwardly. “Makes sense, it’s the title track.”

But then Ling Chen didn’t even glance at the menu anymore, leaning forward over the table, propping his right cheek up with one hand, and pressed further. “Anything else?”

“?”

A pop quiz now?

Zhu Wenshu quickly lowered her eyes, scanning the album’s track list.

Twelve songs in total, the first being “Classmate Little Silkworm,” and the rest all in Chinese too, except for the last one, whose English title stood out.

— All Your Wishes Come True

As Zhu Wenshu silently read the phrase to herself, it was like a small hook, tugging up one of the few faint memories she had of Ling Chen.

That summer, cicadas droning, the last math class of the term had just ended — their high school years were about to come to a close.

Back then, their young English teacher, a very thoughtful woman, had personally written a message of blessing for every student, and had Zhu Wenshu hand them out to her classmates.

The excited students ran around the classroom and hallway taking photos; it took Zhu Wenshu a good while to distribute every card.

Turning around, she spotted a boy still asleep at his desk in the corner.

Under the blazing sun, he lay covered by his school uniform for shade, his thin frame blending into his surroundings — easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention.

He was always like this — this posture, this kind of scene — which was probably why he was so often forgotten.

Zhu Wenshu stopped in her tracks and checked her hands again, confirming she had no cards left.

She didn’t know whether she’d simply lost one somewhere, or whether the English teacher had overlooked him from the start.

Thinking of how unnoticed Ling Chen usually was, Zhu Wenshu felt a faint pang in her heart. If he woke up to find every other classmate had gotten a blessing except him, he’d probably feel pretty down.

Just then, the boy under the uniform stirred slightly, looking like he was about to wake.

In a split second, Zhu Wenshu grabbed a pen and a sticky note from a nearby desk.

With no time to think of anything proper, she could only grab whatever English phrase she’d recently memorized, scribbling it down hastily.

She hadn’t even had time to imitate the English teacher’s handwriting.

“All you wishes come true.”

The handwriting was a bit sloppy. Nervously clutching the sticky note, Zhu Wenshu walked over and, just as Ling Chen lifted his head, handed it to him.

“Ling Chen, here.”

The sleepy-eyed boy seemed to react half a beat slow, still slumped over his desk, staring at her for a good while before, as if waking from a dream, he looked away and slowly sat up straight.

He lowered his head, took the sticky note, and stared at the words on it for a long time, as if he’d noticed something.

Zhu Wenshu coughed nervously twice.

When Ling Chen finally looked up, she forced out a dry smile, trying to think of something to say to change the subject.

“So… graduation’s coming up…”

What should she say next?

Faced with a classmate who was practically a stranger to her, Zhu Wenshu struggled for a long moment before finally coming up with a polite platitude.

“Wishing you a bright future. Let’s keep in touch.”

Ling Chen didn’t say anything, just kept looking up at her like that.

Zhu Wenshu stood there under his gaze, feeling as though he was looking at her, and yet those hazy, unfocused eyes also seemed to look past her, toward some distant future.

“Thanks.”

With that, he casually tucked the sticky note into his uniform pocket and slumped back down onto the pile of uniforms, leaving Zhu Wenshu with only the back of his head.

—

“That much of a favorite?”

Ling Chen’s voice cut abruptly into the faded memory. “Can’t decide?”

Zhu Wenshu: “?”

She snapped back to the present, looking at the man in front of her, whose tone and expression were more than a little smug — hard to believe this was the same silent boy from her memory.

But she hadn’t expected Ling Chen to be this sentimental.

If he knew that line hadn’t actually been the English teacher’s blessing, but something she’d secretly swapped in, she wondered if he’d find it more than a little exasperating.

“Not really.”

Zhu Wenshu pointed at the track All Your Wishes Come True. “I like this song too, actually.”

Ling Chen tilted his head to look at her, just about to speak, when Zhu Wenshu quickly pointed at the menu in his hands.

“Let’s order, I’m a bit hungry.”

If he asked her to elaborate on how exactly she liked it, she wouldn’t have anything to say, and that would just make things awkward for everyone.

No need for that, no need at all.

Fortunately, Ling Chen didn’t press further, just gave a low hum and reopened the menu.

“What do you want to eat?”

Zhu Wenshu: “Anything’s fine, I’m not picky.”

Ling Chen glanced up at her.

Not understanding why, Zhu Wenshu raised an eyebrow as if to say, “What?”

Ling Chen didn’t say anything else, just flipped through a couple of pages and said, “How about beef with cilantro?”

Zhu Wenshu’s smile stiffened a bit at the corners, but she still said, “Sure.”

It’s fine, she’d just pick out the cilantro.

Ling Chen flipped another page.

“Chopped chili fish head, want that?”

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

Her hand under the table clenched the tablecloth, but she forced a smile onto her face. “Sounds good.”

Worst case, she’d take some stomach medicine when she got home. Spicy food wouldn’t kill her.

Ling Chen flipped through a few more pages carelessly, seeming not to find anything he wanted, then flipped back to the first page, glanced at it again, and slowly tilted his head, propping his temple with one hand, looking sideways at Zhu Wenshu, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“How about cashew chicken too?”

Zhu Wenshu: “?”

What was going on here — was this man precisely targeting every single food she couldn’t eat?

She only had three dietary no-gos, and Ling Chen had hit every single one.

“…Order whatever you want, I can eat anything.” Zhu Wenshu smiled bravely. “Whatever the guest — I mean, whatever you prefer.”

“Teacher Zhu really does set a good example — not picky at all.”

Ling Chen suddenly gave a light laugh, closed the menu briskly, and slid it forward.

“But I suddenly don’t feel like eating anymore. You order instead.”

Zhu Wenshu: “?”

If this had been anyone else, Zhu Wenshu would have already been drafting a post about their baffling behavior online.

But this was Ling Chen.

Anyone who spent time online knew big celebrities these days were all spoiled rotten, throwing tantrums left and right, loving nothing more than to torment people.

So Ling Chen’s behavior right now wasn’t hard to understand.

She didn’t spare Ling Chen another glance, flipped through the menu for a while, pressed the service bell, and as soon as the waiter came in, rattled off five dishes in one breath.

“Black pepper beef, three-delicacy fish head soup, kung pao chicken, and a plate of stir-fried seasonal vegetables and mushroom soup, thank you.”

—

After the waiter took the menu and left, the private room fell empty and quiet again.

Zhu Wenshu and Ling Chen sat across from each other, neither speaking for a while.

Not knowing what to say, and it would be rude to just look at her phone, so—

Zhu Wenshu slowly shifted her gaze, looking at Ling Chen, trying to find some topic of conversation.

Unexpectedly, Ling Chen happened to look up at the same moment.

The instant their eyes met unexpectedly under the light, the insects and birds lurking outside the window suddenly stirred to life.

Zhu Wenshu’s heart gave an inexplicable jolt, her gaze uncontrollably freezing for two seconds.

Until she saw a slight movement in Ling Chen’s eyes.

She had the distinct feeling that any second now, he’d say something like, “Keep staring and I’ll start charging you.”

So Zhu Wenshu decided to strike first.

But right before she could open her mouth, a phone on the table suddenly buzzed.

The buzzing abruptly shattered the stillness of the moment. Ling Chen’s gaze shifted away at once, landing on his phone, and he reached out to swipe the screen.

Zhu Wenshu was still a bit dazed and confused.

Looking down, she found it was actually her own phone that had received the message.

[Zhu Qisen]: I’m hopeless.

[Zhu Qisen]: What an absolute idiot I am!

[Zhu Wenshu]: ?

[Zhu Qisen]: I just went to see Xue’er, all excited to give her the vinyl record, and it turns out she already bought eight of them and has them at home.

[Zhu Qisen]: When I gave her the ninth one, I swear she looked at me like I was some kind of loser.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Teacher Zhu has the following six points to make.

[Zhu Wenshu]: …

[Zhu Qisen]: I’m speechless too. I think I’m never going to win Xue’er over in this lifetime.

[Zhu Qisen]: From now on, if you want to reach me, go burn incense at a temple. I’m off to become a monk and ring the bell.

Staring at her phone for a while, Zhu Wenshu looked up again at the man sitting across from her.

After hesitating a moment, she typed secretively.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Does your music teacher really like Ling Chen that much?

[Zhu Qisen]: Basically to the degree that if Ling Chen and I fell into the water at the same time, she’d step on my corpse to go save him.

[Zhu Wenshu]: .

Putting down her phone, Zhu Wenshu pressed her lips together, hesitated for a long moment, then finally spoke.

“So… about your… um…”

Ling Chen: “What?”

“It’s just your con—”

Just as Zhu Wenshu was struggling to phrase her question, the waiter suddenly pushed the door open and brought in two dishes.

After setting the table and stepping back out, Ling Chen, wiping his chopsticks, asked, “What were you asking just now?”

Zhu Wenshu shook her head. “Nothing…”

After the waiter left, Zhu Wenshu finally spoke up again, hesitantly. “Actually, I wanted to ask… your concert tickets…”

“Just say it.”

Ling Chen’s chopsticks paused mid-air. “You want to buy some?”

The light shone brightly on his face, and the upward tilt of his eyes, which should have been quite alluring, only struck Zhu Wenshu as thoroughly smug.

Forget it.

She was already paying off one favor; better not rack up another.

“No, not planning to.”

Zhu Wenshu deflated a little, lowering her head to pick at her food. “Buying the CD was already my biggest act of generosity. Normally I just freeload off you.”

Ling Chen was silent for a moment, then spat out two words.

“…Freeload off me?”

This time it was Zhu Wenshu’s chopsticks that froze mid-air. “…”

Ling Chen: “Teacher Zhu, model educator, and this is your hobby?”

Zhu Wenshu: “…Sorry, I’ll be sure to spend money on you from now on.”

Ling Chen twirled his fingers, spoon idly stirring the soup in his bowl, and smiled.

“So… thank you for spending money to freeload off me?”

“…”

Zhu Wenshu lowered her head, calm as still water, picking up food and chewing it, all in one smooth motion.

Just refusing to say another word.

—

The next morning.

Zhu Wenshu sat in the office, looking at the two fresh stacks of homework on her desk, and let out a heavy sigh.

The night before, she hadn’t gotten home until almost nine. She’d been planning to stay up and grade the National Day homework, when a parent had suddenly called her, anxiously discussing their child’s studies for nearly two hours.

By the time she’d hung up, it was so late that she thought, well, maybe she could just secretly slack off tonight and grade the homework tomorrow instead.

Now, she only wished she could go back in time and punch herself.

What shower, what sleep — a homeroom teacher doesn’t deserve either.

Resigned, she pulled out her pen and set the leftover holiday homework beside yesterday’s stack of daily homework.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”

As the little rhyme finished, her red pen happened to land pointing at yesterday’s homework.

Zhu Wenshu sighed softly again and opened the notebook on top.

Fortunately, yesterday’s assignment was just copying vocabulary words, nothing that required much thought to grade. She plowed through more than half of it in no time.

Early mornings were the liveliest time in the office, with people constantly passing through the hallway, chattering nonstop.

Zhu Wenshu paid no attention, grading one notebook after another.

Until she opened Ling Siyuan’s notebook, her gaze suddenly fixed, the red pen in her hand freezing mid-air.

“Little Zhu, have you had breakfast yet?”

Teacher Wang’s voice suddenly sounded behind her.

“Huh?” Zhu Wenshu quickly closed the notebook, turning around in a fluster. “Yeah, I ate.”

“Oh, good then.”

Once Teacher Wang had settled back into her own chair, Zhu Wenshu slowly turned back around and reopened Ling Siyuan’s notebook.

Tucked inside the small grid-lined notebook were two tickets to Ling Chen’s concert.

A sticky note was attached on top, with two lines scrawled across it in a flourish.

“Flowers and glow sticks are on your own dime.”

“Come to my concert.”