“I just hit it by accident.”

Deleted.

“It’s not that I don’t like you…”

Deleted.

“Don’t misunderstand, I do like you quite a bit.”

Deleted.

Finally.

Perhaps seeing that she’d typed and deleted eight hundred times without producing so much as a peep, Ling Chen took it upon himself to reassure her.

【c】: You’ve been typing for ten minutes, Teacher Zhu.

【c】: No need to explain yourself to me. It’s fine if you don’t like me, I don’t mind.

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

Somehow this only made things feel more awkward.

What even was this situation.

She had, out of the goodness of her heart, lent money to help a big celebrity through a rough patch, and somehow it had turned into—

Wait a moment.

Wasn’t this about borrowing money?

She suddenly sat up again and quickly typed, intending to gently clarify that she didn’t “dislike” him either.

【Zhu Wenshu】: What’s your bank account number?

【Zhu Wenshu】: I’ll transfer it right now.

【c】: No need, I was just joking.

【c】: I was just playing a little game just now, I don’t actually need to borrow fried chicken money from you.

【Zhu Wenshu】: ?

【c】: I don’t actually need to borrow money from you.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Oh…

【Zhu Wenshu】: What kind of game? Truth or dare?

【c】: Something like that.

【c】: A little interview segment.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Oh.

A few seconds passed.

【Zhu Wenshu】: An interview???

【Zhu Wenshu】: Was there a camera involved??

【Zhu Wenshu】: Is this the kind of interview that airs on TV??

【c】: Mm.

【c】: A CCTV interview.

【Zhu Wenshu】: ???

【c】: What’s wrong.

What do you mean, what’s wrong!

You tell me what’s wrong!

If she’d known this was going to be an interview, she would’ve at least put on a show of being generous, even if it was fake.

Now, the entire country would not only know she was stingy.

They’d also know she needed an extra piece of fried chicken with every meal.

She was a schoolteacher, after all…

How was she supposed to maintain any dignity in front of her students after this.

Zhu Wenshu let out a long sigh.

【Zhu Wenshu】: So… when does this interview air?

【c】: Day after tomorrow, probably.

【Zhu Wenshu】: That soon??

【c】: That nervous?

【Zhu Wenshu】: !!!

【c】: Just kidding, it’s not CCTV. Just a music blogger.

“…”

Zhu Wenshu let out a long breath of relief.

Good, that was good.

But she was still a little curious.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Which blogger?

【c】: Liu Leyou.

Never heard of him.

Must not be very well-known.

Even as she thought this, Zhu Wenshu still sneaked over to Weibo to search the name.

The moment she saw his follower count, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her—she brought the phone closer, and once she’d properly confirmed the number, she nearly blacked out—

Better to embarrass herself in front of CCTV than in front of some trendy music blogger with tens of millions of followers!

The breath she’d only just let out came rushing right back.

Zhu Wenshu lay flat on her back, trying to talk herself down.

So what if he had over ten million followers. When Ling Chen made that call, he hadn’t named her outright.

Who would even know it was her.

Still…

Zhu Wenshu thought for a moment, then asked.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Why did you call me?

Ling Chen didn’t reply again.

Zhu Wenshu guessed he was busy, so she got up and went to the kitchen for an orange to calm herself down.

But when she peeled off the pretty orange-gold skin, the flesh inside turned out to be so sour it could make a blind man’s eyes water.

There was truly no trusting fruit these days!

Zhu Wenshu tossed the rest of the orange away, dispirited, and shuffled out to the balcony to get some air.

Meanwhile, in the other room, the door lock clicked, and Ying Fei rushed out holding her phone to open the door.

Grabbing her delivery order, she turned and saw Zhu Wenshu on the balcony. “Have you eaten?”

Zhu Wenshu glanced back at her. “I ate at the school cafeteria.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ying Fei was about to take the delivery back to her room to eat, when Zhu Wenshu, seeing her turn, remembered the earlier incident and asked, “By the way, why did you suddenly ask if I liked Ling Chen?”

“Ah…”

Ying Fei turned back, saying slowly, “I saw the album on your desk, so I just asked if you’re his fan.”

“I’m not—”

The word was almost out of her mouth, but Zhu Wenshu suddenly laughed, helpless. “You should’ve asked it that way in the first place—what’s this ‘do you like him’ business…”

Ying Fei frowned, clearly confused.

Was there really a difference between the two questions?

“Anyway, I’m… not really his fan.”

Zhu Wenshu said.

Not really.

Ying Fei took note of that, nodding. “Ah, I see. I just saw you buying his album and listening to his songs, and you asked about concert tickets before too, so I figured I’d ask.”

“No, that wasn’t for me, I asked about the tickets for a friend.”

Standing under the balcony light, Zhu Wenshu couldn’t quite make out Ying Fei’s expression in the dark entryway, and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just curious.”

Backlit, Ying Fei said nothing more. “I’ll go eat now.”

Once she’d returned to her room, she leaned against the door and sighed helplessly.

Even though Zhu Wenshu said she wasn’t really his fan, she probably still liked him at least a little.

Otherwise, who in this day and age buys a CD just to display at home for no reason?

Actually, it wouldn’t be strange even if she were a fan of Ling Chen’s.

He was at the height of his popularity these days, and plenty of people liked him.

But precisely because of that popularity, he also had no shortage of haters.

As it happened, Ying Fei herself was one of Ling Chen’s haters.

She just hadn’t expected her own roommate to be showing signs of turning into a fan.

Still, for now, things seemed manageable—if Zhu Wenshu liked him a little, so be it, as long as she wasn’t gushing about Ling Chen in front of her every single day, Ying Fei could just look the other way.

Meanwhile.

After some time enjoying the night air on the balcony, Zhu Wenshu decided to head back to her room.

Passing by Ying Fei’s door, she glanced over.

Although Ying Fei hadn’t said anything outright, Zhu Wenshu had a vague sense that Ying Fei might not particularly like Ling Chen.

Tsk tsk.

Zhu Wenshu shook her head and pushed open her own door.

The moment she picked up her phone, she saw Ling Chen’s reply from a few minutes earlier.

【c】: Because.

【c】: Nobody else answers my calls.

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

Man, his social circle really was pathetic.

—

By the time it was time to head to the broadcast venue, Ling Xingyan was directing the staff in the suite to get everything ready.

Liu Leyou’s side had also packed up and was preparing to leave.

After saying goodbye to Ling Chen, he turned to thank Ling Xingyan as well.

“Really, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule. I’ll make sure the interview is handled properly, and we’ll show it to you before it goes live, as usual.”

Ling Xingyan shook his hand, smiling warmly. “No need to be so formal. It’s getting late, drive safe on your way back.”

Lu Manman stepped forward to help Liu Leyou with his things.

“No need, no need, I’ve got it.”

Liu Leyou picked up his bag and had just reached the door when Ling Chen, seated on the sofa scrolling through his phone, suddenly called out to him.

“By the way, that segment about borrowing money—”

Ling Chen looked up from his phone, meeting Liu Leyou’s eyes. “Could you cut that, please?”

“Huh? Cut it?”

Before Liu Leyou could respond, his assistant spoke up first. “Why?”

Ling Chen stared at the floor-to-ceiling window for a moment before turning back. “Wouldn’t it be a bit embarrassing to let people find out my friend wasn’t exactly eager to lend me money?”

“No, not at all! It was fun!”

Another one of Liu Leyou’s staff members added, “That teacher was really adorable too, that was my favorite part.”

Ling Chen looked at Liu Leyou and said nothing.

“OK, no problem.”

Unlike his team, Liu Leyou wasn’t particularly surprised, and said evenly, “It was just a little game anyway, and having it later on would kind of dilute the main focus of the interview. I’ll cut it.”

“Thanks.”

After Liu Leyou and his crew left, the suite felt noticeably more spacious.

Ling Chen stood up, letting the stylist adjust his outfit once more.

Ling Xingyan walked Liu Leyou to the door, and on his way back, passed by Ling Chen and said in a low voice, “‘Not exactly eager to lend’—please. I bet you’re just afraid that if the whole world finds out she needs an extra piece of fried chicken every meal, she won’t want anything to do with you.”

Ling Chen ignored him entirely, lowering his head to talk to the stylist, as if he hadn’t even noticed someone standing beside him.

The stylist worked for a bit, then turned to grab some setting spray from the other side.

Taking advantage of the moment, Ling Xingyan leaned in and said quietly, smiling, “A teacher, huh? Where does she teach? Middle school or high school?”

“The cuff’s a little tight.”

Ling Chen turned to talk to the stylist, flatly ignoring his cousin.

“Come on, tell me.”

Ling Xingyan simply sat down, crossing one leg over the other, his face full of teasing. “Who knows, maybe when my son needs to get into school someday, I’ll have connections.”

“Unfortunately.”

Ling Chen glanced at him, expressionless. “She teaches elementary school.”

Ling Xingyan spread his hands at this. “No luck there then. Tsk, what a shame.”

—

Autumn in Jiangcheng brought frequent rain, and once it started, it would drizzle on endlessly, dark clouds pressing heavily over the city from dawn to dusk.

It was the weekend, and Zhu Wenshu had planned to stay home, but the construction noise from next door—a drill going all morning—finally became unbearable, so she took her laptop and books and went to the city library instead.

The library wasn’t particularly close to home, with no direct bus or subway route.

Zhu Wenshu had specially taken a taxi there, which was a bit of a hassle, but since she was the type who could sit still for hours, she ended up staying the entire day.

By the time she picked up her umbrella to head home, night had already fully fallen.

The drizzle continued, fine and steady, water pooling on the long-unrepaired road, a few withered leaves floating on the surface, looking especially bleak.

Zhu Wenshu had worn a white wool dress that day, its hem reaching down to her ankles, so she walked especially carefully, worried about splashing water on it.

But fate wasn’t on her side—no matter how careful she was, the water kicked up by her heels still managed to dirty the hem of her dress.

Zhu Wenshu sighed, not wanting to stand in the rain any longer, and headed toward the bus stop to wait for a taxi.

Normally at this hour, the bus stop would be nearly empty.

But because of the rain, quite a few people had crowded in to take shelter, and from a distance, it looked packed.

Most of them, like her, were there waiting for a ride.

Seeing this, Zhu Wenshu quickened her pace, hoping to find herself a spot.

A bus pulled slowly out of the curtain of rain, and the crowd shifted as a few people boarded.

“Wait! Wait! There’s still someone coming!”

An anxious voice rang out, growing closer, the urgency spreading through the crowd.

Zhu Wenshu instinctively moved to make way, and just as she stepped aside, another middle-aged woman, rushing to catch the bus, suddenly barreled into her.

The moment their shoulders collided, Zhu Wenshu’s flat shoes slipped, and she fell to the ground.

The middle-aged woman who’d knocked her over had already dashed several steps ahead before hearing the commotion and looking back, only to see a girl in a white dress sitting sprawled on the ground.

Only then did she realize, belatedly, what she’d done.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry! Miss!”

She held her umbrella in one hand and a lunchbox in the other, bending down awkwardly to help Zhu Wenshu up, only causing more rainwater to drip from her umbrella onto Zhu Wenshu.

“Please step back a little.”

Zhu Wenshu raised a hand to shield her face and got up on her own.

Looking down, she saw the dress was soaked from the right thigh all the way up to her shoulder, streaked with dark mud.

“…”

“Oh no, look at this.”

The woman was flustered, her features scrunched together with worry. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Zhu Wenshu actually hadn’t fallen hard, and it didn’t hurt much.

It was just that the mud had left her thoroughly dirty, which was genuinely irritating.

“I’m not hurt.”

“Are you getting on or not?!”

The bus driver’s voice cut through the rain, muffled and unclear.

“Yes! Yes! Just give me a second!”

The woman anxiously tugged at Zhu Wenshu’s sleeve. “Then, then what about your dress, should I help you clean it?”

Clean it how?

Right here, on the spot?

The horn blared impatiently in the background, and Zhu Wenshu sighed and shook her head. “It’s fine, I’ll handle it myself, you should get on.”

Seeing how accommodating Zhu Wenshu was being, the woman relaxed a little.

She glanced back at the bus and said hesitantly, “Then… I’ll go on ahead? I was in such a rush, I’m bringing dinner to my husband, I’m really sorry about this.”

“Go ahead.”

Zhu Wenshu had already picked up her umbrella, unwilling to linger any longer arguing with someone who’d made an honest mistake—right now, she just wanted to get home and change as quickly as possible.

—

Because it was raining, and past eight, right in the middle of rush hour, there wasn’t a single empty taxi on the road, and even the ride-hailing apps showed a queue of a hundred or two hundred people.

Zhu Wenshu used a single tissue to wipe her hands clean, using the rest to wipe at her dress, though it barely made a dent.

The muddy water had thoroughly soaked through the fabric, clinging wetly to her skin.

The large, conspicuous stain on her white dress lent her appearance and bearing a sudden air of disheveled fragility, drawing repeated glances from passersby waiting nearby.

Those looks only magnified Zhu Wenshu’s sense of embarrassment, and she shifted toward a corner, unwilling to attract further attention.

The rain showed no sign of stopping, and the queue for a car crawled forward at a snail’s pace.

The crowd at the bus stop gradually thinned, and seats opened up.

Zhu Wenshu sat down at the edge, next to a girl.

“When are you getting here, I’m about to freeze to death.”

The girl was on a call, her tone coquettish. “Hurry up! I didn’t bring an umbrella, I already got soaked!”

Zhu Wenshu glanced at her quietly, thinking to offer her a tissue to wipe the rain from her hair, only to realize she’d already used up her own.

Before long, a white car pulled up in front of the bus stop.

A man got out of the driver’s seat holding an umbrella, wrapped an arm around the girl, and helped her into the car. Along the way, he coaxed her gently, reaching over to tenderly wipe the rain from her hair.

Zhu Wenshu didn’t look up.

Once they’d driven off, she glanced at the empty seat beside her and let out a soft sigh.

She couldn’t help feeling a little envious.

As the crowd around her thinned further, Zhu Wenshu, cold and drowsy, hugged her bag tightly and took out her phone to pass the time.

The moment she opened Weibo, her feed showed bloggers reposting red carpet photos from the awards ceremony a couple days back.

In fact, since that very evening, Zhu Wenshu had been seeing more and more bloggers post photos from the ceremony, and naturally, Ling Chen’s photos had come up too.

Only now, sitting bedraggled in the rain, seeing Ling Chen looking so radiant and glamorous under the flashing lights, she suddenly felt that fate really was unpredictable.

Scrolling absently, she swiped down and suddenly remembered the interview Ling Chen had mentioned.

Wasn’t it supposed to go up today?

Zhu Wenshu thought for a moment, then clicked into Liu Leyou’s Weibo, and sure enough, his latest video was the interview with Ling Chen.

Seeing the number of shares, comments, and likes on the post, Zhu Wenshu felt a wave of nerves.

She carefully clicked through the comments, reading them one by one…

Huh? No one seemed to mention her being stingy?

She opened the video.

She watched nearly the entire thirty-minute video without skipping a second, and it ended right at the part where Liu Leyou added Ling Chen on WeChat.

There was no segment at all about borrowing money from her.

Relieved, Zhu Wenshu also wanted to ask Ling Chen what had happened.

But then she thought again—what if he assumed she was eager to be on screen and had asked just for that reason?

Setting the thought aside, Zhu Wenshu didn’t keep watching and switched back to the ride-hailing app, where she saw only about thirty people left ahead of her in the queue.

And by the time she’d finished watching the video, the bus stop had emptied out too, leaving her the only one there.

Bored, Zhu Wenshu glanced around and took a photo with her phone.

In the cold, desolate curtain of rain, the old, weathered bus stop sign looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

—[Finally know what it feels like to be the last kid picked up from school.]

She posted this to her WeChat Moments, and comments came in fast.

Zhu Wenshu, head lowered, clicked into her Moments, and the small preview thumbnail in the notification… was that the very photo of Ling Chen she’d just been looking at?!

Wait, what??

He actually reads Moments too??

Zhu Wenshu clicked in, and the display name read—Zhu Qisen.

Zhu Qisen: What does it feel like specifically? Elaborate.

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

That gave her a start.

Only belatedly did she remember that Ling Chen’s profile picture also wasn’t a photo of himself.

She replied to Zhu Qisen: What kind of profile picture is that?

Zhu Qisen: The 101 ways to please your girlfriend, you wouldn’t understand.

Zhu Wenshu didn’t bother responding, just stared at his profile picture, as if Ling Chen himself had come to witness her current state of disarray.

But perhaps because Ling Chen had been appearing so frequently in her life lately, her thoughts wandered in the rain, gradually drifting to the last time she’d been this bedraggled—which, as it happened, also involved Ling Chen.

That had been right before the college entrance exams, when the whole senior class had suspended regular classes for independent study.

While organizing her mistake notebook, Zhu Wenshu had discovered a physics problem type she kept getting wrong, one she’d never quite conquered.

Anxious, with the exam looming so close, she’d sworn to herself that she would master it no matter what.

She’d spent the entire afternoon on it, and by the time school let out, she hadn’t wanted to rush home and break her concentration.

By the time she could clearly and completely write out the full solution to every version of the problem, the classroom had emptied out much like it was now.

Zhu Wenshu had packed up her bag and was about to stand when she’d suddenly felt a chill on her forehead.

Looking down, she’d found a dark red stain on the seat.

She immediately sat back down.

She’d been on her period those past few days, and being so absorbed in her studying, she’d forgotten to change her pad on time.

In the sweltering summer heat, she’d only been wearing a short-sleeved shirt and school pants.

Though the classroom was nearly empty, she’d still need to take the bus and walk through the alleys to get home.

A teenage girl, thin-skinned about such things, had cringed at the thought of so many people seeing the stain on her pants, and couldn’t help lightly banging her head against the desk.

Help, someone, please…

Who could possibly save her right now.

After banging her head for a bit, she’d suddenly thought that maybe a classmate had left some spare clothes in the room, and immediately turned around.

Her gaze had swept the room and landed first on Ling Chen, sitting alone in the corner, still there.

She’d paused, seeing that even in this scorching heat, he was still wearing his school jacket, and felt a glimmer of hope.

“Ling Chen…”

Hearing his name, Ling Chen had looked up, meeting her gaze from across the room, but said nothing.

Since they weren’t close, Zhu Wenshu had felt a bit embarrassed making such a request, a flush of color rising to her face.

“Um… could you do me a favor?”

“What?”

The distance between them was too great for Zhu Wenshu to comfortably say it out loud.

“Could you come over here for a second?”

Ling Chen had stared at her for a moment before getting up and walking over.

He’d stopped in front of her desk, still saying nothing.

“It’s just… my pants are a bit dirty…” Zhu Wenshu had stammered, “Could I borrow your jacket to wear home for the day?”

Surprise, confusion, and an instinctive reluctance had all flickered across Ling Chen’s eyes.

He’d let his hands hang at his sides, his fingers at the hem of his sleeve unconsciously curling to hide a few visible lines of mended stitching, saying nothing.

“Ah, it’s fine if it’s not convenient, I’ll just ask someone else.”

Zhu Wenshu had been watching his face the whole time, and seeing his expression, quickly understood he wasn’t willing.

She’d known her request was a bit much, after all—he was a senior boy, surely he understood exactly what had happened.

If he found it unclean and didn’t want to lend it, that was understandable too.

Fortunately, just then, a classmate who’d come back for something had passed by in the hallway.

“Yin Yuezhi!” Zhu Wenshu had quickly called out.

—

Zhu Wenshu forcibly cut off the memory here, no longer wanting to recall what had happened after borrowing Yin Yuezhi’s clothes.

The rain had finally let up a little, though the cool breeze made the parts of her still damp from the rain feel especially cold.

Zhu Wenshu shivered, watching the traffic on the road grow thinner, thinking she should be getting a car soon.

She glanced at her phone—there were still more than twenty people ahead of her in the queue, expecting to wait a bit longer.

Her battery was running low, and not wanting to waste any more, Zhu Wenshu turned off her screen and slowly looked up.

A black business car came slowly rolling by, gradually slowing down.

Finally, it stopped right in front of the bus stop shelter.

At an empty bus stop, on a rainy night, Zhu Wenshu couldn’t help feeling a heightened sense of alertness, her mind already flashing through countless movie scenes of girls being accosted on the road.

She sat up straighter, gripping her phone tightly.

But the next second, the automatic car door opened.

The slanting rain blurred her view, and in the dim night, the light inside the car threw Ling Chen’s silhouette into sharp, clear relief.

Even so, Zhu Wenshu wondered if she was hallucinating.

Then, a black umbrella extended out, and as it opened, the person inside leaned forward to get out of the car.

Stray raindrops burst open across the umbrella’s surface.

The scene before her seemed to slow into individual frames, and Zhu Wenshu watched as the black umbrella lifted, and Ling Chen, amid the dim, hazy night, walked toward her one step at a time.

Still in the same black suit, though no bright spotlight shone down on him this time.

But the sight before her seemed to overlay the photos she’d just been looking at, and Zhu Wenshu felt as though the man before her had lit up this bleak, desolate bus stop like a blaze of lights.

He stopped in front of Zhu Wenshu, looked down, saw her rain-soaked white dress, and held out the umbrella.

“Take it.”

Only when he spoke did Zhu Wenshu feel a sense of reality return.

She reached out, her slender fingertips brushing against his knuckles, and before she’d even fully grasped the handle, the full weight of the umbrella had already transferred to her hand.

Zhu Wenshu blinked, looking up in confusion.

The man before her lowered his head, his fingers undoing the button at his chest.

He took off the suit jacket he was wearing, held it in both hands, and reached his arms around, past her ears.

The crisp, clean scent of him mingled with the autumn wind, drifting close to the tip of her nose.

The next moment, the jacket, still warm with his body heat, settled gently over her shoulders.