Zhu Wenshu’s gaze stayed fixed on the computer screen for a long while, and only when the scene had already cut to something new did her attention finally snap back, pulled away by the notification sound of an incoming message.

【c】: Did you see it?

Zhu Wenshu murmured “Oh” to herself and replied with the corners of her mouth curving up.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Saw it.

【c】: Did you see me?

【Zhu Wenshu】: No.

【c】: Then open the door.

【Zhu Wenshu】: ?

She turned abruptly to look at her tightly shut bedroom door.

One second, two seconds—”knock knock.”

The knocking sound came, right on cue.

Zhu Wenshu nearly leapt out of her chair, and when she opened the bedroom door, her sleeve caught on the door handle on the way.

By the time she covered the short ten-meter distance from her room to the entryway, she was slightly out of breath, as if she’d just trekked a great distance.

The knocking didn’t continue. Zhu Wenshu waited a moment, then gently pulled the front door open.

She stood behind the door, poking just her head out.

“Why did you come?”

In the dim stairwell, Ling Chen wore a baseball cap pulled low, covering most of his face. Without a word, he simply raised his right arm and shook the cake he was carrying.

“Still got half an hour left—not too late, right?”

“Oh…” Zhu Wenshu pulled the door open wider, just wide enough for one person to pass through, and Ling Chen squeezed inside.

Right by the entryway was the dining table, and as Ling Chen was about to casually set the cake down on it, Zhu Wenshu caught sight of the light spilling from Ying Fei’s bedroom door, and her heart suddenly leapt.

“Don’t put it there!”

Ling Chen’s motion paused, and he raised an eyebrow, looking at Zhu Wenshu.

But Zhu Wenshu had no time to explain—deep into the night was exactly when Ying Fei was most active—so she hurriedly pulled Ling Chen into her own room.

As she carefully closed the door, she even pressed her ear against it to listen for a moment, and only once she’d confirmed there was no movement outside did she relax and turn around—

Inside the bedroom, only a floor lamp was lit, casting the outline of the man leaning against the desk into view.

Zhu Wenshu stood leaning against the door without speaking, staring blankly at Ling Chen.

She had lived here for over a year, and this was the first time a man had ever set foot in her room. It felt oddly out of place.

The faint scent of the aromatherapy diffuser by her bed seemed suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, the whole room thick with an intense, heady scent.

The two of them held each other’s gaze in the dim light for a long moment, neither making any move to speak.

After a while, Zhu Wenshu finally cleared her throat.

“I have a roommate, it’s not really convenient here.”

“Oh.”

Ling Chen tilted his head slightly to one side and said flatly, “Here I thought I was something too shameful to be seen.”

That was, admittedly, a little true as well.

Zhu Wenshu stepped forward, pointing at the chair by the desk. “Sit down.”

Ling Chen had already draped his arm over the back of the chair; he glanced around the room, set the cake down on the desk, and sat.

As he bent forward, Zhu Wenshu noticed a few fine grains of snow falling from the brim of his cap and his shoulders.

Her whole body had been tense until now, and only then did she realize the cold clinging to Ling Chen—he must have braved the snow to get here.

“Let me pour you some hot water.”

“Okay.”

Ling Chen didn’t hold back at all, even adding a request. “Not too hot.”

Zhu Wenshu: “…Oh, got it, big star.”

She tiptoed to the kitchen, picked up the thermos and gave it a shake—there was still about half left.

But when she opened the lid and sniffed it, it wasn’t hot, but nearly cold.

So Zhu Wenshu pulled out the kettle and put on a fresh pot to boil.

Once the flame was on, she stood in the kitchen, her gaze following the flickering flame beneath the burner.

Only when the water finally boiled did she snap back to herself, hurriedly grabbing a bottle of mineral water from the cabinet to mix the boiling water down to a warmer temperature. She carefully checked it was the right warmth before heading back toward her room.

But when she pushed the door open, she found the light in the room had been switched off.

All that remained was the cake on the desk, now lit with two candles.

By the faint candlelight, she could just make out eight characters piped onto the cake.

“Happy Birthday, Classmate Little Silkworm.”

The cake wasn’t very large, and the space was tight, so the eight characters were squeezed together crookedly, looking a bit childish.

Zhu Wenshu stood in the doorway holding the cup of water, saying nothing for a long moment.

“Not going to come make a wish?”

Ling Chen had stood up at some point, offering up the room’s only chair.

Zhu Wenshu set the cup down on the desk and sat properly in the chair.

She sat up straight, staring unblinking at the candlelight.

Though the room had gone dark and she couldn’t see a thing, precisely because of that, she could sense Ling Chen standing right beside her, and it only made her feel more anxious and nervous.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Countless thoughts drifted through her mind, yet none of them were a wish.

Finally, Ling Chen spoke up to remind her.

“Isn’t your wish taking a bit long?” Ling Chen said. “Should I grab a pen and write it down for you?”

Zhu Wenshu pressed her lips together, holding back a smile, and quickly clasped her hands together, raising them in front of her chest.

After silently reciting two rather old-fashioned wishes in her head, she belatedly realized how silly this gesture must look.

She turned her head slightly, wanting to see Ling Chen’s expression, but in the dim room, she could only make out his silhouette.

Yet perhaps because her vision was limited, her hearing and sense of smell felt unusually sharp.

She seemed to clearly hear the sound of Ling Chen’s breathing and could feel the warmth radiating from him.

After a long while, Ling Chen asked, “Made your three wishes yet?”

“Two…” Zhu Wenshu lowered her head and laughed softly. “I don’t really have that many wishes. Should I give you one?”

She could vaguely make out that Ling Chen seemed to be smiling, and Zhu Wenshu gritted her teeth in frustration.

What was wrong with her—every single thing she did was getting more and more childish.

But instead of laughing, Ling Chen bent down, leaning closer to the cake.

His cheek brushed past Zhu Wenshu’s neck; as he stared at the candles with his eyes closed, her senses suddenly amplified a hundredfold, feeling every single one of his breaths brush against her cheek.

Then, she heard him say, “My wish is…”

Zhu Wenshu: “Say it out loud and it won’t come true.”

“It will.” Ling Chen’s voice was very light. “Whether it comes true or not is entirely up to you.”

“I wish—” he said, word by word, “that Zhu Wenshu will be my girlfriend.”

Her eyes seemed to lose focus in the candlelight, her body pinned to the chair, unable to move.

Amid her rapidly racing heartbeat, she nearly blurted out an answer right then.

She opened her mouth, then caught herself just in time.

At the height of her nervousness, all the questions that had been circling in her mind all day surfaced again. In a daze, she sifted through them and asked the one she most wanted to know.

“Ling Chen, when did you… start liking me?”

“The bookstore.”

In the darkness, Ling Chen’s answer plunged Zhu Wenshu into confusion once more.

“The bookstore?”

Beside her, he seemed to straighten up. After a few breaths, he said, “Do you remember the little neighborhood bookstore at the end of Baihua Lane?”

Zhu Wenshu lowered her eyes, trying hard to recall. In her faded memories, there did seem to be a place like that.

Back when she’d lived at her grandmother’s house, she’d occasionally gone there to buy magazines and casual reading.

“When was this?”

“August, I think…” The candle flame flickered in Ling Chen’s eyes, as if he’d sunk into a distant memory. “The August before we started high school.”

Zhu Wenshu’s fingers suddenly curled against her leg, frustrated with herself for having such poor memory—how could she have absolutely no recollection of this?

“Did we talk back then?”

“No.”

“…”

“So,” Ling Chen’s throat moved slightly, his eyes fixed directly on Zhu Wenshu in the darkness, “it was love at first sight for me, with you.”

Love. At. First. Sight?

Amid her thundering heartbeat, Zhu Wenshu couldn’t find her bearings. She glanced at the words on the cake and asked whatever came to mind first.

“Then why ‘Classmate Little Silkworm’?”

Ling Chen suddenly laughed.

“You don’t want to know.”

Zhu Wenshu: “?”

Because.

The winter of their freshman year, it had been Ling Chen’s turn for classroom duty, and he only went to wipe the blackboard once the bell for class had already rung.

Zhu Wenshu, wearing a long white down jacket, was napping with her head down on her desk.

The teacher pushed open the door, walked in, and looking at her figure, laughed. “Well look at that, you look just like a little silkworm.”

Zhu Wenshu, fast asleep, didn’t react at all, and the students around her all snickered quietly.

As Ling Chen walked down the aisle, he glanced over a few extra times, his footsteps faltering slightly.

The teacher glanced at him too. “Watch your step—don’t wake up our little silkworm, or spring will come and it won’t spin any silk. That’ll be on you.”

The laughter from that corner of the room grew louder, and even Ling Chen pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile.—

After Ling Chen finished speaking, sure enough, he heard no response from Zhu Wenshu.

He couldn’t see in the dark, but he could imagine the look on her face.

“Was I really that fat?”

Zhu Wenshu’s voice had dropped low.

She really shouldn’t have asked—now her entire romantic image of that song was shattered.

After a moment, she added sullenly, “Well, in that case, you’ve seen so many female celebrities and such…”

Zhu Wenshu didn’t finish her sentence, but the lack of confidence in her tone was already obvious.

“I have seen a lot, it’s true.”

Ling Chen, like a man awaiting judgment, had nothing left to hide in this darkness. “But compared to you,”

he said lightly, “they’re just about average.”

Hearing this, Zhu Wenshu’s curled fingers trembled slightly.

Neither of them spoke again. The candle burned lower and lower, on the verge of going out.

“So—” Ling Chen stood right beside Zhu Wenshu, not bending down again, keeping the distance of an arm’s length between them, “can my wish come true?”

Zhu Wenshu still didn’t speak. She suddenly clenched her hand tight, and blew out the candle.

Then, very, very softly, she said, “Mm.”

The only light source in the room went out, leaving only the faint glow of the streetlights outside filtering in.

The sound of their breathing rose and fell in the room.

What now?

What should she say next?

Shouldn’t there be some kind of gesture, some sense of ceremony?

Zhu Wenshu clutched tightly at her pants, waiting for a long while, but saw no further movement from Ling Chen.

What was he standing there for?

Just then, Zhu Wenshu heard Ling Chen’s phone buzzing nonstop.

Not knowing what else to say either way, Zhu Wenshu swallowed and spoke up. “So we’re…”

Ling Chen: “Hm?”

“Let’s go to sleep?”

The room fell suddenly silent again.

Zhu Wenshu’s temples began throbbing as she realized her words might carry an unintended implication, and she quickly added, “I mean, you’ve had a busy day, you should head home and get some rest early.”

But Ling Chen didn’t seem to have much to say at this point either.

“Oh, okay.”

The two of them walked out in silence.

The hallway was narrow, their sleeves brushing against each other from time to time.

But feeling the contact of his body against hers, Zhu Wenshu instinctively pulled her arms in tighter, nervously putting a little distance between them.

Only when she’d walked Ling Chen to the elevator and he turned around did their eyes finally meet again.

But he just looked at Zhu Wenshu like that, and Zhu Wenshu looked back at him.

Yet her mouth felt sealed shut; for the longest time she couldn’t think of anything to say, couldn’t even manage a simple goodbye.

As the elevator doors were about to close, Zhu Wenshu suddenly felt a strange sense of unreality.

So this is my… boyfriend now?

Why did it feel like they were even more awkward with each other now than before?

Ling Chen finally spoke. “Get some sleep.”

See.

Even his farewell was terse.

The next moment, his tightly pressed lips moved slightly again.

“Girlfriend.”

Zhu Wenshu froze for a moment, staring straight at him.

Just as the gap in the elevator doors narrowed to barely a finger’s width, she smiled, curving her lips, and let out a soft “Mm.”

The doors closed completely, and Zhu Wenshu still stood there without moving.

She reached up and touched her own cheek—it was burning hot, as if she had a fever.

Ugh, where had all the vocabulary she’d ever learned gone?

Why, at a moment like this, had she turned mute, unable to get a single word out?

Even Ling Chen was more composed than she was.—

By the time he got home, it was already twelve-thirty.

Standing at the door, Ling Chen reached out to press his fingerprint.

But instead of the familiar sound of the door unlocking, all he got was an error beep.

Why wasn’t it recognizing his fingerprint again?

Ling Chen switched hands, but the result was the same.

Just as he was about to try the door’s outer shell and enter the passcode, he looked up, staring silently at the unfamiliar door number for a moment.

Then he turned and walked toward his own home.

This time, the fingerprint lock responded instantly. As he pushed the door open, Ling Chen rubbed a hand over his face before stepping inside.

The light in the study was still on, and Ling Xingyan’s voice drifted out intermittently as he made phone calls.

Ling Chen walked straight through the hallway, about to head to his own room, when Ling Siyuan came rubbing his eyes out of his bedroom.

Seeing Ling Chen, he paused for a moment.

“Uncle, you’re back?”

“Mm.” Ling Chen stopped in front of him. “Why are you still up so late?”

“The heater’s too hot, I got thirsty.”

“Go sit on the couch.”

Ling Chen turned and went to the dining room to pour a cup of warm water, switching on the living room light along the way.

Ling Siyuan obediently took the cup and drank a couple of sips, blinking up at Ling Chen.

“Uncle, why didn’t you come home with Dad?”

Ling Chen: “Sharp kid.”

Ling Siyuan: “?”

Ling Chen crouched down and patted his head.

“How did you know your uncle has a girlfriend?”

Ling Siyuan: “…”—

By one in the morning, Zhu Wenshu still couldn’t fall asleep.

She tossed and turned in bed, one moment staring up at the spinning ceiling and smiling, the next pulling the blanket over her head.

Every time she recalled those three words Ling Chen had said as he left, Zhu Wenshu felt as if her whole body were floating and swaying in midair.

Girlfriend.

She was now Ling Chen’s girlfriend.

But then, remembering how she hadn’t been able to say a single word all night, Zhu Wenshu felt like a complete airhead.

She really wasn’t sure she could handle this role.

It really was her own fault, she thought, for having so little experience.

Zhu Wenshu rolled around in bed for a while, then picked up her phone, wanting to seriously ask someone for advice.

But when she went through the list of close female friends she had, she realized none of them were any better off than she was.

Just then, Zhong Ya happened to be sending her an endless stream of forwarded Weibo posts and threads, all about tonight’s concert.

With a sort of last-resort desperation, Zhu Wenshu sent her a message.

【Zhu Wenshu】: What should you watch out for when dating someone?

【Zhong Ya】: ?

【Zhu Wenshu】: To be specific, what should you watch out for when dating a celebrity?

【Zhong Ya】: Zhu Wenshu, don’t make me slap you.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Ugh, I’m serious.

【Zhu Wenshu】: I’m worried I won’t do a good job and it’ll affect his career.

【Zhong Ya】: Oh.

【Zhong Ya】: I actually have experience with this.

【Zhu Wenshu】: ?

【Zhong Ya】: Phone call?

【Zhu Wenshu】: Sure.

【Zhong Ya】: Let me tell you all about my years dating Tom Hiddleston.

【Zhu Wenshu】: …

She gave up on Zhong Ya as a lost cause, and was about to put down her phone when she suddenly heard faint footsteps from the bathroom outside her door.

It seemed Ying Fei wasn’t asleep yet either.

Zhu Wenshu thought about it—Ying Fei knew a lot more about the entertainment industry, maybe she’d have some ideas.

So she sent the same question to Ying Fei.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Feifei, what should you watch out for when dating a celebrity?

Ying Fei, currently sitting on the toilet with her phone, replied quickly.

【Ying Fei】: Make sure to close the windows properly and tuck yourself in well.

【Zhu Wenshu】: ?

【Ying Fei】: So you don’t catch a chill from the wind.