Earlier on the train, Hu Ke’er had created a group chat of four people with Zhang Yuge and the others, and later added Xie Yichen.
Zhang Yuge and Lin Shuyu heard that Ning Sui had low blood sugar combined with acute gastroenteritis, and that Xie Yichen said he and Hu Ke’er had taken her to the hospital — but neither of them knew the specific details of the situation.
Zhang Yuge egged Lin Shuyu on to go check on her, but Lin Shuyu only lived up to the first character of “egging on” — the cowardly part — and didn’t dare go, fearing that Ning Sui would find it off-putting if he showed up uninvited, especially since she had never once agreed to go out to eat or watch a movie with him alone.
He had also seen posts on Peking University’s campus confessional board more than once from people saying they liked her, and there had even been someone who confessed to her onstage during the Student Festival while singing. That guy hadn’t been bad-looking either, and all of them had ended up going home empty-handed.
Back in Yunnan, Lin Shuyu had felt that Ning Sui was a bit guarded around the opposite sex. Whenever someone accidentally got too close, she would move away quickly.
Lin Shuyu didn’t know the reason. He just felt that this girl was difficult to get close to.
Their campus beauty back at Gaohua, Luo Qiongxue, had been aloof and cool too, but if someone really got on her nerves, she’d get angry enough to curse — at least you’d get some kind of reaction.
But Ning Sui was different.
On the surface, Ning Sui was warm and pleasant, but she never had moments of losing her composure. Facing her was like throwing a stone into water — silent and without a trace.
Lin Shuyu had an instinct that she wasn’t without a lively side — it was just hidden away, not shown to him.
Given that his brother Old Lin was genuinely a coward, Zhang Yuge didn’t have much recourse.
The two of them simply asked after her condition in the group chat of five, and Ning Sui replied from her bed: don’t worry, she was fine.
Zhang Yuge said as long as she was okay, then turned around and posted a video in the group of Lin Shuyu doing the high jump that afternoon to liven up the atmosphere. He was wearing a very form-fitting red tank top paired with shorts — somewhat hard to put into words — and you could see the outline of every muscle: [I’m literally going to die laughing hahaha! Come everyone, watch Kuge run naked!]
Lin Shuyu’s class was having a gathering outside, but he quickly jumped into the chat: [You dead octopus, I’m going to kill you!!!]
Paopao Ke: [Hahahahahahahahahahahaha]
Kuge Lin: [[Draws my 40-meter broadsword and lets you run 39 meters first.jpg]]
The mood was gleefully boisterous for a moment.
But Xie Yichen said nothing in the group chat.
Ning Sui stared at the private chat window with him, feeling a little guilty.
Earlier she had just been randomly searching, looking to see if anyone had similar experiences, planning to share the results with Liang Xinyue and discuss it with her — but because she had just been chatting with Xie Yichen, she accidentally swiped the wrong way.
— He probably didn’t see it, right?
Xie Yichen’s side stayed quiet for a long time, and Ning Sui let out a small sigh of relief.
She deliberated for a moment, then dispelled the idea of discussing it with Liang Xinyue.
Having more or less adjusted her mindset by now, she sent Xie Yichen a message: [Thank you for this afternoon.]
Suisuisui: [Your jacket seems to have been left behind and not taken back.]
A few minutes later, he replied: [It’s fine, leave it there for now — can you bring it when you come to the Artificial Intelligence class next Thursday?]
It was a quite consultative tone.
Ning Sui thought for a moment: [Okay]
Xie Yichen: [Do you want to stay at Tsinghua to eat dinner that evening?]
Ning Sui hesitated for a moment: [Not sure if the club has rehearsal — let’s see.]
— It was just strange. Sometimes she couldn’t control this psychological avoidance in herself.
She would feel that someone was getting too close, and because that person shone so brilliantly, she feared even more that she might get burned. So she had to push them away temporarily, just to get a moment to breathe.
Ning Sui thought, deep down, she still wasn’t confident enough in herself.
From childhood through adolescence, what she had mostly received was criticism, suppression, and blame, along with all manner of rules and restrictions imposed on her. There had rarely been opportunities to do things according to her own heart’s desires, and she didn’t even know what she truly liked.
It seemed that only after meeting this group of people on the graduation trip had life gradually begun to take on a little vibrant color.
On the other end, the indicator showed “the other party is typing,” but no message came even after a long wait. Ning Sui figured Xie Yichen had probably been put off by her cool attitude, just like all those people who had tried to get close to her before.
Her thick eyelashes had only just drooped when she saw him send another message: [Still hurting?]
Hm?
Ning Sui assumed he was asking about her stomach, and after a brief pause replied: [Had some congee, feeling much better.]
Xie Yichen: [I noticed your knee got scraped a bit — it’d be better to disinfect it with iodine solution after your shower.]
Xie Yichen: [Do you have some in the dorm?]
A sudden pang of remorse rose in her chest. Ning Sui pressed her lips together: [I do]
Xie Yichen: [Okay, and remember to read the instructions too — eat light for the next few days, and make sure you eat enough]
Suisuisui: [Got it]
After a while, he didn’t say anything else.
Suisuisui: [Good night]
The other side sent: [Mm, good night 🌙⭐]
Ning Sui stared at the screen for a few seconds and inexplicably found those two perfectly ordinary emoji very adorable.
Where before her lips had been pressed into a flat line, they now had an urge to curve upward.
Oh dear.
How could there be someone with such a good temper — even after being spoken to harshly, they still sent the other person stars and a moon.
Ning Sui thought back to those boys in middle school. The moment any of them showed even a little affection, she would immediately put three li of distance between herself and them — a single wrong word and they couldn’t even be friends. Some of them probably had very strong pride and were still holding a grudge to this day, bringing it up as a running joke every time there was a class reunion.
Still, this symptom of hers seemed to have improved somewhat as time passed.
It was as if a particularly gentle tide was rising and falling within her, and those noisy, restless thoughts gradually receded. Ning Sui opened her browser, her fingertips pausing over the search bar for a moment before she typed in: “how to heal an avoidant attachment personality.”
One doctor Q&A result online said — “Learn to understand yourself correctly, build confidence through social interactions, and overcome anxiety and tension. If necessary, anti-anxiety medications such as alprazolam may be taken.”
“……”
As expected of a certain search engine.
Was that not stating the obvious?
How does one understand oneself? How does one gain confidence? How does one overcome anxiety?
Just take medication at the drop of a hat?
Ning Sui buried her face in her knees and let out a quiet sigh in her heart, thinking that this matter would need to be approached slowly and carefully. She needed to see if there were any other solutions — carrying on like this simply wouldn’t do.
—
Because of her health, Ning Sui couldn’t join Hu Ke’er the next day for the around-campus run, and in response, Hu Ke’er announced: [So sad~ I’ll just have to enjoy the handsome guy all by myself~~~]
“……”
Ning Sui drawled: [Have you finished reading all the literature? How many vocabulary words did you memorize today, little sister?]
Paopao Ke: [……]
Paopao Ke: [Ahhhh shut up!]
Hu Ke’er had only discovered her own former naivety after entering university — how had she ever believed that an English major would be easy?
On the very first day of registration, looking at the banner left by senior students posted on their dormitory door, she had an inkling that something wasn’t quite right.
[We f**k languages! :)]
Beautifully described, of course, as: we work with languages.
Hu Ke’er braced herself and resolved, after finishing her run, to go straight to the library to study.
After the sports meet ended, Ning Sui continued rotating as usual among her club, her studies, and her cultural and recreational life. Although she had studied competitive mathematics, she still kept the habits of a college entrance exam student — working hard in class, taking notes, analyzing mistakes, not daring to slacken for even a moment.
Liang Xinyue’s family had money, so her attitude was noticeably less serious — in her own words, she’d muddle through until graduation.
This woman had been blazing through her romance lately and had grown increasingly brazen in the dorm room, cycling through a new term of endearment for her boyfriend every day — “little piggy,” “baby,” “darling” — she was so sweet the whole room could practically see pink bubbles.
By comparison, Yu Qin was having a rough time. After getting to know the physics student better, she discovered he was deeply chauvinist and insufferably self-assured — they weren’t even officially together yet and he was already trying to control everything. It was a complete turn-off.
After Yu Qin gave him the cold shoulder, the guy apparently wasn’t ready to give up, kept sending messages to harass her, and even sent her a greasy selfie: [Come check out this handsome guy~]
“Is he serious — does he actually think this will make me have a change of heart?? Gross!”
The man had practically earned himself a spot in the hall of fame for bizarre behavior. When the selfies didn’t work, he started transferring money to her, hoping his lavish gestures would win her over, even saying that all women fell for this sort of thing.
Yu Qin was at a loss for words: “I already blocked him on WeChat, and now today he’s transferred me 9.9 yuan three times on Alipay and asked if that showed enough sincerity. What on earth did I attract…”
With Liang Xinyue — the resident love strategist — elsewhere, Yu Qin came to Ning Sui: “Sui, what should I reply?”
Ning Sui took her phone and sent: [The sincerity is there. Now send me 99 and let’s see what you’re really made of.]
Yu Qin looked puzzled: “Won’t that be too little?”
“Start low,” Ning Sui said cautiously. “We don’t want him taking a screenshot and spreading rumors.”
The two of them were still talking when the other party replied immediately: [Heh, sure I can give you money, but how dare you ask me for it outright? Damn, I really didn’t see this coming — so you’re that kind of materialistic woman! Total turnoff!!!]
Another message sent, and he blocked her at the speed of light.
Yu Qin: “……?”
Absolutely dumbfounded.
—
That Thursday afternoon, Ning Sui went to Tsinghua’s Building Six to attend the “Artificial Intelligence Technology” class again.
She had indeed underestimated this course before — only a few sessions in, and the difficulty had shot up a full level. The old professor was something else: in class, he would show off AI-generated poetry, paintings, and all manner of elegantly whimsical works, but the assignments given after class were to replicate similar programs.
Ning Sui overheard the girl beside her whispering to her companion: “Isn’t this exactly one of those classes where they teach you one plus one equals two, then the exam asks you to explain mythical monsters? Who the hell can actually do this?”
The companion offered comfort: “Don’t be upset — I heard that for the Yao Class students, the assignment is to imitate that ‘Rainy Classroom’ mini-program and write their own ‘Thundery Classroom’ from scratch.”
The girl: “?”
The Rainy Classroom was the attendance and in-class software Tsinghua regularly used — teachers would upload lecture slides and take attendance on it.
The girl looked utterly despairing: “Goodness, I just want to find a computer science boyfriend right now to write all my programs for me.”
As Ning Sui listened, her thoughts began to drift. After class she packed up her things and wandered aimlessly around the Tsinghua campus.
She found that she had somewhat mixed feelings — why did she feel that a few spots in this campus actually had really lovely scenery?
Passing by the basketball courts beside the Purple Bamboo sports field, Ning Sui deliberately paused to look for a moment. Several hot-blooded young men were scrambling for the backboard, drenched in sweat, clothes billowing — but she didn’t see a particular someone.
There had been no messages from him these past few days. She had no idea what on earth he was busy with.
Ning Sui couldn’t help tightening her fingertips slightly, staring at the basketball court in a slight daze.
Her backpack held Xie Yichen’s jacket, but she hadn’t yet decided whether to reach out to him. Just then she ran into a classmate from high school she was on reasonably familiar terms with, who said it had been ages and suggested they grab a meal together.
So they did. The classmate was Cui Xian, a warm and friendly girl with a mouth that could chat about anything — she’d been close to Hu Ke’er before.
The two of them ate nearby at the Peach and Plum Garden. Over a few bites of food, Cui Xian said: “Babe, we need to hurry — I’ve got a psychology class soon.”
“Psychology class?”
Cui Xian gave a confirmatory hum: “Mandatory general education for first and second years. It’s fairly easy — every session introduces some interesting case studies. Very relaxing.”
Ning Sui perked up with a little interest: “Do you have the syllabus?”
Cui Xian fiddled with her phone for a moment: “Sent it to your WeChat.” Then after a pause, she extended a warm invitation: “If you’re free tonight, want to come listen with me?”
Ning Sui glanced at it — today’s topic was MBTI personality tests. Without much hesitation: “Sure, I’ll come check it out with you.”
The class was held in a lecture hall that fit several hundred people. By the time they arrived, it was already packed. Cui Xian wasn’t worried in the slightest, made a phone call, and then gave Ning Sui a flirtatious wink as she turned back: “Sorted — my friend saved us seats in the middle.”
Ning Sui blinked: “A girl or a boy?”
Cui Xian didn’t bother hiding it, saying smugly: “My crush.”
Cui Xian’s crush was a senior student in the same department, one year above her. He had somewhat of a Korean drama leading-man quality about him — single-lid eyes, very tall. When he spotted them, he waved enthusiastically: “Over here, over here!”
Since the saved seats were dead center in the middle rows, a few students on the outside had to awkwardly shuffle their bags and squeeze out. Ning Sui and Cui Xian thanked them as they filed in, and by the time they finally sat down and got their things settled, the bell rang to start class.
The lecture hall had two doors, one at the front near the large screen. Right at the top corner there were two empty seats. Seeing that the room was virtually every seat filled — a sea of heads — Ning Sui asked: “This class is really popular, huh. How are there still empty seats?”
Cui Xian looked over and said with a laugh: “Too close to the front, probably — bad angle for the screen.”
Then, not entirely certain, she added: “I’ve seen Xie Yichen sitting in those seats a few times before. Someone must be holding them for him.”
Before the words had even finished, the front door swung open, and the first boy who walked in was carrying a bag of McDonald’s takeout, charging in with the forceful energy of a gust of wind, while the person following behind him had a single strap bag slung over one shoulder, a pair of over-ear headphones hanging around his neck, walking at an unhurried pace.
The two of them sat down in those two seats just as the very last bell rang. Xie Yichen sat on the inner side, gave the guy next to him a fraternal punch on the shoulder, and that person quickly put away the book and pen he’d been using to save the spots, then turned to exchange a few words with them with a smile.
Some students in that corner noticed the movement and looked over, quite a few of them girls, who glanced back several times.
Cui Xian spoke in an I-told-you-so tone: “Ha, see? As expected.”
Then she sighed appreciatively: “He really does love cutting it to the last second.”
She said it, but heard no reply. Glancing sideways, she found Ning Sui lifting her lashes to gaze in that direction without blinking.
Assuming she didn’t know who he was, Cui Xian said: “Hey, have you never seen Xie Yichen before? He’s our province’s top scorer — from Huai’an.”
Ning Sui gave a soft sound of acknowledgment, bowed her head, and opened her laptop: “Are you close with him?”
“Not really — we added each other as friends during the Tsinghua summer program.” The professor had already started on stage, so Cui Xian chewed the end of her pen and looked at the day’s content. “We exchanged messages a few times after the results came out. I felt like he was incredibly capable, but he’s really easygoing — not a trace of arrogance.”
Ning Sui nodded, said nothing, and started listening to the lecture.
“Before we talk about MBTI personalities, I’d like to first discuss intimate relationships. All of you are children of your parents, you’ve built friendships, and in the future you’ll meet kindred lovers, step into the halls of marriage, and carry intimate relationships forward. The way you behave within intimate relationships, in fact, largely reflects the personality you carry.”
The female professor on stage had immaculate makeup and a graceful temperament, looking to be somewhere in her thirties or forties. Cui Xian quietly told Ning Sui she was actually almost fifty: “Hehe, good skincare, right? This class has a very high attendance rate precisely because everyone loves listening to Professor Jiang speak. She’s calm and unhurried, and to a certain degree she soothes the hearts of students battered by the academic grind.”
Professor Jiang continued in her gentle manner: “Talking about intimate relationships, one cannot avoid mentioning the four attachment personality types: secure, avoidant, preoccupied, and fearful. The formation of these personalities is related to the environment in which we grew up — speaking narrowly, our family of origin; speaking broadly, also the shaping done to us by society over time.”
“These four personality types can be divided along two dimensions. First: whether one fears being abandoned. Second: whether one avoids intimacy.”
Professor Jiang drew two intersecting lines on the blackboard, creating four quadrants, with each pair forming a different attachment type.
“Secure is the most ideal and stable type. Candid, optimistic, never anxious, and not avoidant of intimacy — a trustworthy partner.”
“The preoccupied type fears their parents’ abandonment. They often enter a relationship very quickly, yet are filled with worry and uncertainty. For example, if their loved one doesn’t reply to a message promptly, they may call incessantly to find them, hoping to be closely involved in every aspect of their partner’s life. But those of you with this personality should take note — this sort of behavior tends not to go as hoped, and partners may leave because they feel too much pressure.”
“Now, the avoidant type — they’re unaccustomed to relying on anyone, and are always very independent. The formation of this personality type is often because in childhood, their expressed needs went unresponded to by their parents. As a result, they grew accustomed to deeply suppressing their emotional needs, and over time, stopped trying to express those needs to anyone at all.”
“When dealing with an avoidant type, you may feel they’re hot and cold, inconsistent. But please note: an avoidant personality is not a person who doesn’t desire love — it’s that deep down, they don’t believe they can obtain the kind of love they want, and so they appear to keep everyone at arm’s length.”
At this point, a male student in the front rows enthusiastically raised his hand: “Professor, professor! I have a question!”
Professor Jiang smiled and invited him to speak. The boy stood up rather boldly, cleared his throat, and launched right in: “So, recently I’ve developed feelings for a girl…”
The room immediately erupted: “Ooooh!”
This was what made this class so entertaining — there was always an extroverted student sharing their own story. The classroom buzzed with excitement, chatter, and whispers, and the boy started looking a little embarrassed.
Professor Jiang raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue: “And then?”
The boy paused, then powered through with a red face: “Well, she should be avoidant, I think. We’ve been getting pretty close lately, and it feels like she might have feelings for me too — she even brought me water once during basketball.”
“But it’s on and off. I wouldn’t say hot and cold exactly — she’s never been cold, and she doesn’t resist me getting close, she even held my hand on her own initiative once.”
“But we see each other about once a week. The rest of the time she’s either busy or has other things going on, and I can never get her out — but whenever I’m ready to give up, she comes to find me, and she’s pretty enthusiastic about it.”
The boy said: “I don’t know how to handle this. I just feel like I’m completely hooked.”
The students in the room were still buzzing. Late October in Beijing, the wind howled outside, but the atmosphere inside was growing increasingly heated.
Professor Jiang pushed up her glasses and said with deep significance: “My dear, get a little sharper. That’s not an avoidant type — that’s a player.”
“……”