Due to the bizarre experience that day, Lin Zhexia had a dream that night.

She seemed to dream of a “parallel world.”

Because she and Chi Yao in the dream didn’t quite resemble real people.

In her dream, she returned to Haicheng City, standing once again at the beach, and when Chi Yao asked her, “What’s wrong with you?” she said: “I think I’ve fallen for you.”

Chi Yao in the dream was blurry, and she anxiously waited like someone awaiting judgment.

After a long time, Chi Yao opened his mouth, but before she could hear what he wanted to say, the dream suddenly collapsed.

“Beep.”

“Beep beep beep.”

Lin Zhexia reached out a hand from under her blanket, pressing the alarm switch with muscle memory.

The world became quiet.

She sat up with messy hair, and her first instinctive reaction was: thankfully, it was just a dream.

“It was just a dream,” Lin Zhexia suppressed her still anxious heartbeat and silently said, “not real.”

She got up to wash, then went to the dining room for breakfast.

Wei Ping was reading the newspaper: “You’re up? Sit down and have breakfast. Do you want soy milk or regular milk?”

Lin Zhexia wrapped her thick pajamas tightly around her and said, “Milk.”

Lin He was busy in the kitchen.

When she brought over the milk and bread slices, Lin Zhexia said: “Thanks, Little He.”

Lin He gave her a look: “Don’t be disrespectful.”

Lin Zhexia shrank her neck, eating while scrolling through her phone.

Today, their childhood friends’ group chat was very lively.

She tapped in and scrolled to the top to start reading from the first unread message, discovering that the topic originated from He Yang showing off his social media comments.

He Yang: Bro forgot to include you guys when I posted the photo yesterday.

He Yang: No worries, I’ll show it to my brothers here in the group.

The screenshot displayed a Valentine’s Day caption and photo:

“The beautiful thing wasn’t the movie.”

[Image]

But of course, the most important part wasn’t these, but the comments below. Afraid people wouldn’t see them, He Yang had specially circled them in red to indicate this part was important.

Comments: Awesome.

666.

As expected of you.

There was even one that said: This girl’s hand is quite pretty, so slender and long. Does she play the piano?

Lin Zhexia almost spat out her food early in the morning.

Lin He: “What’s wrong?”

Lin Zhexia: “I saw a very funny news story, couldn’t help myself.”

The winter break passed quickly, and everyone became busier in the second semester of sophomore year.

Lin Zhexia, intentionally or not, began to maintain distance from Chi Yao.

“I’m walking with Chen Lin tonight.” That day before school ended, Lin Zhexia went to Class 1 to find Chi Yao and stood at the window, saying, “You go ahead, no need to wait for me.”

Chi Yao: “?”

Lin Zhexia: “It’s a girl thing, don’t ask too many questions.”

“I don’t want to ask too much,” Chi Yao twirled a pen in his hand and said, “but if you get beaten up again, don’t cry and call me.”

Lin Zhexia thought of the embarrassing history from when she first entered high school and was silent for a moment: “We’re just going for dessert, shouldn’t get beaten up.”

Hearing her answer, Chi Yao’s fingers holding the pen moved slightly: “Understood.”

After school.

Chen Lin carried her backpack, her left hand pulling Tang Shuxuan, her right hand pulling Lin Zhexia.

She spoke while looking at Lin Zhexia, asking with confusion: “Why did you suddenly want to go for dessert?”

Lin Zhexia instinctively gripped her backpack straps, trying to sound natural: “I saw it yesterday while scrolling through my phone, doing homework. It looked pretty good.”

Tang Shuxuan was carefree and didn’t sense anything wrong: “I’m hungry anyway.”

The dessert shop was crowded, and the three of them had to queue outside for a while.

When it was their turn, the three sat side by side at a window seat chatting.

From “the learning pace feels so fast lately, getting an early taste of senior year life” to “the senior Tang Shuxuan likes is about to graduate.”

Tang Shuxuan was a bit sad but still perked up and said, “I can apply to his university!”

“By the way,” Chen Lin said, “I heard our school is having an anniversary celebration next month, and each class needs to perform something.”

Tang Shuxuan: “That’s true, I heard about it too when I was submitting homework at the teachers’ office today.”

Chen Lin: “Wonder what our class will perform. I heard Teacher Xu wants to arrange poetry recitation.”

Tang Shuxuan: “…Surely he’s not that uncreative?”

Chen Lin: “He said it’s his strategy, even gave it a tactical name, called the ‘Class 7 Early Bird Catches the Worm Plan.’ He said while other classes are busy preparing their performances, we’ll seize every minute to focus wholeheartedly on studying.”

“…”

Lin Zhexia ate her mille-feuille spoonful by spoonful, listening rather absent-mindedly.

Her phone on the table lit up.

“Chi” sent a new message.

He was probably asking if she had finished dessert and was heading back.

Lin Zhexia didn’t open it or reply.

While eating, she thought about what excuse to use tomorrow to avoid Chi Yao after school.

She was afraid.

Afraid that if she got too close, those feelings would uncontrollably overflow from her heart.

Afraid she would be unable to hide them, like in that parallel world dream the other day.

Afraid he would discover them.

On the bumpy bus.

Chi Yao sat in the last row, with an earbud in one ear, his phone casually flipped face down on his leg.

But from time to time, he would turn it over to check for new messages.

After a while, the phone vibrated.

There was a WeChat notification, but the sender was “Chi Hanshan.”

Chi Hanshan: [The other party recalled a message]

Chi Yao moved his finger and typed a “?”, but quickly deleted it and made a direct voice call.

The call was quickly answered.

“Dad.” Chi Yao began.

“…”

The other end was very noisy. After a moment, Chi Hanshan’s voice came through: “Hold on, it’s too loud here.”

Father and son rarely spoke on the phone, so Chi Yao felt somewhat uncomfortable, and his words carried an unconscious distance: “What did you need?”

Chi Hanshan said, “Nothing, I sent the message by mistake.”

The conversation seemed about to end there.

Chi Yao responded with an “Oh.”

Chi Hanshan then asked: “How have you been lately? Everything okay?”

Chi Yao said, “Pretty good.”

The two had nothing else to say, but before hanging up, Chi Hanshan made a rare, lengthy reminder: “Be careful at home, don’t talk to strangers who approach you, and check the doors and windows extra before going to bed.”

Chi Yao didn’t know what had gotten into Chi Hanshan today, guessing he’d probably seen some disturbing news somewhere.

After a moment, he still said: “Got it. You should watch less news.”

After hanging up, he exited the chat window and glanced at his pinned chats.

The pinned chat labeled “Scaredy-cat” still showed no activity.

Lin Zhexia hadn’t walked home with Chi Yao for three consecutive days after school.

Her excuses were varied.

Eating dessert, cultivating friendships, and she hadn’t been to the hospital in a long time, so she needed to go with Chen Lin to see her great-uncle, who was being treated there.

By the fourth day, she stood at the door of Class 1, and when Chi Yao asked, “What’s your excuse today?” she struggled for a while before coming up with: “I met a fortune teller before leaving home today.”

“?”

“The fortune teller said I must go home alone today.”

“If two people walk together,” Lin Zhexia continued slowly fabricating, “…there will be a bloody disaster.”

Chi Yao had his backpack slung over one shoulder, leaning against the back door of the classroom. Hearing this, his eyebrow raised slightly: “Where did this fortune teller come from?”

Lin Zhexia: “This morning, by the roadside in our neighborhood.”

Chi Yao gave a cool “Oh”: “I didn’t see anyone.”

Lin Zhexia tentatively said, “Your eyesight isn’t good, and maybe he had a special connection with me.”

This time, Chi Yao didn’t bother with small talk and directly pulled her forward by her backpack strap: “Fine, let’s see if you have a bloody disaster today.”

Lin Zhexia: “…”

Because they were delayed a bit, by the time they scanned their cards to board the bus, it was already crowded with people.

Lin Zhexia squeezed in and found an empty spot to stand, her hand holding the back of the seat in front of her.

Chi Yao stood behind her, reaching up to grab the overhead handle.

The two stood very close. Without turning her head, Lin Zhexia could still feel that there seemed to be an invisible shadow cast from behind, helping to separate her from the surrounding people.

She lowered her head, trying hard to ignore it.

It was only because there were too many people on the bus that they had to stand closer.

Only because it was too crowded.

…

She recited this to herself once, and just as she managed to pretend nothing was happening, the person behind her moved—the young man lowered his head, wanting to talk to her.

From an onlooker’s perspective, her posture with Chi Yao looked intimate.

The young man in a school uniform with his backpack leaned down to her ear, this motion bringing the distance between them even closer.

The loose strands of hair on his forehead fell forward, his neckline severe, even showing the protruding cervical spinous process. Someone who looked cold and unrestrained seemed to unintentionally lower his posture through this action.

“Lin Zhexia.”

Chi Yao rarely called her full name.

As he spoke, his breath fell very lightly on the side of her neck, both numbing and tickling.

Lin Zhexia stiffened.

Then, her neck felt another tickle, and the voice behind her continued: “…What are you avoiding?”

Lin Zhexia pretended not to understand, her fingers tightening on the seat back: “What am I avoiding?”

Chi Yao kept his head down, his expression unclear: “Avoiding me.”

“…”

Chi Yao made himself clearer: “These past few days, you’ve been avoiding me. You think I can’t tell?”

“Also, you don’t reply to messages.”

Chi Yao said, “Before, you talked so much, I wanted to block you. Now you’re like a mute.”

Lin Zhexia didn’t know what to say, finally managing only: “…I’m not.”

But this “I’m not” sounded somewhat weak.

Before, she could chat with Chi Yao about a basketful of trivial matters in a single day.

Whether she had something to say or not, she would always poke him.

Occasionally, when she saw a very corny joke online, she would have to retell it to Chi Yao.

So after reducing their chats for a few days, she felt very uncomfortable.

She discovered that suddenly many things had nowhere to be said, or rather, she didn’t have that much to say originally—it was only because it was Chi Yao that she became talkative.

Lin Zhexia guiltily stared at the swaying street scenery outside the window.

Her worst fear had come true.

She felt like she had shot herself in the foot.

She and Chi Yao were simply too familiar with each other, so familiar that even her deliberate distancing was immediately seen through.

“Fine,” Lin Zhexia lowered her head, staring at her toes, letting out an exaggerated long sigh, “At this point, I might as well tell you.”

“Originally, I wanted to deal with this pressure by myself. Sigh, I didn’t expect you to care so much about me. I’ll just be honest: I’ve been under too much academic pressure lately.”

“…”

The breath on her neck disappeared.

Chi Yao fell silent.

“The pressure of the college entrance exam is suffocating me, so I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts.”

“…”

The scenery outside the window continued to flit by.

As Lin Zhexia spoke, she completed her unfinished thoughts in her mind:

It was also fortunate that she and Chi Yao were so familiar; familiar enough that she knew what reaction would dispel his doubts.

“And you even said you wanted to block me, so aren’t I allowed to be a bit aloof sometimes?” Lin Zhexia finally convinced even herself, becoming righteously indignant, “You wanted to block me, you’re so mean.”

“…”