The two of them walked a bit further, and the lighting on the road returned to normal.

With clearer visibility, Lin Zhexia tidied her loose hair, then under the brighter light, she couldn’t help but look again at Chi Yao’s wrist encircled by the black hair tie.

This elastic band was very similar to the one she used in high school.

The most ordinary style, worn for over a month, had stretched out a bit, so now it fit perfectly around the young man’s wrist.

Black, a very thin circle.

It was as if it was telling everyone that he had been claimed by her.

“…” Lin Zhexia, operating on the principle of reciprocity, asked while walking, “So should I also get some kind of mark?”

“How would you mark it?” Chi Yao asked while holding her hand.

Lin Zhexia avoided the question: “How would I know? That’s a question for you.”

Chi Yao used the coldest tone to say the most outrageous thing: “Would a kiss count?”

“…”

Lin Zhexia: “Forget I asked.”

After walking a bit further, Lin Zhexia thought about what Chi Yao had that she could use as her mark.

Lin Zhexia: “Something that belongs to a guy… preferably something I could carry around… I think there is something. How about starting tomorrow, I’ll carry around that lighter I took from you wherever I go?”

This time, it was Chi Yao who fell silent.

He replied with a sentence similar to her earlier one: “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Lin Zhexia: “Oh.”

She added, “I guess it’s a bit inappropriate.”

Lin Zhexia said “goodbye” to him at the entrance of the dormitory building, but just as “goodbye” left her lips, Chi Yao’s hand, which he had originally intended to release, suddenly tightened: “Don’t move, let me hug you one more time.”

When Lin Zhexia returned to her dorm room, Lan Xiaoxue saw through her at a glance: “You’re together now?”

Lin Zhexia shyly made an “mm” sound, then asked: “How did you know?”

Lan Xiaoxue waved her phone: “You underestimate your brother’s influence at school. The moment you two hugged downstairs, someone in our dorm building’s group chat was already crying about losing her chance.”

Lin Zhexia: “…”

That wasn’t necessary.

“That was quick,” Lan Xiaoxue continued, “I thought you’d make him chase you for at least a month.”

Lin Zhexia: “…A month seems a bit long.”

Lan Xiaoxue understood her well: “Just go ahead and spoil him.”

Lin Zhexia didn’t continue the conversation, mainly because she felt embarrassed.

She gathered her things, preparing to go wash up, but before washing, the scenes from earlier involuntarily floated back into her mind.

She wondered if her reaction had been too stunned.

Had she acted strangely?

Chi Yao seemed much more composed than she was…

On the other side.

The “composed” Chi Yao returned to his dormitory and spent half the evening on the balcony in the wind, trying to cool down his feverish body and red-tipped ears.

Before he went to the balcony, his roommate had asked him: “Where were you?”

Chi Yao: “Why?”

“Could you help me get someone’s contact information? She’s in our class. I’m afraid she’ll reject me.”

“Ask her yourself,” Chi Yao said. “Don’t you have a mouth?”

The roommate wasn’t offended: “You’re so cold, so heartless.”

He leaned against the balcony door, and just looking at his face and his typically domineering demeanor, no one would imagine that he, too, could get nervous, even nervous enough for his ears to turn red.

But he wasn’t facing just anyone; he was facing Lin Zhexia.

Previously, their interaction pattern had continued from childhood, when she was always trying to pick fights with him.

The first time he saw Lin Zhexia, he thought this girl was crazy.

At their first meeting, neither of them was willing to back down.

…

Later on, it became more about concealment, concealing the fact that he had a secret crush on her.

So he was always saying the opposite of what he felt, always putting on a face of “I don’t care about you.”

Before they parted ways, he had never imagined that one day his interaction with Lin Zhexia would change.

That he could tell her he “liked” her, could openly say he wanted to hug her.

Chi Yao finally lowered his head, composing himself, then pulled open the balcony door and went back inside. By then, the lights in the dormitory had been turned off.

After lights out, everyone was still chatting, the conversation revolving around the matter his roommate had asked for help with earlier.

“How should I approach her tomorrow? ‘Hello, could you give me your contact information?’ Isn’t that too simple? It doesn’t highlight what makes me special.”

“You want to be special… you’re overthinking this.”

“Well, it’s rare for me to take the initiative,” the roommate said. “Shouldn’t I leave a deep impression to lay a solid foundation for future development?”

As they chatted, someone finally said: “The main thing is, there’s no point talking to us about this. Our whole room is single. Are you thinking that if you gather four single guys together, you can summon a dragon to help you?”

The roommate pondered this: “You might have a point.”

Indeed, everyone in their dorm was single.

Initially, because a certain person surnamed Chi would occasionally show them an old photo of him with a girl, they had assumed this girl was Chi Yao’s girlfriend.

But later, when they unexpectedly ate with a group from that girl’s dorm, they discovered things weren’t as they had appeared in the photo.

…

Just as these words were spoken, there was a “click” sound in the room.

A desk lamp turned on.

The person in their room with the worst personality, yet the most popular, was sitting coldly by the lamp.

A roommate peeked down at the desk: “Brother Yao, the lights are out. Aren’t you going to sleep?”

After saying this, the roommate felt something wasn’t quite right.

Because normally when someone turns on a desk lamp, it should illuminate the desk or a textbook, but after Chi Yao turned on the lamp, whether intentionally or not, the light was focused on his wrist.

“…”

After a while, someone finally asked: “…Brother Yao, what’s that on your wrist?”

Only then did Chi Yao move leisurely. He fingered his knuckles and said casually: “It’s nothing much.”

“My girlfriend gave it to me.” he was completely different in front of others than he had been with Lin Zhexia—no longer nervous and awkward, but instead uninhibited and relaxed. “Forgot to mention, I’m no longer single as of today.”

The other three roommates: “…………”

Lin Zhexia had no idea what was happening on Chi Yao’s side. She only knew that she couldn’t sleep tonight.

After tossing and turning in bed for ages, she couldn’t resist checking her social media.

Chi Yao’s Moments page was still mostly empty, with only that one abrupt text post, but when Lin Zhexia refreshed, she discovered that the space under his profile picture was no longer blank. There was now a concise signature.

[In a relationship, do not disturb.]

Lin Zhexia exited his page and looked at her own.

She didn’t post much on her Moments.

Occasionally, when she went out with friends, she would post some photos of food and drinks.

The most recent one was of her standing at the entrance of Lianyun University with her suitcase, captioned: Enrolled.

But these weren’t what she wanted to look at. She kept scrolling back until she finally reached posts from over a year ago.

Time seemed to follow her scrolling finger, pulled back to that year.

2.14.

[Photo].

The wind of a midsummer night.

[Photo].

Both were posts from her high school days, visible only to herself.

So this was what it felt like when a dream you once wanted but didn’t dare pursue came true.

Lin Zhexia stared at these two distant posts for a while, then exited and opened Chi Yao’s contact information.

She deleted the words “Chi Someone” and carefully, solemnly typed three characters: Boyfriend.

Not “Person I Like” as she had once wanted to set, but the more advanced “Boyfriend.”

The next day.

Lin Zhexia hadn’t slept well and was squinting drowsily in her dorm room for a long time.

“Your brother is waiting for you downstairs. Aren’t you going down?” Lan Xiaoxue asked before heading to the cafeteria.

Lin Zhexia: “I… just a moment, I’m looking for a hairpin. You all go to the cafeteria first.”

She felt a bit embarrassed.

After all, previously, when meeting Chi Yao, even though she secretly liked him, they were just friends.

But today’s meeting would be different.

They were boyfriend and girlfriend.

She had absolutely no experience with dating and felt anxious just thinking about it.

What should she say and do when she sees Chi Yao?

Lin Zhexia wanted to perform well, but many things often backfire. When she went downstairs and saw Chi Yao, her first reaction was to give him a dry laugh and say: “Chi Yao, look how round the sun is today.”

Chi Yao looked at her.

Lin Zhexia continued her performance: “Hello, it’s been a night since we met, and you’re still as handsome as yesterday.”

“…”

Though they had only held hands for the second time yesterday, Chi Yao reached for her hand as if it were already a habit, but after taking it, he said: “Girlfriend, I’ll give you a few minutes.”

“?”

“To bring your brain before you speak.”

“…”

When Chi Yao said things like this, Lin Zhexia felt more at ease, and there was also the prefix “girlfriend” before this statement, but she still deliberately said: “Now that you’ve caught me, you start insulting me today.”

Chi Yao let out a light snort: “This isn’t an insult.”

“This is sincere advice for my girlfriend.”

“…”

Chi Yao was still that occasionally inhumane Chi Yao.

But because of this, Lin Zhexia quickly relaxed: “I think I didn’t consider carefully yesterday. Having a boyfriend isn’t a small matter. Can I return the goods and reconsider?”

Chi Yao replied: “Dream on.”

He added, “I gave you time to consider yesterday. Now there are no returns or exchanges.”

During breakfast, the two sat face to face, and Lin Zhexia made a request: “Could you scold me some more?”

Chi Yao lifted his eyelids and glanced at her: “Dating me shouldn’t immediately cause psychological disturbance, right?”

Lin Zhexia: “…That’s not it.”

She was just a bit nervous.

“Anyway, just scold me a few more times.”

After pouring vinegar for her, Chi Yao didn’t continue to be sarcastic. He raised his eyes: “Idiot?”

Lin Zhexia: “Too gentle, be fiercer.”

“Moron.”

“…That’s better.”

“Psycho.”

“That’ll do,” Lin Zhexia, on her first day as a girlfriend, said with satisfaction. “That one felt genuine.”

“…”

Military training was about to end, and Lin Zhexia chatted with him about the upcoming semester’s course arrangements while eating: “Your class has so many courses. It’s good I didn’t score high enough to get in.”

Chi Yao didn’t respond, listening to her talk about courses and dormitory matters for a while before suddenly saying: “Several movies are releasing next week.”

Lin Zhexia: “Hmm?”

Chi Yao: “Any you want to see?”

She had just started to feel comfortable, but hearing this, she became nervous again: “Is this… a date?”

“What else would it be?” Chi Yao leaned back, saying coolly, “Going to see a movie with my girlfriend, you think it’s a team-building exercise?”

“…”

“Let me check the trailers.” Lin Zhexia had just about finished eating, so she put down her chopsticks and opened her phone. “We can choose together.”

As she spoke, she habitually clicked into WeChat.

By the time she realized she’d opened the wrong app, Chi Yao’s gaze had already fallen on her phone screen.

There was nothing wrong with WeChat.

There was nothing noteworthy about her chat content with others.

It’s just…

In WeChat, there was the contact name she had changed to Chi Yao last night.

Next to the cat avatar, the three characters for “Boyfriend” were particularly eye-catching.

“…”

Although he was indeed her boyfriend.

But having the contact name she had changed without discussing it with Chi Yao, accidentally seen by the person in question, was somewhat embarrassing.

Her voice grew quieter and quieter: “I, um, last night I felt… since we confirmed our relationship, the contact name shouldn’t be too formal, so I just changed it casually.”

As she spoke, she used her hand to shield her phone screen.

“Don’t look anymore.”

Chi Yao didn’t see anything wrong with it.

The wrist wearing the black elastic band moved, and that hand opened his own WeChat, changing “Baby” to the corresponding “Girlfriend” in front of her.

“So you like this title,” he said. “I’ll change mine too.”

“…”

Changing a couple’s nicknames on the spot was too impactful.

Lin Zhexia wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

She averted her gaze, not looking at his phone screen. Chi Yao bent his finger and tapped on the table, prompting her to look up.

“What?”

“Pin your boyfriend to the top.”

Lin Zhexia: “Huh?”

She didn’t have a habit of pinning chats, mainly because her contact frequency with Chi Yao had always been high enough that he was always at the top of her list without pinning.

She found the “Pin” option and, before checking it, casually asked: “Am I pinned on yours?”

The cafeteria was very noisy, with people coming and going, clamorous.

But Chi Yao’s voice was still crystal clear.

“You always have been.”