Yun Mingxin immediately got to work.

First, he opened the campus writing contest rules.

Before he could read further, something suddenly came to mind.

He grabbed his phone and shot a message to the guy who’d texted him earlier.

“You mutt! You set me up—why didn’t you tell me the contest rewards clearly?”

“You think I won’t find two big guys tomorrow to ‘fence’ with you?”

“Screw off. I warned you—you’d regret this.”

After a few back-and-forth jabs—each blaming the other—the argument fizzled out, Yun Mingxin’s thicker skin winning the day.

“Oh yeah…”

The other person seemed to recall something, sending just two characters.

Silence fell abruptly between them.

Playful banter often drained into awkward stillness like this.

Yun Mingxin felt bored too, his thumb hovering over the back button.

*Ding!*

Another message popped up.

“You…”

“Sigh. I won’t beat around the bush.”

Yun Mingxin frowned. What was this about?

“I’ve been watching you lately. You’re not the same. Before, the moment school ended, you’d always pull out your phone.”

“I just don’t feel like scrolling right now. So what? Why bring this up?”

Confused, Yun Mingxin fell quiet anyway.

Moods could shift in a heartbeat—especially when the other person turned serious.

“You’re not acting normal!” Yun Mingxin shot back.

“You’re venting.”

“Right?”

Yun Mingxin froze.

*Was he venting?*

After a long pause, another lengthy message arrived.

“I noticed. Back then, you were quiet at school, but… you were happy. You’d complain about the awful cafeteria food. Grumble nonstop about hated PE tests. Pull out your phone, refresh WeChat endlessly, grumbling it was too slow. But those complaints? Just normal gripes. Now…

You log onto Steam for ten hours straight every holiday. Is that normal? You love games, but not like this. I told you about the contest—something the old you would’ve jumped at. Your first reaction wasn’t ‘tell me more’—it was ‘no.’ What are you scared of?

That your youth is filled only with her?

That your feelings were one-sided all along?

Saying you want to join because ‘Niru is your wife’? That’s just an excuse. You’ve always wanted to write about your youth. You’re just afraid.”

Yun Mingxin’s expression stiffened. He took a sip of water, his chest feeling tight.

“Why tell me this?”

“Remember what you told Yi Ling and me?”

*Yi Ling…*

Lan Yiling was Yun Renkun’s girlfriend—and their junior.

She’d chased him relentlessly, utterly smitten with his looks.

A classic sweet southern girl—pretty, clingy. Though they attended different schools, she’d text him nonstop, forcing Yun Renkun to stay up past 1 a.m. just to sleep. Even their roommates grew sleep-deprived.

As Yun Renkun’s best friend, Yun Mingxin got bombarded too.

Back then, Yun Renkun had considered breaking up.

Though it wasn’t his place, Yun Mingxin knew they truly cared for each other.

He couldn’t stay silent. One day, when she’d “checked in” on him again, he’d spoken his mind.

Fresh off his own successful confession, Yun Mingxin had been riding an emotional high. He believed he could melt Su Xiaoyue’s heart, embrace all of her—even if she struggled to express feelings.

So he’d lectured Yun Renkun, sharing his own story.

During high school applications, he’d hesitated between two top schools.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But he couldn’t forget *her*—the girl he’d met a year earlier.

Young Yun Mingxin would get giddy just spotting her at flag ceremonies. He’d trail behind her in crowds, pretending to “accidentally” brush against her uniform sleeve, secretly grinning like an idiot.

He didn’t know this feeling had a name: *like*.

Yet he’d done something shocking.

He bribed a classmate sitting beside her during registration—with a coveted League of Legends “Longxie” skin worth real cash—just to learn her chosen school.

Then he’d written down that same school.

Ridiculous? Sure. Teenage boys were impulsive.

If a normal girl knew this? She’d call it harassment.

But liking someone made no sense.

Years later, after high school’s torment, he’d clung to her memory like a hidden oasis.

He’d stubbornly believed his one-sided love could move her.

He’d forced “fate” between them.

And never confessed it to her.

Lan Yiling just needed security.

After his talk, Yun Renkun and Yi Ling stayed together—but changed. Both became… more human.

He’d succeeded, yet failed.

Success: Their lives brightened. He understood love deeper—fuel for his romance novels.

Failure: He’d expected his own story to end like theirs.

Hope had only deepened his despair.

She couldn’t give him the love he craved.

Not a trace.

He’d cherished their one-year anniversary.

That day—

He’d clutched his injured leg, howling in pain, unable to stand.

Beneath a rain of cotton tree blossoms, her clothes fluttering softly, she’d extended a pale, slender hand.

Her breathtaking face became his most vivid memory.

One year later.

He’d failed.

He wasn’t some love guru. His methods didn’t work.

(He didn’t regret the breakup—he *was* freer now. That part was true.)

“I don’t want you like this. You’re nothing like the obnoxious kid I know.”

“Whatever you’re going through—trust us. We’ll help.”

Yun Mingxin chuckled softly.

*This sap… getting all sentimental.*

He typed stiffly:

“Got it. I’m not as bad as you think. Honestly, I’m fine.”

He dropped the phone limply, letting out a hollow laugh.

*Heh.*

*What a mess.*

*Seen right through.*