"Sorry, everyone, I'll be right back," Jiang Juan murmured softly to the screen, his eyelids lifting slightly, curled lashes trembling as he composed himself.
"Could it really be his boyfriend?"
"The top donor’s rushing over, ready to fight."
"At this hour, besides a boyfriend or a food delivery guy, I can’t think of anyone else."
Ignoring the danmaku chatter, Jiang Juan rose from his gaming chair. Behind the curtain, his sweet smile vanished. His delicate brows furrowed slightly as he glanced down at his outfit.
"The neighbor teacher?" he muttered. Outside, the visitor rang the doorbell tirelessly, again and again.
How rude. A faint irritation rose in Jiang Juan’s chest as he pushed open his bedroom door.
At the hallway entrance, Guyen hugged his left arm with his right, rubbing it twice. Then he pressed the doorbell two more times.
Finding Jiang Juan’s place had been easy. Among all the students, he alone lived in the faculty apartments. Someone had even posted about him on Tieba once.
But fans of President Jiang flooded the thread within half an hour. The OP fled overnight. Still, Jiang Juan’s address leaked. Back then, Guyen and his dormmates had felt a pang of jealousy.
As Guyen’s thoughts drifted, the door before him creaked open a sliver.
"Who is it?" A cool, clear male voice, polite yet distant.
"Ah—Jiang Juan, it’s me, Guyen." Guyen raised an eyebrow, lowering his hand. His tone lost its usual casual ease.
Silence lingered on the other side. Then: "What do you want?"
Guyen lifted his left hand, scratching below his ear awkwardly. "Well… um… thanks for today. Calling security. Taking them to the infirmary."
"And… helping me find things in the principal’s office. Testifying for me. I was rude before. I owe you an apology."
Guyen relaxed as he spoke. An action-taker by nature, he’d been wandering outside earlier. Remembering Jiang Juan’s help, he’d come to thank him. Debts kept him awake at night.
"I did nothing. Just stated what happened."
Still such a tsundere. Guyen recalled Jiang Juan’s words from the principal’s office that afternoon. A smile tugged at his lips.
"If you ever need help, just ask. Don’t hold back." Guyen patted his chest—thump, thump.
Hearing the sound, Jiang Juan pictured Guyen’s gesture. Amusement flickered in him. He’s so easily satisfied.
"No need."
Guyen wasn’t surprised. He nodded, words slipping out fast: "Alright. It’s late. I won’t keep you. Get back to your stream."
Jiang Juan froze. Blood surged through him, hot as fire. His cheeks flushed a visible, rosy crimson.
Guyen hadn’t caught his slip. Turning to leave, he felt a sudden pull from behind—yanked backward.
Seriously? Only this move again? Guyen stumbled, the thought flashing through his mind.
*Bang!* The door slammed shut with a muffled thud.
"Hey, Jiang Juan, are you cra—" Guyen tugged his T-shirt hem straight. He turned back, anger poised to erupt—then died unborn.
Before him stood a serene, elegant girl. A beige knitted vest over a white Hong Kong-style French shirt. High-waisted black wide-leg pants hugged her long legs. Flat white sneakers couldn’t hide her height.
Her eyes were clear as water. Fair cheeks flushed like dawn-tinted clouds, shy yet unblinking as she stared.
"Guyen," she said, crimson lips parting. A crisp male voice shattered the moment. "I need an explanation."
An aircraft streaked across the night sky, lights blazing like a shooting star. On that cool March evening, Guyen met Juan’er Cat for the first time.
