After studying the girl’s tense, serious expression for a moment—long enough for her gaze to start shifting away—Mo Xuan finally realized something.
He got it.
He’d nearly fallen for the wordplay. On the surface, it was just a simple boy-and-girl question: yes or no, nothing more. No real substance.
But dig deeper, and the meaning shifted entirely.
Just think—who wanted to know, and why? The answer wasn’t hard to find.
Shen Bingjing’s question had genuinely caught him off guard.
Though all three attended Qingyuan High, he and Yun Jiumo were in Class One, interacting daily. Shen Bingjing was in Class Six, on another floor. Bumping into her on campus was pure luck—let alone meaningful contact.
Most of his time with her happened right here in this courtyard. Naturally, Yun Jiumo wouldn’t know.
So how did Shen Bingjing know about Yun Jiumo?
A sharp alertness shot through him.
Judging by her deliberately probing tone, she’d likely already guessed. Maybe she was teasing him, betting on his shyness. Or just indulging her naturally curious, gossip-loving side. For now, those were the only reasons he could think of.
Honestly, his feelings for Yun Jiumo weren’t exactly a secret.
In Class One, everyone had seen their interactions since freshman year. At first, they joked. But Yun Jiumo never showed annoyance, and he acted like it meant nothing—so the teasing faded.
Whispers probably lingered privately: *What bold move did Mo Xuan make for her today?* But even that quieted over time.
As the school’s top student, Yun Jiumo had no shortage of admirers. Brave confessions happened—but all ended in rejection. Still, suitors kept coming.
Only recently had they vanished. With college exams looming, everyone was grinding hard.
Graduated seniors were gone; underclassmen, awed by her brilliance, dared not approach. Slowly, she returned to peace.
Mo Xuan felt quiet relief.
Since Shen Bingjing mentioned Yun Jiumo’s popularity in her class, gossip about admirers was inevitable. Maybe someone mentioned Mo Xuan—and she overheard.
At first glance, nothing alarming.
“Hey, do you need *this* long to answer?” Shen Bingjing huffed, impatient with his silence.
“What’s with the hesitation? Are you a blushing maiden or something? Like her or not—just say it! Is it really that hard?”
“We’ve known each other forever, and you won’t even share this tiny secret? So stingy!”
Her irritation flared until she spun away, refusing to look at him.
Mo Xuan gave a wry smile. “You already knew the answer, didn’t you?”
A shadow dimmed her eyes.
She forced a tight smile, voice laced with mischief: “Bold of you to admit it so plainly.”
“If I deny it, you call me a coward. If I admit it, you tease my ‘courage.’ What *do* you want?” Mo Xuan was utterly at a loss.
“When did you start liking her?”
“Ancient history. Why dig it up? Can we drop it?”
Unusually, Shen Bingjing didn’t argue. She gave a silent nod, fingers tracing slow circles on her knee.
A sour ache welled in her chest, rising to her nose, her eyes—blurring the world until it tilted.
She refused to look at him, but she knew that smile: helpless, tender… meant for *her*. Sharp as needles.
As she turned to stir the pot, she subtly wiped the corner of her eye.
Mo Xuan found her odd—but couldn’t pinpoint why. Seeing her stand motionless by the stove, he wondered: *Is she sneaking a taste?*
“Ready yet?”
“Not yet.” Her voice was hoarse, stiff.
She stirred vigorously, masking emotion, steering the topic: “So… are you two dating?”
Mo Xuan’s jaw dropped.
Something was off. Why fixate on Yun Jiumo today? Because of this morning’s near-conflict?
Was she scouting Yun Jiumo’s character to make a move first?
No. Shen Bingjing wasn’t like that. Her motive ran deeper.
His eyes flickered. A storm of thoughts.
Then—*click*.
He nearly stood up.
*Of course. She’s asking for her sister.*
In his past life, Shen Bingyao’s love for him bordered on obsession—a tangled mix of devotion and resentment. He never knew when it began.
This life was no different. Her meek, quiet nature bottled everything inside, swelling silently like an overinflated balloon… until it burst.
There was no doubt she liked him. Maybe it had already started.
Mo Xuan’s chest tightened.
He truly hadn’t expected this.
How to explain?
He wasn’t dating Yun Jiumo—but even if he were, he couldn’t say it outright. The fallout would be catastrophic.
More importantly… what *were* his feelings for Shen Bingyao?
A knotted rope of emotions. Impossible to unravel.
He clenched his fists.
With a sigh: “We’re not dating.”
Shen Bingjing ignored him, stirring the pot mechanically.
Convinced she was probing for Shen Bingyao, Mo Xuan pressed on:
“Ask anyone in my class. Most think it’s one-sided. Yun Jiumo probably avoids outright rejection to keep things civil between classmates—but she never encourages me. That’s all.”
“They’re not wrong. We’re worlds apart. I fall short in every way. Some whisper I’m a frog dreaming of swan meat. She probably thought that too.”
“Honestly? I used to think I had zero chance. But I’m stubborn—chasing hopelessly anyway. Sigh… I’m a lost cause.”
No reply. Mo Xuan rambled on, unknowingly releasing pent-up emotions. Shen Bingjing was a rare listener—loud and boisterous on the surface, but fiercely discreet.
Telling her meant catharsis… and a quiet message to Shen Bingyao: *No need to rush.*
But how to truly heal her sister’s heart? He had no answer.
As he spoke, Shen Bingjing’s shoulders began to tremble.
Slowly, she turned—spatula in hand, eyes gleaming.
“You’re *really* not dating?” Her voice quivered, emotions tightly locked.
Mo Xuan nodded, puzzled by her sudden brightness.
“She’s never responded once.”
“Mm…” True enough.
“She doesn’t even *see* you?”
“Hey! That’s way out of line—what do you mean, ‘doesn’t see me’?”
Shen Bingjing barely heard him. Euphoric relief flooded her. If not for the spatula, she’d have struck a victory pose.
*Of course. I overthought it.*
How could Yun Jiumo—a girl of unattainable beauty—ever notice Mo Xuan?
Their worlds wouldn’t cross.
His feelings were his. Hers were hers. No one else’s business.
…Still. His stubborn devotion? Kind of admirable.
She missed the rest. Stirring the pot with renewed vigor, a radiant smile bloomed.
*Tonight calls for an extra dish!*
