After school, Lin An was pulled by Su Yuejin from the neighboring class into the school’s back garden.

A full day had passed since last night. Given how noisy their previous encounter had been, Lin An finally had a proper chance to observe Su Yuejin’s face.

At 5 p.m., the autumn air remained humid, but the sky had dimmed. The garden was poorly lit, so Lin An could only make out her features vaguely.

Still, it was undeniable—Su Yuejin, hailed as the class beauty, truly lived up to the title.

Her style carried an effortless sensuality. She wore only a loose white T-shirt that concealed her figure—no hint of chest or hips. Yet her slender, straight legs were unmistakable.

As for her bust-to-hip ratio? If Lin An were to give an objective evaluation: Seriously… she’s got it!

Lin An wasn’t usually one to focus on faces—he was slightly face-blind. But Su Yuejin’s face was undeniably memorable: beautiful, fair-skinned, with striking eyes and a slender neck. The oversized white T-shirt lent her a pure aura. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, gently fluttering in the evening breeze.

Yet he disliked her flirtatious smile. And that black thigh garter strapped to her leg… it conjured images of a girl of questionable reputation.

Of course, just an association.

He didn’t like bad women. Though, to be fair, he wasn’t exactly a saint himself.

Lin An? Just a siscon.

Visually, the dim light blurred details. But the rich osmanthus fragrance in the air felt soothing. He wouldn’t have minded staying longer. Still, someone had to break the silence.

“So, what’s up?” Lin An looked up and asked.

“This morning, when you left my place, you forgot to add my WeChat,” Su Yuejin finally spoke. Her voice was crisp and cool—not soft or girlish, but like ice cubes clinking against the heart: chillingly clear.

Lin An met her gaze, searching for meaning. She seemed utterly indifferent, her tone edged with quiet accusation, maybe reproach.

But not the cute, pouting kind. Zero points added.

Lin An shook his head. “Better not.”

His voice was gentle, like the evening breeze—comfortable, never unpleasant.

“Are you just playing around?” Su Yuejin’s calm shattered the moment he spoke. She fought to suppress it, but her fingers twitched, pressing slightly into her own palm.

“It’s not suitable. I have a girlfriend. Last night… let’s pretend it never happened. We shouldn’t contact each other again.”

Lin An almost labeled his own words “classic player talk.” But he felt no guilt, so he spoke plainly—while watching her expression. She still wore that proud mask, but her composure was cracking.

In an instant, she grabbed his collar, yanked his face close, and glared fiercely—like a wolf.

Lin An wasn’t sure why that comparison came to mind. To him, it held little real threat.

Then he saw it: the slight redness in her eyes. Heard her words, sharp and deliberate.

“Don’t play dumb. You know, right? You weren’t that drunk last night—!” Her words cut off abruptly. Her beautiful eyes widened.

...

When Su Yuejin left, a fresh red handprint marked Lin An’s cheek. Not a light slap. Likely not her first time hitting someone—but it was Lin An’s first.

At least, the first from a girl.

Whatever minimal goodwill he’d held for her plummeted into the negatives. Negative meaning: no desire to interact ever again. Yet Lin An still didn’t believe he was at fault.

The story behind this slap traced back to last night.

...

Last night was Monday. As usual, Lin An stopped by the market after school and bought two affordable, flavorful dishes. But when he returned home and cooked, the apartment stayed empty.

He waited on the balcony until 6:30 p.m., watching the sun sink. Then came her message: she wouldn’t be home. Out with friends—having hot pot at Haidilao.

Obediently, Lin An ate alone. The leftovers had gone cold. He didn’t reheat them—just stored them in the fridge. Finished his online freelance work. By 9 p.m., still no sign of her.

He decided to go out. He had a rough idea where she might be.

Autumn nights fell early. With few clubs to choose from, Lin An flipped a coin between two bars she might frequent—and walked into the chosen one.

He came alone. Staff were polite but not pushy. Inside, the noise overwhelmed him. He settled in the farthest corner booth, ordered a dozen beers, and sat quietly, scanning the crowd.

He disliked this place. The music was deafening. The bass threatened to rupture his eardrums. The dancing beauties in the club? To him, they writhed like maggots.

But even maggots might dream of being drunken butterflies.

Within ten minutes, he confirmed his sister wasn’t there. But he’d already paid for the beers—expensive ones.

Twelve bottles. Ice bucket provided. He dropped two cubes into his glass and sipped slowly. Beer wasn’t bad as a drink, but twelve bottles of anything grows tiresome.

He could try the other club. But suddenly, Lin An felt exhausted. Was it the hour waiting on the balcony? Her recent cold shoulder? Whatever it was—he felt drained. Maybe getting drunk would help.

Some people, once lost, aren’t worth searching for. She wasn’t waiting in some dimly lit corner. Even if she were—so what? If she didn’t want to see him, why look back?

Only regret: after an hour there, not a single hostess or lively girl approached him. Maybe he looked too… well-behaved.

Not that he was innocent. But his outfit likely sealed his fate in some eyes: plain white T-shirt, light blue jeans, canvas shoes from a street stall. Not a trendsetter. Not a player. Not even a real clubgoer. Just a quiet guy sitting alone.

So he drank in solitude. Thankfully, scantily clad beauties offered visual relief—worth the price of admission, he supposed. Though inwardly, with very straight-guy logic, he dismissed them. Yet he still looked. Humans are contradictory like that.

His gaze drifted to his phone. He texted his girlfriend: *Goodnight. Sleep well. It’s 11 p.m.—time for bed.* Eight or nine beers remained.

Just as he pocketed his phone, the empty seat across the booth suddenly held someone.

“Su Yuejin?” he blurted.

He hadn’t known her before. Only heard of her—neighboring class, strikingly beautiful. Boys mentioned her. Over time, Lin An had seen her. Yes, beautiful. Beautiful enough to cut through his face-blindness.

Tonight, she wore a black lace-trimmed slip dress, revealing delicate collarbones. Light makeup accentuated her star-bright eyes. Her long hair flowed smoothly down her back.

A slip dress—the epitome of “pure yet alluring.” On someone this stunning? Irresistible to straight guys.

Tall and graceful, the dress showcased her fair legs against the night. She radiated youthful vitality, yet blended seamlessly into the shadows.

At his question, she paused. “You know me?”

“I think I’ve seen you. The beautiful senior from the neighboring class,” Lin An replied.

A smile touched her lips. Her slender fingers tapped lightly on the table. “Didn’t expect to run into a classmate here. Alone? Or is your date in the restroom?”

“Came alone.”

“Here to hit on girls?”

“No. Just… never been here before. Wanted to see what it’s like.” Sincere, though he concealed his true motive. He wouldn’t mention his sister to a stranger.

“I’ve watched you a few minutes. Your eyes held a hint of disdain,” Su Yuejin said, lips curving. Lovely on her face—but Lin An shook his head.

“No disdain.”

“What, look down on girls who club?” Her words were blunt, clearly unconvinced.

Lin An hesitated. Stranger or not, lying felt pointless. “No. I just don’t like this place. Everyone here has their own agenda. I’m not part of this scene. No right to judge—I just… don’t like it.”

Su Yuejin reached out, gently pinching his chin. Less than a minute acquainted. Forward. Lin An’s face tilted upward slightly.

“You really do look like a good boy.”

Lin An simply held her gaze—no blush, no fluster. He hadn’t decided how to respond, so he gave a quiet “Mm.”

Su Yuejin released him and let out a soft laugh.