When Lin An promised, “I’ll go,” a bright smile lit up Su Yuejin’s face.

But Lin An kept his head down, eating silently without looking at her. After finishing his meal—leaving the cumin chicken wing untouched—he took a small sip of soup and glanced at her.

“Su Yuejin.” He suddenly spoke her name.

“Mm?” She tilted her face up slightly.

“The best thing for you right now is to rest for two days. Once you’ve cooled down, you won’t feel sad or obsessed anymore. You’ll realize the version of me you imagine is just a better model you built yourself.”

“I don’t care! You’re just trying to trick me.” She tilted her chin up again.

“Suit yourself.”

Su Yuejin reached out and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, lips parting slightly. “I like you because you’re amazing—like you glow from within. I’ve never praised any other boy this highly.”

Lin An didn’t swell with pride. His expression barely shifted. He gently brushed her hand away, stood, and lowered his lashes a fraction. “That light only exists in your eyes.”

He walked out of the cafeteria, but Su Yuejin clung to him like glue. “Hey! You deleted my WeChat again yesterday. One more chance—add me now.”

“No.”

“But you just agreed to watch a movie!” Her fingers lightly tugged his sleeve.

“Call me. I’ll come. There are things we need to discuss—somewhere private. It wouldn’t be good for you if people overheard.” His voice was soft, yet Su Yuejin felt an odd unease at his casual tone.

“I don’t care! Even if you talk, I won’t listen. I want you to watch the movie with me. I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Lin An regarded her coolly. Her voice carried—boys and girls passing by instinctively paused. He knew continuing would draw a crowd. Beautiful Su Yuejin had that effect.

“We’ll talk tonight,” he murmured, turning away. She followed without hesitation, eyes glinting with mischievous delight. “Scared?”

“Mm. I am.”

“So what if people hear? Embarrassing?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I dislike being watched. It bothers me. That’s why we’re not the same kind of people.”

“We are.”

“We’re not.” Lin An shook his head. Talking to her was exhausting. The sky was overcast, but the forecast promised no rain. No rain was good.

They walked in silence to his classroom door. Su Yuejin caught the hem of his shirt, meeting his gaze. “Then give me your number?”

Lin An recited the digits once. She repeated them. “Again?”

He repeated.

Convinced it was real, she watched him enter the classroom. After he reached his seat, she tapped the window.

Lin An opened it. “What now?”

“What should we eat tonight? Let’s go together?”

“No need. Just call me at the time.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Okay.”

He nodded. Satisfied, she left. He closed the window, opened his book—and noticed curious glances. Probably wondering why someone like him was tangled with a girl like Su Yuejin.

Su Yuejin was beautiful, but her reputation wasn’t stellar.

Lin An simply read on. Ignoring stares came easily to him—a quiet strength.

He’d told Su Yuejin the truth. Her feelings were built on imagination, on anxiety after being hurt.

Truth was, he’d written her off from their first meeting. He’d been drinking alone; she’d slid right in, flirting boldly. Had she done that to others? Did she even like him then? That’s why he disliked such forward contact—it felt wrong.

He hadn’t rehearsed tonight’s words. Scripts were useless. Over-preparing only messed you up.

Still, he needed to conserve energy. A breakup awaited. He wouldn’t be shattered, but he’d face it seriously.

...

After five p.m., the final bell rang. Lin An deliberately slowed his movements. Luo Shuishui in the front row did the same, lingering at her desk as if finishing homework.

The classroom emptied quickly. Only they remained.

It was her turn to clean. Lin An lifted chairs. Luo Shuishui fetched the broom. He wiped the board; she swept the floor.

Silence hung between them. The sky outside dimmed, as if an invisible barrier sealed them apart.

After cleaning, they walked side by side—past the playground, into the back garden. Words were safer here.

Unseen, a figure watched their backs, then followed at a distance.

Osmanthus bloomed in the garden, sweet scent drifting through the air. Lin An remembered the slap he’d taken here two days ago. Painful. He hoped today would be calm.

Luo Shuishui was truly beautiful—the class’s gentle gem. Less flashy than Su Yuejin, but her kindness won hearts. Many had pursued her. Lin An had won her.

Tall, fair-skinned. Beneath her pleated skirt, slender calves hugged by black calf socks.

Now, hesitation flickered across her face.

“You know what I’m going to say, Lin An.”

They stood close. “Are we breaking up?” he asked softly.

She looked up. All her turmoil settled. A soft, firm “Mm.”

“Okay.” He nodded.

A weight lifted. His shoulders straightened. She thought it was over—she’d spoken, he hadn’t clung. Then, after a beat: “Did you ever really like me, Lin An?”

Silence.

He’d chased her for half a month. A simple high school romance. Top students discussing problems openly. She’d sit beside him during breaks. They’d walk home together, sipping milk tea from the shop nearby, laughing at his jokes.

Three months together.

He’d hold her hand carefully. Hugs were rare. Only once—on her eighteenth birthday in a KTV full of friends—he’d gently bitten the cream from her lip amid cheers.

Sweet.

Her cheeks flushed. Fingers clutching her skirt. He almost heard her heartbeat.

In that instant—he froze.

She was good. Gentle. Wise. From a happy home. Seeing her shy, fawn-like eyes… a sudden, fierce urge to hold her tight.

And fear.

Because until then, it was only admiration. Not love.

So he pulled back. Afterward, he pushed—hinting at kisses, embraces—becoming someone strange. He scared her. Made her retreat.

Now, he got what he wanted. Yet he couldn’t smile.

“Honestly… I’m not sure I liked you that much. Maybe we just weren’t right. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused.” He apologized sincerely.

Tears blurred her vision, but she forced calm. “It’s okay.” She turned, black leather shoes clicking softly across the damp path.

Lin An watched her skirt sway. Then lowered his head. Didn’t look back. Didn’t speak.

As Luo Shuishui stepped out of the garden, she saw her—slender waist, long legs, pleated skirt glowing in the light. A sweet, almost gleeful smile.

The girl glanced at her, stepped past without pause, and vanished into the garden.

Su Yuejin let out a soft, unrestrained laugh.