Lin An stepped out the door, his expression tinged with quiet complexity. He’d brought his ID—tonight would likely mean a hotel stay.

Xu Qinghuan wasn’t hysterical, nor unreasonable. To Lin An, it simply felt like she’d switched tactics in her quiet torment. Not paranoia—just his consistent impression of her.

Yet he didn’t believe her words. He didn’t believe she’d truly leave after he admitted liking Su Yuejin. Stubbornness, plain and simple. Love or not, they were each other’s pillars—bound beyond separation.

So he wasn’t worried. Promises were hollow things. Only a fool would believe them.

Truth was, Lin An genuinely didn’t like Su Yuejin. He wouldn’t chase phantoms or grasp at impossibility. Whether Xu Qinghuan’s words or his own reading, Su Yuejin’s current affection was real—but like snow on a volcano, gone in an instant.

If he stayed away tonight and she acted rashly, regret would twist into hatred toward him. That was the outcome he wanted… yet he still had to go. He wouldn’t let her become a “bad kid” because of him.

What looks foolish need not be read as malice.

He dialed Su Yuejin. Nine o’clock. Rain fell softly. Lin An held a transparent umbrella. The call connected. After a beat of silence: “Where are you?”

No loud music on the line—just distant traffic murmuring beneath the rain’s gentle patter. Two seconds passed. Then her voice:

“You remembered me again?” Hollow.

“Mm. I’m worried.”

“Now you’re worried? You swore you’d never come. Now you’re worried?” No triumph in her tone—just emptiness.

“Mm. Worried.”

“But I don’t love you anymore. Don’t come, Lin An,” she murmured.

Silence stretched one, two seconds. Softly: “Okay. Go home. Rest early.”

“Who sleeps at nine? I’m drinking!”

“Go ahead. Stay safe.”

“I’m hitting that same bar. Finding some obedient-looking boy to keep me company.”

“Okay.”

Lin An fell silent. The line cut. He’d already reached the street. Umbrella open, watching the steady rain, listening to droplets tap leaves—he felt suddenly unmoored.

A wry smile. No going home. Might as well wander. Pretend it’s scenery.

…………………………

No destination. He folded the umbrella, slipped under eaves, weaving through sheltered paths. The street brightened with neon lights, dizzying.

Rain pitter-pattered on fabric. Had he made the wrong choice? The thought soured his mood—already low these days. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sat alone in a booth drinking.

Lin An hated wasting money. He passed the snack street, not hungry, kept walking. Body held up. Clothes damp.

Forty minutes later, a bar entrance. Beside it, a café with a clean, dry awning.

He didn’t enter the bar. He disliked its vibe—not judgment, just truth. Others vented stress there. Once, he’d wondered why everyone seemed foolish. Later, he learned: when you don’t fit in, *you’re* the fool in their eyes.

He sat beneath the café awning, watching raindrops splash the pavement.

Chacha called. “Where are you?”

“Something came up. Can’t game tonight.”

“You’ve skipped two days! A companion like this won’t catch a sugar daddy. What if the ‘boss’ gets mad?”

“I know. I’ll log on tomorrow.”

“So where *are* you?”

“Outside a bar.”

“You like it there?”

“Not really.”

“Then why stand there?”

“Watching the rain.”

“…You’re unbelievable. Fine. I’ll sleep early. Next Saturday—I pick the spot. You *will* come, An’an.”

“Mm. Sleep well. Good night.”

“Nighty-night~ Mwah~”

After she hung up, Lin An checked his phone: 37% battery. Enough. Why was he here? Just… watching?

Su Yuejin was probably inside. Doing what, he didn’t know. He only wondered: when she left, would she be alone?

If not—he wouldn’t interfere. Her choice. Why step in? Play the fool?

He browsed cheap hotels. None beat an internet café all-nighter. He could take a boosting gig—grind Silver-tier on Ionia. Solid plan: wait till she left, then café, game, unlock Yone. Sleep through school tomorrow.

Time crawled. Figures drifted from the bar. His corner stayed hidden.

Two hours? Three?

Then—a familiar silhouette emerged. Su Yuejin in a white dress. Light makeup. Hair flowing. Hem swaying. The picture of gentle innocence.

Alone. Steps unsteady, weaving. No umbrella. Rain soaked her within seconds.

She stood in the downpour, as if seeking clarity. Didn’t see him. He made no move. No need. If she went home now, tomorrow her world would hold no trace of him.

Heartbreak, perhaps. Two days of knowing someone. Affection fades fast.

Then—she crumpled. Tears spilled. Fumbled her phone. Dialed. A ringtone echoed *behind* her.

Too drunk to notice, she pressed the phone to her ear. “What are you doing? In bed with the girl you like?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Hear the water?” Ice in her voice.

“Heard it.”

“I’m showering. Someone else is about to sleep with me too.”

“…Have fun.”

“Why… can you be so heartless?”

“Because I avoid pain. Avoid the outcome I fear… by never starting.” His voice, soft.

“How annoying,” she whispered.

Lin An stood in shadow. Watched her shoulders tremble. Heard her sobs through the phone.

She stumbled to the curb. Hailed a taxi. Got in. Lin An exhaled. Call ended. Time to go. Café. Game. Yone. No worries.

He stepped from the shadows.

Just then—Su Yuejin glanced out the window. Froze.

“Stop the car!”

Driver hesitated. “Miss, seriously? We just left!”

But the figure walked farther. Panic seized her. “STOP!” She flung a hundred-yuan bill onto the dash. Driver braked hard, flung the door open—glad to be rid of her.

Su Yuejin leaped out. Ran. *Was it real? Drunk? Hallucination?* One thought burned: *run*. Wet pavement. Canvas shoes.

*Thud.* Puddle. Fall. Knee screamed. White dress stained. She scrambled up. Ran harder.

Heart hammering. Breath ragged.

Ahead—the umbrella boy turned.

As if checking the taxi.

Instead: a drenched girl in a muddy white dress, hair plastered, utterly wrecked.

Lin An ran to her. Held the umbrella over her head.

“You…”

She seized his arm—and bit. Hard. Teeth sank deep. Lin An winced, jaw tight, but held still. One hand on the umbrella. One arm offered.

She released him. Blood traced her lips. Eyes blazing, feral.

Lin An stared. Disheveled. Real. No more illusion.

She gripped his shoulders.

“Hold me.”

He wrapped his arms around her—gently, gently. She clutched back fiercely, voice faint:

“Take me home.”

Lin An nodded. “Okay.”