He’d once thought An Qianmeng was toughest before their breakup.
Now Gu Chuan knew—it was simply *her*. Breakup or not.
The classroom had nearly emptied. Only Gu Chuan remained frozen at the doorway by her call, while An Qianmeng sat propping her cheek, smiling softly at his back.
Today, she wore twin tails. A crimson bow with gold foil lent a touch of solemnity to her playful pink hair.
She looked every bit the refined young lady—but through close contact, Gu Chuan sensed the wild streak beneath.
Even he, with his iron composure, had nearly fallen for the little witch’s tricks during their pre-breakup dates.
Truth was, the moment he entered, his eyes found her.
He just quickly feigned calm, sliding into his seat and glancing out the window.
“If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss freshman orientation.”
“My stomach hurts… Stay with me.”
An Qianmeng rested her chin on her arms, putting on a pitiful act.
“I crave something sweet… like… Gu~ Chuan~"
“Eating people’s illegal.”
Gu Chuan didn’t turn. His voice stayed low.
“You love playing dumb to tease me. I regret it, Gu Chuan.”
She pouted, dejected. Even now, remembering his cold departure that day left a tight ache in her chest.
*Didn’t he know girls needed coaxing? I was just testing you—playing hard to get. You took the money and actually left. Two days. No word.*
Gu Chuan rarely used messaging apps unless necessary.
On QQ, her unread messages had piled to 99+.
“I really do still like being with you. Can we…?”
What went unsaid was maidenly pride.
She waited for him to chase her back.
Gu Chuan’s breath hitched—just for a heartbeat—then steadied.
But in that flicker? Impossible not to feel a stir.
Their “fake couple” arrangement wasn’t the coziest of his past setups… but far from the worst.
All in all… a decent option.
And lately, cash was tight.
He’d gained a new “resident”: Xuechun, the catgirl.
Feeding a regular cat was pricey enough. A beautiful catgirl? Food, clothes, guidance to blend into society discreetly—until then, he was her sole protector, her only trusted master.
He still didn’t know if Xuechun controlled her shifts between cat and catgirl.
Her timely cat-form that morning saved him—but if uncontrollable, a sudden transformation could spark disaster.
Thoughts flashed through his mind.
In reality? Only a breath passed.
His reply surprised even himself.
“…I must decline.”
An Qianmeng’s peach-colored eyes widened. Without their “intimate history,” he might’ve guessed colored contacts.
But her pink irises were natural—and when excited, shifted into tiny hearts.
Honestly… a little *suggestive*.
“Don’t you dare regret this!”
She’d already swallowed enough pride. As a wealthy family’s heiress, she’d never groveled like this!
Yet she met her Waterloo at Gu Chuan’s hands…
Still, what rose in her chest wasn’t just hurt or anger.
*You jerk… If this is your reverse-psychology game…*
She wanted sharp words—but couldn’t lie to herself.
She actually… liked it.
Saying “don’t regret it” while drowning in her own regret.
Those “test your boyfriend” Douyin challenges were pure traps!
Why did other girls’ boyfriends beg for forgiveness after a fake breakup?
Gu Chuan just said “okay.” Their warming bond shattered—paid arrangement or not.
Yet gazing at his gentle eyes, his quiet care… she’d almost believed it was real.
In the end… just a flower in the mirror, moon on the water?
A cramp twisted her lower belly. Teeth gritted, she glared at his retreating back.
She knew he wouldn’t reply. He spoke little. Especially when silence was right.
Then—unexpectedly—he turned back.
An Qianmeng froze. Gu Chuan walked straight to the water dispenser, poured warm water, and approached her. Face unreadable.
But handsome guys were flawless from every angle. Just watching his face melted half her anger away…
He set the steaming, clear cup on her desk.
“Hurts? Here.”
“…” Her heart softened at his gentle tone.
And she realized—he’d remembered.
*Her period.*
She’d only dared act spoiled because the room was empty.
Or maybe… she never truly believed reconciliation was impossible.
“Rub my stomach…”
“No.”
*Given our current relationship, it’s no longer appropriate.*
Only a boyfriend could gently soothe period pain like that.
“I’m leaving. Rest here.”
“Gu Chuan… Gu Chuan!”
Her cry echoed alone in the hollow classroom.
She almost asked: *Is your conduct score more important than me?*
The thought vanished instantly—dismissed.
She wouldn’t humiliate herself further.
Because Gu Chuan… genuinely *would* say the conduct score mattered more.
…
Gu Chuan reached his class’s section with one second left before orientation began.
He took an empty seat. The boy beside him instantly buried himself in a book.
In Class 3, Grade 2, no one wanted to befriend Gu Chuan—the boys’ public enemy.
Wen Tinghan was the exception. But he was odd too: soft-spoken, gentle, socially quiet.
His friendship with Gu Chuan only deepened the boys’ exclusion.
Yet Gu Chuan valued him. Skilled at crafts and baking. Voice soft, scent always sweet. Last winter, he’d knitted Gu Chuan a warm scarf.
Gu Chuan saw nothing wrong. Hobbies differed. Personalities were innate.
None of that should make someone unlikable.
