Jiang Fuyue and Xie Dingyuan left Liuxianju and walked along the pedestrian street.
The night breeze was gentle, bringing with it a hint of coolness.
“Isn’t it too sweet?” the man suddenly asked.
Jiang Fuyue had just popped the last candied hawthorn into her mouth. She swallowed before answering, “Not really.”
“You seem to have a sweet tooth?”
“I do.” She smiled.
Xie Dingyuan smiled along with her.
“What do you want to eat?”
Jiang Fuyue thought for a moment. “Hotpot.”
The man wasn’t surprised at all.
“Let’s go.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a busy hotpot restaurant by the street.
No private rooms, just open seating in the main hall.
The place was bustling with people, steam rising from every table. It was the perfect embodiment of everyday life’s warmth and chaos.
Xie Dingyuan took the pen handed by the waiter. By now, he was quite skilled at ordering food.
Soon, the dishes arrived—all things Jiang Fuyue loved.
Mostly meats, accompanied by mushrooms and vegetables.
“Want something to drink?”
Jiang Fuyue replied, “Canned herbal tea.”
Xie Dingyuan called for the waiter, but it was too noisy, and the staff didn’t hear. So he got up and fetched it himself.
He pulled the tab, inserted a straw, and placed it next to her.
“It’s room temperature. Is that okay?”
She nodded.
Most of the time, Xie Dingyuan was helping her pick food from the pot.
“You should eat too!”
“I already ate at Minghui Hall. I’m not hungry.”
Jiang Fuyue nodded and didn’t insist, focusing on her own bowl.
She watched the boiling pot, while he watched her. Occasionally, he used the strainer to fish out overlooked pieces from the broth for her.
Everything felt so natural, so harmonious.
Except for the group of people outside the floor-to-ceiling window who saw it all—Old Jin and his companions.
Originally, they were heading back to their apartment by taxi. But halfway there, Old Bai mentioned they had run out of toilet paper days ago and needed to stop by a supermarket.
The others agreed—it was indeed time to restock on household supplies.
So the four grown men asked the driver to detour to Chunfeng Street and happily went shopping together.
They never expected that, upon leaving the store and passing by a hotpot place, they’d see this?!
Plop—
Old Jin’s shopping bag fell to the ground, spilling its contents.
No one bothered to pick them up.
All of them stared, dumbfounded, at Professor Xie, who was skillfully serving food to Jiang Fuyue like some alien species.
Old Jin: “Didn’t Professor Xie say he doesn’t eat hotpot?”
Ding Yu: “Maybe… he just doesn’t eat it with us?”
Liu Guan: “Try to be more tactful.”
Old Bai: “So the professor does serve others at the table. Look how skilled he is—this isn’t the first time, clearly. I told you guys something was off when I saw them walking out of the lab building together during the holiday, but none of you believed me. Well, believe it now?”
Liu Guan: “Still, this doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s just a meal, and he’s serving some food.”
No kissing, hugging, or hand-holding.
Old Jin: “They’re clearly having a little private date behind our backs. You really think this means nothing? Are you kidding?”
“Exactly!” Old Bai insisted. “I don’t see Professor Xie having a little private hotpot date with me, or serving me food!”
Old Jin imagined the scenario and… uh…
Too vivid. Don’t wanna go there.
“Wait, let me snap a pic…” Old Bai pulled out his phone.
Click!
Just then, Xie Dingyuan looked straight in their direction. The group panicked and bolted.
Old Jin didn’t even pick up his bag.
Jiang Fuyue: “What are you looking at?”
Xie Dingyuan retracted his gaze and shook his head. “Nothing. Just a few curious sparrows.”
“?”
After dinner, Jiang Fuyue was genuinely full.
Xie Dingyuan went to pay the bill.
She took their coats and waited by the door.
The night wind brushed her face, the chill deepening.
Winter was drawing near. The ginkgo trees lining the road had shed most of their leaves, blanketing the ground in golden layers.
“All done,” Xie Dingyuan came out quickly.
Jiang Fuyue handed him his coat.
A strong hotpot aroma wafted from it—something that would’ve made the old Xie Dingyuan frown and maybe even throw it away on the spot.
But now, he took it calmly and put it back on, unhurried.
Seeing Jiang Fuyue struggling to find the sleeve hole, he reached over and guided her hand. “This way…”
“Thanks.” She fastened her buttons and looked up with a smile.
Xie Dingyuan also curved his lips. “Shall we walk a bit?”
“Mm.” A good way to digest… hic.
“There’s a plaza up ahead. Lots of street performers. Want to check it out?”
“Sure.”
The plaza was buzzing with people.
To the left, a group of aunties danced in sync to upbeat music.
Pretty coordinated, at first glance.
To the right, rows of small vendors—selling antiques, phone accessories, and all kinds of daily goods, most marked at ten yuan.
Farther ahead was the street performance area Xie Dingyuan mentioned.
“Acrobatics?” Jiang Fuyue watched a man and woman with incredible flexibility performing tosses and flips.
Xie Dingyuan: “Yeah. Probably members of a resident acrobat troupe in Linhuai. When they’re not training, they perform here to earn extra.”
Jiang Fuyue clapped sincerely after the act.
Then she took out her phone, scanned the code, and transferred 200 yuan.
A notification sounded from their speaker, and the female performer nodded at Jiang Fuyue with gratitude.
“You like watching acrobatics?”
“Not exactly. Just find it interesting once in a while.”
Xie Dingyuan: “So you’re paying for the novelty?”
Jiang Fuyue stopped and looked up at him. “No.”
“?”
“I’m paying for the visual enjoyment their hard work brought me.”
“Then why two hundred?”
Most people give a few yuan. Maybe a few dozen. A hundred is rare.
Jiang Fuyue smiled, the bright streetlights illuminating her face, her features glowing.
“First, because I can afford it.”
“Second, I think it’s worth it.”
“That’s all. Any other questions?”
The man shook his head. “None.”
Then, he doubled back and scanned the code to also give the acrobats 200 yuan.
Jiang Fuyue was baffled. “Why did you do that?”
“First, I can afford it.”
“Second, if you think it’s worth 200, then to me it’s worth 200 too.”
“Anything else you want to ask?”
Jiang Fuyue was shocked: “Xie Dingyuan! Why are you copying me?!”
“Did I?” He denied it, hands behind his back, strolling ahead.
Jiang Fuyue: “…” This guy is kind of a rascal.
Next to the acrobatics show, a middle-aged man with long hair, black-rimmed glasses, and ripped jeans sat with a guitar, singing.
A bit of a wild rocker vibe, with a touch of poetic soul.
Xie Dingyuan stopped in front of his QR sign, thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone.
Jiang Fuyue raised an eyebrow. “Going to request a song?”
“Yeah.”
Twenty yuan per request.
He asked her, “What do you want to hear?”
“An oldie,” Jiang Fuyue said. Then added, “Preferably a love song.”
Outdoors, wandering singer, a rugged face, weathered voice—what else could suit a love song better?
After receiving the payment, the singer looked over with his guitar. “What would you like to hear?”
Jiang Fuyue looked at Xie Dingyuan too.
He hesitated for a moment. “…‘Bewitched’.”
A truly old song.
But classics are called classics for a reason—they stand the test of time.
When the husky voice slowly began to sing—
Whether I’m bewitched or it’s fate from a past life…
Whether it’s destiny’s plan or your deliberate trick…
Jiang Fuyue was mesmerized.
Xie Dingyuan also fell into a daze.
Suddenly, he turned to look at the girl beside him.
Wasn’t he just… bewitched?
Why else would he want so badly to be close to someone? With no reason, no warning.
When she approached, his heart would race.
When she left, he’d feel an unshakable emptiness.
Could it be… he liked her?
Then what comes next?
What’s the next step after liking someone?
How does one build the logical chain?
If this were an algorithm, then after Y/N, what result would be calculated?
Xie Dingyuan felt like he had encountered the greatest puzzle of his academic career.
And he hadn’t even fully understood the problem statement that was Jiang Fuyue—how could he begin to solve it?
Shen Qiannan had said, “You should confess.”
He’d asked, “And then?”
“How would I know? There are only two outcomes—success or failure.”
“And how do you define success? How do you define failure? Can the metrics be quantified to two decimal places?”
He distinctly remembered Shen Qiannan’s speechless stare.
“Success means she accepts your confession and becomes your girlfriend. Failure means not only will you not be together, but even being friends might be too awkward.”
“And the only metric that matters… is whether she likes you back or not. Whether she feels something for you.”
So…
Does Jiang Fuyue like him?
Does she feel anything for him?
