Jiang Fuyue looked puzzled, her eyes filled with confusion.
Why did he get out of the car too?
But the man had already rounded the front of the car and stopped in front of her.
The night wind brushed gently past, ruffling a few strands of hair on his forehead. His dark pupils seemed even deeper than the night itself.
“Jiang Fuyue,” he called her name, with a trace of solemnity and seriousness in his brows and gaze. “Are you avoiding me?”
“…Huh?” The girl froze. She was avoiding him?
“Am I?” she asked.
Xie Dingyuan replied, “Aren’t you?”
Jiang Fuyue shook her head and answered honestly, “No.”
He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but also appeared even more tense. His spine straightened, muscles taut— “You…”
Jiang Fuyue: “?”
“Do you have any thoughts?”
“Thoughts on what?” Her clear eyes reflected pure confusion.
A flicker of awkwardness crossed his eyes. “About what I said last time…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Have you thought about it? Or is there anything you want to say?”
“Oh, you mean when you said you liked me…”
The moment the word “like” left her lips, his pupils darkened dramatically, like two deep, bottomless vortexes, turbulent with dark tides, threatening to pull her in the next second.
“Yes, I said it.” He enunciated every word slowly and deliberately. Each word was also him confronting his own feelings head-on.
That panic and helplessness, that sense of novelty and hope—it was an experience Xie Dingyuan had never encountered in nearly thirty years of life.
It was like…
An experiment that had always followed protocol suddenly went off-track, the system malfunctioning, the solution overflowing uncontrollably…
And the valve to stop it was in the girl’s hands.
But she had no idea. Her eyes remained calm and clear, untouched by emotion. Compared to his inner chaos, she was calm—too calm.
That realization twisted something in his chest.
The frustration of not getting a response felt like pouring all his energy into an experiment only to see no result.
He hadn’t felt that kind of blow in years.
“I haven’t thought about it,” Jiang Fuyue said plainly.
He watched her, not missing the tiniest shift in her expression.
“Didn’t you say you didn’t need an answer?” Then what are you doing now?
Xie Dingyuan was momentarily speechless.
Jiang Fuyue blinked, waiting for his reply.
“…Yes, I can’t sit still anymore.”
Admitting it wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined.
“But my answer is still the same—” she looked innocent, with a flash of mischief in her eyes, “—I don’t accept. What now?”
That flicker of mischief disappeared in a blink, but he saw it.
Instead of frustration, he chuckled quietly, without a trace of anger or disappointment. “Mm, I understand.”
“What are you so happy about?”
“If I haven’t reached the final step, I can’t declare the experiment a failure. I’m just glad there’s still a chance to continue. Maybe I’ll prove myself right in the end?”
Jiang Fuyue reminded him, “But you could also be wrong. If that happens, all your time and energy will have been wasted. Is it worth it?”
“The road of scientific discovery is full of detours. Why should chasing you be any smoother? In this world, you don’t always get an equal return for your efforts—I’ve known that for a long time.”
When he wasn’t smiling, he was like an iceberg—cold and emotionless. But once he did, it was as if spring arrived all at once, brimming with vitality and determination.
“Alright,” Jiang Fuyue nodded. “Then go ahead and chase me.”
After all, she never promised there’d be a result.
With that, she turned and walked home, steps light.
The man watched her retreating back, the smile on his lips growing bigger until it reached the corners of his eyes.
…
That night didn’t affect Jiang Fuyue much. The next day, she went to school like usual.
Zhong Ziang, however, was not so lucky. Dragged out of bed early in the morning, his head was spinning and felt like it would burst.
“Little master,” Aunt Liu said gently, “if you don’t get up and wash, you’ll be late.”
“Tell them I’m taking the day off. I’m not going.” With that, he flopped back down onto the bed like a boneless heap.
“No can do,” she said. “The master said—drag you out if necessary, toss you in the school if we have to.”
Zhong Ziang: “?”
“My uncle really said that?”
Aunt Liu nodded. “His exact words.”
“…Did he take the wrong medicine?”
Aunt Liu: “…” Can’t answer that one.
Zhong Ziang grumbled as he changed, washed up, brushed his teeth, and trudged downstairs with arms and legs like jelly— Only to see Lin Shumo and his uncle already sitting at the breakfast table, eating.
He plopped down with a groan.
Lin Shumo asked, “You okay? Is it really that bad?”
“Wait, we both drank—why do you look totally fine?”
“Even strong alcohol’s just beer. I took hangover pills, slept it off. You didn’t?”
Zhong Ziang: “Hangover pills? You took them?”
“Yeah, last night when we got back. Didn’t you?”
“I… did I?” Zhong Ziang was confused. “My brain’s mush. I can’t remember if I did or not…”
“Well, I took some, so you probably did too. Besides, there were leftover pills on the living room table—no way they skipped you.”
“Oh… okay…” But his head still throbbed, like it was going to split open.
Xie Dingyuan said nothing, calmly eating his breakfast.
But Aunt Liu, who stood nearby, looked nervous. She couldn’t help glancing at Mr. Xie from the corner of her eye.
Last night, she had fed Lin Shumo the hangover pills herself. But when it came to the little master, Mr. Xie suddenly said, “Leave him be.”
Aunt Liu was confused, but did as told.
So—
Zhong Ziang really didn’t take the pills.
No wonder his head was killing him…
