Shen An carried Chen Nannan on his back and finally climbed up to the rooftop of the teaching building.
Chen Nannan turned on the flashlight on her phone. With the light to guide him, Shen An prepared to use his practiced lockpicking skills.
He glanced at the position of the lock, and his brows furrowed slightly.
If he remembered correctly, the last time he left, he had twisted the lock and chain into a crisscross butterfly knot.
Nearly half a month had passed, yet the lock and chain were still in exactly the same position, unchanged.
He kept his head down as he worked on it, asking casually, “Does no one usually come up to this rooftop?”
Chen Nannan was pressed close against his side, her warm breath mingled with the scent of her perfume, wafting straight to Shen An’s nose.
“Apart from the janitor uncles who look after the floors, probably no one else comes up here.”
“Is that so? Then you haven’t heard anything about this place?”
Shen An asked again.
Chen Nannan paused. “Like what?”
“Uh, like rumors of someone jumping off from here?” Shen An said in a joking tone, trying not to arouse her suspicions.
But Chen Nannan suddenly shuddered and quickly covered Shen An’s mouth.
Her reaction was so intense that Shen An narrowed his eyes, a faint undercurrent of doubt rising in his heart.
He had wanted to ask about this before.
The girl he had saved here didn’t seem like she came from an ordinary family, judging by her demeanor.
Even if she had been from an ordinary family, a student suicide at school would be explosive news.
If it had happened in the seclusion of a dorm without anyone noticing, that might be one thing. But that girl had been jumping from the rooftop—surely someone nearby would have seen it.
Ambulances had arrived afterward, which would have caused quite a stir.
Yet from the beginning, Chen Nannan had acted like she knew nothing about it.
That was why Shen An hadn’t asked at the time.
She didn’t seem bold enough. If she knew someone had jumped from here before, she probably wouldn’t dare come up again.
But her reaction now… it reignited the suspicions that Shen An had let fade.
Did she know some inside information?
Before, their relationship hadn’t been close enough for her to share if she was hiding something.
But now they were intimate and familiar, so maybe she was about to open up?
Shen An gently moved her small hand away, his face still calm. “What? Did someone really jump from here?”
“Shh!”
Chen Nannan whispered in a coquettish scold, “What are you talking about!”
She glanced around cautiously, then leaned in closer to Shen An, warning him timidly, “Don’t scare me like that again, got it?”
“Huh?”
“Huh what? You’re just bringing up this topic on purpose to freak me out, aren’t you?”
Chen Nannan huffed lightly. “I’m not falling for it again.”
Uh…
Shen An was a bit speechless.
So her courage really was that low. He had thought she was about to share some secret, but it turned out he had just scared her.
He cleared his throat lightly. “I was just asking casually. Don’t be so sensitive.”
Chen Nannan pursed her lips. “Who would commit suicide up here? No one really comes around usually, and if something like that happened, word would definitely get out.”
“I’ve been here since enrollment, and I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“I see…” Shen An kept his expression neutral as he focused back on the lock. “Then the school must be pretty safe.”
“Of course it’s safe. We don’t pay all that tuition for nothing.”
Chen Nannan said warmly.
“Besides, the academics here aren’t that intense, and the overall environment is pretty forgiving. From the school’s perspective, it rarely puts the kind of pressure on students that could lead to suicide.”
“The school takes these issues very seriously too. Once they spot any warning signs, they act immediately to prevent accidents like that.”
Shen An pondered her words.
Chen Nannan pouted slightly. “Why’d you stop? What are you thinking about?”
“Uh, I was thinking—you said the school’s environment is forgiving, but the Student Union doesn’t seem that way.”
“The competition there looks pretty fierce. Even recruitment is so strict.” Shen An chuckled lightly.
Chen Nannan smiled faintly. “That’s because you joined the Art Troupe. They always recruit strictly—better to lack than overfill.”
“The standards for other departments aren’t as harsh. Plenty of them let you coast by.”
“And for students who are ambitious to begin with, choosing that intense competition is their own decision. There’s no mechanism here forcing anyone to strive.”
Shen An turned his head. “Senior Sister, you seem to like the Student Union quite a bit?”
Chen Nannan looked complicated. “I wouldn’t say I like it. It has plenty of flaws, but no matter what, it has fought for a lot of rights and benefits for students.”
“Plus, the internal recommendation system sort of provides an extra channel for students.”
“If you think of the Student Union as a big family, it’s strict overall, but it’s still ‘home’ for a lot of students.”
“Like a strict father in the family, right?”
Shen An chuckled softly. “With that recommendation system in place, slacking off is impossible. Competition is inevitable.”
He narrowed his eyes, showing a rationality unlike his usual self. “You see it as an extra channel for students, but that one channel is monopolizing everything. It’s starting to block off all the others.”
“Without the Student Union’s recommendation or approval, it affects future job prospects—and that’s only going to get worse over time.”
“And because of that, the Student Union is gradually gaining more influence. Eventually, the school won’t be able to tolerate it.”
He murmured, “I’d really like to know who came up with that system in the first place.”
Chen Nannan looked at him and suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity.
He was standing right in front of her, looking exactly the same, yet it was as if an entirely new side was emerging from his very bones—one she had never seen before.
It was like another personality was taking control of his soul.
Even his gaze was…
Unsettling.
Shen An paused, then said softly, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Chen Nannan lowered her head. “Nothing. I’m just waiting for you to pick the lock.”
“All done.”
With a click.
Shen An unlocked it.
He smiled faintly at the corner of his mouth, unfastened the chain, and opened the iron gate.
Moonlight spilled down gently, layer upon layer, carpeting the rooftop like a milky-white rug.
“Let’s go.”
Shen An put his arm around her shoulder and walked with her into the moonlight, onto that white carpet.
The two of them bathed in the clear glow of the moon, unable to resist looking up at the round, brilliant moon in the sky, and the stars scattered sparsely around it.
The moonlight covered the earth like a carpet, while the stars held up the moon like another carpet.
Chen Nannan’s gaze grew entranced as she murmured, “So beautiful…”
Shen An chuckled lightly. “Let’s sit down first. Doesn’t standing get tiring?”
He pulled Chen Nannan down to sit, the two of them pressed close together.
But all of Chen Nannan’s attention was on the sky—the clouds and the moon, the moon and the stars, mingled with the enveloping darkness, the vast universe.
Just gazing at it like this stirred ripples in her heart, deep thoughts.
What lay behind this sky? Was it another layer of sky?
A gentle breeze swept by, tousling her long hair restlessly.
Shen An patiently smoothed it down for her, again and again.
“Do you like the stars?”
Chen Nannan murmured softly.
“The stars?”
“Yeah.” She kept her head tilted upward, gazing into the distance, her voice dreamy. “You know, when I was little, I dreamed of becoming an astronomer.”
“It’s not too late now,” Shen An said gently.
“Ha, I don’t think like that anymore.”
Chen Nannan grinned. “People are so strange, aren’t they? As kids, we dream of anything and think we can achieve it all.”
“But now that we’re grown up, we don’t dare dream big, and we lack confidence. Why do you think that is?”
Shen An thought for a moment. “Because we’ve grown up.”
“Maybe,” Chen Nannan said, tilting her head and leaning gently on his shoulder. “But it’s still weird. As kids, we couldn’t wait for time to fly by so we could grow up faster.”
“Now that we are grown up, we keep looking back at childhood, even wanting to go back.”
“Is being an adult really that exhausting?”
Shen An stroked her hair, his voice soft. “Not if you have someone with you.”
“But if you’re all alone… it is.”
Chen Nannan froze. Her gaze shifted from the sky to him.
The tenderness in Shen An’s eyes was carried by the wind, reflected in her own under the moonlight.
She stared at him blankly, just like that. In that moment, the light in his eyes shone brighter and more captivating than the moon above.
Perhaps it was involuntary, or maybe the atmosphere urged her on.
She leaned in closer, then even closer, as if to see him more clearly, to see the truth.
When she reached his lips, Chen Nannan stopped and murmured, “Will you accompany me, then?”
Shen An reached out, tilting her chin up lightly. “I will—but you have to buy me another sago dew first.”
“What~” Chen Nannan burst out laughing, acting spoiled. “It wasn’t on purpose. You were the one teasing me.”
“So you’re saying you really missed me that much? Taking it out on an innocent sago dew because you couldn’t see me.”
Shen An savored this close-up stare, and the way he had her wrapped around his finger.
He only needed to gently pinch her chin, letting his fingers brush over it casually—like teasing a kitten—to draw a look of pure satisfaction from her.
Chen Nannan kept smiling, but the fluttering in her heart soon made it impossible to continue.
Under his gaze, her lips pressed together slightly, caught between anticipation and fear.
She gazed back at him, hope shining in her eyes.
In a moment like this, Shen An wouldn’t let her down. His fingers slid away from her chin to cup her small face instead.
Her face was still burning hot.
“You’re so beautiful, Nannan,” he said, calling her by name.
Chen Nannan ducked her head shyly.
He stroked her cheek and murmured, “It’s over for me. I want to kiss you now. Is that okay?”
Here it comes… Here it comes…
Tension flooded Chen Nannan’s mind, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through her head—yet not a single one involved refusal.
This was what she wanted.
She just wished he wouldn’t ask.
Why not simply kiss my lips?
Her conscious mind couldn’t keep pace with her subconscious. Slowly, Chen Nannan closed her eyes, offering silent permission.
Shen An’s lips curved into a smile as he leaned in toward hers.
His fingertips felt her trembling, and then his lips tasted hers.
Finally, their lips met.
It was a gentle kiss, like capturing moonlight, the softest breeze, and every beautiful moment of now.
