Shen An hurried back to the office, where Song Rui was still sitting very obediently in her original spot. Their eyes met.
She quickly stood up. “How did it go?”
Shen An nodded calmly, betraying no emotion. “Not bad. You handled it well.”
“Oh, good. That’s a relief.” Song Rui smiled, as if she were genuinely happy for him.
But then she hesitated and glanced at Shen An. “You went to see Senior Sister Zhao, didn’t you?”
“Why would you think that?”
Shen An shot back with a question of his own.
“Because… Senior Sister Zhao is our direct boss. If there’s any work to be done, nine times out of ten, it’s something she assigned.”
Song Rui’s tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction, but it wasn’t aimed at Shen An—it was directed at Zhao Qingyu.
She had watched Shen An bustle about nonstop lately and wished she could help shoulder some of the load. But she worried her clumsiness might just cause more trouble.
“Tsk. How about I go find Senior Sister Zhao right now? We can all grab lunch together, and you can say whatever you need to right to her face?”
The corner of Shen An’s mouth quirked up as he teased her.
“Uh…” Song Rui immediately backed down. “I think it’s better not to bother her. After all, she’s the Troupe Leader—swamped with endless tasks. She’s got to be super busy.”
“No problem. The Art Troupe hasn’t had much else going on lately. Lunch should be fine.”
Shen An said it with a straight face.
“Ah…” With no other choice, Song Rui let the truth slip. “I… Are you trying to push me into the fire?”
“Or maybe you just want to watch me burn.”
Shen An burst out laughing. “Come on, it’s not that serious. You don’t have to throw around words like ‘die.'”
“Hmph. Anyway, Senior Sister Zhao intimidates me. Let’s not bother her. Just the two of us for lunch, okay?”
Song Rui perked up cheerfully. “Perfect—we can talk about those classes I snagged for you the other day while we eat?”
“Sure, sure. Look at you, starving already. Can’t go three sentences without mentioning food.”
Shen An nodded and pulled Song Rui out of the office.
As for Wang Yuqiong and the Drama Group, they were having a group meal, so he wouldn’t intrude.
Just as Shen An and Song Rui stepped out of the Art Troupe’s office, his phone buzzed with a text notification.
He instinctively pulled it out for a glance. It was a message from Zhao Qingyu: “Sorry.”
Shen An’s eyes narrowed slightly, a faint sense of pleasure rising in his heart.
From the start of the semester until now, his persistent pursuit of Zhao Qingyu was finally yielding tangible results.
Counting the time in her hotel room, this was already her second apology to him.
Given her proud nature, two apologies in a row showed just how much Shen An had worn down her defenses.
Shen An pocketed his phone contentedly, pretending nothing had happened.
He couldn’t reply to Zhao Qingyu just yet. Better to let her stew in uncertainty—the longer, the better.
After all, if she was upset, she needed to act upset. And an apology required the proper attitude. A text sorry wasn’t sincere without saying it face-to-face.
Song Rui shot him a suspicious glance. “A text?”
“Yeah.”
Shen An nodded, keeping his composure.
“From who?” Song Rui leaned in, batting her big curious eyes.
Shen An swatted the top of her head with his palm. “Why so nosy? It’s just some follow-up work arrangements. I’ll tell you later—listen closely.”
“Oh…”
Song Rui was Shen An’s one and only designated punching bag. Even after taking an unprovoked smack to the head, she could only sulk quietly.
If it had been Wang Yuqiong, she’d have rolled up her sleeves for a full-on brawl by now.
Meanwhile, in Zhao Qingyu’s private rest room.
Her computer screen was divided into several sections, with about a dozen windows flickering.
A closer look revealed live footage in each one—security camera feeds!
From the Art Troupe’s main hall to every department office, even the hallways leading to the Troupe—every spot was under surveillance.
Well, not exactly.
The school had installed these cameras.
Hallways and main areas were public spaces, so cameras made sense there.
The offices were essentially classrooms, school property too, so surveillance was perfectly reasonable.
What was strange was how Zhao Qingyu had access to the school’s security footage.
Had she hacked the system somehow, or did the school grant her permission?
The rest room lights were off, curtains drawn tight, plunging the space into darkness.
The glow from the screens illuminated the shifting emotions on Zhao Qingyu’s face. She watched Shen An and Song Rui in the hallway until they entered the elevator, her gaze finally changing.
She switched screens, shut off the monitor, and the room fell into pitch blackness.
Leaning back in her office chair, Zhao Qingyu rubbed her temples. Then she opened her eyes and glanced wearily at her phone on the desk.
She knew he’d received her message.
But no reply.
Was he mad?
He probably was.
But… it wasn’t all her fault, was it? Who told him not to play by the rules?
She’d only… just made a little joke.
He was the one who’d foolishly shouldered it all alone…
It couldn’t all be her fault, right?
But…
Of course it was her fault.
After a long moment, a sigh escaped Zhao Qingyu in the darkness. She rose, walked to the sofa bed nearby, and lay down silently.
The cafeteria.
Despite the delays from meetings and explanations, the school cafeteria wasn’t the picked-over wasteland Song Rui had feared.
On the contrary, the dishes were still plentiful, many fresh from the kitchen.
Seeing this, Shen An couldn’t resist tapping Song Rui’s head again. “See? What were you worrying about?”
Song Rui puffed out her cheeks and clutched her head. “Stop hitting me! I’ll get even dumber.”
“Heh, you’re already dumb enough.”
Shen An’s words were sharp, but his actions were affectionate.
He slung an arm around Song Rui’s shoulders in a casual embrace and whispered in her ear, “What do you want to eat? My treat today.”
Song Rui’s heart skipped a beat. That thrilling tension spread through her once more, enveloping her completely.
Her eyes darted randomly over the cafeteria offerings. In a low voice, she said, “Anything’s fine. I’ll eat whatever you get.”
“Got it.”
Shen An released her, loaded up his tray with food, then got an identical portion for her.
They paid and headed to the second floor, settling at a quiet spot.
Over an hour had passed since classes ended that morning, with only half an hour left before lunch break was over. The cafeteria had thinned out considerably.
The vast second floor was mostly empty, few tables occupied.
They sat across from each other. Shen An didn’t waste time—he attacked his food like a storm, chopsticks flying.
Song Rui didn’t have his appetite. After a few bites, her burning question could no longer be contained.
“Um…”
She called softly, trying to get his attention without interrupting his meal.
Shen An glanced up and chuckled lightly. “What do you want to say?”
“Well…” Song Rui’s gaze wandered. “Didn’t you say you’d tell me when you got back?”
“Tell you what?” Shen An’s mouth curved slyly.
“You know…” Song Rui pouted. “The thing with Shen Lianyao.”
“Oh? That interested, huh?”
“Of course I care!” Song Rui huffed, a bit annoyed. “It’s important, okay?”
Seeing Shen An still focused on eating, Song Rui lost her temper. She snatched his tray away.
“Stop eating!”
Shen An’s chopsticks hit empty air, but he wasn’t mad. He just teased, “Hey, no need to be so impatient.”
Song Rui pulled his tray to her side and said seriously, “Tell me now.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll talk.”
Shen An wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed out a question. “Who do you think you’re closer to—me or Shen Lianyao?”
“You,” Song Rui blurted out.
But as soon as the word left her lips, her face flushed awkwardly.
She mumbled, looking down, “We’re not in the same dorm, and we don’t hang out much anyway.”
It sounded a bit like overcompensation.
Like, I’m closer to you only because we spend more time together. Nothing more.
“So, what kind of person do you think Senior Sister Zhao is?”
Shen An pressed.
Song Rui blinked and tilted her head. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be answering me?”
“This is immersive Q&A. I’ll guide you step by step to the answer yourself. Way more fun than me just spilling it.”
“Oh…”
Unable to argue, Song Rui answered. “Senior Sister Zhao… I don’t really know.”
“Fair enough. Expecting that little brain of yours to analyze her might be a stretch.”
Shen An stroked his chin and offered a hint. “Okay, tell me this: If Senior Sister Zhao got offended, would she stay silent and endure it? Strike back right away? Or hold off and settle scores later?”
“Um…”
Song Rui thought for a moment. “Strike back right away?”
“Oh, really?”
“Did I… get it wrong?” Song Rui hurried to add, “It’s just my first instinct.”
“I just don’t think Senior Sister Zhao is the type to take a loss.”
“See? There’s your answer.”
Shen An gave a wry smile. “Shen Lianyao questioned Senior Sister Zhao right in front of her about why she’d been assigned to the office.”
“Although Shen Lianyao stressed that she held no prejudice against the office, Senior Sister Zhao wouldn’t give that emphasis any heed.”
“Therefore, Shen Lianyao’s behavior had undoubtedly offended Senior Sister Zhao. She couldn’t tolerate anyone looking down on the Art Troupe—no matter which department was involved.”
“Secondly, Lianyao’s questioning had also put Senior Sister Zhao in a difficult spot. If it had been asked in private, that might have been fine, but posing it so directly in front of us all—what was Senior Sister Zhao supposed to say?”
The logic was straightforward enough.
Song Rui could have pieced it together herself.
But what she craved was confirmation straight from Shen An’s lips.
She didn’t want him to be the instigator. Instead, she hoped he’d shouldered the blame for the greater good, at least for now.
Song Rui pursed her small lips and cut straight to the chase. “So it has nothing to do with you, right?”
“Heh, that’s a new one on me.”
Shen An shrugged. “I was just sitting there watching the drama unfold. I never expected the blame to come flying my way.”
“If I denied it, I’d offend Senior Sister Zhao without resolving anything—Shen Lianyao would just keep pressing the issue.”
“So I had no choice but to own up to it first. Better she holds a grudge against me than against Senior Sister Zhao.”
Song Rui’s gaze softened as she murmured, “Actually, you were protecting Shen Lianyao too, weren’t you?”
Shen An froze at her words.
Good grief… How did she arrive at that conclusion?
Undeterred, Song Rui pressed on with her explanation. “With Shen Lianyao’s temperament, if you hadn’t stepped in to take the fall, she would’ve latched onto Senior Sister Zhao and never let go.”
“Senior Sister Zhao isn’t exactly… the accommodating type… The harder Shen Lianyao pushes, the harsher Senior Sister Zhao would get in response.”
“That’s why… you said it’d be better for her to hate you than Senior Sister Zhao.”
“Because Senior Sister Zhao would take it personally, but you wouldn’t.”
Uh…
Shen An found himself at a complete loss for words.
He’d never dreamed Song Rui could dissect it so thoroughly on her own.
And her reasoning held water.
But admitting it felt a little too brazen.
Shen An paused, hemming and hawing. “Uh… well…”
Song Rui beat him to it. “But have you ever thought about it? You’re always so gentle with everyone else—what about you?”
Huh?
Shen An blinked, his face a mask of bewilderment.
“By treating her like this… she won’t remember your good deeds. She’ll only dwell on the bad.”
“Is it worth it? Won’t you ever put yourself first?”
Shen An scratched his head. “Actually, I’m doing just fine.”
Realizing she couldn’t change his mind, Song Rui handed back the tray with a twinge of heartache. “Eat up first. Fuel up.”
Ahem.
Shen An picked up his chopsticks and dug in.
But midway through his meal, something felt off.
Song Rui clearly had no appetite. She’d barely touched her food—a few bites, and she was done.
Worse, she was staring at him without blinking.
That look in her eyes…
No way…
Shen An thought to himself, Does self-seduction really exist in this world?
