Song Rui squinted in contentment, just like a kitten acting spoiled.
His fingertips glided from her hair roots down to the tips, combing through it from top to bottom—like he was brushing her hair, only using his fingers instead of a comb.
She savored this moment of warmth in silence, not daring to make a sound for fear of shattering the fragile bliss.
As Shen An stroked her hair, his gaze quietly shifted to the empty seat on the other side—Shen Lianyao’s spot.
These past few evenings, he’d always see Song Rui rushing back to the office, firing up her computer, and starting to input data.
The only difference was how long it took.
But Shen Lianyao? He hadn’t caught sight of her once.
He might have said he wasn’t worried and to let her handle it herself, but he’d quietly looked into things on the down-low.
The members of the Dance Group who hadn’t turned in their schedules yet were deliberately dragging their feet with Shen Lianyao. They’d pegged her stubborn streak perfectly, knowing she wouldn’t go complaining to the group leader.
Shen An was surprised, but he also found it kind of intriguing.
He’d figured Shen Lianyao for a die-hard idealist—stickler for principles and fairness. In a situation like this, she wouldn’t back down and would take the most efficient, hardline approach to fix it.
But he’d only been half right about her.
She wouldn’t back down, sure—but she wasn’t using the most efficient method, and she wasn’t being hardline about it at all.
Call her dumb? Well, this passive way of handling it had unwittingly kept the conflict from blowing up further.
If she’d gone straight to tattle, yeah, the problem would’ve been solved fast—but the lingering bad blood would’ve been worse, making her future work there even harder.
Call her smart? Getting strung along like this, if she didn’t handle it thoroughly, who knew how long they’d keep dragging her.
As for the other two Performance Groups, Shen Lianyao’s treatment there was about the same as in the Dance Group.
But the atmosphere in those Performance Groups was a touch more “friendly” by comparison.
At least their group leaders weren’t pretending not to see—it was more like they were pitching in to help Shen Lianyao get the work done.
Even with that assistance from the two group leaders, though, she still hadn’t finished collecting full data from a single department.
All of a sudden, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Shen An snapped back to attention and glanced instinctively toward the door, half-expecting Shen Lianyao.
But the figure who pushed through had a pair of strikingly long, slender legs.
Wang Yuqiong rubbed her sore neck and shuffled in, looking utterly drained. “I’m exhausted…”
She plopped right down in Shen Lianyao’s seat.
The brief warmth shattered, Song Rui couldn’t help furrowing her brow. But given the situation, she had no choice but to duck her head and hide her displeasure.
Shen An withdrew his hand and eyed Wang Yuqiong with an amused glint. “The Drama Group hasn’t even settled on a program yet. What’re you so tired from?”
At his words, Wang Yuqiong rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why it’s exhausting.”
“With no lineup or program locked in, we’ve all been training nonstop.”
“Think of it as a workout. You don’t get much exercise as it is—your stamina’s a bit weak.” Shen An smiled.
Wang Yuqiong suddenly remembered something, her pretty face flushing pink as she pouted. “None of your business, nosy.”
“I’m just trying to comfort you.”
Shen An stood up and grabbed a paper cup from the water dispenser. He poured her a cup and handed it over.
Wang Yuqiong took it and gulped down a big mouthful, letting out a long sigh. “Must be nice for you, just sitting in the office tapping away at the keyboard all day.”
“You’re burning physical energy. I’m burning brainpower.”
Shen An tapped his temple. “We’re equally wiped.”
“Heh. Have you turned in your data yet?”
Wang Yuqiong took another sip and pursed her lips. “The academic counselor came by yesterday to bug me. You’re the only one left.”
That was right—the class was collecting data too, and naturally, Class President Wang Yuqiong was in charge of it.
“I’ll send it over in a bit. It’s already saved on my phone.”
Shen An returned to his seat.
“Huh?” Wang Yuqiong blinked, glancing around. “Where’s Lianyao?”
She looked at Song Rui, who shook her head. Then she turned to Shen An, who said softly, “Probably still tied up with work.”
“Ha?”
Wang Yuqiong had been swamped these past few days with Drama Group training and class data collection.
She hadn’t had the bandwidth to keep tabs on the office.
Today’s training had wrapped up early, that’s all—giving her a chance to swing by, slack off a bit, and grab a drink.
“She still hasn’t finished collecting it all?”
Wang Yuqiong frowned, finding it a little hard to believe.
She knew that with Shen Lianyao’s personality, gathering materials would definitely run into some snags, but she hadn’t expected it to drag on for so long.
“Maybe.”
Shen An said indifferently, “Anyway, time’s not up yet. Why the rush?”
“Better to think about where to go for the holiday instead.”
The moment he mentioned it, Wang Yuqiong perked right up. “Are you going somewhere fun?”
Song Rui looked at Shen An in surprise too.
He… hadn’t he just said he was staying on campus?
“What do you mean ‘I’? I’m asking you.”
Shen An grumbled, “It’s a whole seven-day break. You planning to just veg out at home like a total slacker?”
“Tch.”
Wang Yuqiong pouted. “Of course I’m going out. We’ve already got a family trip planned.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, we’re heading to the beach for some R&R.” Wang Yuqiong leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh.
“Can you swim?”
Shen An chuckled.
“O-of course… I can.” Wang Yuqiong suddenly sounded guilty, her voice trailing off.
“Good to know. I was worried you’d get swept out to sea by a wave and end up like the Jingwei bird, trying to fill the ocean one twig at a time.”
“You just can’t wish me a little good luck!”
Wang Yuqiong shot back irritably. “Besides, there are lifeguards on the beach. It’s not like I’d get swept away that easily.”
“How many days you playing hooky?”
“Three… I guess.” Wang Yuqiong sighed. “Gotta come back after that.”
“The Drama Group?”
“Yeah. Senior Sister said they’d announce the cast list after three days. Everyone has to be back.”
“Why the rush?”
Shen An muttered to himself, “This schedule’s way too unreasonable. Why not announce it now instead of during break?”
“Right? That’s exactly what I asked Senior Sister.”
Wang Yuqiong shrugged. “She just smiled and wouldn’t say. I wanted to pry it out of her.”
“Easy there. You’re supposed to be a lady.”
Shen An chuckled helplessly.
“Hmph. Come on, not even a little hint?” Wang Yuqiong wrinkled her dainty nose. “What about you? Where are you headed?”
“Me?”
Shen An just smiled without answering, so Song Rui jumped in for him. “He’s staying on campus for the holiday. Said he wants to finish up his work.”
Wang Yuqiong blinked, tilting her head. “Are you really Shen An?”
“You think I’ve been body-snatched or something?”
“Totally!” Wang Yuqiong stared at him in disbelief. “You’re skipping a seven-day holiday to stay at school and grind through work? Oh my god. Since when are you so responsible?”
Song Rui frowned and whispered a rebuttal. “He’s always been pretty responsible.”
Uh…
Shen An shot Wang Yuqiong a smug glance. “You hear that? Looks like someone’s got some outdated stereotypes about me.”
Outnumbered two-to-one, Wang Yuqiong threw in the towel. “Fine, fine. My bad.”
Shen An powered down his computer and stood up.
Song Rui and Wang Yuqiong blinked in surprise. “Heading out?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded slightly. “You two coming?”
Song Rui shook her head. “I’ve still got some materials to wrap up.”
“What about you?”
“I… I’ll keep Song Rui company. We’re headed the same way.” Wang Yuqiong crossed her legs casually.
“Tsk. Nobody to walk back with me?”
Shen An played up the pitiful act.
Song Rui took pity on him and said cautiously, “Why don’t you wait a sec? I’ll be done soon.”
“Yeah, just hang on a bit.”
Wang Yuqiong added with a playful whine. “What’s the big hurry to get back? Got some emergency?”
“Yeah, rushing home to look after my roommate.”
Shen An waved them off. “See you later.”
After he left the office, Wang Yuqiong stared at the door, lost in thought.
Looking after his roommate?
What did that mean?
Taking care of Xu Yijing?
“Does he even have a roommate?” Song Rui blinked, looking puzzled. “Doesn’t he live alone?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, he lives alone, right?”
Song Rui eyed Wang Yuqiong’s odd reaction.
“Uh… probably just the neighbor next door or something.”
Wang Yuqiong laughed it off lightly.
But that explanation sounded even stranger.
Neighbor next door?
Whatever. Song Rui didn’t press; she just wanted to finish her work quick.
She didn’t want to drag it out into the holiday.
Once he left the Art Troupe, Shen An ambled toward the North District.
He was curious how Xu Yijing planned to spend her break.
He pushed open the door. She still wasn’t back. These past few days, she’d been coming home late—it had become the norm.
Of course, she might’ve already packed up and headed home.
Shen An got on with his own routine and started prepping dinner.
Xu Yijing was later than usual tonight.
It was already 9:30 p.m. when she finally fished out her keys and unlocked the door.
Shen An had finished eating and was sprawled on the sofa, idly watching a sports broadcast.
He raised an eyebrow at the sight of her. “Yo. Thought you’d gone home already.”
Xu Yijing’s mouth twitched. “Same here.”
She sighed. “Didn’t expect to walk in and see you. Talk about bad luck.”
Shen An was used to her jabs by now.
She’d stopped hiding her “dislike” for him entirely. It was all snide remarks and barbs, her sharp tongue honed to perfection.
Must be her strategy from the past few days.
Shen An might not seem fazed, but this was her way of fighting back!
At least on the verbal front, she could score a few points.
“What’s this? Skipping home to play the rebellious teen?”
Shen An stretched lazily.
Xu Yijing kicked off her shoes and slipped on her slippers. “Pot calling the kettle black.”
“Me? I’m just dedicated to my work. No way I’m letting a holiday kill my vibe.”
Shen An boasted shamelessly. “Planning to stay on campus the whole seven days.”
Xu Yijing’s head snapped up, her face a mask of shock.
Actually, more like pale.
“You’re really not going home?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“All seven days on campus?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Suddenly, Xu Yijing’s legs felt weak.
This was trouble…
Shen An caught her reaction and arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to dedicate the whole break to work too?”
Xu Yijing was bone-tired. “Get lost.”
“Sigh.”
Shen An let out a long sigh. “And here I thought I’d get a few days of peace and quiet to myself.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
Xu Yijing sneered.
“Oh, right.” Shen An’s lips curved up. “Heard takeout won’t deliver to campus during the holiday.”
Standard procedure for breaks.
Stay-behinds didn’t need to worry about starving, though—some cafeterias stayed open.
Xu Yijing kept her expression icy and huffed softly. “Save your concern. I’ve got it covered.”
“Fair enough. Just worried someone might get so hungry she’d come begging me to cook.”
Shen An flashed a mocking smile.
“Don’t hold your breath!”
Xu Yijing narrowed her eyes. “I’d sooner starve to death than beg you!”
The bolder the claim, the quicker the backlash tended to hit.
Shen An’s eyelid twitched. He had a feeling something big was coming over the next few days.
He glanced at Xu Yijing and said softly, “Hey.”
She headed straight for her room without a backward glance.
“Classmate Xu!”
Shen An switched up his address.
Xu Yijing paused and turned back with a smug look. “Yes?”
“Is Senior Sister Zhao heading home?”
Shen An asked out of the blue.
Her expression, which had softened a touch, frosted over in an instant.
She said coolly, “If you want to know, ask her yourself.”
With that, she turned away.
“Hey.”
Shen An called after her.
She didn’t stop.
“Your mom misses you a ton. You sure you don’t wanna go back?”
Xu Yijing froze mid-step.
After a beat of silence, she muttered lowly, “Quit spinning your lame lies.”
She marched into her room.
No way.
Why would she miss me?
All she cares about is her job. Her career.
Shen An rubbed his chin. Seemed like that one simple line had gotten under her skin.
