Chapter 38

Tang Tianman felt that Zheng Xiyu’s gaze was a bit strange—a suppressed fervor, like magma on the verge of erupting.

Soon, the hand gripping her arm tightened. Tang Tianman nervously shrank back a little.

When Zheng Xiyu leaned in close, Tang Tianman felt enormous black wings sprouting from her back.

Zheng Xiyu’s breath paused at her forehead. Tang Tianman strained to look up, her eyes landing on Zheng Xiyu’s lips.

Her lips were so thin, Tang Tianman realized for the first time.

“Who’s the other person?” Zheng Xiyu asked, as if she were interrogating an enemy.

“Huh?” Tang Tianman blinked, caught off guard.

“Who’s the other person?” Zheng Xiyu repeated.

“What other person? Why would there be another person? There isn’t!” Tang Tianman blurted out in a rush. Only then did she realize there must have been some miscommunication between them.

Zheng Xiyu’s black wings retracted. She lifted her body slightly, letting light fall on Tang Tianman again.

“So, which one are you choosing?” she asked, her voice soft and lacking confidence.

“Between watching your match or going to the meeting, obviously.”

“The meeting?”

“Yeah, the professor supervising my project wants me there. It’s on the weekend—the same days as your competition.”

Zheng Xiyu touched her nose and straightened up.

Tang Tianman tilted her head back to look at her. Zheng Xiyu took a step back, putting some distance between them.

All the pressure and tension vanished, leaving only their usual gentle, pleasant, and relaxed atmosphere.

“Of course studying comes first,” Zheng Xiyu said. “This is just the preliminaries for me.”

“But we already planned it ages ago,” Tang Tianman said anxiously. “Ages and ages ago…”

Zheng Xiyu smiled faintly and took her hand, leading her toward the exit. “Even if we go to H City, I won’t be able to spend time with you. I’ll have to stay with the team the whole time. We’d only see each other at meals, and otherwise, you’d just be watching me compete.”

“Ah?” That wasn’t what Tang Tianman had imagined at all.

“Yeah, so you might as well go to the meeting,” Zheng Xiyu said. “You’ve been working on that project for half a month now. It’s a rare opportunity.”

“Oh.” Tang Tianman suddenly deflated.

They returned to Canteen 4. Fortunately, they hadn’t been gone long, and their food was still on the table, untouched.

Zheng Xiyu sat down and resumed eating heartily. Tang Tianman sat across from her, wilted for a good while before accepting the reality.

The scales, which had been tipping one way, now swung the other thanks to the fact that she “wouldn’t actually get to spend time with Zheng Xiyu.”

Only then did Tang Tianman realize that watching the match itself didn’t hold much weight for her. What she truly looked forward to was seeing Zheng Xiyu.

A different side of Zheng Xiyu—how she was in another city, what she was like in a hotel, before bed, after waking up…

Tang Tianman’s face heated up. She sneaked a glance at Zheng Xiyu, but Zheng Xiyu keenly caught her gaze, their eyes meeting.

Tang Tianman quickly looked away, as if she’d been caught red-handed doing something naughty.

Zheng Xiyu didn’t lecture her or try to persuade her. She simply finished her meal in silence, waiting for Tang Tianman to decide for herself.

Tang Tianman felt unhappy—very unhappy. That thrilling, impulsive urge to throw caution to the wind had just evaporated.

Zheng Xiyu finished eating and stood to clear her tray. Tang Tianman rose too, following behind her.

“I’ve got training,” Zheng Xiyu said.

“Oh,” Tang Tianman replied.

“So you…”

“I’m not choosing you. I’ll go to the meeting.”

“Got it.”

Tang Tianman stared at her for half a minute. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Your way of talking right now sounds like scumbag pickup lines.” Tang Tianman pouted. “Didn’t you just say I wasn’t allowed to choose someone else?”

Zheng Xiyu turned around, set down her tray, and touched her nose again.

Tang Tianman latched onto the key point. “What did you misunderstand just now?”

“…”

“Who do you think I’m choosing between—you and who?”

“…”

“Who do you hate so much that you don’t want me picking her?”

“…”

Tang Tianman poked her hard. “Say something!”

Zheng Xiyu cleared her throat, her face expressionless as she lied. “Coach is waiting.”

“The coach won’t mind two seconds for you to talk.” Tang Tianman followed her. “I’ll walk you there. Let’s see how long you can hold out.”

Zheng Xiyu looked helpless. She raised her arm and rubbed Tang Tianman’s shoulder. “Senior Sister, come on.”

“Sulking won’t work either.”

Zheng Xiyu pressed her lips together, her smile fading.

When she turned serious, her expression grew very aloof.

That aloofness created a sense of distance, making it feel for a moment like they weren’t close at all.

Tang Tianman fell silent.

“Has Xiao Ji been looking for you lately?” Zheng Xiyu asked.

“Huh?” It took Tang Tianman a second to even remember who that was. “Why would she be looking for me?”

“Good, as long as she hasn’t.” Zheng Xiyu turned and strode away.

Tang Tianman hurried after her but couldn’t catch up.

She called out twice, but Zheng Xiyu ignored her.

Tch. Tang Tianman was utterly shocked—and weirdly thrilled.

Since Zheng Xiyu had brought up Xiao Ji, that must have been who she thought Tang Tianman was choosing between.

Xiao Ji didn’t register much for Tang Tianman at all. Her only label was that she’d pursued her once.

Tch.

What did that mean?

Tch.

Zheng Xiyu thought she herself was pursuing Tang Tianman.

And she was terrified of losing out to someone else—didn’t want Tang Tianman choosing anyone but her.

Tang Tianman practically bounced back to the dorm.

The conflicted and tragic air from leaving had transformed into pure exhilaration on the way back.

She hummed a tune, pulled out a stack of books, and flipped through them aimlessly. She barely got through a few pages before Li Tong and Ruan Ruan stared at her, their confusion quickly turning to disdain.

After a bit, Tang Tianman asked them, “Don’t you want to know how it turned out?”

Ruan Ruan: “Nope.”

Li Tong: “Hey, these dried fruits are pretty good.”

“I’ve decided to go to the meeting,” Tang Tianman announced.

Ruan Ruan: “How many calories are in that? Can I have some?”

Li Tong: “A bit high. Never mind—I’ll just grab an apple if I’m hungry.”

Tang Tianman slammed the table. “I said I’ve decided to go to the meeting! Aren’t you shocked? Don’t you want to know what changed my mind? Aren’t you wondering if things fell apart between me and Zheng Xiyu?!”

Ruan Ruan: “If you really want to spill, post an anonymous thread on the school forum.”

Li Tong: “Good idea. Tangdou’s a forum celeb anyway.”

Tang Tianman pouted and went quiet, a little miffed.

A while later, she messaged Zheng Xiyu:

-This afternoon doesn’t count.

Zheng Xiyu was at training, so the reply took a bit. Tang Tianman scrolled her phone while waiting, and even the boring trending topics on Weibo seemed entertaining.

Finally, Zheng Xiyu replied:

-Got it. I’ll call you when training ends tonight.

Tang Tianman grinned, her mood lifting.

If Ruan Ruan and Li Tong didn’t want to hear it, she could tell Zheng Xiyu.

Those irrepressible feelings that annoyed her friends—Zheng Xiyu had them too.

The way Zheng Xiyu perfectly understood her message meant they were in the same boat, mood-wise.

How could something like this exist in the world, linking two totally different people in such a bizarre way?

Tang Tianman stayed giddy all evening.

Sure enough, right on time, Zheng Xiyu’s call came through.

Tang Tianman was ready, even thoughtfully grabbing some snacks for her. She skipped out the door.

Their daily meetup promise—Zheng Xiyu had never broken it once.

The dorm door clicked shut. Li Tong sighed.

A long moment later, Ruan Ruan asked her, “What do you think will happen down the line?”

Li Tong sighed again. “What else? They’ll be all lovey-dovey together, Sweet Sweet style.”

“And after that?”

“See how long it lasts.”

“What if it lasts a long time?”

“Then that’s not for me to worry about.” Li Tong pulled back the curtain and said to Ruan Ruan, “Big Baby, you’ve been overthinking lately. Don’t dwell—live in the moment.”

Ruan Ruan murmured an “mm” and fell silent.

She stared at the friend request in WeChat, then finally backed out of the screen.

Pretending not to see it.

Just like every morning during her run, when she passed Jiang Xue—pretending not to see.

Because everything could be predicted.

Jiang Xue wasn’t some irredeemable villain. She was just an ordinary college girl. When turning someone down, she’d consider sparing their feelings—and after hurting them, she’d feel guilty.

That guilt had become a stain on her heart, impossible to erase without forgiveness.

That’s why, after their chance encounter on the track, she showed up at the sports field every day at the same time, waiting.

Ruan Ruan found this apology, this urge to make amends, like a second wound.

Like someone who’d beaten you now pitying you.

Ruan Ruan, of course, wouldn’t let her have her way.

No matter how many times they crossed paths, she could pass by Jiang Xue with a blank face—just like before, when Jiang Xue would glide past amid Ruan Ruan’s hopeful gaze, calm and detached.

It left Ruan Ruan feeling both pained and satisfied.

Like the gnawing hunger endured while dieting or the sheer torment of a grueling workout, it was utterly addictive.

That night, Tang Tianman returned to the dorm very late once again.

In order to preserve her energy for the next day’s battle against body fat, Ruan Ruan had gone to bed early. She heard the sounds of Tang Tianman’s arrival but didn’t wake up.

The next morning, her phone began to vibrate. Before it could switch the alarm to music, Ruan Ruan shot upright in bed and silenced it.

She got dressed, climbed out of bed, freshened up, drank some low-fat milk, and ate a sandwich made from whole wheat bread. Then she jogged off to the sports field.

She was starting to grow accustomed to this monotonous exercise routine.

As always, Jiang Xue didn’t show up until Ruan Ruan had run a little more than one lap.

As always, Jiang Xue trailed behind her at a careful distance—neither too close nor too far—just like any other early-morning jogger.

Rejecting the WeChat friend request seemed to have changed nothing. Ruan Ruan turned up the volume on her earbuds slightly and focused her attention on the rhythm of her run.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. One step, two steps. One lap, then another…

When the time was about right, she slowed her pace to cool down, widening her field of vision as she did.

Jiang Xue was nowhere to be seen on the sports field. Amid the vast fog, hardly anyone else remained.

Ruan Ruan looked up and blinked. A tiny droplet of water landed on the tip of her nose.

It was raining.

Winter rain in N City always arrived so sluggishly, without a whisper of warning.

Then it pattered on endlessly, its start and finish impossible to pinpoint.

Ruan Ruan pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head and picked up her pace toward the exit.

At this hour, the sports field had only one entrance.

It wasn’t particularly large or small, but positioned at the boundary between light and shadow, anyone standing squarely in the middle would command it like a lone warrior holding off an army of thousands.

Especially if that person was holding an open umbrella while clutching a second one in her other hand.

Especially if that person stood tall and resolute, her expression unwavering.

Ruan Ruan suddenly realized she wouldn’t slip away so easily today. Reality soon proved her right.

As she tried to dart around Jiang Xue and make for the exit, Jiang Xue lifted the unopened umbrella in her hand and blocked her path.

Ruan Ruan veered one way, and Jiang Xue shifted to block her.

Ruan Ruan tried again, and Jiang Xue matched her move.

Finally, Ruan Ruan came to a halt. She fixed Jiang Xue with a stare and spoke their first words to each other since that day in the classroom. “What do you mean by this?”

Jiang Xue met her gaze and replied with two crisp words: “Take the umbrella.”

“We’re not close. No need to bother,” Ruan Ruan shot back.

“Then you’re not leaving,” Jiang Xue said, her words domineering and utterly unreasonable. Yet her eyes were soft as rippling autumn waters, sending Ruan Ruan’s heart into a sudden quiver.

It was as if they were competing to see who could seem more pitiable.