Chapter 62

“I thought I’d made it pretty obvious. I thought you knew all my fantasies and expectations were about you.”

She said this as the two of them stood at the school gate.

It was the middle of the afternoon rush, with the entrance crowded and noisy.

But no one could see Miao Bai. To everyone else, Meng Bai looked like she was just talking to herself.

A classmate from their class walked by and spotted Meng Bai. “What’re you doing? Aren’t you heading to class?”

Meng Bai smiled and brushed it off. “I’m waiting for someone. You guys go on ahead.”

The classmate gave her a quick once-over and kept walking.

Meng Bai turned back to Miao Bai. “Are you really clueless, or just pretending not to know?”

Miao Bai just looked at her, saying nothing.

So Meng Bai pressed on. “You keep double-checking if I really like you. Have you ever wondered why?”

Miao Bai still didn’t respond.

But that question hit Meng Bai like a revelation, giving her an answer in her heart.

Miao Bai had always seen emotions as fake. Over her long life, she’d never trusted anyone, but Meng Bai’s presence had started to shake that conviction.

She needed to confirm it over and over, to know if love truly existed.

It felt like a gamble—whether to place her bet or not.

To bet or not to bet. To bet or not to bet.

The thought startled Miao Bai, making her realize her focus had shifted. It wasn’t about whether it was possible or suitable anymore. If she was treating romance like a bet, then she’d already become a gambler ready to ante up.

In other words, deep down, she was starting to want to date Meng Bai.

“Why do you have to like me?” Miao Bai’s voice was laced with clear disappointment as she asked. “Didn’t I tell you early on that I’ll disappear from this world someday?”

“No reason. I just like you. If you disappear, I’ll still like you.”

Miao Bai’s heart ached. “There’s no future.”

“I’ll like you even without a future.”

“It’ll be really short.”

Meng Bai stared straight at her, her reply coming without a pause. “Even if it’s short, I’ll still like you.”

Passersby shot them curious glances. To them, Meng Bai looked like a lunatic muttering to thin air.

But she didn’t seem to care at all.

Miao Bai couldn’t bear to keep pushing. “Got it. Let’s head to class. The bell’s about to ring.”

“Before I go, can I ask you one more thing?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you really feel nothing for people?”

Miao Bai felt a faint warmth stir in her chest.

She’d thought she felt nothing, but now… there was a little something. It was hard to admit.

“If that’s not true—if you can feel emotions for people—then will you at least consider me?”

That warmth spread slowly from her heart, and Miao Bai’s lips curved into an unconscious smile.

Meng Bai had no idea what she was smiling about.

She kept going. “I’m serious. I’m not a kid. I’m not as immature as you think. I can take care of people too—I’m no different from any adult.”

A subtle shift crossed Miao Bai’s face.

To be precise, she was surprised Meng Bai would say something like that.

It was a bit reckless, but so sincere.

“Mm. Got it. Go to class.”

Meng Bai bristled, assuming Miao Bai wasn’t taking her seriously.

“In your eyes, do I just look like some kid spouting big talk? The laughable kind?”

“I don’t think you’re laughable.” Miao Bai’s tone grew earnest. “Hurry to class—you’ll be late.”

“But you didn’t answer my question directly.”

Meng Bai’s expression turned wistful, a hint of hurt in her eyes.

“I can’t answer right now. Give me some time to think?”

Miao Bai’s voice was soft, but her tone was firm.

For Meng Bai, that was enough. At least Miao Bai hadn’t refused. At the very least, she’d said she’d think about it.

The frustration in Meng Bai’s heart vanished in an instant.

“Okay! Think about it!”

Miao Bai tilted her chin up. “Now go to class.”

“Got it! Right away!”

Just like that, she turned obedient.

Pushing her bicycle, she merged into the crowd heading into school. Every three steps, she glanced back at Miao Bai, waving goodbye.

Pedestrians gave her odd looks, clearly baffled by what she was doing.

Miao Bai just nodded, urging her not to look back and to hurry to class.

~~~

“She’s lost it.”

“Talking to herself at the school gate—she really looked like a lunatic.”

“Is it the study pressure getting to her?”

During class, whispers spread through the room.

The speaker was an annoying classmate whose voice wasn’t all that quiet. Meng Bai heard every word.

She knew exactly what they were on about—just gossiping about her chat with Miao Bai at the gate, thinking her behavior was weird.

They were in the middle of math class.

“She was seriously muttering to herself for minutes! I’m not kidding!”

Zhou An shot to her feet and hurled a thick dictionary at the guy sitting diagonally across from her.

It hit with a loud thud, and he winced.

Zhou An rounded on him. “Who’re you calling a lunatic?”

The classroom fell deathly silent. Some students looked scared, instantly clamming up.

Meng Bai tugged at Zhou An’s clothes, trying to get her to sit. Zhou An refused, jabbing a finger at the guy. “Watch your mouth.”

Xu Qin, standing at the front, frowned. “What’s going on here?”

Zhou An didn’t hold back. “They’re badmouthing Meng Bai, calling her a muttering lunatic.”

The guy who’d been hit wasn’t backing down. “She was talking to herself at the gate this morning! Am I lying? I was just worried about her mental health!”

Meng Bai looked utterly unbothered, drawling lazily, “I was reciting ancient poetry. No need for your concern.”

“I clearly heard you talking to thin air!”

Xu Qin rapped on her desk. “This is class time. You two—Meng Bai and Zhang Ming—come to my office after.”

Zhou An: “If anyone’s going to the office, it’s me! This has nothing to do with Meng Bai!”

Xu Qin: “Zhou An, sit down. Meng Bai and Zhang Ming, my office after class.”

Zhou An had no choice but to plop back into her seat.

Meng Bai patted her shoulder and whispered, “It’s no big deal.”

~~~

After class, both the rumormonger and the target ended up in the office.

Xu Qin sat in her chair and pointed at the boy’s mouth. He got the hint right away and apologized. “Meng Bai, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean any harm—I was just worried something might be wrong with you.”

Meng Bai’s tone was flat. “Mm.”

The boy looked up and gave Meng Bai a vague glance, his tone still laced with disbelief. “So you were really just reciting ancient poetry?”

Meng Bai met his eyes. “What else? Talking to thin air? Do I look that crazy?”

The boy hurriedly ducked his head. “Right, right. It’s my mistake then. Don’t hold it against me.”

“It’s fine.”

Xu Qin was only half-listening, and it seemed she didn’t truly want to punish anyone anyway.

“Alright, Zhang Ming. No more spreading rumors next time. You can head back now.”

Zhang Ming nodded and scurried off.

Meng Bai wondered why she wasn’t being dismissed too, but the next second, Xu Qin spoke up. “You stay.”

Meng Bai’s heart skipped a beat. She figured Teacher Xu was about to bring up that matter.

That matter—the video.

It was the height of the afternoon class rush, and the only other soul in the office was an elderly teacher dozing in his chair.

Xu Qin still wasn’t satisfied with the privacy there and tugged Meng Bai out to an empty balcony.

“Zhou An may have given me the storage card, but you were the one who filmed it, right?”

“I filmed it.”

Xu Qin’s brows furrowed sharply, drawing her whole face into a tight knot. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, clearly grappling with the revelation.

Meng Bai held her silence, thinking she shouldn’t volunteer any information until Xu Qin asked pointed questions.

“Meng Bai.”

“Here, Teacher.”

Xu Qin turned to face her, confusion swirling in her eyes. “How did you manage to film it? They were committing crimes right out in the open, bold as brass, and you were holding the camera like some invisible person.”

Invisible person.

She had nailed the description perfectly, even if it was just a metaphor that had popped into her head.

“I might not be able to answer that one, Teacher.” Meng Bai smoothly shifted gears. “So, is it evidence?”

“It is, but not enough.”

With Baldhead dead and Zhang Gou not actually committing any crimes on the video, they could report him, sure—but he wouldn’t stay locked up for long.

Meng Bai didn’t beat around the bush. “You seem awfully invested in this, Teacher.”

“I am invested—” Xu Qin faltered, blinked, and looked away. In a quiet voice, she murmured, “But the evidence isn’t enough. Not nearly.”

Meng Bai had a dozen questions burning on her tongue, but she swallowed them all. She needed to run this by Miao Bai first, to avoid spilling anything she shouldn’t.

Xu Qin, however, was relentless. “So how did you film it? It’s bizarre. The video isn’t faked, but that angle is so strange.”

Meng Bai refused point-blank. “Can’t answer that.”

Xu Qin fell silent in an instant.

She was utterly at a loss with the girl in front of her. She looked so young and childish, yet she wasn’t the least bit timid around a teacher. Coaxing wouldn’t work either.

After a long moment, Xu Qin tried again. “Truth be told, when I arrived at school this afternoon, I saw you muttering to yourself at the front gate. I won’t let anyone spread rumors about you for it, but… can you tell me what that was about?”

Meng Bai shook her head. “Can’t answer that one either.”

“You must know a lot, and you keep it locked up tight.” Xu Qin shot her a sidelong glance. “That’s a good thing, but not entirely. It shuts down any real conversation between us—and who knows what important info gets lost in the process.”

Meng Bai didn’t flinch or blush. If Teacher Xu wanted something from her, then Teacher Xu would have to offer something first.

“You go first then, Teacher Xu.”

“Me first?” Xu Qin’s expression all but screamed, What could I possibly have to say?

“Tell me why you’re so concerned about this.”

“Because I know Zhang Gou and his crew aren’t good people. I have to look out for my students, don’t I?”

“Then why not call the police?” Meng Bai gazed at Xu Qin with wide, innocent eyes, her words slicing like a knife. “Last time with Zhou An, you told us not to report it—said it’d tip off the snakes and scare them off. So we held back. This time, I gave you the video, but you haven’t made any big moves. Why?”

The class bell rang just then. The two of them leaned against the balcony railing, and Xu Qin didn’t utter a word for ages.

The sky had turned overcast, dark clouds massing overhead. Rain was on the way.

“It’s going to rain,” Xu Qin said, staring up at the sky, her voice low and heavy.

“So you still haven’t said a thing. If you won’t talk, what do you expect from me?”

Xu Qin let out a sigh.

Plip—

A raindrop fell between them.

Then another. And another.

The downpour hit faster than they’d anticipated.

“Meng Bai.”

“Here, Teacher. I’m listening.”

“If I tell you—if you learn the truth and get dragged into this—you’ll hear me out, right?”

Meng Bai nodded without hesitation. “Of course. Absolutely.”

“Alright.” Xu Qin drew in a deep breath. “But first, one question. Answer me honestly.”

“Okay.”

Xu Qin ventured cautiously, “Have you… recently met a very extraordinary woman?”