“The research basis of color theory is optics. Not only that, color theory also involves psychophysics, physiology…”
Gu Yu’s eyes were fixed on her textbook, her ears listening to the professor’s lecture. She seemed attentive, but in reality, her mind was miles away, the corner of her eye closely monitoring the movements of Jiang Bomu beside her.
She had been close to being late earlier and had no time to persuade Jiang Bomu otherwise. She had hurriedly helped her put on a mask and hat, and the two of them came together.
When they slipped into the classroom just in time, besides the seats her roommates had saved for her, the only spots left were in the middle of the second row. She had no choice; she and Jiang Bomu sat in the second row, enduring the scrutinizing gazes of their classmates the entire way.
Her roommates quickly asked in their WeChat group who the person sitting next to her was. Gu Yu could only fabricate a story: [She’s my older cousin, here traveling. She stopped by to see me.]
Roommate: [Why isn’t she taking off her hat or mask?]
Gu Yu sighed helplessly and could only continue the lie: [She’s not acclimated to the weather; her face broke out in an allergic rash. You guys don’t know her, she’s super vain. Even I’m not allowed a glance.]
Jiang Bomu watched her type the entire time, a teasing smile on her face. She, too, sent Gu Yu a WeChat message: [Didn’t you see enough last night? Then I won’t leave today.]
Gu Yu tapped open that WeChat message, then immediately placed her phone face down on the table and paid attention to the lesson.
Jiang Bomu bit her lip, not understanding why she didn’t reply. But seeing her focused expression, she had no choice but to shift her gaze to the lectern.
During the break between classes, people from all around came over to strike up a conversation. There was no other reason: even with only her eyes visible, Jiang Bomu was captivating enough to make hearts flutter, and they all came asking for her WeChat.
Jiang Bomu didn’t speak; she used her own voice in her dramas, which was highly recognizable—someone was bound to identify her.
Gu Yu continued to fob them off with the same previous excuse. When the bell for the next class rang, she finally had a moment to drink some water. Staring straight ahead, she remarked, “Miss Best Actress truly has boundless charisma. You wear a mask and still people throw themselves at you.”
Her voice faded into the tail end of the bell’s chime. Jiang Bomu pretended not to hear, but inwardly wondered: The charisma must not be enough, because why haven’t you thrown yourself at me?
At ten o’clock sharp, Gu Yu’s morning classes were over. The moment the bell rang, she immediately scooped up her books, pulled Jiang Bomu along, and made a hundred-meter dash out.
Jiang Bomu looked down at the wrist Gu Yu was gripping and gently pulled free.
Gu Yu looked down in surprise, glimpsing their interlocked fingers. A sweetness stirred in her heart, but she abruptly realized she shouldn’t feel that way. She immediately pursed her lips and let go, saying coldly, “Class is over. You should go back now.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Jiang Bomu said, taking her hand again. “Xunxun, you can’t bear to part with me either, right?”
The late summer breeze carried these bewitching words that settled on the heart, warm and sticky. Gu Yu almost nodded in agreement, but thankfully came to her senses the second before.
“You have your dazzling star path to walk, and I have mine,” she hardened her heart to send her away. “Jiang Bomu, we were never from the same world. Whether one can bear to part or not, isn’t the result the same?”
The events of that summer were still vivid in her mind. Why should Jiang Bomu just come and see her once, and she’d eagerly stick to her again?
It made no sense.
“I was wrong back then,” Jiang Bomu said, lowering her brow. “I instinctively ran from your affection, didn’t dare admit the fact that I’d fallen for you, all because…”
Gu Yu cut her off, her tone flat. “Whatever you say now is useless. All your inner turmoil and hesitation were because you didn’t like me enough.”
She didn’t want to hear about external factors. When you truly like someone, you throw caution to the wind, without weighing pros and cons. She had spent four years forging a sharp blade aimed at herself; her passionate blood had been drained dry, leaving only exhaustion and fragility.
She looked quietly at Jiang Bomu, who hadn’t spoken, and continued, “Whether you go back or not is up to you, but I won’t kindly take you in again tonight.”
Gu Yu started walking towards the library, but a voice rose behind her.
“Can you see me to the school gate?”
Gu Yu stopped and looked back at Jiang Bomu, standing there under the tree. Dappled spots of light fell on her, and those eyes were breathtakingly beautiful.
Gu Yu nodded, as if possessed.
They walked against the stream of students heading to class towards the main gate. Gu Yu nearly got squeezed flat. She also felt like her brain had been caught in a door earlier—why on earth had she agreed?
But since she’d already consented, she couldn’t go back on her word. She walked on silently.
After crossing one intersection, the crowd finally thinned. Gu Yu let out a breath and turned to find Jiang Bomu. Yet, among the flow of people, where was her figure?
Gu Yu started. Had she been recognized?
Just as she was about to head where the crowd was thicker to look, someone tapped her left shoulder. She looked right, and sure enough, there was Jiang Bomu.
“You scared me to death,” she breathed in relief. “I thought you’d gotten swarmed.”
“Xunxun is very worried about my safety,” Jiang Bomu said with a smile. “So you do still like me, right?”
Gu Yu: “…” This wasn’t the Jiang Bomu she knew. How had she become even more persistent after setbacks?
She didn’t reply and plowed forward with faster steps, head down. The cicadas were buzzing noisily, grating on her nerves, and the person behind her seemed determined to add to it, sighing softly: “Walking so fast, you won’t miss me at all.”
Gu Yu bit her lip and didn’t answer. She was afraid if she lingered a moment longer, she’d spinelessly beg for reconciliation. She’d already laid down the harsh words. Jiang Bomu could disregard them, but she couldn’t—otherwise, she’d lose face.
Along the way, Jiang Bomu tried all sorts of ways to chat with her. Gu Yu replied in fits and starts, part of her wanting to see the person off as quickly as possible, another part reluctant to see her leave too soon.
How could a four-year crush simply be forgotten on demand? After lying dormant for half a month, when it surged back, it was only fiercer than before. The other party just crooked a finger, and Gu Yu was already imagining the rest of their lives together.
“Will you go home for National Day?”
Gu Yu pulled her thoughts back and said offhandedly, “Depends on the situation. I might also go on a trip with my roommates.”
“Any interest in visiting Jinling?”
Gu Yu looked at her, puzzled.
Jiang Bomu invited, “I’m filming there. You could come visit the set.”
Despite her nervousness, she persevered and finished the offer, even though she already knew the result.
Sure enough, Gu Yu looked at her silently for three seconds and spat out two words: “Not going.”
To say she wasn’t disappointed would be a lie, but she knew she only had herself to blame. Jiang Bomu forced a smile: “Don’t go, then. The film set isn’t that interesting anyway.”
Gu Yu didn’t want to watch her put on a nonchalant act. She turned her face away and said nothing.
She’d thought it through clearly. Jiang Bomu could give up on their relationship for certain external reasons. Even if they got together later, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine history repeating itself. Being hurt once was enough.
They shouldn’t have any more entanglement. Why keep contacting each other over and over? What use was an on-again, off-again connection?
What she wanted had never been a fleeting relationship. What she wanted was to be together forever.
They walked out of the school gate. Jiang Bomu’s car was parked directly across the street.
Adhering to the principle of seeing someone off to the very end, Gu Yu braved the blazing sun to cross the street with her and urged her into the car.
“You get in too,” Jiang Bomu said, opening the passenger door. “I have a gift I want to give you.”
Gu Yu frowned. She didn’t want any gift, but her body reacted faster than her brain, and she got straight in.
She excused herself: it was just too hot outside, that was all, definitely not because she wanted to spend a bit more time with Jiang Bomu.
“Here.”
Without any hesitation, Jiang Bomu produced an Armani shopping bag.
Gu Yu took it and asked, “What is it?”
“Perfume. I thought the name of this scent is perfectly suited to what I feel for you.”
Her curiosity piqued, Gu Yu opened layer after layer of packaging and took out a red perfume bottle. On the bottle was written the Italian “Si Passione.” She froze for a moment.
When Jiang Bomu gave her Un Jardin sur le Nil, she had researched perfumes for a few days, so she naturally knew the name of this scent was Passione—Deep Passion.
A cool sensation touched her wrist as the rich, sweet fragrance diffused through the sealed car cabin. The sweet-and-sour scent of fruit pulp seemed to penetrate right into her pores. Gu Yu was intoxicated by it, a little addicted.
Jiang Bomu gently massaged her wrist, her fingertips straying, tracing back and forth across Gu Yu’s palm until the entire hand was fragrant.
“Xunxun, I give you perfume, what will you give me?”
Gu Yu was stunned. She hadn’t known gifts were expected in return! She retorted, dissatisfied, “Then I don’t want it.”
She didn’t want to be indebted to Jiang Bomu anyway.
“You can give me a kiss,” Jiang Bomu said, taking off her mask and slowly leaning closer, her tone bewitching. “I miss your kiss very much.”
