Sang Lu was puzzled.
She couldn’t understand why Feng Yan suddenly seemed enveloped in a chill.
"You have a text message," Feng Yan said, his gaze shifting away from the screen, his eyes darkening slightly.
"A text message?" Who even sent text messages these days? Sang Lu withdrew her hand and replied casually, "Probably just spam."
She tapped into her inbox and looked.
Then froze.
"Sang Lu, this is Lu Sheng. What a surprise running into you today—do you still remember me?
I wasn’t sure if you’d changed your number, so I thought I’d try sending you a message.
I just returned to Jing City recently and was hoping to catch up with some high school classmates. Never expected to bump into you like this.
I noticed you seem to be working at Jing City TV Station? Coincidentally, the project I’m handling since coming back is related to the media industry.
Are you free? I’d love to take you out for a meal and chat. Do you still keep in touch with anyone from our old club? I’d really like to see everyone again. [Smile emoji]"
The message was absurdly long, practically an essay.
It took Sang Lu a while to read through it all.
At first, she was confused.
How did Lu Sheng even have her number?
And "catching up with an old classmate"?
They had only been club president and member.
They weren’t even in the same class…
But by the second half, she understood.
The lengthy preamble was just an adult’s way of easing into a conversation.
Lu Sheng’s real intentions were tucked into those last two lines.
Sang Lu wasn’t the same teenager she’d been years ago. After navigating the workplace for so long, she no longer categorized people in her life simply as "close" or "not close."
Most people she encountered professionally were "not close"—some she even outright disliked.
But that didn’t stop her from engaging with them smoothly.
Staring at the screen, she recalled something she’d once seen in their class group chat: Lu Sheng had gone abroad for university after high school.
He’d been a top student, and now his message mentioned a media-related project.
Sang Lu couldn’t help but wonder…
Was Lu Sheng working for a giant like Netflix or the BBC?
If so,
then meeting up might actually be worth it.
Seeing the last line of the text, she suddenly remembered she was still connected on WeChat with a girl from their old club—Xiaomei, who’d been lively and talkative. Maybe she’d want to join too.
With that in mind,
Sang Lu first messaged Xiaomei to ask if she was interested.
Then, biting her lip, she typed out a reply to Lu Sheng.
Absorbed in her phone, she didn’t notice the intense focus in her expression—or how it was being observed by the icy-faced man beside her.
Only after sending the message did she look up and realize Feng Yan was watching her calmly.
Their eyes met.
Feng Yan spoke evenly, "Spam?"
Sang Lu shook her head. "No."
Feeling a little guilty for leaving him hanging, she added,
"It’s a high school classmate—a top student from another class. We ran into each other today, and he asked to meet up for a meal and catch up."
She kept it brief.
Feng Yan’s expression flickered imperceptibly, his lashes lowering.
Masking the fleeting loss in his eyes,
he turned his head away, pulling the towel from around his neck to dry his damp hair.
Muffled by the towel, his voice came out slightly muted as he replied,
"Oh."
Perhaps because he’d grown accustomed to silently observing others, he’d developed an almost razor-sharp intuition for people’s words.
Like just now.
Even with only a glimpse of the message, he could tell—
that man’s intentions were far from just "catching up over a meal."
Then, Sang Lu’s phone buzzed several more times.
Feng Yan’s face remained impassive as he averted his gaze.
He rubbed his hair roughly with the towel,
his dark eyes clouded with unreadable emotions.
Sang Lu lowered her head to check her phone.
Xiaomei had agreed to join, and Lu Sheng had added Sang Lu on WeChat via her number.
She created a small group chat with the three of them, where Lu Sheng asked about their food preferences and scheduled the meetup for the following evening.
The earlier conversation about social media posts was forgotten by both Sang Lu and Feng Yan.
---
The next morning,
Feng Yan was having breakfast and tea when Sang Lu emerged from her bedroom.
His calm gaze faltered almost imperceptibly.
On workdays, Sang Lu usually opted for bright, comfortable, casual outfits.
But today, she was wearing a skirt and small heels.
For a moment, the man’s face seemed frozen by an invisible chill.
Sang Lu sat at the table and picked up a slice of toast.
Nibbling at the crust,
her mind wandered to what she and Xiaomei might talk about that evening.
After their chat last night, she’d learned that Xiaomei had recently moved to a prestigious film production company—one that had collaborated on an anime film adaptation Sang Lu adored.
She was eager to ask if Xiaomei could help her get the original creator’s autograph.
Xiaomei was impressive, and Lu Sheng had always been a top-tier student.
Sang Lu felt an inexplicable urge to "represent her TV station with professionalism."
Hence, today’s more polished outfit.
Just as she reached for a third slice of toast,
the coldly composed man across from her lifted his eyes and asked indifferently,
"Important event today?"
In Feng Yan’s memory, the last time he’d seen Sang Lu in a skirt was during an international media summit.
He wondered if her outfit today had nothing to do with yesterday’s text.
"No big event," Sang Lu replied breezily, meeting his gaze. "Just meeting up with that classmate I mentioned—the one who texted yesterday."
The air seemed to solidify.
But only for Feng Yan.
His eyes darkened imperceptibly.
He didn’t respond.
Instead, he picked up his glass and took a sip of ice water.
The cold liquid slid down his throat,
doing nothing to extinguish the inexplicable restlessness in his chest.
Sang Lu tilted her head at him, baffled. "?"
She had no idea why he’d asked.
Expecting him to say more, she was surprised when he just kept drinking, as if unwilling to continue the conversation.
So she helped herself to a fried egg instead.
Chew, chew, chew.
Aunt Zhang’s fried eggs were perfection—slightly runny in the middle, with crisped edges.
Exactly how Sang Lu liked them.
She ate happily, her expression relaxed.
But…
As she ate, she couldn’t help but notice…
Why did Feng Yan keep looking at her?
Take a sip of water, pause, stare at her.
Sang Lu: ?
After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore. Just as she was about to swallow her egg and ask what he was staring at, his low, quiet voice cut through the silence:
"What time will you be back?"
