Sang Lu’s gaze had already shifted away from Feng Yan, now fixed intently on Xiaomei and Lu Sheng’s tightly clasped hands. Her eyes flickered between their faces in surprise.
“You? You two?…”
“Mhm!” Xiaomei beamed, taking the lead with cheerful confidence. “As you can see, we’re together now.”
Sang Lu: “Wow! Congrats!”
She never would’ve guessed these two old classmates would start dating after all these years!
Come to think of it… was she the matchmaker here?!
Her inner gossip-lover blazed to life.
Sang Lu couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “When did this happen? Spill the details, come on…”
Lu Sheng, slightly bashful, rubbed the back of his neck. “Last week.”
“Wow!” Sang Lu gasped again.
“Hehe~” Xiaomei giggled, leaning into Lu Sheng’s side.
The three of them chatted animatedly, their lively exchange making the already icy aura of a certain man beside them turn even frostier.
Xiaomei tilted her head up, smiling at the tall man next to Sang Lu. “President Feng, we meet again! You picked Sang Lu up at the restaurant last time—remember?”
Feng Yan’s attention had been locked onto the man opposite him. Caught off guard by the question, his cool eyes slid sideways, his voice indifferent. “Mn.”
Xiaomei’s expression froze, as if pricked by an icicle.
After a brief pause, she turned back to Sang Lu, shaking the bag in her hand. “We just came from the arcade. Lu Sheng’s amazing at claw machines—he won a whole bag of plushies.”
Sang Lu gave Lu Sheng a thumbs-up, about to say more, when a deep voice drifted down from above her.
“Isn’t our movie starting soon?”
Feng Yan reined in his sharpness, glancing lazily at her.
Meeting his gaze, Sang Lu: “?”
In just a second, she pinpointed the sudden, inexplicable dissonance in his tone.
Sang Lu: “…”
This man… couldn’t care less about movie times!
The emphasis wasn’t on the movie—it was on us.
Why was he suddenly acting like he was staking a claim?
How childish.
Sang Lu took a quiet breath, playing along without calling him out. “We’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Ah, then you should hurry! You still need to buy popcorn and hit the restroom,” Xiaomei said, well aware of the pre-movie rush. Twenty minutes might not even be enough. She looped her arm through Lu Sheng’s, smiling at Sang Lu. “Let’s catch up over dinner next time~”
Sang Lu nodded. “Yeah, next time!”
Once Xiaomei and Lu Sheng were gone, Sang Lu immediately tugged the sleeve of the man beside her, who looked utterly unbothered.
“You’re so petty.”
Feng Yan kept walking, silent.
Clearly not in the mood to argue.
His grip on her hand loosened, then slid to her waist, pulling her closer in a far more possessive hold.
As if answering through action: Yes, I am.
Sang Lu shut her eyes briefly: “…”
Unbelievable.
When she opened them again, she pressed her lips together, deciding this man with a needle-sized heart needed a proper talking-to.
She tilted her head up.
Staring at his unfairly handsome face even from this unflattering angle, she spoke slowly.
“I think you should do some self-reflection.”
Feng Yan lowered his gaze, brow quirking. “Reflect?”
“Xiaomei was just trying to greet you, and you froze her out. She had to switch to talking to me—didn’t you notice how awkward it got?”
Feng Yan’s frown deepened.
Silence.
Sang Lu watched him, assuming he was actually reflecting.
She walked quietly, waiting.
Then, abruptly, his eyes snapped back to her. “You should reflect too.”
“Huh?” Sang Lu blinked.
What did she need to reflect on?
Her attitude had been perfectly fine.
Sang Lu: “What’s there for me to reflect on?”
Feng Yan’s gaze bore into hers, his cool features sharp with something like accusation.
“You’ve never called me that.”
Sang Lu was lost. “Called you what?”
“A-Yan.”
Sang Lu: “…”
That’s what he was thinking about this whole time?!
So when Xiaomei greeted him, all he heard was how intimately she addressed her boyfriend?!
Sang Lu inhaled slowly: “…”
After a long pause, she shook her head with a sigh.
“We’re not on the same wavelength.”
……
That night.
Fresh out of the shower, Sang Lu barely had time to react before a pair of sharp eyes locked onto her—then a hand yanked her forward.
“Where’s the disconnect? Keep talking.”
His words said one thing, but in the next second, Feng Yan cupped the back of her head and crushed his lips to hers.
Already lightheaded from the hot shower, the dizzying clash of breaths made her head spin harder.
Sang Lu’s legs wobbled.
A pair of large hands circled her waist, lifting her effortlessly.
His arms held her firmly as his gaze darkened, pressing down on her.
“What do you call me?”
Trapped under his overwhelming stare, Sang Lu felt utterly at his mercy.
It was as if, if she didn’t comply, he’d pin her to the wall like a nail.
She’d learned the hard way just how relentless his strength—and stamina—could be. Sometimes, surrender was the smarter move.
Sang Lu’s eyes curved sweetly as she parted her lips.
“A-Yan~”
A dark glint flickered in the man's eyes, his voice trembling slightly, rough with emotion:
"Say it again."
"Ah Yan~"
"Mhm, I'm here."
He pressed her against his chest, cradling her back with tender reverence.
Holding her like this, he leaned back against the headboard.
Sang Lu's wrist was suddenly grasped, guided to his waist.
His voice was low, thick with desire:
"Hold on tight."
Sang Lu: "!"
It suddenly reminded her of that time at the 4S shop when he’d taken her for a ride on his motorcycle—he’d said the exact same thing then.
She could still vaguely recall the sensation of that ride.
One stretch of the road had been bumpy, jolting them relentlessly.
As for whether the rest of the path had been smooth, she couldn’t remember—nor had she been able to see.
Her vision had blurred, eyes glazed with moisture, damp and overflowing.
......
The wind whistled past her ears.
The pages of a calendar fluttered wildly, flipping through countless days.
......
Nightfall.
Sang Lu stepped out of the studio after finishing overtime.
The streets were quiet, tree shadows swaying gently.
The breeze carried a faint sweetness.
There, standing tall like a pine in the darkness, was Feng Yan, the starlight sprawling behind him, his coolly handsome face enough to make her heart tremble.
Their gazes met.
The cicadas in the trees erupted into a chorus, loud and insistent.
A thousand swings seemed to sway wildly in Sang Lu’s chest. Her eyes curved into crescents, as if she could smell the very particles of joy in the air.
With a bright smile, she dashed toward the man waiting for her under the streetlamp.
The wind and cicadas mingled in her ears—a quiet yet noisy symphony.
Feng Yan took her canvas bag from her without a word, ruffling her hair affectionately.
Looking at her beaming face, even the night seemed to brighten into endless clarity.
Sang Lu looped her arm through Feng Yan’s, her voice sweet and lively as she chattered about the amusing incidents at work that day.
The man glanced down, his usually aloof gaze softened entirely.
Tiny insects flitted around the streetlight, their silhouettes dancing. The bright-colored dress and his black shirt brushed against each other.
Their shadows, too, stood side by side, stretched long and longer by the amber glow.
"What do you want for supper tonight? Oden again?"
"‘Again’? Hey, are you complaining about me?"
"No, just reminding you—it’s been three days straight."
"Today’s different~"
"How so?"
"That black shirt you’re wearing reminds me of seaweed knots. It’s making me crave them, what can I do?"
Feng Yan chuckled, unable to argue.
After all, yesterday, her reason for wanting oden had been that his black T-shirt looked like shiitake mushrooms.
"What’s so funny?" Her sugary voice feigned indignation with an exaggerated "Hah!" "Pretty sure someone said ‘no, no’ yesterday but ended up eating four or five skewers anyway."
"Because you ordered too much."
"Okay, okay, my fault then~"
Their figures and banter gradually melted into the night.
Just another ordinary day in the long, uncharted stretch of life that still lay ahead of them...
