Criticizing Love - Chapter 19 

Chapter 19

Early autumn, past five o’clock—the sun dropped behind the mountains in an instant.

The sunlight withdrew cleanly and decisively. Scattered lights flickered on, making the world seem even darker. A wind of unknown origin blew secretly, catching the leaves off guard and sending them rustling to the ground.

Buzz.

Following the sound of falling leaves, a notification chimed in the quiet room.

The phone screen lying on the desk suddenly lit up. It looked somewhat lonely; after cooling for a while without anyone checking it, it dimmed once more.

The tip of the pen continued to trace smooth characters on the paper; Gu Nianyin’s hand did not stop.

The young girl’s gaze was serious and unhurried. Only after she finished the final line did she pick up the phone and click into the notification.

It wasn’t anything important; Wang Tingxiu had just posted the class schedule for the National Day holiday in the group chat.

Tomorrow, the 10th and 11th graders would continue their sports meet, while the 12th graders would continue with classes.

Nancheng High School’s 12th-grade building was the furthest from the playground, so it wouldn’t be affected by the noise.

Moreover, regardless of when the national holidays fell, the 12th graders only got Sunday off. On Saturdays, they had two consecutive “double periods,” leaving very few rest days to be used for makeup holidays.

Thus, while the younger students enjoyed a seamless seven-day break from the sports meet into National Day, the 12th graders only had the three days mandated by national policy. The rest of the time was packed with Chinese, Math, English, Physics, Chemistry, and Biology.

Once the news broke, the group chat was filled with wails of despair.

Even though everyone had expected this, they still expressed that they couldn’t “be happy” for National Day anymore.

However, Gu Nianyin didn’t have such a strong obsession with holidays.

Her world had never known rest; it was the same everywhere. However, this arrangement meant she would inevitably have to request leave for next Saturday.

She had already planned the coming-of-age ceremony She Ning mentioned a few days ago. She Ning was very satisfied after reviewing it and had begun preparations.

After being mother and daughter for all these years, it was impossible for Gu Nianyin not to know what She Ning liked, or which choices would earn praise for her having the same “excellent taste” as her mother.

She would wear the most expensive, luxurious haute couture; she would play the piano at the ceremony; she would prove to everyone the excellence of the future heir of the Gu family.

A half-moon hung on the window frame, the moonlight outside barely providing any illumination.

The girl’s features were draped in a thin layer of indifference. The scenario she just imagined didn’t stir a single emotion; there was no joy to be found.

Gu Nianyin thought: If a butterfly’s wings overlapped, would they be just like the winding key on the back of a puppet?

As long as the key was wound tight, the puppet would move as programmed, and the butterfly could fly.

Even if it were already dead.

Gu Nianyin silently tucked this thought into her mind and flicked the scruffy pom-pom hanging from the backpack on her desk.

—It was the backpack Lin Xi had left on the field in her hurried departure, along with the charm attached to it.

The red light of the monitor in the room was still glowing. The girl kept her neck and shoulders straight, but her head was bowed.

Light fell along her thick, dense eyelashes, hiding the emotions in her pupils. One could only see her fingers tirelessly flicking the small ball, over and over again.

“What is your name?” Gu Nianyin asked softly.

Her voice was gentle, even fainter than the moonlight outside.

It was calm, yet somewhat lonely.

And the little ball was destined not to speak.

It could only sway its fluffy body, occasionally revealing a smiling face to Gu Nianyin as it spun.

The smile had been drawn on with a marker; the original expression was no longer visible, though a few black dots—remnants of the original features—were scattered beneath the smiling eyes.

They looked like a few small moles.

Growing wildly upon it.

At that thought, the finger that had been flicking suddenly pinched the swaying ball, her slightly curved knuckles distinct.

Gu Nianyin touched those small dots with her finger. Her expressionless face seemed to hold a flicker of something as she asked, “Will she give you a name?”

As the girl’s voice fell, the room returned to a long silence.

Gu Nianyin’s gaze lingered on the ball for a long time before she announced to it: “I will find out.”

The cries of despair in the group chat were still refreshing on the screen. When Gu Nianyin looked up again, she only glanced at them briefly before exiting.

She had entered the group chat through a lock-screen notification. Now that she had exited, a red notification bubble appeared at the bottom of the WeChat interface.

It was from the “Contacts” tab.

The daytime sports meet had made the top-tier students’ class stand out, especially with several first-place finishes.

Gu Nianyin had already attracted attention by dominating the rankings as soon as she transferred; after today, even more people grew bold enough to add her as a friend.

When she first got home, she had already ignored a batch. Opening it now, her expression remained unchanged.

Her dark eyes scanned the applicants’ avatars one by one. The moonlight falling from the window seemed even colder than before.

All useless…

The emotion in her eyes sank lower and lower, until it seemed to hit rock bottom.

Suddenly, the finger scrolling through the screen stopped.

Among the pile of seemingly warm and friendly friend requests, Gu Nianyin saw a line of text.

That text was icy, absorbing the heavy chill that had been layered in her eyes.

Actually, it wasn’t even a full line.

The applicant had specifically added a period. And before that period were just two words:

Lin Xi.

The person who had vanished for the whole afternoon—the person Zhong Sheng and Qin Zhuo were just worrying about in the group chat—had appeared before Gu Nianyin’s eyes.

Gu Nianyin’s gaze lingered on the name for a long time, but she wasn’t confused, nor was she surprised.

Calmly, as if it were the most ordinary thing, she pressed the only “Accept” button of the night.

Consequently, the same chat log appeared on two different phone screens.

The moon withdrew from the girl’s bedroom and fell flat across the hospital room crowded with monitors.

Lin Xi sat slumped on a simple cot, lacking any semblance of proper posture.

Xing Xiu had woken up and was lying in bed reading. Each did her own thing, undisturbed; the room was quiet.

But someone had something on her mind. Her fingers scrolled through her phone, constantly jumping between different apps and WeChat; she couldn’t even watch a short video for more than two seconds.

Finally, during one of her countless jumps back to WeChat, Gu Nianyin’s avatar appeared in her list. The entry point was the message she had sent earlier.

Lin Xi.

The frequent switching finally stopped. The phone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Lin Xi clicked into the chat interface. Beneath her words was a long line of small gray text—a friendly system reminder that they were now friends and could start chatting.

But what could she say to her?

Lin Xi looked at the line of text, her mood sinking as if weighed down by distress.

She had been so impatient with her before. If she suddenly became enthusiastic, would Gu Nianyin notice something?

That Lin Xi knew she liked girls, and was intentionally provoking her as a way to take revenge on Lin Deyuan.

And doing this… was it somewhat unethical?

Lin Xi never considered herself a “good person.”

At best, her temperament was wild and untameable; in reality, it was extremely poor—impulsive and irritable. In the past, she fought with Lin Deyuan every other day, wishing he would die, and had cursed him countless times, both openly and secretly.

Yet, even being like this, she occasionally craved love from the man called “father.”

In fact, it was precisely because this craving existed that she was hurt by Lin Deyuan time and again—by the stark contrast between good and bad treatment, by his patriarchal tyranny, and by the violent conflicts of their mutual verbal abuse.

The hatred was her; the malice was her.

The craving was also her.

She couldn’t even be a “bad person” purely.

Hesitant, wavering.

Emotions came from all directions, slowly entangling Lin Xi’s body and dragging her into a vortex of contradictions.

Her finger hovered over the text input box for a long while. She hated herself for having taken a step forward, only to suddenly play out a scene of “sudden conscience.”

“Cough, cough, cough…”

Just as Lin Xi was falling into an inescapable pit of thoughts, Xing Xiu’s coughing pulled her out.

Lin Xi suddenly looked up and saw Xing Xiu shaking from a violent coughing fit.

She was far too thin. The coughing racked her body, her loose clothes bunching up; it seemed as if only the fabric held her together, or she would have coughed herself apart.

“Mom.” Lin Xi stood up quickly and ran over.

In front of Xing Xiu, her strength was tiny.

The fearless girl reigned in her force, carefully patting Xing Xiu’s back to help her catch her breath.

Gradually, Lin Xi saw Xing Xiu calm down. She gently stroked her back and leaned in to ask, “Feeling better, Mom?”

Xing Xiu nodded: “Much better.”

She didn’t want Lin Xi to worry, so she gave the girl a slight smile.

But that seemingly light action required great effort; her curled lips were pale, and her expression held an undeniable exhaustion.

“Sorry for worrying you,” Xing Xiu said with forced lightness, patting Lin Xi’s hand.

She meant the coughing.

And also the sudden hemoptysis and fainting earlier.

Lin Xi understood; she wasn’t as thick-skinned as she appeared.

Because of this, she put on her usual smile to comfort Xing Xiu: “Mom, what are you saying? Isn’t that a bit too formal?”

“I only have Mom as my relative. Who else would I worry about? If I worried about people on the street, they’d call me crazy.”

Xing Xiu listened and was amused by Lin Xi’s last sentence.

She slowly raised her hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind the girl’s ear: “Good child.”

The words were gentle. Xing Xiu brushed against Lin Xi’s ear, leaving a trace of residual warmth from her fingertips.

Lin Xi sat sideways. At the words “good child,” a sudden electric current seemed to spark at her ear.

She paused, then looked up at Xing Xiu’s profile, asking with a clouded gaze: “Mom, what defines a good child?”

Hearing this, Xing Xiu gathered her spirits to think seriously before saying: “Actually, everyone’s definition of a ‘good child’ is different, but Xiao Xi will always be Mom’s good child.”

The look in Lin Xi’s eyes clouded further.

She sat behind Xing Xiu, her gaze fixed on her mother’s back: “Even if I make a mistake?”

Xing Xiu didn’t take it to heart, turning around with a smile to pinch Lin Xi’s cheek: “What kind of mistake could you possibly make? You’re just a kid.”

Lin Xi hadn’t expected Xing Xiu to turn around. The bright light hit her face directly, and she didn’t have time to hide her troubled expression.

Thus, Xing Xiu noticed that the child seemed to be bothered by something.

She immediately remembered how, when she first woke up, the child had announced with a “victor’s tone” that Lin Deyuan had sent money and would do so on time from now on.

Under the fluorescent light, Lin Xi’s proud head looked like a trophy plated in gold.

But Xing Xiu knew that the father and daughter didn’t get along, especially now that the marital bond was gone. Lin Xi’s visit today couldn’t have been as smooth and easy as she made it out to be. A big argument was inevitable; she just didn’t know if things had turned physical.

Xing Xiu always felt she was a burden to Lin Xi, yet she selfishly needed the child by her side to support her will to live.

She couldn’t imagine—and didn’t dare think—if Lin Xi had chosen Lin Deyuan back then, whether she would still be alive now.

Pity, affection.

And even more, a sense of heartache.

Xing Xiu’s features smoothed out as she reached out to gently hug her child: “Our Xiao Xi does many things for Mom. Mom understands everything.”

The smell of disinfectant was replaced by a more familiar, warm scent as Lin Xi was held by a force as light as smoke.

A thin skeletal frame pressed against her back through the fabric. It wasn’t soft like before, nor did it have its old strength, but she knew it was Xing Xiu’s temperature—a mother’s warmth.

It was love.

The only person in the world who loved her was enveloping her in that love.

Parched soil always pursues rain with frantic loss of control; Lin Xi was clearer than ever.

She could not lose this person.

Anyone who might cause her to lose this love deserved to die.

Lin Xi cherished and greedily felt this singular remaining love in her world.

Suddenly, she keenly felt the strength in Xing Xiu’s hug diminish.

In her peripheral vision, Xing Xiu’s brow was slightly furrowed—she was clearly uncomfortable but holding on.

Lin Xi immediately sat upright and supported Xing Xiu: “Mom, does your head hurt again?”

Xing Xiu shook her head while squeezing Lin Xi’s hand: “No, I’m just a bit tired.”

She was faking it.

How could Lin Xi not see through it? She got up from the bed and helped Xing Xiu lie down: “Stop reading for a bit. Lie down and close your eyes for a nap.”

Hearing this, Xing Xiu glanced at the clock on the wall and said to Lin Xi: “It’s late. You should go home soon. The sun sets early now; it’s not safe to go back too late.”

Lin Xi disagreed, sitting directly on the cot opposite the bed: “Mom, you sleep first.”

The girl’s stubbornness and assertiveness were fully visible under the light as she demanded: “I’ll leave once you’ve fallen asleep.”

Xing Xiu couldn’t win against Lin Xi, but she felt at peace with her stubbornness.

She closed her eyes and said: “Then Mom is sleeping.”

“Mhm,” Lin Xi replied softly, always responding to Xing Xiu’s words.

Before it was even late into the night, the room fell silent again.

Lin Xi sat on the cot watching Xing Xiu’s profile. The woman’s face was haggard, yet always gentle.

Her eyes were closed, but she occasionally let out a muffled cough—vibrations she suppressed in her throat until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Lin Xi knew Xing Xiu wouldn’t fall asleep so quickly. Closing her eyes now was just to help her speak less and think less, easing the headache.

Her body was now half blood and half medicine; she couldn’t afford to become more dependent on drugs.

On the nightstand, the book she hadn’t even half-finished lay quietly face down.

Xing Xiu loved to read. She wasn’t highly educated, but that didn’t stop her passion. In the past, she would pick a book from Lin Xi’s shelf whenever she had time and would share her reading reflections with Lin Xi every few days.

Now, Xing Xiu’s sharings happened at long intervals.

She didn’t say it, but the speed of her reading showed it: her spirit was weak, too many thoughts caused headaches, and her physical strength couldn’t keep up. She could no longer catch a moment and finish several pages at once.

She had plenty of time now.

Yet she still couldn’t do as she pleased.

Lin Xi felt heartache for Xing Xiu.

She felt injustice for her.

The scales in Lin Xi’s heart were swaying wildly—not from a struggle, but from an imbalance.

A storm raged inside her body; a churning black chaos stirred her world, and every gust of wind asked: Why?

Why could Lin Deyuan live a better life than her mother?

Why could Lin Deyuan get what he wanted?

Why could Lin Deyuan do such things without paying a price?

Why…

Xing Xiu said as long as it was for her, she could understand.

…Then, if she took revenge on Lin Deyuan, could she understand that too?

Lin Xi felt so despicable. She was forcibly aligning what she wanted to do with her mother’s words, using her mother’s love for her to make herself feel better.

But she couldn’t bear to watch Lin Deyuan have everything go smoothly.

In her youth and ignorance, pride was the glue between every one of Lin Xi’s bones.

She stubbornly believed that good is rewarded and evil punished, that the world must be fair.

She believed she could preside over good and evil.

Since the law couldn’t influence certain things, she would do it herself.

She wouldn’t let Lin Deyuan get what he wanted.

She would make that woman leave Lin Deyuan.

She would make Lin Deyuan reap what he sowed!

As if having made a decision, Lin Xi took her phone out of her pocket again.

Just as she was about to look for Gu Nianyin, Gu Nianyin had already sent her a message.

Gu Nianyin: Lin Xi, I brought your backpack from school.

Startled by this news, Lin Xi replied: Thanks.

The girl’s fingers hovered over the keyboard again.

She originally wanted to ask Gu Nianyin to bring it back for her tomorrow, since she had to go to school anyway. Besides, bringing the bag was Gu Nianyin’s own initiative.

Who asked for her help?

But then a thought pulled at her, replacing what she wanted to say with: Is it convenient for you to give me the bag now?

This was the first time Lin Xi had taken the initiative.

In the silent hospital room, she seemed to hear the sound of something starting to move—gears turning, heavy old parts clanking together, pushing something even larger into motion.

After sending the message, Lin Xi felt her hands turn cold.

Something in her chest was jumping and bumping in small bursts, making her uneasy.

Ten seconds, eleven seconds.

Fifty-nine seconds, sixty seconds…

Two minutes passed, and Lin Xi’s finger could no longer press the “Undo” button.

There was no turning back.

At that moment, Gu Nianyin’s reply came: Convenient.

She typed quickly, following up with: Where should we meet?

Lin Xi suggested: The school gate.

Hesitating for a second, she felt her words were a bit blunt and added: Is that okay?

Okay, Gu Nianyin agreed, her reply as concise as usual.

The phone, which hadn’t been locked since the first message arrived, remained lit in its owner’s hand, its plain screen reflecting a silhouette.

The young girl’s nose was high and elegant; below it, her lips were slightly pursed.

The moonlight was thin, yet her lips curled into a smile.

The autumn night carried a chill, and the wind swept up fallen leaves, covering the streets in desolation.

At this hour, there were no students or teachers at Nancheng High School. Only a bright lamp shone in front of the guardhouse, piercing the silence of the night.

No one could be seen in the patch of light. The old security guard was leisurely reading a newspaper.

Lin Xi’s name was written with bold strokes on the newly opened entry log, with a simple reason: Picking up bicycle.

The bike, nearly forgotten by its owner, was leaning against a wall outside the school. A figure could be faintly seen nearby.

Lin Xi hadn’t left; she stood in a shadowless spot waiting for Gu Nianyin.

She didn’t know what she was thinking, standing in such a place.

She was completely enveloped in darkness; unless one looked closely, it was impossible to tell someone was there.

The night was unlike summer; the wind blew through people, soaking them in cold.

Lin Xi was still wearing her sports uniform. Her thin body leaned against the rough wall. The sand and stones pressed against her bones, but she didn’t find it uncomfortable once she got used to it.

A soft breath escaped Lin Xi’s lips. She leaned back and looked left and right, thinking that a cigarette in her hand would fit the mood better right now.

But she didn’t like smoking.

Lin Xi hated the smell of tobacco clinging to her body, whereas Lin Deyuan loved to smoke. When she was little, she would try to gain a bit of his attention by taking the initiative to please him, enduring the nausea to open her arms and ask him to pick her up.

It seemed Lin Deyuan actually did it.

Those were their few years of peace—the little girl’s proactive attempts to please and compromise.

She saw others have it and thought she would surely have the same—a father’s…

Love.

Her somewhat dirty sneakers ground against the floor, stepping hard into the dirt several times.

Lin Xi remained silent, frowning at the memory.

Fatherly love was a thing stained with oil, smoke, and alcohol—something filthy.

In truth, she didn’t absolutely need that man’s love.

But she was too young then and didn’t know. She didn’t know that just because others had something, it didn’t mean she would too.

But when caught in the middle of a whirlpool, how could one pull back to see clearly?

Lin Xi bit her lip hard, then pulled out her phone.

As if to distract herself—or perhaps to focus her attention—she opened a search engine and began awkwardly searching for things she needed to understand before executing her plan.

How to pursue someone.

How to make someone fall in love.

After a series of searches, Lin Xi’s brow was deeply furrowed.

The results were all clichéd answers from years ago—some from 2009 or even a decade back.

True, who used Baidu these days…

Lin Xi looked at the answers, troubled and wavering, then clicked into the chat with Zhong Sheng. Driven by some impulse, she typed: Sheng, I have a question.

Zhong Sheng popped up instantly, as if she lived in WeChat: Your humble servant is here. Ask away, Milord.

Lin Xi was disgusted by the reply, but still typed out the question: How do you usually pursue people?

????

!!!!

Xi, you’ve finally seen the light!!!

Holy crap, who are you chasing??

The one from Class 12? She just asked me for your WeChat. Are you moving that fast?

Zhong Sheng literally jumped up from her bed, her fingers tapping the screen loudly as messages bombarded Lin Xi.

Lin Xi caught a key point in the barrage. She was wondering why someone had suddenly added her; Zhong Sheng had just outed herself. Her eyes narrowed: So you gave it to her.

Zhong Sheng’s typing stopped instantly.

Through the words Lin Xi sent, she seemed to see three other words: You are dead.

Consequently, she prostrated herself: I was wrong…

Lin Xi ignored her. Seeing she couldn’t get anything useful, she leaned against the wall and looked left and right down the road.

It was pitch black; no sign of anyone coming.

What the hell.

Didn’t they agree on nine o’clock?

Lin Xi frowned at the time, then swallowed her anger.

She was early.

After a while, the phone vibrated again.

The moment Lin Xi looked down, the auto-identifying screen flashed Zhong Sheng’s message: It couldn’t be the Goddess, could it?

Lin Xi shuddered, instinctively sending back the word: Scram.

Her despicableness couldn’t be told to anyone. Like a thief who couldn’t bear the light, she feared even a sliver of it being seen.

Lin Xi felt asking Zhong Sheng was a mistake and quickly dropped the subject: Forget it, pretend I didn’t ask today.

But Zhong Sheng wouldn’t have it.

She figured even if Lin Xi didn’t say it now, if she ever succeeded or used a tactic, she’d be able to tell!

This was called “playing the long game”!

Zhong Sheng let out a villainous laugh at her own cleverness and immediately tried to keep Lin Xi engaged: Don’t! I was just about to tell you!

To show her sincerity, Zhong Sheng didn’t wait for a reply and sent a voice message: You can start by using various small breaks to interact with them more. Like going to her class during break, getting water together, or walking together for a few minutes before the school run. At lunch, eat together.

As Lin Xi listened, Gu Nianyin’s image inexplicably surfaced in her mind.

She thought of standing side-by-side with her, the scent carried by the wind in the hallway.

It was a scent she still couldn’t quite describe—clear and light, like a floral fragrance, like a flower that only exists in summer…

The screen light faintly reflected the girl’s face; her brow furrowed: Does it have to be that frequent?

Zhong Sheng huffed, seriously correcting her: Please note: it’s not ‘frequent,’ it’s ‘coincidental.’

Isn’t there that saying? ‘Every coincidence you see is my careful design.’

Just give her the feeling of “How do we keep bumping into each other? We’re always seeing each other…” That kind of feeling, you get it? Like, “Wow, we actually ran into each other here!” Then she’ll start looking forward to when she might “accidentally” meet you again.

At this point, the dedicated teacher Zhong Sheng paused to ask: Understand?

Lin Xi didn’t really understand; in fact, there was a blank look in her eyes.

She had never pursued anyone. Even with her best friends, she hadn’t deliberately sought them out.

She seemed extroverted and passionate, but in reality, she wasn’t a proactive person. She was a fire, but only one that waited for others to approach.

Whether she would provide warmth or burn the other person depended entirely on their attitude.

The idea of “designed encounters” described by Zhong Sheng hit Lin Xi’s blind spot perfectly.

What was this?

…The Pavlov effect?

After you’re familiar, you can ask her out on the weekend. Not necessarily to play; we’re in 12th grade, so you can ask her to the library. You’re so smart, you can shamelessly show off your charm then.

Zhong Sheng continued, but her words drifted off-track: Xi, do you know? Every time you finish explaining a problem to me and ask if I understood, I think you’re so yasashii (gentle)~

If you were always this gentle, I guarantee your desk drawer would be full of love letters every day.

Lin Xi was naturally rebellious. Her ultimate goal was full of hostility; how could she be “gentle”? She pierced Zhong Sheng’s fantasy: Sorry, can’t do it.

I knew it. What a waste of that face,] Zhong Sheng complained flatly, even feeling a bit regretful.

But speaking of which, with a face like yours, I think a direct approach could work too. Do you know how many girls asked me if you liked girls when school first started…

Zhong Sheng stopped, as if suddenly remembering something, and asked Lin Xi: Xi, the person you want to chase is a girl, right? I don’t know how to chase guys!

Lin Xi glanced at Zhong Sheng’s reply. Not wanting to pull her into her plan, she gave a vague answer to her two statements: Duh.

Zhong Sheng was terrible at reading comprehension and scratched her head at the answer.

After thinking for a while, she decided to default to “girl.” After all, if someone like her bestie was going to ask, she’d ask a professional, and her expertise was limited to girls.

So it must be a girl!

And a stunning one at that, to turn her bestie!

At that thought, Zhong Sheng shuddered and sent an important reminder: Xi, if you’re really chasing a girl, I suggest you find out if she likes girls too before you start!

As if to emphasize the importance, Zhong Sheng added many exclamation points and used her own experience as an example: Don’t be like me, flirting for ages only to have them tell you they just want to be friends and they like guys when you finally confess. It really hurts, boohoo…

Straight girls—the pain of my life.

Zhong Sheng sounded devastated. Lin Xi remembered the three times Zhong Sheng had chased straight girls and felt a bit bad. She indulged Zhong Sheng by being “gentle” once and sent a head-pat emoji: It’s okay. Someone who isn’t straight will show up eventually.

Zhong Sheng was the type to push her luck: Xi, you know my heart was just gently broken by a “sister.” If you could tell me who you’re chasing, I think I’d recover instantly.

Lin Xi’s face turned cold again, all gentleness gone. She typed icily: You’d recover faster if you took the No. 37 bus to the last stop.

The last stop of the No. 37 was the Nancheng First Psychiatric Hospital.

Waaah, so sad. This world is so cold.

Even though I ran the 4×100 today, no one added me. Even Qin Zhuo, who’s already taken, had 10th-grade girls adding her.

But I still prefer the “older sister” type—the bright, elegant beauties. Too bad our school doesn’t have any of those.

Zhong Sheng started a long-winded rant.

Lin Xi was used to it; she knew Zhong Sheng just needed a place to vent and would be fine after talking to herself. She put the phone face down and leaned her head against the wall, looking up at the sky.

So, was her situation a bit better than the ones Zhong Sheng described?

At least she knew the other person liked girls.

“Heh.”

A soft laugh escaped Lin Xi’s lips—scornful and disdainful.

She was mocking herself.

Isn’t it the other way around?

You’re only messing with her because you know she likes girls.

You piece of trash.

Completely rotten.

The Mid-Autumn Festival had passed nearly half a month ago; a half-moon hung in the night sky.

There were few stars. Pitch black was the theme of the vast night, pressing down until it was hard to breathe.

Lin Xi slowly withdrew her gaze and turned her head to look down the side of the road.

She thought, if she still had a conscience, there was still time to leave.

The white light of the school gate was blinding, stretching out toward the direction Lin Xi would take.

Lin Xi looked along the light and saw a hem of a skirt where the light was about to fade.

Shadowy and flickering, it entered Lin Xi’s field of vision.

Even though it was just a figure with blurred outlines, potentially a passerby or a security guard changing shifts, Lin Xi recognized her instantly.

It was Gu Nianyin.

She couldn’t leave now.

Unlike Lin Xi, Gu Nianyin had already changed out of her uniform.

She wore a white dress with dense pleats at the hem. As the wind blew, the intricate layers folded like waves—dense and beautiful.

The night wind carried dust into the light, where it floated lightly, softening the harsh fluorescent glow that enveloped Gu Nianyin.

Lin Xi watched from afar—watching the light turn the girl’s hair into gold, watching her pace remain steady as she stepped out of the light and deliberately shed the shadows.

Stepping into the same darkness as Lin Xi.

Lin Xi couldn’t name the emotions in her heart; they were more chaotic than Gu Nianyin’s fluttering hair.

In her daze, she seemed to hear Gu Nianyin call her name: “Lin Xi.”

Lin Xi snapped back to reality.

Behind Gu Nianyin was the familiar smiling pom-pom, swaying as if saying hello.

It was the same bag, yet it looked messy when Lin Xi carried it and clean on Gu Nianyin.

The strap, which had been deliberately lengthened, slanted across the girl’s straight figure, pushing between two small mounds—like unripe fruit in summer, though it was now the harvest season of autumn.

Lin Xi found her association bizarre. She averted her eyes and simply reached out toward Gu Nianyin: “Give it to me.”

Gu Nianyin was calmly obedient, handing the bag over while saying: “I thought you might take leave, so I put the National Day homework assignments in your bag.”

Gu Nianyin was now standing right in front of Lin Xi. The act of handing over the bag brought her breath much closer.

The lukewarm air brushed against the fine fuzz on Lin Xi’s cheek. The backpack strap still carried the other girl’s body heat, making it strikingly noticeable in the cool night.

Lin Xi gripped the strap, her thumb brushing over it. Her eyes paused on Gu Nianyin’s words.

Zhong Sheng was careless; very few people looked after her so carefully.

Someone like Gu Nianyin had actually taken the initiative to pack her papers.

Whether it was the plan in action or her genuine thoughts, Lin Xi’s voice was softer than before as she said: “Thanks. But I’m going to school tomorrow.”

“Then I’ve overstepped,” Gu Nianyin said quietly.

“Not really,” Lin Xi countered.

The wind circled back. Two shadows stood in the dark night.

Having said this, they ran out of things to say. The surroundings were silent. The falling maple leaves stole the warmth; it was a desolate night, yet it didn’t feel unbearable.

Lin Xi noticed Gu Nianyin seemed to have come alone; Lin Deyuan’s Porsche Cayenne was nowhere to be seen.

Was that why she was a bit slower than expected?

“Then I…”

“Are you…”

They spoke at the same time. Surprise flickered in Lin Xi’s eyes as she looked at Gu Nianyin.

Gu Nianyin watched Lin Xi, her calm gaze seemingly telling her to go first.

Lin Xi didn’t care about the order. Since Gu Nianyin signaled her, she continued: “Did you come by yourself?”

“Mhm,” Gu Nianyin nodded.

“Then you…” Lin Xi paused. She remembered what Zhong Sheng had told her. Even though she had organized her thoughts, she still felt like someone using an electronic device with a manual for the first time. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

“No,” Gu Nianyin replied, more decisively than the one asking.

“…Want to go to the night market for a snack?” Lin Xi asked, pushing her bike with forced casualness, acting as she usually did. “My treat.”

The girl’s voice was as crisp as autumn leaves. The darkness hid her awkwardness well.

But Gu Nianyin stopped.

Her eyes traveled between the darkness and Lin Xi, watching her calmly.

As if she were contemplating something based on that sentence.

What was she thinking?

What could she be thinking?

Lin Xi was confused and felt the guilt of a thief.

But then, as if she had figured something out, she spoke with a hint of her usual tone: “You… haven’t been to a night market before, have you?”

It made sense. How could Gu Nianyin, the princess from the glass house in Zhucheng, descend to the mortal world?

Even the fruit she ate was expensive stuff carefully selected by Lin Deyuan; how could street food ever catch her eye?

There was a hint of disdain in Lin Xi’s heart, and a bit of pity.

But more than that, she felt she had found some sort of equilibrium.

Taking her to see a part of the world she had never seen before—that wasn’t unethical, was it?

People need to go out and see; the world isn’t just her glass house.

With that thought, the bike Lin Xi was holding suddenly wobbled.

A sliver of moonlight suddenly brightened, illuminating the girl’s side and pulling her thoughts back.

Gu Nianyin had already sat on the bike, leaning sideways to look at the owner.

Her dark hair and white dress framed a pair of eyes filled with a faint, smiling light, made clear by the moon. She curled her lips slightly and said to Lin Xi from the bike:

“So, are you confident you can be a good guide?”