Chapter 2
At first, I barely knew Chen Qingsong.
I’d only heard his name from Xie Huai.
Xie Huai hated Chen Qingsong.
Because of Luo Min.
Xie Huai was pursuing Luo Min, our school beauty.
Luo Min was proud. It had taken Xie Huai a month to get her contact details.
Yet she treated Chen Qingsong differently.
She was gentle and attentive, always asking after him.
Chen Qingsong never responded.
That made Xie Huai feel humiliated.
“What a poser!” he called Chen Qingsong.
Chen Qingsong had transferred to our school less than a semester earlier.
My impression of him was of a handsome, quiet top student who kept a regular routine.
Who could have guessed this top student was secretly trying to kill himself at home!
Before our senses became linked, I’d exchanged fewer than ten sentences with him.
He always looked as though nothing in the world interested him.
“Whatever.” “Fine.” “Oh.” It was written all over his face.
So he never asked why I kept stopping him.
Never asked how I managed to find him so precisely every time.
My earnest attempts to persuade him to stay alive got no response either.
He called me Miss Xu every day. For all I knew, he didn’t even know my name.
“Got it. I’ll do it again anyway.” That was him all over.
My family was well-off and my parents loved each other. Perhaps not everything in my life had gone exactly as I wished, but it had certainly been smooth sailing.
Yet I had no idea how to persuade a classmate I barely knew to keep living.
Until I consulted Doubao.
How do you help someone regain their enthusiasm for life?
Doubao gave me a load of useless advice.
I asked it to sum everything up in two Chinese characters.
Doubao: Kiss him.
Me: “…”
And so, that day on the rooftop, I fell deep in thought.
Then I decided to put my faith in technology.
But surely a kiss needed some kind of lead-in.
I took a few steps to Chen Qingsong’s side.
“Chen Qingsong, I like you.”
Then I spread my arms and took another step, moving closer to the edge than he was.
My voice grew increasingly reckless. “Hold me and jump. We’ll go together. I’m willing to die for love.”
Chen Qingsong: “…”
At last, a crack appeared in his unchanging expression.
He brought the leg he’d put over the railing back inside and pulled me two steps away from the edge.
“Calm down.”
For the first time, he looked at me properly. His voice even took on a coaxing note.
Doubao had been right! It worked!
“Chen Qingsong.” My eyes lit up, and I grew more enthusiastic as I went on. “We don’t have to share a bed in life—we can share a grave in death. When you die, I’ll be buried with you.”
“The headstone can say, ‘Here lies Xu Dusui, late wife of Chen Qingsong.’ What do you think?”
Chen Qingsong: “…”
His expression became indescribable. Awkwardly avoiding the subject, he asked, “You like me? What do you like about me?”
I froze, at a loss for an answer.
What did I like about Chen Qingsong…
Because our senses were linked, I could feel what he was doing at any moment.
Chen Qingsong kept a regular routine, had no bad habits, and didn’t socialize outside it.
He was a good student and a good person. His teachers praised him, and despite his poor family background, he had ranked first in our year on his very first exam.
He didn’t say much, but I often saw him feeding the stray cats on the hill behind school. Once, when I hadn’t brought an umbrella, he lent me his.
There was nothing wrong with Chen Qingsong.
Precisely because he was good in every way, I couldn’t understand why he wanted to end his life.
I studied his handsome face. Perhaps I stared too long, because suspicion gradually crept into his gaze.
I snapped out of it.
When he opened his mouth as if to speak again, I panicked and kissed him.
Chen Qingsong’s lips were pale but surprisingly soft, with a faintly bitter mint taste.
I was so nervous and inexperienced that I bumped my nose against his.
His hands froze in midair. He wanted to push me away, but seemed unsure where he could touch me, and could only rest them lightly on my shoulders.
Ignoring that feeble resistance, I held him tighter.
My heart felt as if it might burst.
It was an unfamiliar sensation. I didn’t know whether it was his or mine.
Chen Qingsong smelled faintly of mint. It was wonderfully refreshing.
I didn’t know how to date.
But after so many novels and TV dramas, not to mention Xie Huai’s live demonstrations, romantic declarations came easily.
“Do I need a reason to like you?” I looked up at him. “Chen Qingsong, everything about you is good, so I like everything about you.”
—So please don’t give up on your life again.
The thought was painfully earnest. It was everything I felt.
He stared at me, a little bewildered, his eyes dark.
At last, a trace of life appeared in them that I didn’t usually see.
Then my already racing heart sped up again.