Chapter 3

I waited outside Chen Qingsong’s building until he appeared.

He was wearing clothes for lounging at home, and looked down at me helplessly.

“I won’t do that again,” he said. “You don’t have to keep…every day…”

I was so happy I nearly started humming.

He’d said he wouldn’t kill himself!

I looked at him innocently. “Keep doing what every day?”

He pressed his lips together.

After a long while, he managed, “Don’t say things about dying for love so lightly.”

“But if you die,” I said sincerely, “I don’t think I can survive either.”

Chen Qingsong: “…”

“It’s fine if you don’t like me,” I added. “I can pursue you!”

I was quite confident about that.

Pursuing Chen Qingsong was definitely a very sensible strategy right now.

First, I could follow him every day with a legitimate excuse, without worrying about being exposed as a stalker.

Second, I could be nice to him without reservation. With “liking him” as my reason, it all made sense.

Third, I could stay close enough to help him get over whatever troubled him, solving the threat to my own life once and for all.

Doubao was a genius!

“There’s nothing special about me,” Chen Qingsong finally said. “We’re completely different people too. You’re the Xu family’s daughter…”

“You look down on me,” I interrupted.

Chen Qingsong faltered for two seconds. “I don’t.”

“Then why are you questioning my taste?” I suddenly noticed our bodyguard watching intently from not far away, so I blocked Chen Qingsong’s path and rose slightly on tiptoe.

He must have thought I was going to kiss him, because he instinctively turned his face aside.

But I only wanted to whisper in his ear.

As he moved, my lips brushed his earlobe.

That patch of skin grew burning hot.

I paid it no mind. Like a thief, I whispered, “Chen Qingsong, can I sleep at your place tonight?”

I could have invited him to mine instead.

But I wanted to know more about Chen Qingsong.

I was afraid he’d secretly die on me again.

I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days.

I kept worrying that he’d suddenly take out a rope in the middle of the night and end his life.

Chen Qingsong went rigid.

The earlobe I’d touched flushed red.

Then, without a word, he fled.

For once, I slept well.

Chen Qingsong was different that night. He seemed to spend all his time sitting somewhere, contemplating life.

He wasn’t studying or doing housework, and certainly wasn’t trying to hurt himself.

Still, I wasn’t entirely reassured, so I opened WeChat and found my one pinned chat.

Chen Qingsong’s username was Time, and his profile picture was a clock.

I messaged him: “Chen Qingsong, what are you doing?”

His reply was rather slow. Perhaps he hadn’t seen it.

“Getting ready for bed.”

“If you’re not busy, can we video call?”

This time, he replied very quickly. “No.”

I made a reasonable case. “But if I don’t see you, I’ll worry about you.”

“I won’t. I already promised you.” He sounded a little helpless. “See you tomorrow.”

“Then can I tell people about our relationship?”

I’d been sneaking around all this time.

Being a stalker wasn’t very dignified, after all.

Chen Qingsong: “…”

Chen Qingsong: “What relationship do we even have…”

Message recalled.

Chen Qingsong: “Whatever you like.”

I left the chat feeling thoroughly satisfied, only to discover that Xie Huai had sent me lots of messages.

I skimmed them.

He’d said some things I didn’t really understand.

“What you’re hoping for is impossible.” “Don’t get any ideas.” “Don’t let people misunderstand.” “These little games aren’t funny”…

I was utterly confused.

Honestly.

Xie Huai’s hot-and-cold behavior baffled me.

Some of the things he occasionally asked me to help with made me uncomfortable, and I often chose to pretend I hadn’t heard.

But we’d been childhood friends for more than a decade. As he slowly became a stranger, I’d been sad and tried to win him back.

Until Chen Qingsong arrived.

What could possibly matter more than someone’s life!

If Xie Huai hadn’t come to ask me to help him pursue Luo Min today, I might have forgotten I was still trying to repair our friendship…

Xie Huai’s last messages were:

“Don’t come pick me up in the mornings anymore. Or in the evenings.”

“Talk to me less at school too. I don’t want Luo Min getting the wrong idea.”

I obediently replied, “Okay.”

Maybe.

Probably.

Some friends simply drifted apart.

I’d been hurt. I’d tried. I’d fought for it.

Even though I’d failed in the end, I didn’t care as much anymore.