Up to this point, Lin Xing was in a very good mood.
His interaction with Chi Tong tonight had gone far better than he’d expected. At several moments, he even felt the two of them were like old friends, comfortable and relaxed.
After spending the day together, to Lin Xing, Chi Tong now felt more like “Chi Tong” than “Half Pool.” And Lin Xing also believed he’d taken a big step away from the high-risk minefield of “Seasonal Little Xingxing.”
Once he went back and registered a new account, he could completely draw a line between himself and his old identity.
Just thinking about it made Lin Xing want to smile.
If his school didn’t forbid students from returning late at night, and if the subway ride weren’t over forty minutes long, Lin Xing wouldn’t have wanted to say goodbye at all.
They arrived at the subway station where they’d met earlier. Lin Xing saw the little flower-selling girl from before still wandering not far away, looking for customers. Their eyes met halfway, and the girl started to lift her eyebrows as if about to run over, but the moment she saw Chi Tong, she changed direction mid-step and ran off instead.
Strange kid.
Lin Xing glanced at the time—9:30.
“I’m going to catch the subway now,” Lin Xing said, pointing behind him toward the station, but his feet stayed planted where they were, reluctant to leave. His fingers slowly crept toward his backpack, as if wanting to take out the small bouquet of baby’s breath inside.
Before he could, Chi Tong interrupted his farewell.
“I’ll take you back. My car isn’t parked far from here.”
A pleasant surprise, this meant Lin Xing could spend at least another half hour alone with him in a more private space. Lin Xing’s expression brightened instantly, his happiness plain on his face.
Still, he asked first, “Is it on the way?”
He told Chi Tong the address of his campus.
If it was in the opposite direction from where Chi Tong was headed, it might mean an extra hour of driving late at night, which would be exhausting. But if he passed up the chance to be driven back by Chi Tong over that, Lin Xing would also regret it deeply.
Chi Tong looked at his conflicted expression and felt a little like laughing, but kept a straight face and lied without so much as a flicker. “It’s on the way.”
The seatbelt clicked into place. Lin Xing was in a good mood, looking out the window at the street scenery as the car passed through the bustling city center. Traffic flowed constantly, and the streets were brightly lit.
“There seems to be a really scary haunted house around here,” Lin Xing said, thinking about their next date spot, when his phone suddenly rang. Only then did he realize he hadn’t checked it in quite a while.
There were several WeChat notifications at the top of the screen, some from his parents, some from his dorm group chat. The most recent was from Jiajia.
Lin Xing replied to them in order. Jiajia’s message was the latest, so he checked hers last.
Her latest message was a fierce-looking emoji. Scrolling up, Lin Xing saw that she’d earlier asked if he wanted to play games, which he hadn’t answered because he’d been busy taking photos.
Lin Xing picked a “sorry” emoji and sent it over. Jiajia replied almost instantly.
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: 【cursing】【cursing】So you finally decided to reply?!
Xingxing the Noob: 【cat peeking】I was taking photos at the night market earlier and forgot to check my phone.
He even picked a few photos from his album and sent them over.
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: Damn, poisoning me late at night! I’m going to kill you!
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: But your photography skills have really improved.
Lin Xing had been waiting for her to notice that so he could show off.
Xingxing the Noob: I didn’t take them myself—Half Pool took them for me.
Xingxing the Noob: 【smug pig】
Lin Xing stared at the smug little pig emoji he’d sent and felt it matched his current mood perfectly.
But beneath that happiness, there was also a faint sense that something was off, which he hadn’t yet noticed.
He turned and asked Chi Tong, “Are you afraid of ghosts?”
If Chi Tong said yes, Lin Xing would brag that he was basically a ghost-exorcism master. If he said no, then Lin Xing could act curious yet slightly teasing about ghosts.
“Do you mean ghosts as in incorporeal spiritual entities, or the actors in a haunted house?” Chi Tong’s counter-question left Lin Xing momentarily speechless.
But before Lin Xing could think it through, he noticed something even more alarming than ghosts, forcing him to break off the conversation.
“Hold on a second, I need to reply to a WeChat message.”
On WeChat, Jiajia was still spamming messages, since Lin Xing still hadn’t replied.
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: So you pick beauty over friendship! I see right through you.
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: Does this count as your first date today? Come on, tell me everything!
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: ? Where’d you go again?
Jiajia Eats Watermelon: Don’t tell me you’ve already sped all the way to kissing?
Of course, Lin Xing wasn’t in any position to be passionately kissing Chi Tong at this moment. He was staring at his chat history with Jiajia, scrolling back up to the first two messages she’d sent earlier that night, noting the timestamps, then switching to his photo album to compare them with several pictures.
He felt as if the sky had struck him with five bolts of lightning [1]utterly thunderstruck jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2795327_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2795327_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });. It seemed that when Jiajia sent those messages, his phone had been in Chi Tong’s hands.
In that instant, it felt as if a demon had reached out from the void and gripped his heart directly, trying to pull it out of his chest. His heart, however, was pounding wildly and refusing to leave, curling up in panic and resisting with all its strength.
Lin Xing’s head rested against the seatback, as if he were sinking endlessly into nothingness, feeling like he could hardly breathe.
From the corner of his eye, Chi Tong noticed Lin Xing’s pale profile. He turned slightly and asked, “Is it uncomfortable sitting like that?”
Snapped back to attention, Lin Xing straightened up immediately. “No, no, it’s very comfortable.” He scratched his cheek, pretending to rub his eye to hide his guilt.
Right now, all Lin Xing could think about was the possibility that he’d been exposed. He had no capacity for anything else.
But he hadn’t even finished the conversation with Jiajia earlier, hadn’t gotten to the important part. Jiajia’s curiosity had been thoroughly hooked, and since Lin Xing hadn’t replied for the entire first half of the evening, she felt it was perfectly reasonable to push him a bit. So she went ahead and made a voice call.
The sudden ringing in the quiet car sounded like a ticking time bomb. The caller ID and avatar lit up on Lin Xing’s phone screen, so obvious that anyone in the driver’s seat could catch it with just a slight glance. He was so startled he nearly threw the phone on the floor and stomped on it.
Flustered, he quickly hung up the voice call, then looked up and met Chi Tong’s gaze.
“Is it a call you can’t answer right now?” Chi Tong asked. The calmer his tone, the more uneasy Lin Xing became.
“Mm, mm.” Lin Xing nodded vaguely, not even really answering properly.
His mind replayed everything that had happened after Jiajia sent the gaming invitation. It flashed through his thoughts like a montage, but in his actual memory, all he’d been focused on were cheese rice cakes and takoyaki, he hadn’t paid any attention at all to Chi Tong’s expressions.
So now, when he secretly observed Chi Tong from the side, he found he couldn’t detect anything unusual at all.
Damn cheese rice cakes! Damn takoyaki!
Lin Xing was this close to grabbing his own head in frustration.
But maybe he hadn’t noticed, right? Otherwise, why would he still be acting so natural?
Who would bother remembering the ID of someone who was basically a stranger, someone he’d only seen once on D? But what if that one incident had left such a deep impression on him that he could never forget it?
These two thoughts clashed in Lin Xing’s mind. The one thing he didn’t dare do was directly ask whether the other party had noticed.
If he had noticed, bringing it up would be awkward, if he hadn’t, then asking would be like confessing on his own. His fists tightened as he sank into overthinking. The packaged snacks he’d been holding for his roommates tilted and rolled off his lap with a dull thud, landing at his feet.
One mishap after another, as if even fate didn’t want him to stay calm.
He hurriedly picked up the boxes. Fortunately, there was nothing soupy inside, so nothing spilled in the car.
“Sorry, I didn’t have my legs positioned right.”
“It’s fine.” The long, slender fingers on the steering wheel flexed slightly from time to time.
Lin Xing hugged the takeout boxes like a pitiful little bundle.
After a few minutes of silence, rather than keep spiraling in fear, he decided to cautiously test the waters.
Imagination could be terrifying, but reality often wasn’t that dramatic.
He ran his wording through his head once, cleared his throat, and spoke: “You have so many fans. You probably get a ton of messages every day, right? I’ve seen people post screenshots of their inboxes, a lot of them are like 99+, impossible to read through.”
His fingers tightened around the paper bag, which made faint crinkling sounds. His voice was a little unsteady, but his posture stayed obediently composed.
“Ah, yeah.” The driver kept his eyes on the road ahead.
Lin Xing couldn’t see his expression or his eyes, which made every response feel like stepping on clouds, ready to drop at any moment.
“Do you usually check your private messages?” he asked carefully. He felt like he could barely breathe.
At the red light, the car stopped, and Chi Tong finally turned to face Lin Xing directly. He seemed mildly amused, as if waiting for what came next, but still didn’t answer.
That glance made Lin Xing even more nervous.
“A lot of people just talk nonsense online. It doesn’t really mean anything. I mean, those people don’t need attention. We should focus on real life. Only by meeting in person can you truly understand someone…”
Even Lin Xing didn’t know what he was saying anymore. The more he spoke, the more he felt like he was digging his own grave, his expression nearly collapsing.
Just before he completely lost it, the other person finally spoke, granting him relief.
“No. I don’t have the habit of checking private messages.”
References[+]