What kind of self-deluding, clueless brain could come up with the idea of blocking someone’s path to the cafeteria to confess?
Sui Mi gripped her chopsticks tightly, trying to struggle, quietly clarifying the things she’d said back in her chuunibyou days.
“No.”
“I was just annoyed at being interrupted during my meal, so I said that on purpose.”
It wasn’t the onlookers’ fault for believing her without hesitation.
In high school, the baby fat on Sui Mi’s face hadn’t faded yet—a soft round face, round eyes, with the corners of her eyes drooping innocently.
Her voice was soft and sweet, too.
Even when she spoke with a straight face, her lashes fluttering, she looked utterly sincere.
“And I said some other things after that, too.”
Qin Shuangshuang asked eagerly: “Like what?”
Sui Mi thought back. “Something like—suggesting he undertake a major operation to regrow himself from scratch and get taller, then go lie down on a freezing operating table, and finally drink a bowl of voice-silencing medicine so he’d never speak again.”
“That way, he could just barely manage not to pollute my eyes and ears.”
She nodded, her tone breezy and indifferent.
“He’d probably rarely met a spiritual mentor like me, so he was so happy his face turned red. He ran off excitedly, couldn’t wait—maybe he went off to prepare, following my advice.”
“……???”
Yu Qingxian had just picked up a chicken wing to give Sui Mi, and her chopsticks froze midair.
Wen Tian, always cool and aloof, rarely showed surprise, yet she stared at Sui Mi’s mouth for a few extra seconds.
Perhaps wondering how such a pretty mouth could deliver such “sincere” advice.
In the end it was Qin Shuangshuang who, after a few seconds of blank staring, sighed: “That f***ing… was him flushing red with anger and storming off!”
“Oh, so that’s how it was.”
Sui Mi put on a deliberately surprised expression, as if suddenly seeing the light.
“You should’ve said so earlier.”
“And here I was wondering why he never came to thank me!”
“Hahahaha!” Qin Shuangshuang, easily amused, had already collapsed laughing onto Wen Tian’s shoulder, tears nearly springing from the corners of her eyes.
Yu Qingxian, holding back her laughter, finally delivered the chicken wing steadily into Sui Mi’s bowl.
Seeing her cheeks puffed out as she sipped her milk, she asked casually: “Since that comment was fake, what kind of person do you actually like?”
“The Guan Teng type?”
Sui Mi gulped down her plain milk and carefully crafted an all-purpose answer.
“Depends on the eye contact and the feeling, I guess.”
Actually.
She wanted someone fierce, thrilling, dominantly in control.
In short.
The exact opposite of proper, rigid, quiet and distant Xi Jianbai.
The two long afternoon classes were sketching.
Class ended at five thirty.
Sui Mi had told her roommates in advance that she had plans that evening, and headed back to the dorm first.
The canvas bag she used for class was tossed carelessly onto a chair.
Standing at the sink, Sui Mi pumped out two blobs of hand soap, and as she lathered with fingers interlaced, the phone in her pocket rang.
It was the special ringtone set exclusively for family.
Sui Mi wasn’t in a hurry. She carefully rinsed off the last trace of foam, dried her damp fingertips on the hand towel, and only then took out her phone.
The moment the call connected, her father Pu Yu’s clear, laughing voice fell into her ear, calling her affectionately: “Manman, class over?”
In the background came the muffled clink of a clay pot lid, accompanied by the gurgling of porridge boiling.
Sui Mi could almost smell it—that fragrance of rice porridge simmered for hours, savory and piping hot.
Sure enough, Pu Yu’s next sentence was, “Dad just finished making a pot of seafood congee. I was planning to bring it to the company for your mom’s lunch later.”
“What are you planning to eat tonight? If you can’t think of anything, Dad can bring you a portion on the way.”
“If there’s something you want, Dad will just pack a little less, and you and your roommates can have a taste.”
Sui Mi couldn’t help dragging out her words. “On the way along which route, Dad?”
Sui Qingye’s company was in the north city business district, the Sui family’s house was in the southern villa district, and Jing University sat at the opposite corner of the triangle.
If you insisted on calling any route “on the way,” you could only say the Earth is round—any road could lead to a meeting.
Pu Yu laughed. “When it comes to my precious daughter, every road is on the way.”
Sui Mi’s lips curved, and she refused in a light, breezy tone. “I’d really love Dad’s cooking, but I have plans tonight. No such luck for me.”
Holding the phone to her ear with one hand, she used the other to slide open the closet door.
At a certain stage in life, people always start thinking their past selves were childish.
Like how middle schoolers look down on elementary schoolers, or high schoolers on middle schoolers.
Especially after starting work—looking back at your student days, it’s hard not to see yourself as naive and innocent.
This mindset carries over into how you dress, too.
Looking at your old clothes, every single piece seems juvenile.
Sui Mi flipped through the hanging clothes, hangers clinking softly against the rod and the top of the closet, and barely managed to find an outfit that looked passable.
She was just about to pull it out.
Pu Yu’s voice lifted, brimming with interest. “Picking out clothes? I thought you were going out to eat with your roommates?”
Sui Mi answered offhandedly, “No, I’m having dinner with Xi—”
No, wait.
Sui Mi clamped her mouth shut, hastily swallowing back a name.
This wasn’t her past life, where she could say Xi Jianbai’s name naturally.
Her parents would understand at once, smiling as they asked, “Should the driver take you later, or is Little Xi coming to pick you up?”
Sui Mi still remembered: the day before their first wedding anniversary, she had run home to mooch a feast cooked by Pu Yu’s own hands, then slept in until the sun was high.
Still groggy with sleep, she opened her bedroom door and looked down through the corridor railing into the living room below.
Xi Jianbai, who was supposed to be away on a business trip abroad, had come back at some unknown hour. Dressed in a crisp, stern suit, shoulders straight, he sat on the living room sofa, exchanging pleasantries with her parents in a formal, precise manner.
His ears were sharper than a hound’s.
The moment her door opened, he keenly lifted his gaze toward her.
Sui Mi, in her doll-collared pajamas, cheeks still bearing red creases from the pillow, round almond eyes dazed and blank, met her husband’s gaze.
Sui Qingye and Pu Yu looked up as well.
Pu Yu waved her over with a smile, his tone carrying a hint of a reminder. “Manman, how did you forget what day it is? You let Little Xi come home to an empty house, and you wouldn’t pick up when he called.”
“Good thing Little Xi is smart—he knew you’d be here.”
Sui Mi had genuinely been half-asleep. Bracing herself on the railing, she asked blankly, “What day is it?”
At that, even Sui Qingye couldn’t help shooting her a reproachful look.
Xi Jianbai gazed at her steadily, his light eyes quiet and deep, and said in a low voice, “Our first wedding anniversary.”
Sui Mi: “…”
Sui Mi rubbed her cheek and feigned composure. “Sorry. First time getting married. No experience.”
By the time she had changed and washed up and come downstairs, she happened to hear her parents saying politely, “We’ve spoiled Manman—she’s still got a child’s nature. Such an important day, and she ran home without even sending you a message.”
Polite pleasantries for show.
If she criticized her own child first, no one else could say anything.
Next, it should be Xi Jianbai’s turn to politely protest—no, no, Sui Mi is wonderful.
Sui Mi tilted her head, suddenly curious how Xi Jianbai would respond.
Then, she heard Xi Jianbai’s voice.
“No need.”
“This is her home, after all.”
He seemed to smile, a short breath of air in his voice.
Clear, calm, and utterly matter-of-fact.
“Coming back to your own home—no knocking, no announcing yourself.”