The sense of intimacy and control brought by this posture was far more intense than a simple handshake.
His knuckles were firm, wedged tightly between her fingers; their skin pressed together without a hint of a gap. Wen Chu could even clearly feel every line on his palm and the continuous flow of body heat radiating from him. Being the first time Wen Chu had ever held someone’s hand like this, her blood seemed to rush straight to her cheeks and ears.
“Like this?” Xi Liye looked up and asked again.
“Mhm,” Wen Chu nodded.
Xi Liye said nothing more and raised his phone. In the lens, two hands were tightly intertwined. Under the dim light of the car cabin, it formed a picture thick with ambiguity.
Click.
The shutter sounded.
Xi Liye let go, bowing his head to operate his phone. He didn’t pull away hurriedly; as his fingers retreated, they brushed lightly against the gaps of her fingers—intentionally or not—leaving behind a trail of trembling numbness.
Wen Chu pulled her hand back almost instantly, hiding it behind her back. Her fingertips curled as if they could still feel his lingering warmth and touch.
It took several minutes before Xi Liye finally put his phone down. “Done.”
Wen Chu found it strange. “Why did it take you so long?” Logically, posting to Moments should be very fast.
“I just enabled the permissions for my Moments.”
Hearing this out of the blue, Wen Chu was stunned for a moment. Wait, are there actually university students nowadays who don’t look at Moments? Even in her past life as a shut-in, she had never closed hers; after all, a place where one could peek into others’ private lives was always quite attractive.
So, the male lead specifically enabled his Moments just to go official?
It was inexplicably funny.
As she let out a small laugh, she noticed Xi Liye was staring at her.
Wen Chu: “???”
“So, why haven’t you posted?” The man’s tone carried a hint of questioning, sounding exactly like her own tone from moments ago.
The air suddenly went still. The smile on Wen Chu’s face froze instantly.
“You just asked me if I had gone official on Moments, but actually, you haven’t either, have you?”
He… he was using her own logic to interrogate her?!
“Haha…” Wen Chu gave an awkward laugh. “I was going to. You just threw off my rhythm.”
The amusement in the depths of Xi Liye’s eyes deepened.
Wen Chu hurriedly saved the photo from Xi Liye’s post and followed suit by creating her own official announcement. Of course, her mother and other relatives absolutely had to be blocked from seeing it!
To stay in character as a “bratty princess,” she wrote a rather sappy caption: My deary boyfriend.
Sure enough, the moment she posted it, the notification bell went wild with likes and comments.
Xia Yaoyao: Ahhhh Chu Chu! You finally figured out how to post an official announcement?
Li Yue: Oh my god! This photo! The atmosphere! The size difference between your hands is insane! 999999999!
Zhou Rui: Senior Xi’s fingers are so long. You lucky girl, you really know how to pick ’em! 999999999!
And from other classmates:
Wow! It’s Senior Xi! Wen Chu, not bad!
Congrats on being off the market! A perfect match!
Wen Chu braced herself and replied to a few of her roommates’ comments with shy or playful emojis. She was starting to feel some regret. Damn it, the male lead suddenly agreed to go official so publicly. I can already imagine what the school forums will say after we break up.
Across from her, Xi Liye also took out his phone. He didn’t have many friends; most of the comments under his post were polite blessings, except for one person.
Qin Yu: WTF??
Qin Yu: You actually opened your Moments?
Qin Yu: Since when did you get a girlfriend?
Seeing that Xi Liye didn’t respond, Qin Yu went straight to a private chat. Since they were close, the messages chimed incessantly.
Qin Yu: Dude, is that really your girlfriend in the post?
Qin Yu: Wen Chu? The one from the lounge last time?
Qin Yu: Didn’t you say you were just dating her as part of that Truth or Dare game?
Qin Yu: Bro, what’s the situation? Is this for real?
Xi Liye picked up the ice water beside him and took a sip. His fingertips tapped lightly on the screen as he replied with just a few words:
Xi Liye: She’s quite cute, isn’t she.
Qin Yu’s side went silent for a few seconds before the message bombardment returned even more fiercely:
Qin Yu: …No one knows you better than I do.
Qin Yu: Bro, take my advice: rein it in. Wen Chu is a person. Don’t treat her like one of those cute little animals in your lab.
Qin Yu knew his friend well. When Xi Liye went “mad,” he wouldn’t even recognize his own father. Qin Yu was a medical student himself and knew how many times Xi Liye had seen a psychiatrist. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that Xi Liye had set his sights on Wen Chu.
Qin Yu: Truth be told, Wen Chu having you target her is eight lifetimes of bad luck.
Xi Liye shifted his gaze from the screen to Wen Chu beside him. Under the light of the phone screen, the silhouette of her profile looked soft, her eyelashes casting shallow shadows on her eyelids.
Bad luck?
He thought of her blustering anger, her constant clinginess, and her occasional spoiled behavior. The corner of his mouth curved upward in an almost imperceptible, tiny arc.
Who told Wen Chu to appear in front of me first?
He withdrew his gaze and looked down to reply to Qin Yu:
Xi Liye: Mind your own business.
Qin Yu: …
Qin Yu: I don’t want to mind your business. Just don’t end up killing anyone. I don’t want my best bro in jail.
Xi Liye stopped looking at Qin Yu’s subsequent complaints and put his phone on silent. By this time, Wen Chu had finally finished replying to the teasing in her dormitory group chat.
“Um, I’m getting out now.”
“Mhm,” Xi Liye hummed in response, watching her slightly hurried figure disappear into the school gates.
He opened Moments and gave a ‘Like’ to Wen Chu’s post captioned My deary boyfriend. He stared at that post for a long time, motionless. The light hitting his face through the car window made him look almost inhumanly still.
…………..
The Next Day
The day of the meeting with Lin Xiuyun finally arrived. These past few days, Wen Chu and Xi Liye had been eating together constantly, so she quickly sent him a message to let him know she couldn’t join him before following the GPS to the restaurant Uncle Pei had booked.
Upon arriving, she realized it wasn’t just Uncle Pei and Lin Xiuyun; there was also a man who looked a few years older than her—likely Uncle Pei’s son.
Currently, the young man sat beside Pei Jianguo, wearing a well-tailored deep gray casual suit with no tie, his shirt collar loosely open. He was slightly turned, listening to his father speak. His profile was sharp and cold, his nose bridge high, and his thin lips pressed slightly together. He exuded a steadiness that didn’t quite match his age, along with an unapproachable sense of aloofness.
Sensing Wen Chu’s gaze, the man looked up. Their eyes met.
Wen Chu felt as if she had seen this person somewhere before, but she couldn’t place him.
“Chu Chu is here! Sit, sit!”
Seeing her daughter, Lin Xiuyun immediately stood up, her face filled with uncontrollable joy mixed with a hint of nervousness. She had clearly dressed up for today, wearing a simple beige knit dress and light makeup, making her look much younger and more energetic than usual.
Pei Jianguo also stood up, a gentle and refined smile on his face. “Chu Chu, was there traffic? Come, have a seat.” He looked to be around fifty, elegant and well-maintained. The way he looked at Lin Xiuyun carried an obvious sense of cherished respect.
“Hello, Uncle Pei. Mom.” Wen Chu forced a natural smile and sat beside Lin Xiuyun. “The road was fine, no traffic.”
“This is Pei Ye, my son,” Pei Jianguo introduced with a smile. “Xiao Ye, this is your sister, Wen Chu.”
Wen Chu remembered the name now.
Pei Ye.
A name mentioned in the original novel. The only son of the Pei family, the undisputed heir to the Pei Corporation, known for his serious and cold personality. In the original book, he had some interaction with the female lead later on because of his admiration for her—he was a male supporting character with a modest amount of screen time.
Pei Ye looked up again, his gaze lingering on her face for an extra second this time. His voice remained flat and emotionless:
“Wen Chu. Hello.” He even skipped the title of “sister.”
“Hello,” Wen Chu responded politely.
For a moment, the atmosphere felt subtly stagnant. Lin Xiuyun hurried to smooth things over, asking Wen Chu about school, if she had eaten, and if she was staying warm. Pei Jianguo also joined in with a few questions about her studies, his tone gentle and his boundaries well-kept—expressing concern without being intrusive.