Lin Shuxue braced herself under the intense, burning gazes of the few people present and successfully added Zhuo Li as a friend on WeChat, just as she had hoped.
She let out a quiet sigh of relief in her heart; at the very least, she hadn’t failed Meng Shuyin’s request.
After completing the task, noticing that the atmosphere backstage had grown strangely eerie, she offered a polite, forced smile and took her leave first.
Zhuo Li gave a half-smile, nudged a certain someone whose gaze looked sharp enough to poke holes through him, and raised an eyebrow.
“Aren’t you going to see her out?”
Jiang Zong tilted his head to look at him askance. Relaxing his posture, he spoke in a leisurely, unhurried tone.
“She added you. Why should I go?”
Zhuo Li found it intriguing. It was a rare sight to see any girl provoke such an emotional ripple in Jiang Zong.
However, he didn’t press further, though the look he directed at Lin Shuxue’s departing figure remained deeply meaningful.
Upon returning to her dorm room, Lin Shuxue quickly sent a WeChat message to Zhuo Li to explain.
Lin Shuxue: Um, President Zhuo, it was actually my roommate who wanted your WeChat. She didn’t pass the interview for our Student Union, but she greatly admires the Student Union culture. May I push your contact information to her?
After sending the message, she sincerely admired her own ability to spin a lie.
But demanding someone’s WeChat to their face on behalf of someone else would have been too embarrassing for everyone involved, so she had no choice but to take this roundabout approach.
Lin Shuxue let out a soft sigh just as her phone screen flashed.
Zhuo Li’s reply came through.
Zhuo Li: Since I gave my WeChat to you, you can do whatever you like with it.
As Lin Shuxue forwarded the contact card to Meng Shuyin, her mind wandered back to Zhuo Li’s words.
Everyone always said that the Student Union President was stern, solemn, and ruthlessly strict. But looking at it now…
He actually seemed quite… understanding?
As expected, rumors were not to be trusted.
He Xicun was quick to notice that during the single weekend she had been away, a certain “BE” (Bad Ending) ship of hers seemed to show subtle signs of resurrection.
During their Modern History class, when the other two stepped into the classroom right in the nick of time, they discovered that next to Lin Shuxue’s seat by the wall, there was currently a head buried on the desk.
“Jiang Zong?” He Xicun mouthed exaggeratingly to Lin Shuxue.
Lin Shuxue nodded.
Meng Shuyin, on the other hand, rolled her eyes.
“Is he out of his mind?” she grumbled, her voice reduced to a low, breathless whisper. “Coming and going whenever he pleases. I have no idea what’s going on inside his head.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t get any reinforcement from her usual ally this time; she only saw the bright, smiling warmth in Lin Shuxue’s eyes.
He Xicun was rapidly scanning the two of them with an expression that conveyed a million thoughts a minute, her gaze loaded with deep meaning.
In reality, whether Jiang Zong came or not had absolutely no impact on their Modern History class.
Because this man had come entirely to catch up on his sleep. Throughout the entire lecture, he only raised his head during attendance and the exact moment the final bell rang.
The only difference his presence made was that wherever Jiang Zong sat, a massive crowd of girls would always find all sorts of excuses to flock around him.
Meng Shuyin pulled Lin Shuxue out of the crowd to make their escape.
Yet, just as Lin Shuxue turned to leave, the cornered Jiang Zong let out a low, muffled chuckle and spoke up.
“So heartless? Leaving me to die?”
His voice was very light, and though he didn’t state a name, Lin Shuxue inexplicably knew he was talking to her.
The young man before her looked heavy-eyed with sleep. He tilted his jaw up with casual indifference, leaning his broad shoulders and long arms against the desk by the wall, his dark eyes brimming with an elusive depth.
Lin Shuxue’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second. She turned her head and gave a perfunctory reply.
“I’ll owe you one this time. Definitely next time.”
With that, she walked away cold and heartless, leaving a trail of malicious stares and whispered rumors behind her.
This was likely the first time Jiang Zong had ever been brushed off with an excuse like “owing a favor.” Resting his knuckles against his jaw, his eyes crinkled into a smile as a delightful laugh escaped his throat.
His sheer charm left several of the bolder girls who had stepped up to ask for his WeChat utterly entranced.
“Should we really leave Senior Jiang Zong like that?” He Xicun asked anxiously on their way out.
Meng Shuyin replied crossly, “Why bother with him? It’s not like those people are going to eat him alive!”
He Xicun shut her mouth sheepishly, then quietly sidled over to Lin Shuxue’s side, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“So, have you two patched things up?”
Lin Shuxue pinched the bridge of her nose. How on earth did her plain, ordinary relationship with Jiang Zong sound so dramatic and full of ups and downs when it came out of He Xicun’s mouth?
Thus, she explained everything that had transpired over the weekend, offering a somewhat uncertain conclusion.
“It should count as… being a bit more familiar with each other than before, I suppose?”
Every Tuesday afternoon was designated as the university-wide activity day.
All standard classes were suspended, allowing individual departments to organize lectures or academic conferences.
On this particular afternoon, Lin Shuxue’s department had notified them well in advance that a renowned media studies professor from A University was coming to deliver a lecture.
The girls, carrying their notebooks and document folders, were rushing toward the lecture hall.
As they passed by the campus’s east gate, a white car pulled up by the curb. A woman with elegant, shoulder-length curls and an immaculate outfit stepped out.
“Look, look! I think that’s Professor Shu!” Meng Shuyin excitedly tugged at Lin Shuxue’s sleeve, pointing at the woman.
Lin Shuxue raised her eyes in confusion, her brows knitting together slightly.
Why does she look so familiar…
Seeing her silence, Meng Shuyin leaned in close to her ear to remind her, “That’s the professor giving us the lecture today! Wow, I didn’t expect her to look so elegant and classy!”
It finally dawned on Lin Shuxue; perhaps she had seen her photo on the promotional posters.
“And…” Meng Shuyin lowered her voice to a mysterious whisper, “She’s Jiang Zong’s mother!”
“—?”
Lin Shuxue’s pupils contracted instantly as her gaze locked onto the woman.
They looked completely different…
“How do you know that?” she asked, keeping the tumultuous confusion in her heart carefully hidden.
Meng Shuyin pulled up her phone screen like she was reciting a familiar treasure trove of facts. “She’s the matriarch of the Jiang Group! You can find it with a quick search on Baidu Baike!”
Lin Shuxue asked for clarification, “What was her name again?”
Without a second thought, Meng Shuyin replied, “Shu Yu! Professor Shu. Did you not read the message the counselor sent out properly?”
Lin Shuxue blinked her long lashes slowly, then shook her head firmly.
“No, she isn’t Jiang Zong’s mother.”
Now it was Meng Shuyin’s turn to be puzzled. “How would you know?”
For a moment, Lin Shuxue’s mind was in such a state of shock that she accidentally blurted out her internal thoughts. She had no choice but to avert her gaze from Meng Shuyin’s eyes, acting as if it were a casual observation.
“Don’t people always say that sons take after their mothers? I just feel like the two of them… don’t share any maternal resemblance.”
Meng Shuyin didn’t notice the unusual emotions hidden beneath Lin Shuxue’s downcast lashes and laughed.
“You can’t just rely on that. Maybe Jiang Zong takes after his father!”
Lin Shuxue didn’t argue further; she merely offered a faint smile.
Unfortunately, whatever Meng Shuyin said afterward went completely over her head. Her agitated mind couldn’t process the words, and she could only offer absent-minded responses here and there.
They walked toward the entrance of the lecture hall in this dazed manner when Lin Shuxue’s phone suddenly rang.
The abrupt sound snapped her back to reality.
When she saw the caller ID, her brows quirked up in confusion.
Meng Shuyin leaned over to take a look. “Pei Tianyang? Why is he calling you all of a sudden?”
Lin Shuxue shook her head and pressed answer.
Even without the speakerphone turned on, Pei Tianyang’s frantic voice practically burst through the earpiece.
“Sister Lin! Have you seen Jiang Zong?!”
Lin Shuxue grew even more perplexed. “Jiang Zong? Did something happen to him?”
Pei Tianyang was on the other end of the line, burning with anxiety. Calling Lin Shuxue was already his final resort when left with no other options. “Zhong Rong and I haven’t been able to contact him for over three hours! He isn’t at the lab either!”
Listening from the side, Meng Shuyin commented nonchalantly, “He’s a grown adult, what could possibly happen? His phone is probably just on silent and he didn’t hear it.”
Pei Tianyang was anxious enough to be described as furious with worry. Resorting to calling Lin Shuxue was a desperate move, born from a gut feeling that his Boss Jiang treated her differently, he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but…
Thus, he dropped his volume, pleading in a tone that ensured only she could hear clearly through the receiver.
“These past few days… the circumstances are a bit special. In short, I’m terrified something might happen to him. Sister Lin, if you’re free, could you please help me try to contact him?”
Sensing the sudden shift in his tone, Lin Shuxue knew the matter was grave and immediately agreed.
“Alright, I’ll try to reach him.”
She scrolled through her contact list to find Jiang Zong, intending to try her luck with a WeChat voice call.
Her gaze lingered on his blurry avatar, which looked like a close-up corner of some object.
Lin Shuxue narrowed her eyes. Not far off, a pleasant piece of classical music began to play inside the lecture hall, signaling to the students that the lecture was about to commence.
In that fleeting second, she felt as though a deeply familiar memory was breaking free from its cage.
“Are you really going to help him look? We have no special ties to Jiang Zong, how are we supposed to find a missing person?” Meng Shuyin spoke softly, seeing Lin Shuxue deep in hesitant thought.
Yet, a specific scene flashed vividly across Lin Shuxue’s mind.
She snapped her head around. “I think I know a place.”
“Huh?” Meng Shuyin was shocked. “You’re actually going to look for him?”
Lin Shuxue nodded. “I’ll go try my luck.”
With that, she turned to leave.
Meng Shuyin shouted at her retreating back, “Hey! But the lecture is about to start! This counts toward our academic credit!”
Lin Shuxue waved her hand without turning back. “Help me sign in! I’ll be back soon.”
Passing through the fading wisteria trellises and rounding a semi-enclosed staircase, Lin Shuxue walked onto the second-floor terrace of the Activity Center.
Ever since she had gotten lost last time, she had learned her lesson. She had spent two days studying the campus map and thoroughly memorizing the layout of the various routes.
The map’s labels were extremely accurate; it hadn’t even omitted the room tucked away in a small corner just past the row of individual piano rooms on the second-floor terrace.
It was just that very few people ever came up here to begin with, let alone chose to go out of their way to the furthest room in the corner to practice piano.
The only reason Lin Shuxue had noticed it was because of its room number.
It was identical to the house number of the flower shop Jiang Zong’s mother used to run years ago.
She had finally reconstructed the ultimate meaning behind that blurry avatar from her distant memories, remembering that inside that fragrant shop owned by the sweet, soft-spoken woman, a white piano had once stood.
Lin Shuxue walked up to the door of Piano Room 126 and tentatively turned the doorknob.
It wasn’t locked.
Without wasting another second to think, she pushed it straight open.
Inside the room, she caught the flash of a sharp blade in the occupant’s hand.
“Jiang Zong!”
The young man, usually so lazy and unbothered, had a flash of sheer panic cross his eyes. He frantically tried to find something to hide what he was doing.
Naturally, the tone that left his mouth wasn’t very pleasant.
“What the hell are you doing here?!”
Lin Shuxue, of course, hadn’t missed his frantic movements. She blinked her long lashes, ignoring the harshness in his tone, her face remaining entirely calm.
“I came to find you,” she replied gently.
Fortunately, Jiang Zong caught himself in time to fold and retract the utility knife, stowing it away. Along with his frantic panic, he smoothly reverted back to his usual composed, at-ease demeanor.
“Don’t you guys have a lecture?” He brought it up while feigning casualness, though the way his gaze swept back and forth betrayed the unrest in his heart. “Why did you come looking for me?”
Lin Shuxue answered evasively, shifting the subject. “You looked at our department’s schedule?”
Jiang Zong’s state just now had been terrifying. She couldn’t imagine what would have happened if she had arrived a step too late.
No wonder Pei Tianyang’s voice had been so frantic on the phone, vaguely mentioning that the situation was “special.”
Jiang Zong had no intention of allowing Lin Shuxue to dodge the question.
The piano room. The room number.
None of these were things Lin Shuxue should have known about.
To put it more bluntly…
Pei Tianyang hadn’t been able to find this place after searching for two years, yet she managed to track him down in such a short amount of time…
This was absolutely not something that could be written off as mere good luck.
“Why did you come looking for me?”
He reined in his drifted, scattered gaze, letting it fall quietly onto the girl before him.
His eyes were pitch-black and heavy, causing Lin Shuxue’s brow to twitch slightly.
She pondered for a brief moment, searching for the answer least likely to go wrong.
“…Because I like you.”
She spoke with complete candor. Within those deer-like, watery eyes, a thousand different emotions intertwined, yet they lacked the specific infatuation that Jiang Zong had seen a thousand times over—the kind he had grown thoroughly sick of seeing.
The piano room fell into dead silence.
After a long beat, Jiang Zong leaned against the edge of the piano bench and suddenly let out a low laugh. It was as if the sharp frost in his eyes had melted away. He casually extended one long leg while keeping the other bent, shifting half his weight onto the bench.
He slowly beckoned her over with his hand.
Lin Shuxue hesitated before taking two steps forward.
She had no idea that her current appearance in Jiang Zong’s eyes resembled a lamb willingly offering its neck to the slaughter.
He reached out, cupping her cheek, his thumb trailing over her pale lips with a pressure that was neither light nor heavy, carrying an ambiguous friction.
Jiang Zong’s thin lips parted, a trace of amusement lingering in his smile.
“You like this too?”
Lin Shuxue’s expression Pipeline stiffened for a fraction of a second before she nodded gently.
“I… I do.”
Jiang Zong’s Adam’s apple shifted imperceptibly. He reached out and forcefully pulled Lin Shuxue down by her waist.
Losing her balance, Lin Shuxue tumbled straight into his embrace.
He held her jaw firmly, his high nose bridge so close that their breaths practically mingled.
Amidst the sound of their ragged breathing though it was impossible to tell whose was, whose Lin Shuxue’s vision blurred as she watched him open his mouth.
“Then what about this? Do you like this too?”
Having said that, he leaned down, making a deliberate move to kiss her.