Jiang Zong spoke very softly, yet in the utterly quiet environment of the library, every single word fell into Lin Shuxue’s ears without missing a beat.
This included the casually upturned cadence customary to his words.
Lin Shuxue finally understood exactly where the “Zong” in Jiang Zong’s name, meaning unbridled or indulgent came from. She could have anticipated ten thousand sentences, yet none of them could have matched the sheer destructive power brought by his current teasing remark.
Unfortunately, the library was silent, and making even a slight disturbance would attract countless pairs of eyes, leaving Lin Shuxue with no choice but to glare at him with indignation.
She heard a few chuckles rumble from the man’s chest as he lowered his head to tap away on his smartphone screen.
The very next second, her WeChat popped up with a new message.
Jz: [Otherwise, how could we be so destined to cross paths twice in a single day?]
Lin Shuxue replied helplessly.
[I reserved a seat at random. This spot happens to be the closest to the humanities book section]
Believing her explanation was well-founded and reasonable, she put down her phone and focused her attention entirely on reading the copy of Selected Criticisms on News Reporting she had just checked out.
Whether it was because he actually knew he was in the wrong or because he simply hadn’t looked at his device after sending the message, after Lin Shuxue’s reply went through, his phone screen never lit up again. The person across the table kept his head lowered the entire time.
Jiang Zong turned the pages at a very rapid pace. The crisp rustling sound of pages flipping never stopped by Lin Shuxue’s ears, and his right hand recorded things at high speed on a blank sheet of paper.
After about ten minutes had passed, Lin Shuxue felt Jiang Zong stand up out of her peripheral vision.
She lifted her eyes out of curiosity, only to see him picking up his phone along with the sheet of paper he had just used for recording and stepping away, leaving only an open book resting on the table surface.
Administrators always loved to put on superficial displays in trivial matters, and Hua’an University was no exception. While they ignored the old, paint-peeling desks and chairs in the main teaching building, they somehow had the budget to burn aromatherapy incense inside the library restrooms.
Jiang Zong wasn’t used to this scent, and he couldn’t help but knit his brows the moment he stepped inside.
Leaning against the sink, he dialed a number.
The other side picked up within a split second.
“The introduction related to that definition you were looking for, I’ve recorded it in full for you.”
His voice was lazy, his eyelids half-closed as the overhead lighting of the restroom cast a circular shadow beneath his eyes.
The person on the other end of the line was overflowing with gratitude: “I knew Master Jiang was the only one who could get this done!”
Jiang Zong wasn’t buying this kind of verbal praise: “Don’t forget what you promised. Every single member of your department must participate in the sports meet.”
The other party naturally parroted a series of obsequious agreements: “Absolutely, absolutely! As long as Master Jiang needs it, our Academic Department’s three thousand foot soldiers are ready to act as your vanguard!”
Jiang Zong was quite satisfied, a humph escaping his nose.
“Sending it to you right away,” he said in a pleasant tone, not forgetting to add darkly, “If you interrupt my lab data collection to run out and do this kind of garbage task next time, it won’t be this simple.”
The other party carried the art of flattery to its absolute peak: “Understood, Master Jiang!”
Jiang Zong hung up the phone and took a photo of the records to transmit to the other side.
He had originally scheduled to run through three sets of experimental data with the project team tonight. However, he had been called out by this person’s phone call to locate a written explanation for an obscure definition for his National Undergraduate Innovative Training Program competition.
Glancing at the time on his phone, he had already wasted nearly forty minutes amidst this pile of economic principles.
He rubbed his aching eyes and briefly stretched his stiff neck and spine.
Only then did he notice Lin Shuxue’s reply.
When he entered the laboratory earlier, all software notifications had been muted. Coupled with his rush to get back to the lab, he hadn’t checked his phone again after sending that message.
Seeing the girl’s innocent and solemn explanation now, his mind could seemingly automatically replay the soft, gentle cadence of her voice when saying those words.
Without even noticing it himself, the smile at the corner of his mouth remained plastered on his face by the time he returned to his seat.
The figure of the girl buried over her desk entered his line of sight.
Lin Shuxue’s profile was very beautiful. Beneath her curled eyelashes rested a pair of crystal-clear pupils, her nose bridge was high and elegant, and half of her dark hair cascaded over the tabletop, making her appear quiet and well-behaved.
She sat with an upright posture, her spine straight as a rod, entirely different from his loose, spineless slouch. It was the textbook posture of a “good student.”
Jiang Zong felt as if he were looking back at their high school days, seeing the way Lin Shuxue sat inside the classroom listening to the teacher’s lecture.
The smile beside his lips deepened further.
Vaguely sensing that someone’s gaze had been lingering on her for a long time, Lin Shuxue instinctively raised her head, locking eyes directly with Jiang Zong’s smiling gaze.
She revealed a bewildered expression.
Just as Jiang Zong opened his lips to speak,
Suddenly, a very faint click sound echoed out.
The very next second, the vision before their eyes plunged into sudden darkness, turning pitch black.
The voices of other students rising in a chaotic jumble of discussions echoed through the hall, and in an instant, the silent library turned noisy.
The power had gone out.
Everyone was stunned for only a few seconds before immediately reacting, pulling out their phones one after another to turn on their flashlights.
Faint beams of light lit up in succession across the dark venue.
Lin Shuxue hurriedly turned on her own flashlight, yet she noticed there was lingering inaction on Jiang Zong’s side.
Frowning, she directed her beam of light over, only to see Jiang Zong propping one hand against the tabletop with his head lowered. He was panting rapidly, his trembling eyelids resembling a thin piece of paper.
The kind that would be crushed to pieces by a single gust of wind.
Even on that day in the piano room, Lin Shuxue had never seen Jiang Zong in this kind of state.
As lights flickered on here and there around them, she noticed that Jiang Zong’s scattered gaze was gradually pooling back into focus, and the rise and fall of his chest from panting was no longer as violent as it had been a moment ago.
A hypothesis suddenly sprouted from the depths of her heart.
As Jiang Zong’s rationality flooded back, he caught the scent of a clean lavender fragrance and tilted his eyes over.
Lin Shuxue was standing a single arm’s length away from him, cradling a beam of light in her hands as she looked at him with worry.
“Are you… afraid of the dark?”
He had just wanted to sit down to ease himself, but his frame froze, halting his movements entirely upon hearing the girl’s words.
Jiang Zong’s fingertips tapped lightly against the tabletop as he pondered exactly how many secrets she had unwittingly discovered by now.
His heart, which had been beating frantically under the stimulation of the sudden darkness, gradually slowed to a steady pace. He blinked lightly, stabilizing his breathing, with no intention of answering Lin Shuxue’s question.
However, a lack of refutation was often a tacit admission.
The voice of the librarian explaining the situation echoed from not far away. The circuit breaker had melted due to overloaded power usage, and repairs were currently underway.
The students inside the hall were notified to leave the premises now.
Glancing at Jiang Zong’s current state, Lin Shuxue brought her flashlight a bit closer to him.
“Do you need me to help you return your book?” she asked softly.
Jiang Zong’s temporarily halted brain gradually recovered along with the ignition of the small light. He lifted his eyes to look at Lin Shuxue, and after a moment, he nodded his head with an air of absolute resignation.
Lin Shuxue couldn’t decode his micro-expressions; she merely felt that when those peach-blossom eyes looked over, it felt as if they were separated by a layer of ash-grey mist.
She picked up the book resting on Jiang Zong’s table. The moment she lifted it, something slid out from between the pages.
Assuming it was something Jiang Zong had recorded, Lin Shuxue bent down to retrieve it.
The lighting was dim, and she didn’t pay close attention to what exactly it was before handing it over to him.
Jiang Zong had just turned on his flashlight, and the bright beam illuminated the item Lin Shuxue was handing over.
A piece of pink letter paper.
He had seen far too many of them; he didn’t even need to open it to know what was written inside.
Jiang Zong arched his brow: “You wrote it?”
“What do you mean I wrote it?” Lin Shuxue was still searching on the app to see which shelf this copy of Essays, Moral, Political, and Literary belonged to, failing to grasp what Jiang Zong was talking about.
A well-defined wrist extended beneath her eyes, his slender knuckles pinching a thin sheet of pink letter paper.
Lin Shuxue wasn’t the kind of idiot who understood nothing; she recognized the purpose of this letter paper at a single glance, and her eyes blinked.
“It wasn’t me. There should be a signature inside, right?”
Having said that, she couldn’t help but feel a bit curious about exactly when this letter had been slipped into the book. Had her level of focus truly reached a point where someone could pass by her without her sensing a thing?
A person like Lin Shuxue probably wouldn’t write this kind of thing anyway.
Receiving a negative answer, the small burst of energy Jiang Zong had just summoned deflated once again. He lifted his jaw lazily, casually folding the letter paper two more times before speaking with an arrogant tone.
“Oh. Then throw it away for me while you’re at it.”
His tone was entirely natural, as if he had performed this action hundreds of times already.
Lin Shuxue was stunned: “Aren’t you going to open it to take a look?”
Jiang Zong spoke indifferently: “No need. It’s not like I’d agree to her anyway.”
Lin Shuxue parted her mouth blankly: “Why?”
Rejecting someone without even bothering to care who they were?
Looking at her surprised expression, Jiang Zong crinkled his eyes, spouting nonsense with an absolutely straight face.
“I am a very devoted person. I only accept one person’s pursuit at a time.”
The eyes he used to look at her appeared exceptionally bright inside the dark library, and his pointed words could easily cause any girl’s heart to flutter.
Regrettably, the only thing floating before Lin Shuxue’s eyes was the statistical list of his past girlfriends from the confession wall, along with the spectator lines that formed around him every time she saw him in the classroom.
She truly couldn’t fathom where this “devoted” nature of his stemmed from.
However, seeing that Jiang Zong actually still had the mood to tease her right now, there shouldn’t be any major issues with him.
Why was he afraid of the dark? When did he start being afraid of it?
Lin Shuxue recalled that when she first met him, it was in the dead of a pitch-black night, and back then, Jiang Zong hadn’t displayed any signs of being afraid of the dark.
…Was it because of the things he experienced afterward?
Just as her thoughts were drifting away, her train of thought was interrupted by a gentle female voice.
“Jiang Zong?”
Lin Shuxue raised her eyes and halted her steps. She remembered this girl.
It was the girl she had accidentally stumbled upon when she took the wrong path that day, who had been rejected after confessing to Jiang Zong.
What did Meng Shuyin say her name was back then… Wen…
“Wen Keyun?” Jiang Zong half-closed his eyes, discerning that blurry figure in the distance under the dim light of the streetlamp.
Wen Keyun had her hair half-tied up today, and her A-line maxi skirt reached her ankles, outlining a graceful waistline curve.
She lifted her hand to brush away the stray hairs dangling by her cheek, her smile placid: “Are you heading to the lab? Together?”
Jiang Zong frowned, slowly repeating her final word: “To-gether?”
Wen Keyun had already walked close by this point, a flush quietly creeping onto her cheeks as she explained softly,
“Professor Qin added me to your project team today. Shall we head over together?”
Lin Shuxue thought about it and felt that she probably shouldn’t be present for this occasion.
She had just taken two steps when her wrist was firmly grasped by someone.
“Where are you going? Didn’t we agree that I’d see you back?”
Beneath the streetlamp, the boy’s features were clean and elegant, his ink-like peach-blossom eyes deep as a pool, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion.
Lin Shuxue lost herself to this face for only a single second before another doubt flashed through her mind. When did they agree on that? Hadn’t they simply been walking along the same path just now?
Furthermore.
Lin Shuxue: “Aren’t you going to the lab?”
Jiang Zong replied with absolute righteousness: “Who said I was going?”
Wen Keyun was stunned, the smile on her face turning a bit stiff.
As if only just remembering that there was still a person standing over here, Jiang Zong tilted his head to spare her a glance, the tip of his tongue pressing faintly against his inner cheek as he lied through his teeth.
“Apologies, I’m not scheduled for a shift today.”
Wen Keyun’s expression was awkward as she stammered, “Oh, oh, then see you next time.”
“However, it’s best to wear pants when going to the lab. Skirts easily catch on the instruments and equipment.”
After dropping this thoughtful reminder, Jiang Zong completely ignored the other party’s shamed and flustered expression, pulling Lin Shuxue along by the wrist as he walked away.
They walked forward for a very long distance until Wen Keyun’s figure was completely out of sight. Jiang Zong pressed his tongue against his jaw, speaking in a sinister tone,
“What was the meaning of that just now? Leaving me behind and running away?”
Lin Shuxue raised her eyes: “Weren’t you originally planning to return to the lab?”
Jiang Zong lifted his chin: “In a bad mood, don’t want to go.”
And without allowing any room for discussion, he crowned her with a crime: “You’re just going to push me off to someone else like that? Is that how you like someone?”
Beneath the dim moonlight, the girl pursed her lips in silence, falling into a prolonged quiet.
The wind rustled and the shadows of the moon were sparse. The cobblestone path in their line of sight was already nearing its end.
Jiang Zong rarely felt a bit guilty, rubbing his own nose as he wondered if his joke had gone a bit too far. Just as he was about to say something to change the subject,
He heard Lin Shuxue say in a solemn tone, “I’m sorry.”
Jiang Zong turned around in surprise.
The girl lifted her eyes, her apricot eyes genuine beneath her curled lashes. A few fragments of moonlight cascaded over her cheeks, resembling a gilded layer of golden shadow.
“It’s my first time liking someone. I’ll learn slowly.”
Jiang Zong froze in place, struck speechless.
He felt as if the softest part inside his chest had been struck lightly but firmly by a small hammer—thump, thump.
His Adam’s apple rolled up and down several times before he finally managed to make a sound after a long pause.
“Ah. So… I’m your first love, huh?”
Lin Shuxue wanted to explain that it could only be counted as a first love if they were together; this situation of hers could only be called an unrequited crush. Oh, it didn’t even count as an unrequited crush.
After all, she wasn’t in love at all.
But lifting her eyes to see the roguish, wicked amusement inside Jiang Zong’s pitch-black pupils, she swallowed her words down.
A premonition from the unseen told her that if she truly spoke those words, the other party would likely draw out his words to mockingly claim she was here to ask for an official status.
Without realizing it, they had walked onto that asphalt road leading back to the dormitory.
This time, Lin Shuxue kept her eyes fixed straight ahead through the entire journey, deeply terrified of spotting something she shouldn’t see again.
Arriving beneath the dormitory building, she was just about to step inside.
“Lin Shuxue.”
Jiang Zong, who had been following behind her silently without a word, spoke up flatly.
Lin Shuxue turned around.
Jiang Zong tilted his head slightly, saying in a casual manner, “Bid me farewell.”
Lin Shuxue thought about it; no matter how one looked at it, he had kindly escorted her back, so acting this way did indeed seem very impolite of her.
Carrying a slight trace of apology, she waved her hand toward Jiang Zong.
“Then… goodbye, Senior Jiang?”
Beneath the blurry moonlight, she saw one corner of Jiang Zong’s mouth curve upward slightly, his eyes crinkling.
After tossing and turning outside for the entire day, she had finally returned to the dormitory.
Lin Shuxue lay exhausted upon her warm, small bed, opening her phone to prepare to enjoy a wonderful, solo evening time.
Yet she discovered that the messages inside the dormitory group chat had already exploded past 99+.
Curious, she scrolled upward, only to find that the very first message was Meng Shuyin tagging her in the group.
[@Lin_ Did you cross paths with Jiang Zong again today?]