After exchanging looks for a few seconds, Kong Lingrou said to Kong Lingyu, “You head back first.”
“Oh.” Wondering what was going on, Kong Lingyu took her bag, waved goodbye, and couldn’t resist casting one last glance inside as she walked to the door.
Shi Bei didn’t let go of her hand until the door swung shut.
“What’s wrong?” Kong Lingrou moved her chair next to hers and sat down again, her tone unruffled. “What kind of problem managed to stump you like this?”
Shi Bei quickly opened her notebook.
Her eyes scanned the newly added key points before pointing at a grammar concept that looked somewhat troublesome.
Kong Lingrou pulled out a grammar book from the pile of books, flipped to the middle pages, found the relevant explanation, and placed it in front of her.
“It’s explained very specifically here. Take a look.”
“Oh.” Shi Bei’s gaze fell onto the hand holding down the page, and she pretended to casually press her own hand onto the page right alongside hers.
Maintaining a posture that sat extremely close, she read through this section’s grammar explanation.
This level of physical contact wouldn’t have amounted to anything in the past.
Yet, after an interval of nearly six years, the moment Shi Bei pressed down on her hand, her own heart fluttered instead, as if she were the one being touched without any defenses.
Under her palm, the warm, delicate touch and the posture that didn’t pull away caused the uncomfortable emotions she had been suppressing to quietly wane a bit.
Still, an indescribable feeling of frustration lingered.
Shi Bei stared straight at the book, reading it over several times before the words finally registered in her head.
From start to finish, Kong Lingrou made no move whatsoever.
Not until Shi Bei released her hand and said, “I get it now.”
Kong Lingrou gave a soft response, flipped the reference book to the unit exercises section in the back, and said, “Then work through these problems.”
Shi Bei cast a subtle glance at her sideways, yet could never find any expression on her face that exposed her thoughts.
She had no choice but to pick up her pen and work on the problems.
She finished writing very quickly. Passing the workbook over, she rested her cheek against her arm, leaning her head to the side to watch Kong Lingrou, who took it to check her work.
Using remembered images, she carefully compared the Kong Lingrou of a few years ago with the one sitting beside her now.
There were changes, of course; it was impossible for there not to be. But she always felt the continuation was extraordinarily natural—so natural, in fact, that it felt strangely uncanny.
In past TV dramas, there were always some beautiful and kind-hearted young ladies who would always speak gentle and dignified words about living a peaceful life.
When she was little, she believed Kong Lingrou was the textbook exemplar of a rich young lady from those dramas.
Her intelligence, her beauty, and her sense of nobility that was more natural than any actor’s.
Even when the words coming out of her mouth were utterly sharp and exacting, they would still be embellished as elegant and reasonable by her steady, captivating voice.
Even as she grew a bit older later on, discovering the arrogance, coldness, and fanatical paranoia of doing whatever it took to achieve her goals within Kong Lingrou’s personality… which made her clearly far closer to a malicious female side character than a upright, endlessly kind protagonist.
Yet from her demeanor, one still couldn’t find a single trace of vulgarity or meanness.
Kong Lingrou—how could she be such an unpleasant person?
Shi Bei stared at her almost without blinking.
Until her left arm, which her face was resting on, grew somewhat numb from the pressure.
Sensing the intense gaze, Kong Lingrou never raised her eyes once.
After marking the answers right or wrong, she continued writing the related grammar points for the problems on the scratch paper.
“You got 1 problem wrong.”
“Oh.”
Shi Bei took the notebook, looking at the neatly formatted handwriting.
The clear and precise notes closely mirrored this person’s way of doing things.
Shi Bei reluctantly remembered how, in the past, she loved sharing all sorts of strange ideas with Kong Lingrou. If she happened to catch Kong Lingrou in a bad mood, the moment she opened her mouth, Kong Lingrou would ruthlessly and incisively point out the flaws.
The more Shi Bei tried to add, the easier it was to be completely refuted; she couldn’t recall a single time she had ever won an argument against Kong Lingrou.
Although that crowd online was saying that the difficulty of a girl pursuing a girl who clearly liked the same sex wouldn’t be too high, Kong Lingrou…
Kong Lingrou was the kind of person who should be set aside as a separate case, no matter the circumstances.
Shi Bei came to her senses, realizing that what she had thought was a sure thing was actually mostly non-existent.
Her blazing fighting spirit suddenly died down by more than half, and that hollow, empty feeling caught up to her once more.
“Can you understand it?” Kong Lingrou asked.
“Mm.”
“Really?”
Shi Bei turned her face in confusion: “Why do you think I wouldn’t understand it?”
“Then don’t frown and wear such a deep, contemplative expression.” Kong Lingrou raised her hand to touch the space between her brows, saying in earnest, “It looks silly and clumsy, like someone who’s nearsighted and doesn’t know they need to get glasses.”
Shi Bei: “…………”
“Then today counts as having learned a little bit at least. Can I leave now?”
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong? If you ran into something, just speak up directly.” Kong Lingrou’s gaze stayed fixed on her face; her tone remained cold, but her voice softened slightly: “What are you hiding? Are you afraid I’ll laugh at you?”
“There really isn’t anything wrong.”
Shi Bei was startled by her pressing questions.
“Then I’m off.”
Kong Lingrou packed up the things on the desk and casually added, “Remember to memorize everything you wrote today.”
“Oh.” Shi Bei sat in her chair, staring at the open reference book in front of her.
She intentionally controlled her gaze not to chase after her departing figure.
Not until she heard the sound of the door closing.
She stood up immediately, limping over to the mirror at the sink to inspect her face.
As she pondered, she tried hard to recreate the expression she was most likely wearing just now.
She examined herself in the mirror closely.
Is it foolish?
Not at all.
Frowning in thought looked calm, composed, and philosophical.
Shi Bei judged so in her heart.
Kong Lingrou was deliberately belittling her again.
Shi Bei curled her lip slightly, sat back at her computer, and continued browsing forum posts.
Lately, thanks to her sleep-deprived efforts, she had practically read through the emotional section posts from top to bottom.
After reading for a while, she felt she had bookmarked enough material.
She created a TXT document, opened her bookmarked webpages, and prepared to compile all the materials into a formal, complete, and targeted action strategy guide.
No matter how unique Kong Lingrou was, as long as she worked hard enough, there would definitely be a way.
The post she used as her primary material was the one she found most reasonable. The poster claimed to be a graduate student majoring in psychology, stating that the content written wasn’t limited to any specific gender pursuing another, but could serve as a universal guide for all human beings.
Shi Bei slid her cursor to a very interesting passage in the middle of the post.
[You only need to find what TA extremely craves in their heart yet does not possess, then compliment the places where TA is indeed confident while linking it to that craved yet lacking item, making TA believe they no longer lack it.
If you can construct enough details to make TA believe this, then TA will become a marionette in your hands, unable to ever leave you again.]
Although Shi Bei didn’t like this kind of overgeneralized definition—finding it too extreme and shallow—she couldn’t help anticipating that crude, extreme methods might serve as a potent remedy.
As the saying goes, people are trapped by the things they craved in their youth but could not obtain.
The theory in this post was actually saying that you don’t actually need to make up for anything for the other person; as long as you make them believe that staying by your side brings them infinitely close to being complete, that is the most unique emotional value you can provide.
The key point lay in discovering what the other person lacked.
Shi Bei pasted the post into her newly created TXT document, intending to write the specific content tailored for Kong Lingrou right beside it.
She planned to spend the entire night writing out every single detail of her battle plan in one go.
The cursor paused at the position of the first character, blinking continuously.
Shi Bei thought for a very long time: So what could be lacking in Kong Lingrou’s life? After turning it over in her head and backtracking through her earliest memories twice, she still couldn’t find a single clue.
Intelligence? Appearance? Wealth? These were all traits overflowing from Kong Lingrou.
Fortunately, the point she needed to find was supposed to be at a more spiritual level, like beliefs, thoughts, or a sense of belonging.
But these… could she possibly lack them either?
It didn’t seem so.
The rich young lady Kong Lingrou had been calm and composed since primary school, pursuing her goals with exceptional clarity, and excelling across the board in both academics and arts.
Apart from having a germaphobic streak and refusing to touch shared equipment—which resulted in a few zero-grade records in PE class—her life report card didn’t have even a rounded ‘B’; it was full of sharp, brilliant ‘A+’s.
So, what on earth was missing from Kong Lingrou’s life?
Is it really true that everyone lacks something?
…
Shi Bei sat dazed for half a day, when suddenly a flash of insight struck her mind, and she finally unearthed the truth, summarizing it into a single phrase:
A lack of moral integrity.