Chapter 24
“You… like me?”
Jing Ciying understood the meaning of the words, but hearing them from Pei Songji filled him with a sense of disbelief.
It was absurd. Pei Songji must have lost his mind.
He must be drunk.
Fearing further outrageous declarations, Jing Ciying turned to leave.
Pei Songji, surprised by his reaction, stepped forward, blocking his path.
It was Mr. Wan’s birthday banquet, and Jing Ciying didn’t want to create a scene, especially since they were near the entrance, where people could see them. He kept his voice low.
“Mr. Pei,” he said, trying to control his emotions, “you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
Pei Songji instantly regretted his words. Jing Ciying’s feelings were clear. Asking this question was setting himself up for humiliation, exposing his vulnerability.
But he had done it anyway.
He clung to a sliver of hope. If Jing Ciying knew how he felt, perhaps there was a chance, a tiny chance, he might reconsider.
But the answer was already evident.
“Mr. Pei,” Jing Ciying said, trying to find a way out of this awkward situation, “don’t joke with me.”
He tried to leave again. “Mr. Ji is waiting for me.”
But Pei Songji blocked his path again.
He looked at Pei Songji, seeing a flicker of pain in his eyes.
“I’m not drunk, and I’m not joking.”
“I really like you.”
Jing Ciying stopped, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. “Why would you like me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Jing Ciying chuckled again, as if he had heard the funniest joke, but there was a hint of bitterness in his laughter.
Pei Songji knew his confession was unexpected and didn’t expect an immediate answer.
But Jing Ciying responded quickly.
“Thank you.”
“What?” Pei Songji was taken aback.
“Thank you for your… feelings,” Jing Ciying continued, “but I don’t reciprocate.”
He walked past Pei Songji without waiting for a response.
Ji Shuhuai was about to leave when Jing Ciying returned.
“You’re back,” he said, approaching him. “I was just about to contact you.”
“Is something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Jing Ciying asked, his mind still reeling from the encounter with Pei Songji.
“No, I was just leaving,” Ji Shuhuai said, noticing his troubled expression. “What’s wrong? You look pale.”
Although no one knew what had happened, Jing Ciying felt flustered. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Ji Shuhuai didn’t pry. “Let’s go then. I have a meeting with Mr. Zhao this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
They walked towards the exit, bumping into Pei Songji, who was just entering.
Jing Ciying quickly looked away.
Pei Songji hesitated, then averted his gaze as well, offering Ji Shuhuai a curt nod.
Ji Shuhuai sensed the tension between them, noticing Jing Ciying’s obvious desire to avoid Pei Songji. He didn’t linger, leading Jing Ciying outside.
Once in the car, he asked, “Did something happen between you and Mr. Pei?”
He had assumed they were still awkward after the resignation incident.
But the mere mention of Pei Songji’s name seemed to agitate Jing Ciying, who quickly changed the subject.
“Mr. Ji, I wanted to discuss the progress on our team’s current project.”
Ji Shuhuai, understanding he had touched a nerve, played along. “Go ahead.”
Jing Ciying launched into a detailed report, both of them tacitly avoiding the previous topic.
He tried to ignore Pei Songji’s confession all day, but his mind kept replaying the scene.
He buried himself in work, staying late at the office, hoping to exhaust himself.
But even after a long day, his mind remained active as he lay in bed.
He sensed trouble, trying to distract himself with other thoughts, but his mind kept returning to Pei Songji’s words.
Pei Songji had confessed his feelings.
If Jing Ciying weren’t a staunch believer in logic and reason, he would have thought Pei Songji was possessed.
Pei Songji, the arrogant, demanding, aloof CEO, who treated him like a servant, had said he liked him.
It was preposterous.
He must have been possessed, or perhaps he had hit his head and suffered brain damage.
There was no other explanation.
Besides, didn’t he like women?
He had been on blind dates just a few months ago. When had his preferences changed? No one had informed him.
What was going on?
He must be living in a badly written drama.
Who would come up with such a plot?
The more he thought about it, the more agitated he became, wishing he could knock himself unconscious.
But his body was too fragile for such drastic measures.
He remembered he had some sleeping pills left over from a previous bout of insomnia.
He found the pills and swallowed one, then lay back down, waiting for the medication to take effect.
But it took time, and his mind continued to race.
He started thinking about the past, distant memories that felt like a lifetime ago.
His college years.
He had heard of Pei Songji when he first arrived at Lindai University.
He was reportedly so handsome that someone had confessed their feelings during military training, a same-sex confession, making him instantly famous throughout the campus.
Later, someone had nominated him for the “Campus Heartthrob” contest, using his candid photos, and he had won by a landslide.
Jing Ciying, being a year younger, had never met him, just heard the stories, dismissing them as irrelevant to his own life, which revolved around part-time jobs and earning money.
Until one day, while auditing a class.
He had been like a sponge, absorbing knowledge at every opportunity, attending random classes whenever he had free time.
He had first encountered Pei Songji during a finance class.
Obsessed with making money, he had wandered into the class, hoping to learn something useful.
But he was late, and the class was small, so most of the seats were taken.
Only one seat was available in the second row, beside a lone male student.
The student was looking down at something. Even without seeing his face, Jing Ciying sensed an aura of aloofness, a distance from the others.
It was summer, the sunlight streaming through the windows, bright and hot.
He suddenly felt warm.
He understood why the student was sitting alone.
He was too dazzling, and Jing Ciying instinctively wanted to avoid him.
But the professor had arrived, and Jing Ciying, being an auditor, couldn’t stand out, so he sat down beside the student.
The student looked up.
Jing Ciying squinted against the backlight, feeling as if the sun itself had turned to face him.
He blinked, his eyes adjusting, finally seeing the student’s face.
He couldn’t describe the feeling, just a single thought echoing in his mind.
This was Pei Songji.
He was certain.
But he couldn’t just ask, so he simply said, “Is this seat taken?”
“No.”
The student’s tone was cold and dismissive.
Jing Ciying was taken aback by his coldness.
He didn’t have a textbook and didn’t want to disturb the other students, so he leaned closer. “Excuse me, could I borrow your textbook?”
The student moved away, as if repulsed.
Jing Ciying had never encountered such a standoffish person. He touched his nose awkwardly, about to turn his attention to the whiteboard.
Then the student pushed the textbook slightly towards him.
Jing Ciying: “…”
What a strange person.
But he had borrowed the textbook, so he muttered a thank you and started reading.
After two hours, he concluded he wasn’t interested in finance.
And he didn’t want another encounter with Pei Songji, so he never audited another finance class.
But fate had other plans.
Summer had passed, and winter arrived.
He was studying in the library during exam week when he looked up and saw the same student sitting beside him.
He had assumed Pei Songji wouldn’t remember him, but Pei Songji was staring at him, clearly recognizing him. He smiled.
Pei Songji didn’t respond.
Jing Ciying, feeling awkward, remembered the candies he always carried for his hypoglycemia.
Recalling their shared textbook experience, he offered him two candies.
Pei Songji ignored him, returning to his book.
Jing Ciying: “…”
What an arrogant jerk.
He was annoyed, but it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t want to waste his energy on someone so cold and dismissive. He returned to his own studies.
He left without saying goodbye.
He never saw Pei Songji again on campus.
It wasn’t surprising. The university was huge; chance encounters were rare.
Then his sister’s accident happened, his life consumed by her care, and the memory of that strange student faded.
Until his senior year, when he was working part-time at a high-end restaurant.
He had been taking orders when he saw the same student again.
He was no longer a student, dressed impeccably in a suit, radiating an aura of power and distance.
They were strangers, and in this setting, Jing Ciying remained professional, taking his order.
But perhaps due to exhaustion from working three jobs, his hypoglycemia acted up, and he almost fainted, falling towards Pei Songji.
He was disoriented, realizing he had almost collapsed into Pei Songji’s arms.
He panicked, fearing a complaint to the manager.
But Pei Songji had simply helped him up, handed him over to his colleagues, paid his bill, and even left a generous tip.
Jing Ciying sat down, sipping a drink, his head still spinning, popping a sugar cube into his mouth, staring at the tip.
He felt a strange sense of irony.
They had once sat side by side in a classroom, listening to the same lecture.
Now, he was serving him, accepting his tip.
But this was normal. That brief period of “equality” had been an illusion.
He assumed he would never see Pei Songji again.
There was no reason for their paths to cross again.
But fate was fickle, and he ended up becoming Pei Songji’s personal secretary, finally confirming his identity as the infamous “campus heartthrob.”
He was still a powerful figure, while Jing Ciying remained insignificant, a shadow in his world.
Everyone noticed the sun, but no one noticed the shadow.
The shadow was sometimes drawn to the sun, but it never expected the sun to shine on it alone.
So, how could Pei Songji possibly like him?
He was just a secretary, constantly trying to please his demanding boss, anticipating his every whim.
Pei Songji’s confession had seemed absurd. How could there be love between them? There was only distance.
Knowing his place, he had always been careful, never crossing the line.
But Pei Songji had crossed the line.
Fate was truly unpredictable.
The sleeping pill had worked, and he couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep.
He woke up to daylight, his head aching from the side effects.
But he had to go to work. He quickly washed his face and left the apartment.
His head still felt heavy, so he decided to have breakfast.
He was debating between the company cafeteria and a nearby breakfast stall when he saw someone standing downstairs.
It was Pei Songji.
