Chapter 27

Thank goodness Chen Gu had an early flight tomorrow. There would be quite a few days when they wouldn’t see each other.

That was the first coherent thought Jiang Mian managed after finally snapping back to his senses on the subway.

He couldn’t even remember what kind of reaction he’d given when he was exposed. Even less could he recall whether he’d said something or nothing when Chen Gu announced he would pursue him.

—Though, he felt, whether he said anything or not didn’t matter. It clearly wouldn’t affect Chen Gu.

Only.

Hasn’t Chen Gu already been pursuing him?

What was he like when he actually pursued someone?

The moment those particular words touched his mind, Jiang Mian felt something was wrong all over.

Even though he was on a subway where the air conditioning was set a bit too low, his whole body inexplicably started heating up.

It was like jumping into a pot of cold water that was just starting to boil.

The cool water, heated by the flames beneath the pot, went from icy to boiling in the blink of an eye.

The aftermath of Chen Gu’s words hit Jiang Mian too hard.

Some processor in Jiang Mian only started running now. His heartbeat, which had seemed to fall silent, started pounding again.

He pressed his lips together. Truly, with delayed reaction, he rubbed the tip of his ear where Chen Gu had lightly pinched it. The water had reached the boiling point. He was about to explode, too.

…Was he that obvious about it?

Jiang Mian lowered his eyes and pulled out his phone, opening his chat interface with Chen Gu.

Actually, he wanted to tell Chen Gu something like “Don’t pursue me.” Of course he wouldn’t say it so bluntly, but more tactfully. But he hadn’t even pressed the first letter down before he found himself completely unable to formulate the words.

Because Chen Gu was right.

Logic told him it was best to take a step back with Chen Gu, to maintain a lifelong friendship. That way, what happened between Jiang Liaoyi and Xiang Wei wouldn’t happen to them—after all, he and Jiang Liaoyi were so alike.

Jiang Mian was afraid that one day, Chen Gu would choose to leave, just like Xiang Wei did.

Neither of them could fully express themselves. Neither was used to revealing their emotions to anyone.

A lawyer had to learn to be unreadable, to keep the opponent from guessing your strategy, and to avoid giving the judge too many stereotyped impressions.

Calmness and rationality were mandatory.

Even if Jiang Mian wasn’t planning on becoming a lawyer now, being steeped in it since childhood made him more accustomed to maintaining that composure.

And Chen Gu and Xiang Wei were both from artistic backgrounds.

Jiang Mian had once heard someone say that people who study art are easily emotional. Their world was not just colorful—it was rich, diverse, and wondrous.

He and Chen Gu really weren’t a good match.

Especially since Chen Gu was truly too dangerous.

Every time they met, every cell in Jiang Mian’s body warned him to stay away from Chen Gu. And that alarm only blared louder when Chen Gu approached him.

It was just that Jiang Mian never listened to his body’s instincts.

From the very first time he defied his instincts, Jiang Mian knew Chen Gu was different to him.

Later, as they spent time together, he figured it out.

After all, he just didn’t know how to handle interpersonal relationships. He wasn’t some naive fool who couldn’t even see his own heart.

When you truly fall for someone, your heart tells you.

So Jiang Mian stared at Chen Gu’s black cat profile picture for a long time. In the end, he typed nothing and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Thank goodness Chen Gu had an early flight tomorrow.

Jiang Mian felt grateful once again.

Seven days in a foreign country, unable to see each other. He had classes, too. The stirring hormones would surely settle down with time and busyness.

As long as Chen Gu wasn’t swaying around in front of him, seducing him with that pleasant voice, he’d be able to politely decline.

Jiang Mian secretly clenched his fist, believing he could do it.

By the time Jiang Mian got back to the dorm, it was just in time for the counselor’s room check.

He and Chen Yishen lived in a double dormitory. After applying, they had gotten approval to install a partition at their own expense.

Mainly because Jiang Mian wasn’t comfortable sleeping in front of others. And Chen Yishen was the type who absolutely had to be alone to study—otherwise, he always wanted to chat. So the partition, everyone was fine with it. They’d just have to pay to get it dismantled after graduation.

But for them, especially for Jiang Mian, anything that could be solved with money wasn’t a problem.

After the counselor left, Chen Yishen asked, “Didn’t you say you’d be back around nine? How come you’re only back at eleven?”

Jiang Mian rarely cut things this close, so Chen Yishen found it very strange.

Jiang Mian ignored the question, just grabbing his clothes and heading into the shower. “Sleep. We have an 8 AM class tomorrow.”

Chen Yishen leaned his chair back, his expression full of suspicion. “Lawyer Jiang, you’ve got secrets. You’ve changed.”

Jiang Mian didn’t take the bait at all. The only answer he gave was the closing shower door.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t told Chen Yishen yet that he wasn’t going to be a lawyer.

He’d mention it when he had time. It wasn’t important anyway.

After his shower, Jiang Mian used the low-wattage hair dryer to dry his hair. He casually opened DingDong and saw a message from Chen Gu asking if he’d made it back to the dorm.

Jiang Mian hesitated. He figured this was Chen Gu just being concerned. He should at least reply so Chen Gu wouldn’t worry.

【Jiang Mian: Got back. Was showering.】

But it was as if Chen Gu had been waiting on the other end, because he replied instantly.

【Chen Gu: Okay.】

【Chen Gu: Forgot to ask you earlier, is there anything you want? I can bring it back for you.】

Jiang Mian genuinely didn’t want anything. That’s why he’d refused when Jiang Liaoyi asked, and why he refused when Chen Gu asked.

But the difference was—

【Chen Gu: Alright. Then I’ll just use my own judgment.】

Jiang Mian: “?”

Before he could ask what that meant, Chen Gu’s messages bubbled up rapidly.

【Chen Gu: Early flight tomorrow. Won’t chat more. Going to sleep.】

【Chen Gu: Good night. Sweet dreams.】

Jiang Mian slowly typed one-handed. But just as he finished typing the “Good” in “Good night,” a new message popped up from Chen Gu.

【Chen Gu: Dream of me, okay, Sir Jiang?】

Jiang Mian first froze. Then, the moment it registered, his fingers recoiled as if burned. His hand gripping the hair dryer subconsciously tightened, accidentally switching it off.

The world fell abruptly silent from its buzzing hum.

Only Chen Yishen’s voice reciting vocabulary on the other side of the partition drifted over slightly, along with the hum of the air conditioner.

But to Jiang Mian, these sounds were very faint.

The loudest thing was his own heartbeat.

Thump by thump, clear yet chaotic, like a sudden thunderstorm, its rhythm thrown off in the wind, battering him into bewilderment.

Jiang Mian, upon seeing that sentence, could almost instantly picture Chen Gu’s current expression.

He was definitely smiling, lips lightly curved. His long, clearly jointed fingers were typing lazily. Those overly dark eyes would deliberately feign innocence, but on closer look, you’d see the playful slyness hidden within.

Chen Gu… how could he say something like that so naturally?

Jiang Mian took a deep breath.

As he silently deleted the gibberish he’d accidentally typed, he heard Chen Yishen asking curiously from the other side, “Jiang Mian, is your hair dryer broken?”

“No.”

Jiang Mian pulled his attention back to reply to him, then focused on the screen before him.

【Jiang Mian: Good night.】

He figured Chen Gu had probably fallen asleep. After all, he’d waited two whole minutes.

If it were him, he’d have turned off his phone and let the messages drown in Do Not Disturb.

But Chen Gu still replied.

【Chen Gu: Mm. Where’s my ‘sweet dreams’?】

Jiang Mian: “?”

【Chen Gu: Forget it. After all, I’m the one pursuing you. You haven’t even blacklisted me, and I even got a good night. That’s already quite good. I shouldn’t be so greedy and make so many demands.】

【Chen Gu: (Sad puppy sticker)】

【Chen Gu: Go to bed early.】

He said to Jiang Mian again: 【Good night. Sweet dreams.】

Looking at the sticker he’d sent, Jiang Mian somehow thought of the pitiful expression on Chen Gu’s face again. He couldn’t help but let the corner of his lips curve up very slightly.

He waited until Chen Gu was done sending messages before slowly typing his reply—

【Jiang Mian: Good night. Sweet dreams.】

If you say goodnight to the person you like today, you’ll surely have sweet dreams.

The next day.

Jiang Mian woke up at seven in the morning.

He brushed his teeth first, and as he brushed, he suddenly remembered Chen Gu’s flight was at five in the morning.

Knowing Chen Gu’s personality, he would definitely have sent a message.

So Jiang Mian, toothbrush still in his mouth, padded back to his bedside to fish out his phone.

Just as expected, Chen Gu’s “Good morning” was prominently there. And it wasn’t just a good morning.

【Chen Gu: Good morning.】

【Chen Gu: Here’s the airport sunrise for you.】

【Chen Gu: (Picture)】

Jiang Mian tapped it open. A single piercing point of light streaked with golden red stained the horizon.

There were also fiery, brilliant morning clouds, so beautiful it felt unreal.

As expected of an art student, the composition of this photo was aesthetically stunning.

This single photo, if entered into a specific photography contest, would surely win a major prize.

So much so that Jiang Mian couldn’t help but save it.

Initially, he’d been a little worried. What if Chen Gu, like Chen Yishen chasing Zhou Yuhui, sent messages like, “Morning, this is what I ate today,” “Afternoon, this is what I’m having for lunch,” “Evening, this is what we’re having at the cafeteria.” What would he do then? Jiang Mian genuinely wasn’t used to sharing that kind of daily life, nor was he good at responding to such sharing.

But Chen Gu didn’t do that.

Chen Gu had sent him a landscape photo so gorgeous that anyone with working eyes would be moved.

So, even though Jiang Mian had, before going to bed last night, once again reminded himself not to give Chen Gu too many signals, to let him understand on his own and quietly retreat—now, this single photo had made him forget all his vigilance.

【Jiang Mian: It’s really beautiful. Truly.】

He paused. Since Chen Gu hadn’t said whether he’d boarded the plane, he couldn’t help but add: “Did you get on the plane?”

Chen Gu’s reply was a bit slow: 【On the plane now. The internet is a bit slow.】

After all, it was an international flight. It couldn’t be helped.

【Jiang Mian: Then rest first. I’m going to have breakfast.】

Jiang Mian put away his phone after sending that. They had already reached the cafeteria and were lining up to get food.

While waiting in line, Chen Yishen kept eyeing him suspiciously. Jiang Mian finally asked, “Is something wrong?”

Chen Yishen also wanted to ask that. “Bro, you’ve got something going on.”

His EQ was low, but he wasn’t disrespectful. While he was very surprised Jiang Mian was playing with his phone, he hadn’t glanced at the screen.

“You usually never chat with people on your phone while walking.”

Chen Yishen muttered, “And when you do, it’s always serious stuff. You don’t smile.”

Jiang Mian froze.

He had… smiled just now?