Chapter 35

That night.

Lying on his dorm bed, Jiang Mian stared at the ceiling. For the first time ever, he did absolutely nothing—just spaced out, idling his time away.

Because his mind was still entirely filled with everything Chen Gu had said.

He knew exactly what Chen Gu’s underlying meaning was, and precisely because he understood, Jiang Mian’s thoughts were so chaotic.

Chen Gu meant that Jiang Mian could go his whole life without ever giving him an answer. He was willing to be strung along by Jiang Mian like this until death, as long as Jiang Mian was always special and unique to him, just that tiny bit was enough.

Too extreme.

Jiang Mian thought.

And far too unfair.

He just needed some time; it wasn’t that he truly couldn’t take that step.

But Chen Gu had already seen through his timidity and considered all the paths ahead based on this choice.

Why couldn’t he think towards a better outcome?

Jiang Mian didn’t understand.

Chen Gu… seemed to habitually consider the worst possible outcome for everything.

“Jiang Mian.” Chen Yishen’s voice came from the other side of the partition wall: “Lend me your notes.”

Jiang Mian didn’t want to move: “Get them yourself.”

So Chen Yishen got up and walked around. He didn’t look at Jiang Mian lying on the top bunk, just fished out the notebook from his desk.

Chen Yishen casually glanced over and caught sight of Jiang Mian’s cell phone left on the desk.

He let out an “Uh”: “Hey, Jiang Mian, I didn’t mean to, but I saw my brother sent you a message.”

Jiang Mian’s phone settings meant Chen Yishen couldn’t see what Chen Gu’s message said, but he could see who sent it.

So upon hearing this, Jiang Mian paused momentarily, struck by a bizarre sense of guilt.

He sat up, climbed down the ladder, and picked up his phone.

Chen Yishen added inquisitively: “Just gossiping, but what’s exactly going on between you and my brother?”

Jiang Mian paused: “What do you mean, what’s going on?”

Chen Yishen gestured: “Like, before, he kept having me bring you this and that?”

He muttered: “I asked him why, but he wouldn’t let me ask, even said it was giving me a chance to save money for a ring. I know it wasn’t really about that.”

Because his relationship with Jiang Mian was good—after all, if Chen Yishen had to rank the closeness of his friends, his relationship with Jiang Mian was definitely the kind where, if he ever had a wedding, the first name he’d write for best man would absolutely be Jiang Mian.

Years of good brotherhood made Chen Yishen invariably complain to Jiang Mian: “Don’t look at me and my brother being twins, but I think our relationship might not even be as good as ordinary brothers.”

He added: “Not even as good as with you.”

Jiang Mian didn’t speak.

Chen Yishen stabbed himself again: “Not even as good as you and my brother.”

Jiang Mian got back onto his bed with a calm face, opening his phone where Chen Yishen couldn’t see: “What are you trying to say?”

“Just saying it’s good if you two get along well.” Chen Yishen sounded like a mother hen: “Making more friends is good for the future…”

At this moment, Chen Yishen genuinely didn’t suspect anything.

It wasn’t that he was dumb, but because he knew Jiang Mian somewhat. Since they met, Jiang Mian had never shown the slightest interest in any human being.

Chen Yishen suspected Jiang Mian was asexual, and he had evidence.

Think about it, for all these years, Jiang Mian was almost twenty now, and he really had never given anyone an extra glance, nor shown even a sliver of interest in anyone.

In those biology classes that made people blush and feel awkward, he was even calmer and more detached than a machine.

Jiang Mian looked down at his phone. Chen Gu’s message wasn’t anything specific, just asking if he’d arrived at school.

After replying that he’d arrived, he thought for a moment and changed Chen Gu’s contact name—

“Jackal”

——

The most talked-about thing about the Law major was just one word: busy.

Comparable to the neighboring Medical School, the things to memorize and remember were numerous and heavy. Even in their third year, it wasn’t easy.

Especially since Jiang Mian still had to prepare for the subjective portion of the Bar Exam in mid-October.

He’d passed the objective part; if he failed the subjective, he’d have to retake it next year. Although Jiang Mian was particularly patient in this regard, he still hoped to pass this year, take the Civil Service Exam next year.

Then he could work as an assistant prosecutor while studying for his master’s.

Due to being excessively busy, Jiang Mian’s replies to Chen Gu were always a bit slow. Occasionally, he’d even cross timelines chatting because the professor called him during breaks. As for public holidays, Jiang Mian had to spend them in the library or attending public court hearings with his professor, so he didn’t have much time to meet Chen Gu.

Regarding this, Chen Gu didn’t mind at all. He even messaged Jiang Mian saying that if he was busy, he didn’t have to reply, just don’t forget him.

He was just making his presence felt; Jiang Mian’s studies were more important.

To say his heart wasn’t touched would definitely be a lie.

Moreover, Chen Gu had probably gotten his class schedule from Chen Yishen and would always timely remind him to eat, telling him to rest as well.

Jiang Mian always felt that between people, as long as they didn’t see each other for a long time, their intersection would fade. When conversations grew bland and couldn’t stir many ripples, those ambiguous and sticky feelings would cool down with them.

At least his relationship with Xiang Wei had grown very faint. Even though they were mother and son bound by blood, meeting always brought a bit of awkwardness. It always needed Xiang Wei’s enthusiasm to sustain it.

But if you asked Xiang Wei what Jiang Mian was thinking or what he liked, she couldn’t say even one thing.

Yet that wasn’t Xiang Wei’s problem, because Jiang Mian was the same.

This continued for over ten days. By early October, one day Jiang Mian had classes in the morning and could rest in the afternoon.

Jiang Mian’s plan was to continue to the library, believing that the feelings between him and Chen Gu had probably cooled down.

Chen Gu… shouldn’t be so extreme anymore.

Meeting Chen Gu again, his heartbeat probably wouldn’t be so uncontrollable, like it wanted to shake his heart right out of his chest.

Jiang Mian thought.

However, after morning classes ended that day, Jiang Mian received a message from Chen Gu.

【Jackal: Ordered you delivery. Remember to pick it up at the school gate.】

Sometimes when there were four or five classes in the morning, Chen Gu would specifically note not to call.

It wasn’t the first time, so Jiang Mian wasn’t suspicious.

South Boundary University was usually open; they just closed at night. So during the day, outsiders could always enter as long as they registered their identity.

And identity registration was very simple: scan a QR code to input information. If there were any issues, they could contact the person through the backend notifications.

However, South Boundary U was too big, and the dorm buildings were hard to find, so deliveries were usually placed at the school gate.

But when Jiang Mian went over, before even reaching the security office, he saw the person first.

Jiang Mian paused slightly.

Just then, some senior sisters from a club were coming back from outside. Seeing the man standing at the school gate, they were a bit surprised: “Chen Yishen? What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were going on a date with Huihui since she only has one elective today?”

Jiang Mian took a step forward, frowning slightly.

The other party’s gaze remained fixed on him. He curved his lips but didn’t purposely mimic Chen Yishen’s tone like before to greet him. He used his own original, much deeper and huskier voice, tinged with habitual laziness, to call: “Jiang Mian.”

Only then did Jiang Mian continue walking, arriving in front of him.

But Jiang Mian didn’t respond to Chen Gu. He just swept his eyes over the cap he’d inexplicably dug out and put on again.

As if understanding Jiang Mian’s silent question, Chen Gu explained casually: “Too sunny. My eyes have astigmatism; I can’t handle strong light.”

Having holed up in his studio for years, Chen Gu inevitably had some related ailments.

His spine was fine only because he exercised diligently.

As Chen Gu spoke, he casually took off his cap and placed it on Jiang Mian’s head, covering those eyes that spoke volumes, striking straight to his soul, dissecting him completely like a scalpel.

He chuckled softly, his words pointed: “The sun is strong today; you were frowning.”

Chen Gu’s shoulder-length hair was exposed. The senior sisters, who were already finding them a bit strange, grew even more bewildered, their gazes gradually turning horrified.

Chen Gu explained to them flatly: “I’m not Chen Yishen.”

“I’m his older brother.”

Senior Sisters: “Oh oh oh…”

They had heard Chen Yishen mention he had a twin brother, but they hadn’t expected them to be this alike.

And… was it just a feeling?

Why did something seem off between Jiang Mian and Chen Yishen’s brother?

After they left, Jiang Mian finally spoke: “Why are you here?”

Chen Gu watched him lift the brim of the cap that was lowered, raising it slightly without taking it off. His mood finally improved a bit: “Haven’t seen you in a long time. Missed you.”

Jiang Mian: “…”

He suddenly felt that his previous assumptions were exactly that—just assumptions.

Chen Gu needed only one sentence to make him surrender completely.

Seeing him rendered speechless, Chen Gu immediately smiled: “Come on, let’s go get something good to eat.”

He pressed down on Jiang Mian’s head through the cap, his tone intimate: “You always need to balance work and rest. Our Good Student has worked hard for so many days; today, let’s properly relax.”

Jiang Mian didn’t change his plans because of Chen Gu’s sudden appearance. He only said: “I planned to go to the library this afternoon.”

Chen Gu nodded, not the least bit unhappy. He just checked his watch: “It’s only 11:30 now, still noon.”

He smiled: “Now you accompany me; this afternoon, I’ll accompany you.”

Jiang Mian said nothing more, just nodded.

He followed him out of the school gate, got into Chen Gu’s car, and sat in the Passenger Seat. Afterward, Chen Gu locked the doors casually: “Jiang Mian.”

Chen Gu asked softly: “Why are you angry?”

Jiang Mian paused.

He immediately refuted: “How am I angry?”

Chen Gu seemed to smile. He looked at Jiang Mian, his puppy-dog eyes aggrieved and pitiful: “Your gaze at me at the school gate just now was so fierce.”

His face a picture of innocence, clearly knowing why Jiang Mian was acting that way, yet he insisted on playing dumb: “I didn’t smile at them, didn’t look at them. I was looking at you the whole time.”

Jiang Mian was silent for a moment, then ultimately gave up and admitted: “I don’t like you being mistaken for Chen Yishen.”

Jiang Mian was too smart.

His intelligence was the kind where, even if he always handled interpersonal relationships poorly, he could still analyze and figure things out using his IQ.

Chen Gu said that liking wasn’t a formula.

But for Jiang Mian, many emotions could be applied with special formulas.

He knew that if people saw the ambiguity between him and Chen Gu, combined with Chen Gu’s face, there would be talk.

But for Jiang Mian, Chen Gu and Chen Yishen really looked different.

He could just recognize him at a glance. It wasn’t a matter of intuition; it just was, without reason.

Meeting Chen Gu’s slightly stunned gaze, Jiang Mian frowned and said seriously: “You are you; he is him.”

Chen Yishen was just his friend.

Perhaps a friend whose contact would fade someday because they were both too busy with work.

But Chen Gu…

He liked Chen Gu.

This was his first time liking anyone.

And probably the only time in his life he’d feel such affection and heart-pounding.