When Ji Zhi caught sight of that all-too-familiar figure, his first instinct was that he must be seeing things.
After all, the silhouette really looked like Jiang Yaolin. But hadn’t Duan Zhao already called him? Why would Jiang Yaolin still show up here…
Yet after scrutinizing the man more closely, Ji Zhi was already half-convinced in his heart—
From his vantage point, he could see the guy wearing a duckbill cap pulled down low over his eyes, along with sunglasses and a mask. He had on a baseball jacket and simple jeans.
Who in their right mind covered their face up like that on a university campus?
Especially when Ji Zhi saw a girl excitedly rushing up to him, notebook in hand like she wanted an autograph. At that point, Ji Zhi was pretty much certain the man was Jiang Yaolin. After all, he remembered Yao Shan mentioning how even with hats and masks, famous celebrities often got recognized by fans—not that it was any surprise given Jiang Yaolin’s massive popularity.
The reason Jiang Yaolin was here had to be because of him.
Ji Zhi’s first impulse was to head downstairs and intercept him before Jiang Yaolin caused a bigger stir. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he dismissed it. He hadn’t forgotten what Duan Zhao had said—the man had only just told him yesterday to cut off all contact with Jiang Yaolin.
Maybe he should just pretend he hadn’t seen him.
The campus was huge, and Jiang Yaolin wasn’t even a student at A University. Even if he’d asked around to find the right building for Ji Zhi’s major and started checking classrooms one by one, it would take time. By then, Ji Zhi would be long gone…
With that in mind, Ji Zhi relaxed a little.
As the class bell rang, he slipped back into the classroom.
Ji Zhi tried his best to put Jiang Yaolin out of his mind and focus on the lecture. But near the end of class, he glimpsed a figure pacing back and forth outside the door and windows nearby.
Ji Zhi: “…”
No way…
His seat was a good distance from the door, and he worried that constantly turning his head would draw the teacher’s or other classmates’ attention. So for the moment, he forced himself to ignore it.
But the instant class ended, Ji Zhi was the first one out the door.
After all, once the bell rang for good, plenty more people would pour into the hallway. If Jiang Yaolin got recognized by that crowd, he’d definitely trend online again.
Duan Zhao had been quick to suppress the previous hot search, but Ji Zhi had learned the hard way that even a short window was enough time for plenty of people to see it.
If word got out that both Duan Zhao and Jiang Yaolin were after the same guy, and people started digging deeper…
Just imagining it made Ji Zhi think he might end up seeing his own ID number splashed across the internet.
Sure enough, the moment he stepped out of the classroom, there was that familiar figure from downstairs earlier. Even with the sunglasses and mask still on, the low brim of the cap revealed the faint outline of Jiang Yaolin’s face.
Ji Zhi had already suspected it was him, but he still wasn’t mentally prepared for a direct confrontation. So when they nearly collided, his heart skipped a beat.
Hearing footsteps behind him and realizing other classmates were about to emerge, Ji Zhi didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Jiang Yaolin’s arm and hustled him toward a nearby corner.
Fortunately, Jiang Yaolin didn’t resist, simply following along obediently in Ji Zhi’s wake.
Before Jiang Yaolin could draw a bigger crowd, Ji Zhi managed to drag him into the secluded spot. Ji Zhi was still glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby when Jiang Yaolin yanked off his sunglasses and mask.
His eyes were red-rimmed, the outer corners drooping, with shimmering tears welling up as if they might spill over at any second.
Ji Zhi’s heart jolted.
Seeing the usually upbeat and cheerful Jiang Yaolin like this filled him with shock, a twinge of guilt, and a surge of pity. Without thinking how intimate the gesture might seem, he reached out to gently wipe the tears from the corners of Jiang Yaolin’s eyes.
Jiang Yaolin didn’t pull away. He let Ji Zhi dry his tears, then spoke up in a heartbroken tone. “Bro, Duan Zhao called me.”
“He said you two are lovers and told me to stay away from you both…”
His voice was naturally clear and expressive, even through the sniffles. Each word came out crisp, laced with thick grievance and a pleading whine.
Ji Zhi was so caught up in the tone that he missed the way Jiang Yaolin’s eyes darkened at the mention of Duan Zhao, a shadowy glint flickering in those pale irises. His thoughts drifted back to the night before.
After wrapping up his variety show shoot, Jiang Yaolin had messaged Ji Zhi and settled in to wait for a reply, full of anticipation. But left and right, no response came from Ji Zhi—instead, he got a call from Duan Zhao.
When his manager mentioned that Duan Zhao wanted to get in touch, Jiang Yaolin paused. He’d heard the name before, of course, but the two had never crossed paths. If Duan Zhao wanted him for an endorsement deal, he could’ve just sent an assistant.
Curiosity won out, and Jiang Yaolin picked up.
Duan Zhao on the other end skipped any pleasantries and got straight to the point. “Mr. Jiang Yaolin, I’m Ji Zhi’s lover.”
“I know you two met through his streams once upon a time, but now he’s with me. So there won’t be any more contact between you from here on out—that’s what Ji Zhi wants too.”
“Of course, if you need some kind of compensation, feel free to let me know…”
Duan Zhao’s tone was mild, but his words carried the weight of a declaration.
Even though he knew there was nothing between Jiang Yaolin and Ji Zhi, the thought of Jiang Yaolin’s feelings for him left Duan Zhao short on patience. He kept it brief.
Jiang Yaolin blinked at the mention of “Xiao Zhi,” thrown for a loop until Duan Zhao’s follow-up made it click that he meant Ji Zhi.
His mind went blank for a beat, reeling. He couldn’t fathom how Ji Zhi had ended up as Duan Zhao’s lover.
If his manager hadn’t confirmed the caller ID, Jiang Yaolin might’ve hung up thinking it was a scam.
But hearing the casual familiarity in Duan Zhao’s voice when he spoke of Ji Zhi sparked an instinctive retort. “What are you talking about? Bro is mine.”
“He’s never mentioned you to me. Who even are you? You don’t get to tell me to back off just because you say so—I need to hear it from Bro himself.”
Unlike Duan Zhao’s cool demeanor, Jiang Yaolin didn’t have the best temper by nature. He only played nice for his roles and public image. Faced with this bizarre call, he didn’t hold back.
Duan Zhao could’ve easily fetched Ji Zhi to say it himself, but he had no desire to let the two interact more than necessary. He replied evenly, “You might not know me, but I know all about you. It was Xiao Zhi who told me.”
His tone sounded perfectly natural, but to Jiang Yaolin, it rang like a taunt.
Jiang Yaolin let out a cold laugh. “That’s normal enough—the side piece always knows about the main man, but the main man doesn’t always know the side piece exists.”
He didn’t buy Duan Zhao’s claim about his relationship with Ji Zhi for a second, but that self-assured tone—like he was the rightful one—grated on him all the same.
As someone who regularly went toe-to-toe online defending Ji Zhi, dismantling haters until they deleted their accounts, Jiang Yaolin’s combativeness didn’t falter just because the battlefield had shifted to a phone call.
