Just as Sang Yan finished speaking, the class bell rang.
The sound was practically liberation. The bespectacled boy exhaled in relief and stammered an apology. Sang Yan didn’t press further—just gave him a glance before returning to his seat. The crowd that had gathered slowly dispersed.
For a moment, the classroom fell into a hush before the teacher’s arrival—an unusual kind of silence.
Wen Yifan pulled her textbook from the drawer, flipped to the day’s lesson, but her thoughts strayed back to what had just happened. Remembering yesterday’s encounter with Sang Yan and his friends in the cafeteria, she pieced things together bit by bit.
So everyone thought she had two-timed Sang Yan and gotten together with Xiang Lang.
Her pen paused mid-line.
No wonder someone had called her disgusting.
She glanced in Sang Yan’s direction.
His height had relegated him to the last row of the first column, far from her seat. At the moment, he was bent over a book, his expression unreadable as the boy next to him spoke. Sang Yan didn’t even lift his head.
Wen Yifan looked away. She thought she should thank him when she had the chance.
That was her plan—though she didn’t realize how difficult it would be to find such a moment.
Sang Yan was rarely alone. Even going for water or to the bathroom, he always had company. Wen Yifan wasn’t in a hurry. She thought she’d eventually find the right chance.
It wasn’t until the following Friday after school that the opportunity finally came.
The class duty roster rotated by odd and even weeks. That Friday, Sang Yan was on cleaning duty. His usual group of friends ditched him to play basketball, leaving him alone at the podium, wiping down the blackboard with a damp cloth.
Wen Yifan packed up her things, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and walked toward him.
“Sang Yan.”
He glanced sideways, still wiping. “Speak.”
“Thank you,” Wen Yifan said earnestly.
He paused, turned to look at her again. “What?”
“For before,” she explained. “For clarifying things in class. Thank you.”
“Oh.” His tone was lazy. “Your thanks are… timely.”
Wen Yifan blinked. “Hm?”
“I was just about to forget the whole thing,” Sang Yan drawled, “and you’ve gone and reminded me.”
“…,” she had to admit, she’d dragged it out too long. Still, she kept her composure. “I couldn’t find the right opportunity.”
“No need,” he said, unconcerned, finishing the last corner of the blackboard. “If it hadn’t involved me, I wouldn’t have bothered with the nonsense.”
Wen Yifan gave a small nod. “Even so, thank you.”
He didn’t reply. She didn’t press further, turning toward the door.
But at the threshold, for some reason, she looked back.
Sang Yan had just finished wiping the board and seemed about to rinse the cloth. As he lifted his head, their eyes met.
He didn’t look surprised, just raised his brows. “What?”
“…Huh?”
“Have you fallen for me?” he asked, cocky as ever.
“…”
Wen Yifan had never met someone like him.
That arrogance seemed carved into his bones, not something learned but innate. And strangely, it wasn’t repellent. It was as if he was meant to be that way—like a star others couldn’t help but circle around. Wherever he went, there was always a kind of radiance trailing after him.
—
Later that night, coming down from the second-floor booth area, Sang Yan slipped into the employee rest room. He sank onto the sofa, pulled out his phone, glanced at it briefly, then tossed it aside. He hadn’t drunk much, his tolerance was high, but a dull ache pulsed in his head.
He fished a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and smoked in silence. Before long, Su Hao’an strolled in.
“You’re still here? Didn’t leave? What, waiting to go home with Goddess Wen?” he teased, surprised.
Sang Yan leaned back, legs crossed on the table, ignoring him.
Su Hao’an plopped down beside him, lit up as well. “Tch. I thought I was over it, but talking about that woman today just made me feel worse.”
“…,” Sang Yan didn’t respond.
“I’ve been in the game for years,” Su Hao’an muttered, “never been played like this. First time I’ve been cheated on. Can you believe it? Look at me—” He jabbed a finger at his face. “I look like this, I’ve got money, and I still got cheated on!”
Sang Yan chuckled low. “With your brains, you call yourself a player?”
“Get lost. You’ve got no humanity. Not once have you tried to comfort me.”
“Comfort what? A grown man whining like this?” Sang Yan’s voice was thick, his eyelids half-lowered.
Su Hao’an launched into a rant about Wang Linlin—how she’d sworn someone was her cousin, how he’d played along politely, only to find them kissing passionately. “Nearly puked out last night’s dinner!”
“Alright, didn’t you already break up?” Sang Yan asked, impatient.
“Can’t I vent a little?” Su Hao’an snapped. “Your brother’s been cheated on, heartbroken, and you can’t even listen?”
Sang Yan stubbed out his cigarette and sat forward. “I’m leaving.”
“…What’s with you tonight?” Su Hao’an stopped him. “You drank, didn’t drive. Wait for Qian Fei to come, he’ll drop you off.”
Sang Yan leaned back again, saying nothing.
Su Hao’an studied him. “…Are you upset because of Xiang Lang?”
Silence.
“Come on, is that necessary? If they were gonna be together, they would’ve ages ago—” He broke off, realizing the same logic could apply to Sang Yan himself. He tried a different angle. “Do you still like Wen Yifan? At first, I thought you did, that’s why I set up you two living together. But seeing how you treat her… maybe I was wrong.”
Sang Yan didn’t answer.
“Talk to me,” Su Hao’an pressed. “I swear I won’t be sharp-tongued like you, stabbing where it hurts.”
“Am I sick to bare my soul to you?” Sang Yan let out a laugh, eyes still half-shut. “What are you, a loudspeaker?”
“…,” Su Hao’an choked on his words.
“I’m just tired,” Sang Yan said flatly, sarcasm lacing his tone. “You’re overthinking.”
“Get lost,” Su Hao’an muttered, standing up. “Wasted my feelings on you.”
He headed out, but before leaving, he glanced back.
Sang Yan was lying on the sofa now, quiet, shadows cutting across his face.
And suddenly, Su Hao’an felt a flicker of déjà vu.
It reminded him of the night their college entrance exam results were released—
—when Sang Yan, always so proud and untouchable, had sat in silence, his whole body drawn tight, like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
That night, for the first time, Su Hao’an had seen a crack in the armor.
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