Lemon Soda Candy - 45

Zhou Anran froze, looking up at him in a daze.

“What are you looking at me for?” Chen Luobai was still casually spinning his phone, his dark eyes holding a smile. “Didn’t my sister say I should make sure you get back safely?”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

When did Senior Yu ever say he had to escort her back?

Was he talking about last Saturday?

But even then, Senior Yu probably only meant for him to make sure she got back safely that night.

Zhou Anran wasn’t sure what he meant, but driven by her own selfish desire to have him walk her back, she didn’t say anything. 

He Mingyu lowered his eyelashes.

His phone pinged several times in a row.

He Mingyu pulled it out to check, feeling like luck wasn’t on his side. He sighed inwardly and stood up. “Sorry, my roommate’s got something urgent. I have to go.”

Zhou Anran nodded. “Go ahead then.”

After He Mingyu’s figure hurriedly disappeared outside the cafeteria, Zhou Anran heard the guy sitting diagonally across from her speak in a slow, calm voice. “Ready to go?”

Zhou Anran instinctively wanted to nod, but her gaze caught the tray still sitting by her hand.

“Um—” she paused, pointing at his tray. “You barely ate anything.”

Chen Luobai followed her slender, pale hand to glance at his tray, letting out a casual “Mm.” “Not much of an appetite.”

Why wouldn’t he have an appetite?

Zhou Anran looked up, giving him a quick once-over, but couldn’t read anything from his expression.

A little worried, she couldn’t help asking, “Are you feeling unwell, or is the food just not good?”

Chen Luobai’s hand stopped spinning his phone, his brow quirking slightly as he teased, “Curious about my tastes?”

Zhou Anran: “…”

Why was he suddenly going off-script?

She wanted to look away, but that might make her seem guiltier, so she forced herself to stay composed and used Senior Yu Bingqin’s words as an excuse. “Senior Yu mentioned a while back that you’re pretty picky about food, so I was just asking.”

The guy’s voice still carried a hint of amusement. “What other bad things did she say about me?”

Zhou Anran: “?”

She blinked, a bit confused. “Is that considered bad?”

Chen Luobai continued spinning his phone, looking at her leisurely. “If it’s not bad, then what is it?”

How was she supposed to answer that?

Zhou Anran pursed her lips.

He seemed a little bothered about being called picky. If she said it wasn’t bad, would he get upset? But if she said it was bad, it’d feel like betraying Senior Yu.

Chen Luobai watched her delicate brows knit together, her expression tangled as if he’d posed her a century-defining question. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just teasing you.”

Zhou Anran: “…”

So all that thought about being more mature was an illusion, wasn’t it?

He was still the same as in high school—playful, love teasing.

Back then, she’d only watched from afar, sneaking glances as he teased Zhu Ran or other boys in class. Now, she was the target.

 

But not having to answer that question made her inwardly sigh with relief. Then she heard him say slowly, “She wasn’t wrong. I am pretty picky, so—”

Zhou Anran saw him pause. “So?”

“If you’re not in a rush to get back to the dorm,” Chen Luobai looked at her, “mind keeping me company to eat a bit more upstairs?”

Zhou Anran met his gaze, her heart fluttering, and gave him a small nod.

Chen Luobai didn’t actually feel like eating much. When they got to the second floor, he just ordered a bowl of wontons and then asked the server, “Got any room-temperature cola?”

Zhou Anran, head lowered, was quietly noting to herself that he ate green onions but not cilantro when a cola can appeared in front of her. The hand holding it had long, defined knuckles, with a familiar small brown mole just above the wrist.

A familiar voice sounded above her. “This okay for you?”

For a moment, Zhou Anran felt like the scene overlapped with one from two years ago at the small supermarket near No. 2 High School.

She looked up. The guy in front of her wasn’t wearing a school uniform anymore and was a bit taller than before, his eyes lowered as he looked at her.

“For me?” she asked softly.

Chen Luobai gave a soft “Mm.” “Consider it—”

He paused, unlike that day, he didn’t shove the cola into her hand. Instead, he set the can on the counter, his four fingers gripping the body while his index finger hooked the pull-tab.

The moment he popped it open, the faint sound of fizzing bubbles reached her ears.

He grabbed a straw, inserted it, and handed it to her, finishing his sentence slowly. “A thank-you for keeping me company.”

Zhou Anran felt tiny bubbles bursting in her heart, too. She took it, “Thanks.”

When the wontons were ready and they found a place to sit, Zhou Anran noticed he actually didn’t eat green onions either—he pushed all the garnish aside.

He wasn’t much for talking while eating.

Zhou Anran hugged the cola can, sipping slowly across from him, careful not to disturb him.

The cola he’d given her in high school—she’d never had the heart to drink it. It was still in her bedroom cabinet, long past its expiration date.

In a way, this was the first time she’d drunk a cola he’d given her.

Somehow, Zhou Anran didn’t want to finish it too quickly.

So by the time Chen Luobai finished his wontons and walked her back to her dorm, she still had about half the can left.

As usual, Chen Luobai stopped by the big tree at the dorm entrance.

Zhou Anran stopped with him, hearing him call her name in a low voice.

“Zhou Anran.”

She looked up.

The guy had one hand in his pocket, gaze lowered to meet hers. “Good luck on your exams.”

The cola in her hand had gone flat. She pursed her lips, tasting only sweetness. “You too.”

---

After the chaotic exam week ended, on Saturday noon, Zhou Anran was dragged out by her roommates for a “celebratory” hotpot—to mark “surviving their first college exam week.”

After the meal, even Yu Xinyue, who usually camped out in the library, wasn’t in a rush to leave. The group wandered the mall for a few hours, not returning to the dorm until four in the afternoon.

Zhou Anran could smell the hotpot on herself the whole way back. The first thing she did was wash her hair and shower.

After blow-drying her hair, with twenty minutes left before their agreed meeting time, Zhou Anran sat at her desk and carefully tied her hair into a low bun.

As she finished, she heard Xie Jingyi, who’d gone to the balcony to grab something, call out to her.

“Ranran.”

Zhou Anran checked her reflection in the mirror and answered, “What’s the matter?”

Xie Jingyi glanced downstairs, figuring if she shouted the next part as loudly, it might draw a crowd. She grabbed her things, walked back inside, and lowered her voice. “Chen Luobai’s downstairs. He’s here for you, right?”

Zhou Anran froze.

Her phone hadn’t buzzed.

She picked it up, unlocked the screen, and checked.

No messages from him.

But with a face like his, no one in the whole campus could mistake him, especially not Xie Jingyi, who lived for gossip.

“I’ll go check.”

Zhou Anran grabbed her phone and stepped onto the balcony. As she peeked downstairs, the guy by the tree happened to glance up at her.

It was Six in the evening.

The sky had already darkened.

His tall, lean figure was softened by the twilight, his features slightly blurred, but the moment their eyes met across the distance, Zhou Anran’s heart skipped a beat.

She instinctively stepped back.

Her phone finally buzzed.

C: 【What’re you hiding from?】

Zhou Anran: “…”

She didn’t even know why she’d ducked just now.

Her heart was just racing for no reason.

Not knowing how to explain, she didn’t admit it. 【I didn’t hide.】

C: 【Not hiding? Then come down.】

Zhou Anran: 【On my way. Wait for me.】

She went back inside to grab her bag.

“Heading out?” Xie Jingyi asked casually. “Didn’t you say another guy was joining you guys for dinner? Where is he?”

Zhou Anran didn’t know either—he hadn’t mentioned Zhu Ran. “Maybe he got held up.”

“I was hoping to see if the hot guy’s friend is hot too,” Xie Jingyi said, disappointed. “Is your other classmate good-looking?”

Zhou Anran thought for a moment.

Zhu Ran’s features were pretty sharp, and he was tall—maybe just a couple of centimeters shorter than Chen Luobai.

“He’s fine.”

Xie Jingyi looked even more disappointed. “That’s a shame.”

“You’re not even going to chase him,” Bai Lingyun chimed in. “What’s the point of just looking?”

Xie Jingyi: “Being single means I can ogle hot guys to my heart’s content.”

Zhou Anran smiled. “He’s Chen Luobai’s best friend. He’ll probably come around often. You’ll get your chance. I’m heading out.”

She was a bit curious why Zhu Ran hadn’t come, so as she walked, she texted Chen Luobai: 【Isn’t Zhu Ran coming with you?】

C: 【Why’re you asking about him?】

Zhou Anran: “…”

They were supposed to eat together. Wasn’t it normal to ask?

He’d been saying things lately that made her overthink.

Zhou Anran: 【Isn’t he eating with us?】

C: 【Got held up. Told him to head straight to the restaurant.】

C: 【Still not down?】

Zhou Anran: 【At the second floor now.】

C: 【Don’t play with your phone while walking downstairs.】

The corner of Zhou Anran’s mouth curved slightly.

When they reached the restaurant, Zhou Anran saw Zhu Ran already waiting in the private room.

This dinner was supposedly to make up for something he owed her. Zhou Anran was a bit worried they’d bring up that basketball game from back then.

She still wasn’t sure about what he was thinking.

So she didn’t dare reveal too much of her own feelings.

Luckily, neither he nor Zhu Ran mentioned that game.

Zhu Ran first grumbled about assignments and midterms, then looked up at Chen Luobai. “Isn’t your school’s basketball tournament starting soon? You playing?”

Chen Luobai gave a casual “Mm.”

Zhou Anran knew from her two student council roommates that the campus basketball tournament was indeed coming up, but she didn’t know he was planning to play.

Playing in a tournament was way more intense than casual games, and guys usually played half-court for fun.

“Can you handle a tournament?” Zhou Anran couldn’t help asking.

Zhu Ran laughed, jumping in. “Yeah, you haven’t really played much since your leg injury, right? You sure you’re up for it?”

Zhou Anran tilted her head, catching Chen Luobai’s expressionless glance at Zhu Ran. His tone carried a hint of his high school bravado. “If I’m not up for it, who is?”

“Keep talking big,” Zhu Ran said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—this room’s not just you and me anymore. If you lose, you’re not just embarrassing yourself in front of me.”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

Was he talking about her?

Before she could look away, Chen Luobai suddenly turned to her.

Their eyes met unexpectedly, and her heart, predictably, skipped another beat.

“If I really lose, would you think I’m embarrassing?” he asked her in a low voice. .

With her heart racing, Zhou Anran shook her head. “No way. Just do your best.”

Chen Luobai turned back, the corner of his mouth lifting as he tilted his chin at Zhu Ran.

Zhu Ran, annoyed by his smug look, tilted his head too. “Zhou Anran, do you know how his leg got injured?”

Zhou Anran had always wanted to ask but had hesitated. Seeing Zhu Ran bring it up, she was about to ask why when—

The next second, Zhu Ran yelped in pain, jumping up from his seat. His chair screeched backward, whether from his movement or something else.

Zhou Anran swallowed her “why” and blurted out, “What’s wrong?”

“He’s just full and likes to stand up and yell,” Chen Luobai answered first.

Zhu Ran grimaced, glaring at him. “Chen Luobai, you—”

But Chen Luobai turned to her. “Your Senior Yu—”

Zhou Anran’s attention shifted to him.

He stopped after those four words.

Zhu Ran, for some reason, also stopped, sitting back down with a begrudging look. “Yeah, I like to stand up and yell when I'm full.”

Zhou Anran pursed her lips, her gaze moving from Zhu Ran back to Chen Luobai’s face. “What about Senior Yu?”

“She’s got rehearsal tonight. Wanna go check it out after we eat?” His expression was calm, as if the little interruption hadn’t happened.

Zhou Anran paused, then nodded.

Her gaze drifted back to the table. She picked up a piece of rib with her chopsticks and chewed slowly, but it tasted like nothing.

She wasn’t dumb.

Zhu Ran had clearly been about to tell her why Chen Luobai got injured, but he’d been subtly warned and stopped.

Was the reason for his injury something she wasn’t supposed to know?

Or…

Has she been reading too much into things lately?

Her fingers tightened around her chopsticks.

The familiar voice spoke beside her again.

“It was just before school started. Twisted it while playing ball.”

Zhou Anran froze, turning to look at him.

Chen Luobai was looking at her too, his expression more serious than before. “I didn’t let him tell you because he’d exaggerate a one-point issue into a ten-point drama.”

Zhu Ran cut in, indignant. “Chen Luobai, you’re slandering me in front of Zhou Anran. When have I ever exaggerated a one-point issue into ten—”

Chen Luobai gave him a faint glance.

Zhu Ran faltered. “Okay, maybe six or seven points at most.”

Chen Luobai’s gaze returned to the girl beside him. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you my medical records and test results.”

Zhou Anran’s grip on her chopsticks loosened.

Was he explaining himself to her?

If he was offering to show medical records, he probably wasn’t lying. Besides, if he remembered everything from high school, he’d likely have figured out how much she liked him back then. There’d be no reason to lie to her.

Besides, he’d never been the type to trample on someone’s feelings.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kept liking him from high school until now.

Zhou Anran shook her head. “I believe you.”

“If you believe me—” Chen Luobai’s voice softened, “then eat properly.”

Zhou Anran: “…”

She’d just been eating a rib a bit slowly.

He noticed that?

The corner of her lips curved faintly, then pressed down. She replied softly, “I am eating properly.”

Zhu Ran: “…”

Zhu Ran set his chopsticks down. “I’m done.”

Zhou Anran looked up, seeing that the dishes were barely touched and Zhu Ran’s bowl was only half-eaten. “You’re full already?”

“Stuffed,” Zhu Ran said, deadpan.

Chen Luobai pointed at the door. “If you’re full, get lost. Don’t disturb our meal.”

Zhu Ran leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Why should I leave? Maybe Zhou Anran would rather eat with me.”

Zhou Anran smiled at their bickering, feeling a mix of familiarity and surrealness.

Familiar because she’d often overheard or secretly listened to them banter like this in high school. Surreal because this time, she seemed to be the center of their teasing.

Zhu Ran suddenly turned to her. “Right, Zhou Anran? Why don’t we let him leave, and you and I can catch up? I’ll tell you all about Chen’s embarrassing moments.”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

Chen Luobai tilted his head, catching the small curve of her lips and the dimple on her cheek—sweet and well-behaved.

She looked pretty happy.

“Wanna catch up with him?”

His low, clear voice sounded close to her ear, making her heart jump.

She half-turned, seeing Chen Luobai watching her with a half-smile.

“Should I leave and give you two spaces to chat?”

Zhou Anran: “…”

She hadn’t said anything!

Zhu Ran grabbed the lemonade beside him and took a sip, dragging out a “Tch.” “Why’s this water so sour today?”

Chen Luobai: “…”

Zhu Ran’s phone pinged.

He glanced at it, hurriedly set the glass down, and said, “Your sister’s on her way. I’m really not eating anymore—I’m heading over.”

With that, he grabbed his phone and rushed out of the room.

Zhou Anran was still processing. When she turned back, the door had already been slammed shut.

As she started to turn around, the door opened again, and Zhu Ran poked his head in. “Zhou Anran, I haven’t added you on WeChat yet, have I? I’ll add you from the group later—accept it, okay?”

Zhou Anran nodded.

Zhu Ran’s head disappeared just as quickly, as if he didn’t want to give anyone a chance to say anything. The door slammed shut again.

With him gone, the room fell quiet.

As Zhou Anran turned back and unlocked her phone, she felt a gaze lingering on her, stirring that familiar pang of guilt from the past few days.

Zhu Ran’s friend request popped up on her screen.

She quickly accepted and closed the app.

Chen Luobai’s voice came faintly from beside her. “You’re really adding him?”

Her heart jumped again. She turned to him. “Can’t I?”

“You can,” Chen Luobai said, his lips curving slightly. “But if he tells you anything weird, don’t believe him.”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

What weird things could Zhu Ran tell her?

His embarrassing moments?

Chen Luobai nodded at the table. “Let’s keep eating before it gets cold.”

Not daring to ask, Zhou Anran gave a soft “Oh,” picked up her chopsticks, and glanced at the table. Most of the food was untouched, and Zhu Ran’s bowl was only half-eaten. Curious, she asked, “Was Zhu Ran talking about Senior Yu? Is he going to watch her rehearse too?”

Chen Luobai gave a soft “Mm.”

Zhou Anran grew more curious. “Why didn’t he wait for us to go together? Why’d he rush off without even finishing his food?”

“He couldn’t wait,” Chen Luobai said.

Zhou Anran blinked, not quite getting it, and turned to him. “Couldn’t wait?”

Chen Luobai had already set his chopsticks down, leaning back lazily in his chair, looking at her. His tone was light. “He likes my sister.”

Zhou Anran nearly dropped her chopsticks.

Zhu Ran liked Senior Yu?

It felt a bit unbelievable—Senior Yu was three years ahead of them and went to high school in Wucheng. Zhou Anran had assumed they had no connection.

 

But thinking of Yu Bingqin’s cool aura, it made sense. A girl like that was undeniably captivating.

No wonder Zhu Ran had clammed up the moment Senior Yu was mentioned.

Still—

Zhou Anran set her chopsticks down too. “Is it okay that you told me?”

It felt like Zhu Ran’s private matters.

“It’s fine,” Chen Luobai said. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

Zhou Anran blinked, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected connection between two people she’d never linked before. She asked softly, “Does Senior Yu know?”

Chen Luobai: “My sister might know, or she might not. He tells everyone else, but he’s too scared to tell her.”

Zhou Anran’s eyes widened slightly. “Zhu Ran gets scared?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Chen Luobai’s brow quirked faintly.

Zhou Anran: “…”

“I just… thought he seemed pretty bold.”

Back in high school, Zhu Ran would joke around with teachers in class and never seemed nervous at school events.

She’d thought only shy, introverted people like her would harbor secret crushes. Someone like Zhu Ran, with his outgoing personality, would boldly pursue whoever he liked.

“No matter how bold someone is—” Chen Luobai paused.

Zhou Anran turned to look at him.

He was still leaning casually against the chair, his dark eyes reflecting the soft light and her silhouette, making his gaze seem focused and gentle. His voice was low.

“When it comes to someone they really like, everyone becomes careful and cautious.”

---

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