Lemon Soda Candy - 63

Zhou Anran’s breath was filled with his presence. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, as the boy’s sharp, angular face became slightly clearer in her vision. She couldn’t tell if she was enchanted, but she instinctively followed his words and asked, “What naughty thing?”

Chen Luobai leaned closer, stopping just short of kissing her, yet not quite touching her lips, his fingers hooking onto her jacket’s zipper. “First, explain why you didn’t text me all evening, and then I’ll think about it.”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

What did he mean by think about it?

She murmured, “But you didn’t text me first either.”

Chen Luobai tugged her zipper downward, his lips nearly brushing hers but maintaining a sliver of distance. “Who was the one who refused to come back to the apartment tonight?”

Zhou Anran didn’t know what he was planning. The room was quiet, and even the slightest sound was crystal clear, making her heart tremble. She explained softly, “I haven’t seen them in so long, you know.”

In the darkness, Chen Luobai seemed to nod, his fingers pulling her zipper back up, his tone a bit displeased. “So you just tossed your boyfriend aside, huh?”

Zhou Anran felt a twinge of guilt.

She couldn’t tell if it was his teasingly close, almost-kissing stance that was particularly maddening or her desire to appease him, she lifted her head slightly.

The sliver of distance between their lips finally vanished.

Chen Luobai’s hand paused on the zipper.

This was the first time Zhou Anran had ever initiated a kiss with him.

Her lips touched his, but she didn’t know what to do next, her heart pounding like it might explode.

Their gazes met in the dim light, and she could vaguely sense his eyes darkening even more as he looked at her.

Zhou Anran’s face flushed, and she quickly pulled back.

The next second, a familiar firm hand gripped the back of her neck.

“Zhou Anran.”

Chen Luobai called her name.

“Is that how you kiss me? So half-hearted?”

Zhou Anran: “It wasn’t.”

Chen Luobai leaned in again, his breath hot against her lips. “How do I usually kiss you?”

How did he usually kiss her?

He'd first gently kiss her lips for a while, then his tongue would…

Zhou Anran’s face burned.

Chen Luobai pressed his nose against hers and chuckled softly. “Alright, this is already a huge step forward. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Take care of the rest?

Zhou Anran was still processing when the boy, who had been maintaining that teasing almost-kiss, finally leaned down and kissed her.

His room seemed to be a suite.

Zhou Anran hadn’t paid much attention to the details because when he turned on the light, he was holding the back of her neck, kissing her, while fumbling to insert the keycard into the slot.

She thought it might be a suite because he pulled her to sit on a sofa.

More precisely, he sat on the sofa, and she sat on his lap, his hand still holding her neck as he kissed her.

Her room with Yan Xingxi and the others didn’t have a sofa.

Northern winters were far more comfortable indoors than the damp, cold winters of Nancheng, where thick home clothes and heaters were a necessity.

The room’s heating was ample, and both their jackets were off, tossed aside. Despite this, Zhou Anran, who was naturally sensitive to the cold, still felt warm.

Time seemed to lose its flow, or rather, she couldn’t perceive time—only him.

His kisses, his breath, the way he buried his unsteady breathing against her shoulder, as if he were suppressing something but ultimately failing.

Zhou Anran’s wrist was gripped.

Chen Luobai leaned close to her ear, his breath scorching. “Baby, can you help me out?”

Zhou Anran could never refuse him.

Nor did she want to.

His burning palm pressed against the back of her hand; her own palm was even hotter . This time, Zhou Anran buried her face in his shoulder.

Time seemed to regain clarity, every second, every minute became vividly clear and torturous.

She heard his breathing grow rapid again as time passed, sweat beading finely on his neck, just like how he looked after playing basketball that day.

But it was also very different from that day. He’d played the full game without a break, fighting until the last second. After the game, his voice was low and tired, barely speaking on the way back to the apartment.

Yet now, this guy still had the energy to keep teasing her with nonsense.

“Why’s your face so red again?”

“Am I not the one being taken advantage of here?”

“You really don’t want to take a look?”

“…”

“…”

“Say something.”

Zhou Anran wanted to get up to wash her hands, but he pulled her back into his arms, so she buried her face in his neck again.

“What should I say?” Zhou Anran asked, her voice muffled against his neck.

Chen Luobai rubbed her wrist. “Don’t you want to ask about what Yuansong mentioned this afternoon?”

Zhou Anran had meant to ask him about it, but his antics had completely pushed the thought out of her mind. His reminder brought it back.

“I do. What was Yuansong trying to say this afternoon?”

Chen Luobai: “When school started, he secretly took a photo of you. I traded a pair of sneakers for it.”

Zhou Anran recalled, “The ones he was wearing?”

Chen Luobai hummed in affirmation, still rubbing her wrist. Earlier, she’d mustered the courage to tease him back, blushing as she quietly asked if he was done yet. He’d laughed, asking what she was rushing for, and she’d buried her face in his shoulder, mumbling after a long pause that her hand was getting a bit sore.

Thanks to him, Zhou Anran had picked up some knowledge about sneakers. “Those sneakers aren’t cheap, are they? Trading them for a photo of me seems like a bad deal.”

“Not at all.” Chen Luobai’s gaze dropped to her delicate pale hand, his throat bobbing slightly. “It was totally worth it. I hadn’t seen you in a long time, and my foot wasn’t fully healed yet.”

Yuansong said it was the start of the semester, and Chen Luobai mentioned his foot not being fully healed. That timeline was earlier than she’d expected.

Zhou Anran wanted to seize the chance to ask when exactly he’d started liking her, but then she felt his fingertips slide down, gently pinching her palm.

Memories from moments ago flooded back into her mind.

Her face heated up, and she squirmed in his arms. “I’m going to wash my hands.”

“Wash what—” Chen Luobai paused. His ears were slightly red, betraying a hint of boyish shyness, but the mischief in his eyes and words was anything but. He even pinched her cheek with the same hand that had just touched her palm. “Didn’t I already wipe it for you?”

Zhou Anran: “…”

It felt like some kind of indirect contact upon contact, and her face suddenly burned like she had a fever.

The jerk laughed even harder, doubling down by pinching her cheek again with that same hand. “You didn’t even look earlier, and you’re this shy? What’ll you do in the future?”

Zhou Anran: “??”

What future?

“I’m going downstairs to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.” Chen Luobai pulled her back into his arms, kissing her ear soothingly. “No more teasing. I have something else to tell you.”

Zhou Anran leaned back into his embrace. “What is it?”

Chen Luobai paused briefly.

Just when Zhou Anran thought he was still teasing her, he spoke slowly. “Zong Kai said he wants to apologize to you in person.”

The name caught her off guard, and it took a few seconds to respond. “You’re still in touch with him?”

“No.” Chen Luobai resumed rubbing her wrist. “He saw the reunion photos Tang Jianrui and the others posted today and reached out specifically. Want to hear his apology?”

Zhou Anran thought about it.

Then she shook her head at him. “I don’t really want to forgive him.”

Regardless of whether her parents’ decision to move had other reasons, the trigger was that “love letter.”

Because of that “love letter,” she was separated from her best friend, moved to an unfamiliar city, and transferred to a new school.

Without Cen Yu, she could hardly imagine how tough the early days of that transfer would’ve been.

If Chen Luobai hadn’t stepped up to admit the letter was his, pulling her out of that mess, she didn’t know how long it would’ve taken to move past the pain of being doubted and unable to defend herself.

But Zong Kai had been one of his closest friends back then, second only to Zhu Ran.

Zhou Anran clutched the fabric of his T-shirt, asking with a bit of unease, “Do you think I’m being a bit petty?”

“Petty’s just right.”

Zhou Anran: “?”

Chen Luobai brushed her cheek lightly. “Because I’m pretty petty too, I still haven’t forgiven him.”

Zhou Anran exhaled in relief and asked, “Why did he think slipping that letter into my book would make Yin Yizhen give up on you? Just because you bought me a drink at the store?”

She’d been puzzled by this for a long time.

Chen Luobai lowered his gaze, looking at her steadily. “You still don’t get it?”

Zhou Anran blinked, confused. “Get what?”

Chen Luobai hooked a strand of her hair hanging to one side, his gesture casual but his tone serious. “He saw you bringing me medicine that day but didn’t tell me at first. He guessed you might like me, so he slipped the letter into your English book, thinking if no one else saw it, it might push you to make a move.”

Zhou Anran: “And if someone else saw it?”

“If someone else saw it, he knew I’d protect you.” Chen Luobai paused, raising a hand to touch her cheek. “Because he figured out, even before I did, that I already had a bit of a crush on you back then.”

Zhou Anran had considered he might’ve liked her earlier than she’d thought, sparked by some moment she hadn’t yet pinpointed.

But she never imagined it was that early.

Her mind went blank. “What did you say?”

“Why so shocked? Didn’t you secretly watch me all through high school? Did you ever see me tease other girls or buy them drinks?” Chen Luobai saw her wide, disbelieving eyes and couldn’t help but pinch her cheek again.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’ve been thinking about you for a long time.”

Sheng Xiaowen was used to waking up before six to practice her oral English, her biological clock more reliable than any alarm. Despite staying up chatting until nearly one the previous night, she still woke up just past five that morning.

Half-asleep, Sheng Xiaowen vaguely recalled they were out for a gathering and not at school. Drowsily, she closed her eyes again, but in her hazy vision, she noticed the spot on the left side of the bed, where Zhou Anran was supposed to be sleeping, was empty.

Still groggy, Sheng Xiaowen didn’t think much of it, assuming Zhou Anran had just gone to the bathroom. Her heavy eyelids fluttered shut again.

When she woke up again, it was nearly nine.

Zhang Shuxian and Yan Xingxi were still fast asleep, but the spot where Zhou Anran was supposed to be, between her and Yan Xingxi, was still empty.

Sheng Xiaowen felt something was off.

She got up and went to the bathroom, calling Zhou Anran seven or eight times, but no one answered.

Sheng Xiaowen started to worry. She scrolled through her contacts, found Zhu Ran’s number she added the day before, and dialed it.

The call rang for dozens of seconds before he picked up.

From him, Sheng Xiaowen got Chen Luobai’s number.

When she called, it only rang a few seconds before he answered—

And promptly hung up on her.

Sheng Xiaowen called again.

Hung up again.

On the third try, he finally picked up. The voice on the other end was low, but she could still hear the irritation in it.

Having been at the same school for three years and classmates for one, Sheng Xiaowen knew a bit about Chen Luobai. Though he kept his distance from girls, he was generally well-mannered. She’d never heard him sound this impatient.

“Get to the point.”

Sheng Xiaowen vaguely recalled Zhou Anran mentioning he had a temper when woken up and didn’t dare waste words. “I’m Sheng Xiaowen. Ranran’s not in our room, and her phone’s not answering. Do you know where she is?”

The word “Ranran” seemed to act like a calming agent.

When he spoke again, the irritability in Chen Luobai’s voice was gone, replaced by his usual laid-back tone. “She’s sleeping in my arms.”

Sheng Xiaowen: “?”

Sheng Xiaowen: “!”

“Sorry for disturbing you.”

---

Zhou Anran didn’t wake up until nearly eleven. She vaguely remembered Chen Luobai answering a call at some point, but she was too sleepy to catch the details, only feeling him gently kiss her after hanging up, coaxing her back to sleep.

Her toiletries were all in the room downstairs, so she had to go down to wash up.

When she entered the room, the three girls were sitting on the bed watching TV, each doing something different: Yan Xingxi eating chips, Sheng Xiaowen holding her phone, Zhang Shuxian wearing a face mask.

As Zhou Anran opened the door, it was like a pause button had been pressed—the three of them froze.

The next second, the play button was hit, and all three resumed their actions, but their eyes turned toward her in unison.

Zhou Anran’s face heated under their stares, she pointed to the bathroom. “I’m going to wash up first.”

No one said a word.

Zhou Anran hurried into the room—her bag was still on the desk inside.

As she passed the bed, Sheng Xiaowen spoke up casually. “Ahem… so, you used protection, right?”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

Realizing what she meant, Zhou Anran blushed and shook her head vigorously.

Yan Xingxi nearly dropped her chips, jumping off the bed without even putting on her slippers. “You didn’t use protection?”

She let out a curse. “Damn, I thought Chen Luobai was one of the good ones.”

Zhang Shuxian peeled off her mask and got off the bed, her tone nervous. “You didn’t… do that, do you? You’re a biology major—how could you not know there’s no such thing as a safe period?”

“Even if you didn’t do that, it’s still risky,” Sheng Xiaowen said, frowning. “I’ll go buy you some pills.”

Zhou Anran’s emotions were a mix of amusement and overwhelming gratitude, she quickly shook her head. “No, I mean we didn’t do anything.”

“Huh?” Sheng Xiaowen let out a huge sigh of relief. “If you didn’t do anything, why’s your face so red? You scared me to death.”

Zhou Anran: “…”

She was too embarrassed to explain in detail. “It’s not like we did nothing, but we’re still far from needing that kind of protection.”

The other two also sighed in relief.

Knowing how shy she was, they didn’t press her further on the topic.

But Zhou Anran heard from Chen Luobai that Sheng Xiaowen was the one who called him, and she felt a bit guilty. She wanted to explain, but their stares earlier had made her too shy to speak up right away.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you guys I wasn’t coming back. I planned to sleep here last night, but—”

Zhang Shuxian, who had held back from teasing her earlier to spare her embarrassment, now winked at her with curiosity. “But what?”

“But—” Zhou Anran paused, still finding it hard to believe. “He told me last night that he started liking me back in high school.”

“What?!?”

“He liked you in high school?!?”

Yan Xingxi’s chips actually fell this time.

---

That morning, the group had planned to visit A University together before having lunch, but in the end, only Dong Chen, who'd come from his school, Tang Jianrui, Huang Shujie, and He Mingyu, who acted as their “guide,” went.

At lunchtime, the high school friends gathered again.

While waiting for the food, Tang Jianrui complained, “What’s with you guys? Didn’t we agree to visit A University together today? Why was it just us few who went?”

Yan Xingxi and the others had actually woken up around nine.

They didn’t go because they knew Zhou Anran was shy. If only she and Chen Luobai skipped out, others might guess something, so they stayed to cover for her. Besides, Yan Xingxi and Sheng Xiaowen had already visited, and Zhang Shuxian would likely come again in the future.

Sheng Xiaowen casually fibbed, “We stayed up late chatting yesterday and couldn’t get up.”

Tang Jianrui turned to Chen Luobai. “Brother Luo, why didn’t you come either? Didn’t you say you’d be my guide? Couldn’t get up either?”

Chen Luobai glanced at the girl beside him, who was looking down, avoiding his gaze. He poured her a glass of warm water and slid it over. “Yeah, couldn't get up.”

Zhu Ran had received Sheng Xiaowen’s call that morning.

But for the sake of a certain someone’s cousin, he didn’t expose Chen Luobai.

Tang Jianrui, oblivious, asked curiously, “Didn’t you go back to your room before one after playing games with us? How were you still not up by nine?”

Chen Luobai’s hand under the table held the girl’s beside him, his tone lazy. “Well, I went back and did some homework.”

Zhou Anran: “…”

What homework was he doing!

“Next time you come, I’ll be your guide,” Chen Luobai said, casually playing with her fingertips. “This meal’s on me.”

After lunch and some more chatting, the group left the private room.

Dong Chen had left something in He Mingyu’s dorm, so they headed back to school to get it.

Zhou Anran and Chen Luobai walked the others to the subway station.

At the station entrance, Zhou Anran handed Zhang Shuxian the snacks she’d bought before lunch and fixed her windblown jacket collar.

Zhang Shuxian was reluctant to leave, hugging her. “Ranran, have your family move back soon, okay? It’s so hard to see you now.”

Zhou Anran gave a soft “mm” and said, “We might go back to Nancheng for the New Year. Even if we don’t, I’ll stay at Xixi’s for a few days.”

“That’s good.” Zhang Shuxian hugged her for a few more seconds before letting go. “I’m off then.”

Zhou Anran nodded. “Be safe and text me when you get there.”

Tang Jianrui, standing nearby, grinned. “Don’t worry, sister-in-law, Old Huang and I will make sure she gets to her school gate.”

Zhou Anran wasn’t quite used to being called “sister-in-law,” her ears warming slightly, but she smiled at them. “Thanks, you guys.”

The guys’ goodbyes were less sentimental.

Huang Shujie and Tang Jianrui just waved casually at Chen Luobai.

“Brother Luo, we’re off. See you in the winter break.”

Chen Luobai, one hand in his pocket, draped the other over the girl’s shoulder, pulling her into his arms. “See you in the winter break.”

Zhou Anran said goodbye to Yan Xingxi and Sheng Xiaowen, then watched as the group turned and headed downstairs.

Their figures slowly disappeared from view.

Seeing her linger silently, Chen Luobai bent down, wrapping her fully in his arms, and looked at her. “Reluctant to see them go?”

Zhou Anran nodded.

She wasn’t one for crowds, but saying goodbye to friends still left her feeling sad and empty.

Zhou Anran hugged his lean waist back. “From elementary school, I went to school with Xixi every day. In high school, the four of us, me, Xixi, Xiaowen, and Shuxian, ate together almost every day.”

Back then, she’d always wished high school would pass quickly, eager to grow up.

But now that she was grown, her friends could no longer always be by her side.

Chen Luobai spoke. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Zhou Anran looked up. “Tell me what?”

He tucked her wind-blown hair behind her ear, his voice low. “I’ll always be with you.”

“And they’ll always be your best friends.”

---

New Year’s Day was just a few days away. 

Yu Bingqin’s band had a performance at the New Year’s gala.

With finals approaching, Zhou Anran and Chen Luobai were busy, but they made time to attend the gala that evening. Zhou Anran even bought a bouquet of flowers and delivered it to Yu Bingqin backstage before her performance.

When Yu Bingqin’s band took the stage, the audience erupted in applause, the energy electric.

Beside Zhou Anran, someone was quietly simmering with jealousy.

They didn’t stay long, leaving early after Yu Bingqin’s performance. January in Beicheng was bitterly cold.

As they stepped out of the auditorium, Zhou Anran’s hand was pulled into the soft, warm pocket of his down jacket. 

She heard Chen Luobai say coolly, “Why do I feel like you like my sister more than me?”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

“No way.”

Chen Luobai played with her fingertips in his pocket. “When I had my finals match, I didn’t see you bring me flowers.”

Zhou Anran hadn’t thought to bring him flowers that day.

For one, he was a guy, and at basketball games, people usually brought water.

Even if she’d thought of it, she probably would’ve been too shy to give him flowers in front of so many people.

“Then I’ll get you some later.”

Chen Luobai paused his steps.

He genuinely felt that no matter what he said, she’d agree.

“Just kidding. Why would I make you get me flowers? If anyone’s giving flowers, it’s me to you.”

Zhou Anran thought for a moment. “Then I won’t get you real flowers. I’ll make you one.”

“Make one?” Chen Luobai asked. “How?”

Zhou Anran: “I’ll tell you when we get back.”

Chen Luobai raised an eyebrow. “Our Ranran’s learning to keep secrets now.”

Having just watched Yu Bingqin’s performance and hearing him mention “keeping secrets,” Zhou Anran suddenly remembered something. “When you played ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ for me, didn’t you say you originally wanted to learn more than just that? What was the other song? Can you tell me now?”

Chen Luobai kept walking, holding her hand. “I meant I didn’t just want to learn that section.”

Zhou Anran had thought he’d misspoken that day.

So he hadn’t?

“What do you mean, not just that section?”

Chen Luobai: “I wanted to learn Contentment. The first time we met at the university club gathering, you barely looked at me, just listening to the song so intently, like you really loved it. But I was too busy then, and I thought the lyrics weren’t great, so since the song’s interlude used ‘Twinkle Twinkle,’ I just learned that part with my sister.”

So he’d wanted to learn Contentment to play for her?

Zhou Anran’s heart swelled with a bittersweet warmth.

Back when she was listening to Contentment in the classroom, stealing glances at him, she’d never imagined he’d one day want to learn it to play for her.

Her fingertips, held in his hand, curled slightly. “The lyrics are pretty good.”

“It’s not that they’re bad—it’s the meaning.” Chen Luobai tightened his grip, stopping her fidgeting. “Who uses a sad love song to pursue a girl? That’s just bad luck.”

Zhou Anran couldn’t help but smile.

After a pause, she said softly, “I wasn’t avoiding looking at you that day. I was just scared you wouldn’t remember me, or that if you did, you’d keep your distance like you did with other girls who liked you.”

Chen Luobai stopped abruptly, staring at her for two seconds before lifting his free hand to pinch her cheek.

“Aren't you silly?”

“How could I bear to keep my distance from you?”

Zhou Anran squeezed his hand. “It’s all in the past anyway.”

“Yeah.” Chen Luobai let go, pulling her along again. “From now on, Chen Luobai’s all yours.”

Zhou Anran’s scarf half-covered her face, but her lips curved into a smile beneath it.

As they neared the school gate, a tall, lanky guy with glasses approached, pausing when he saw them.

“Junior Zhou.”

Zhou Anran glanced at him, recognizing him vaguely as one of Xie Zihan’s three roommates. She smiled and greeted, “Senior.”

“Junior Zhou, going out with your boyfriend for the holiday?” the senior asked with a smile.

Zhou Anran nodded. “Yeah, happy New Year’s in advance, Senior.”

“Happy New Year’s.” The senior returned the greeting.

They weren’t close, so after the brief exchange, they parted ways.

Zhou Anran continued walking, still held by Chen Luobai’s hand.

A couple of steps later, she heard his cool voice again.

“Senior?”

Zhou Anran: “?”

“You called him so affectionately?”

Zhou Anran laughed. “How was that affectionate?”

“You didn’t even use his last name. That’s not affectionate?” Chen Luobai stopped, his dark eyes faintly fixed on her.

Zhou Anran was a touch embarrassed. “It’s not that, it’s just, I don’t remember his last name.”

Chen Luobai’s lips curved slightly, and he pulled her along again. “Alright, you pass.”

Zhou Anran’s lips also curled into a faint smile.

“But—” Chen Luobai stopped again.

Zhou Anran stopped with him. “But what?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me anything else.” Chen Luobai tilted his head toward her. “Why don’t you try calling me ‘senior’ too, let me hear it.”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

---

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