Lemon Soda Candy - 65

The next afternoon, Zhou Anran flew back to Nancheng with her boyfriend and two best friends.

Her seat was next to Chen Luobai, separated by an aisle from Yan Xingxi and Sheng Xiaowen.

The previous night’s antics had kept her up too late. After chatting with Yan Xingxi across the aisle for a bit, Zhou Anran’s eyelids began to droop.

She told them she wanted to nap, leaned back in her seat, and closed her eyes heavily.

Half-asleep, half-awake, Zhou Anran felt her head slipping sideways, only to be gently steadied by a warm hand and guided onto a familiar-smelling shoulder.

Even in her dreamlike state, she felt an inexplicable sense of comfort and sank back into a deep sleep.

She woke up when Chen Luobai nudged her gently.

Still groggy, Zhou Anran struggled to open her eyes, nuzzling against his shoulder with a soft, sleepy murmur: “Are we there?”

The boy’s voice was low and gentle. “Almost.”

Zhou Anran slowly opened her eyes, still resting on his shoulder. As the drowsiness faded, she remembered the message Ms. He had sent her before boarding.

She tugged at his sleeve and looked up at him. “Can you walk separately from us later?”

Chen Luobai’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Why? Am I not presentable?”

Zhou Anran quickly shook her head. “Of course not! I told you before, my parents are picking me up, and I haven’t figured out how to tell them about you.”

He gazed at her silently.

Zhou Anran’s hand slid down from his sleeve, lightly grasping his slender index finger and giving it a gentle shake.

“Please?”

Her soft, pleading voice slipped into Chen Luobai’s ears. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he suppressed some inappropriate thoughts.

“Zhou Anran.”

“Are you banking on me being weak to you acting cute?”

Zhou Anran: “…”

“No way.”

She flashed him a smile, her dimples sweetly peeking out. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

Chen Luobai stared at her for two seconds, then pinched her cheek, flattening her dimple, his tone heavy.

“You’d better remember.”

After exiting the terminal with her two best friends, Zhou Anran was surprised to find that Ms. He and Zhou Xianhong, who came to pick her and Yan Xingxi up, had coincidentally run into Sheng Xiaowen’s parents, who were also there to pick her up.

The parents had all attended the same parent-teacher meetings in their daughters’ first year of high school. Since their daughters were friends, they’d exchanged greetings back then and still remembered each other. By the time the girls reached them, the adults were already chatting warmly.

Zhou Anran and her friends approached, greeted the parents, and the group lingered for a few more moments before parting ways.

Since He Jiayi and Zhou Xianhong had to work the next day, their original plan was to drop Yan Xingxi off at her house, sit for a bit, and return to Wucheng.

But Yan Xingxi’s parents, who hadn't seen He Jiayi and Zhou Xianhong in a while, and over half a year since they’d seen Zhou Anran, warmly insisted they stay for dinner.

By the time Zhou Anran got into the car with her parents to head back to Wucheng, it was past eight in the evening, and the sky had long turned dark.

Her parents sat in the front, while Zhou Anran sat alone in the back, suddenly missing Chen Luobai.

She pulled her phone from her bag. She couldn’t call him yet, but she could send a message.

Back at Yan Xingxi’s house, she’d wanted to text him, but Yan Xingxi’s mom, who hadn’t seen her in ages, kept sitting beside her, chatting.

Zhou Anran opened WeChat and tapped on his profile.

She was still thinking about what to say when her phone pinged.

Chen Luobai had messaged her first.

C: [Didn’t you say you’d call me?]

Zhou Anran: “…”

The night had only just begun, hadn’t it?

But the corners of her mouth curved up slightly.

Zhou Anran: [Stayed for dinner at Xixi’s house.]

Zhou Anran: [Just left for home.]

She snapped a photo of the night view outside the car window and sent it to him.

C: [Fine.]

C: [I’ll let it slide for now.]

Zhou Anran’s lips curled as she started to reply, but his next message popped up first.

C: [Are you feeling okay?]

Zhou Anran froze.

It took her a moment to process what he meant, and when she did, the words on her screen felt scalding. She nearly dropped her phone.

Perhaps because she didn’t reply immediately, or maybe because he knew her too well, his messages kept coming.

C: [Who told you to say you were ready the day before winter break?]

C: [I can’t exactly check for myself this time.]

Zhou Anran: “??”

C: [So, are you okay or not?]

C: [If you don’t tell me, I'm coming to Wucheng tomorrow.]

Zhou Anran’s face flushed instantly.

She remembered how he’d pestered her with questions the previous night, asking if she still felt it was a dream. But his methods were far more relentless, and far more shameless, than now.

He was still shameless.

How did he plan to “check” now?

Between last night and now, her embarrassment and irritation doubled.

Zhou Anran: [Chen Luobai!]

C: [Hm?]

Zhou Anran: [You’re so annoying!]

C: [?]

C: [Already finding me annoying?]

C: [Zhou Anran.]

C: [Sleeping with me and not taking responsibility?]

Zhou Anran: “…?”

He’d been the one teasing her relentlessly since last night. How dare he turn it around on her.

Zhou Anran: [Keep talking, and I won’t call you tonight.]

C: [Fine.]

C: [No call, then.]

?

No call, then?

He wasn’t even going to coax her anymore?

If anyone was sleeping and not taking responsibility, it was him.

Zhou Anran puffed out her cheeks.

The next second, her phone pinged twice.

C: [I’ll call you.]

C: [Can’t help it when I’ve got a heartless girlfriend who sleeps and runs.]

Zhou Anran’s lips curved up again, unbidden.

He Jiayi turned around just in time to catch it.

“Ranran, who’re you chatting with, smiling so happily?”

Zhou Anran’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing the “sleep and run” on her screen, her pulse raced, and her ears burned.

Thankfully, the car was dimly lit.

“Just Xixi,” she fibbed.

He Jiayi raised an eyebrow. “You two have that much to talk about? What made you so happy? Is she telling you those weird jokes again?”

Weird jokes?

Zhou Anran thought back.

It was probably that day after the summer break in their first year, she’d used a lame joke Yan Xingxi told her as an excuse.

That day, she’d lingered in the exam room looking for her pen cap. The early summer sun blazed, cicadas chirped loudly, and a tall boy stood outside the window, smiling as he said, “See you next semester.”

Back then, he was a secret she could only keep in her heart.

Now, he was her boyfriend.

---

The first few days of winter break passed uneventfully for Zhou Anran. She spent her days at home studying and her evenings secretly video-calling Chen Luobai from her bedroom.

He’d said he’d come to Wucheng to see her the next day, but it didn’t happen.

For one, she was too shy to agree. For another, he’d promised his mom he’d intern at the law firm during the break, and she dragged him there the next day to help out.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t take time off.

But Zhou Anran wanted to make a good impression on his parents.

Besides, his reasons for coming weren’t exactly… proper.

Wucheng wasn’t far from Nancheng, and the winter there was just as damp and cold. They’d returned on a Saturday, and for several days after, Zhou Anran stayed holed up at home, not daring to go out. It wasn’t until Friday, when Cen Yu, who’d been visiting relatives, returned to Wucheng and invited her to see a movie, that she finally went out.

They met at a mall near Zhou Anran’s house, choosing a quiet afternoon showing with few people.

The movie ended just past five, right around dinnertime. Zhou Anran and Cen Yu headed to a restaurant in the mall for a meal.

During dinner, Zhou Anran noticed Cen Yu sneaking glances at her several times but staying silent.

As they were nearly done, Zhou Anran couldn’t help asking: “Why do you keep looking at me today? Is something up?”

Cen Yu gave her a hesitant glance.

After a moment, as if mustering some resolve, she set her chopsticks down on her bowl: “You’re dating someone, right?”

Zhou Anran nodded: “Yeah, I told you about it.”

Cen Yu asked, “Your boyfriend’s name is Chen Luobai, right?”

Zhou Anran nodded again, a bit puzzled.

Though she wasn’t as close with Cen Yu as she was with Yan Xingxi, they were still very good friends. She hadn’t hidden her relationship with Chen Luobai from her, but since Cen Yu didn’t know him, she hadn’t shared too many details.

She’d definitely mentioned his name, though.

“What’s wrong?”

Cen Yu hesitated again: “I’m going to tell you something, but don’t be mad, okay?”

“What is it?” Zhou Anran grew even more confused.

Cen Yu went quiet for a couple of seconds: “Remember when you first transferred here, that morning at the bulletin board when you were looking at Senior Yu’s photo, and I came over to talk to you?”

Zhou Anran: “I remember.”

“I actually approached you on purpose that day,” Cen Yu said.

Zhou Anran: “?”

Once she started, Cen Yu seemed to find it easier to continue: “You’ve met my cousin, Xu Hongliang. He’s friends with Senior Yu. Back then, she asked him to ask me to look after the new transfer student in our class, you.”

Zhou Anran’s grip on her chopsticks tightened.

That bulletin board was the first time she’d seen Yu Bingqin’s name. She hadn’t even been to Wucheng before then.

Yu Bingqin couldn’t possibly have known her.

The only explanation was that Yu Bingqin had been asked by someone else.

Cen Yu grabbed her wrist and raised a hand as if swearing: “I swear, though I approached you because Senior Yu asked me to at first, after getting to know you, I genuinely thought you were kind and gentle, I really wanted to be friends with you. Please don’t be mad.”

Zhou Anran’s throat felt tight: “I’m not mad.”

“Then I’ll keep going,” Cen Yu said, cautiously glancing at her again.

Zhou Anran blinked: “There’s more?”

Cen Yu’s face fell: “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad,” Zhou Anran reassured her. Her personality was sensitive, some might call it overly so. If Cen Yu hadn’t been sincere about their friendship, she would’ve sensed it.

“Go on.”

“Well—” Cen Yu started, then paused, as if it were suddenly hard to say. After a long moment, she continued, “You know how I always gave you two gifts? It wasn’t because I had a habit of giving two. The second one was always from Senior Yu, passed through me to you. At first, I even wondered if Senior Yu had a crush on you or something. My cousin said she’s straight, but that you two probably had some other connection. Then, a few days ago, I was at his place, and he let something slip.”

Cen Yu paused again, looking at Zhou Anran.

Zhou Anran had already guessed. Her fingers, still gripping the chopsticks, had gone white from the pressure.

Then Cen Yu said softly: “Ranran, those gifts… they were all from your boyfriend. That’s why the packages always came from Nancheng.”

Zhou Anran couldn’t describe how she felt. Her nose stung fiercely, overwhelming her.

“Cen Yu,” she said, her voice thick with tears, “I have to go.”

She wanted to go home and look at those gifts again.

And she wanted to call him.

Even Cen Yu, an outsider, was moved, so she understood Zhou Anran’s emotions and nodded: “Go ahead. Don’t worry about the bill—I’ll cover it as an apology.”

Zhou Anran barely registered her words. She grabbed her bag, ready to leave.

Just as she took a step, Cen Yu grabbed her again.

“Almost forgot.” Cen Yu pulled a small file folder from her bag and handed it over. “I only give you one gift each time, but you thanked me so much for them, and I felt guilty. I made a list of everything sent from their side, so I wouldn’t forget when I finally told you. I also kept all the delivery slips from his packages.”

---

Both her parents were still at work.

Zhou Anran rushed straight to her bedroom when she got home.

Cen Yu had given her so many gifts, stored in different places depending on their use. Now, as she gathered them, they nearly covered half her desk.

Most were small things girls liked, plush toys, trinkets, nothing too expensive, so she’d never suspected anything.

Zhou Anran sat at her desk and pulled the list from the file folder.

It was just a thin sheet of paper, but it felt impossibly heavy in her hands.

It took her several seconds to unfold it.

The first line read: Travel gift: Rabbit keychain.

That rabbit keychain was right beside her. She’d found it cute and had kept it in her backpack since receiving it. Through second- and third-years, as she changed bags, that little keychain stayed, now faded and worn from washing.

No wonder Cen Yu had given everyone else pearl bracelets as their second gift, while hers was this rabbit keychain.

Zhou Anran scanned the list slowly.

There were far more gifts than what was on her desk.

Dumplings for Dragon Boat Festival, mooncakes for Mid-Autumn Festival, apples for Christmas—among the foods Cen Yu had given her in doubles, some had come from him.

For her seventeenth birthday, the roses Cen Yu gave her were from him, too.

She’d folded a candy-wrapper rose for him once, thinking she’d been the first to give him flowers.

But he’d already given her flowers long before, without her knowing.

For her eighteenth birthday, Cen Yu had given her a necklace and a rose gold bracelet—the two most obviously valuable gifts.

Especially that bracelet.

But Cen Yu’s family wasn’t poor, and she’d said an coming-of-age gift was a once-in-a-lifetime milestone, so Zhou Anran accepted it.

Seeing the rose gold bracelet on the list wasn’t surprising.

No wonder he’d asked about it when she wore it to his tournament game.

Zhou Anran’s nose stung unbearably.

Tears streamed down her face, but she couldn’t make a sound, her throat choked with emotion.

Back then, she’d thought he could never like her.

She’d only wanted to avoid causing him any trouble.

But how is this possible?

How could he have been secretly so good to her all this time?

And why hadn’t he told her, even now?

Zhou Anran grabbed her phone, wanting to call him, but after seven or eight tries, no one picked up.

She felt an urge to go to Nancheng to find him, but he’d mentioned that morning he was going on a business trip to a neighboring city with the law firm.

Even if she went, he wouldn’t be there.

Her blurry gaze fell on the rose gold bracelet again.

Right.

That day, Zhu Ran had asked about the bracelet too.

What had he said?

Something like, My friend bought one to give to someone.

Back then, she’d thought it was just casual talk. Now, it seemed like Zhu Ran had been dropping a hint.

She picked up her phone again and called Zhu Ran.

This time, it connected quickly.

Zhu Ran sounded surprised: “Zhou Anran, why’re you calling me out of the blue?”

Without time for pleasantries, she asked, “Did he send me a lot of gifts in high school?”

There was a pause on the other end.

Zhu Ran played dumb: “What gifts?”

Zhou Anran’s voice trembled with barely suppressed tears: “My friend told me. That rose gold bracelet was from him, wasn’t it?”

Another pause. Zhu Ran sighed: “Guess you really found out.”

He continued, “He told me not to tell you, but I always thought you should know. Your friend probably doesn’t know everything. He came to see you in Wucheng several times in high school.”

Zhou Anran was stunned.

Her throat tightened further as she asked, “He came to see me?”

She clutched her phone, suddenly recalling a time when she’d gone out to eat with Cen Yu and others. Waiting for the light at a crosswalk, she’d glanced back and seen a figure that looked like him.

Dressed in black, wearing a baseball cap.

She’d thought she’d imagined it from missing him too much, or that it was just someone who looked similar.

Could that really have been him?

“Yeah,” Zhu Ran said. “The last time was after your summer break. We heard you were treating Yan Xingxi and the others to dinner. I went with him to find you. He was thinking about confessing that day, but when we got there, he overheard you saying you didn’t like him anymore.”

Zhou Anran’s mind went blank.

“That day—” she paused, “did someone call out to him?”

Zhu Ran sounded surprised: “Yeah, his aunt was eating at that restaurant and called out to him. You heard it?”

Zhou Anran’s vision blurred completely: “I thought it couldn’t possibly be him.”

Zhu Ran continued: “He was in a bad mood that summer. He canceled our travel plans and stayed home reading. Right before school started, I dragged him out to play basketball, but he was so out of it he sprained his ankle.”

Zhou Anran’s heart clenched.

No wonder he’d told Zhu Ran not to tell her. He hadn’t lied, just omitted part of the truth.

 

“Oh, and,” Zhu Ran added, as if remembering something, “he actually considered transferring to Wucheng back then. His aunt, Senior Yu’s family, lives there, so he’d have a place to stay. His mom didn’t stop him but asked him a few questions to make him think it through.”

“What questions?”

“She asked if he was sure transferring would move you rather than burden you. If he could guarantee that he wouldn’t make him resent you if his grades drop. If he could promise to like you forever, because how could he dare disrupt you during such a critical time in high school otherwise? And if he could ensure it wouldn’t affect your grades.”

Zhu Ran paused.

“He said he could promise to like you forever. He said he’d never meet another girl like you who was so shy she could barely talk to him yet would always stand up to protect him. But he wasn’t sure if it would affect your grades.”

---

At 6:10 p.m., He Jiayi got home from work.

The living room was dark, as if no one was home.

She thought for a moment, then walked to her daughter’s bedroom door. No light seeped out, suggesting no one was inside.

She knocked anyway: “Ranran.”

No response.

He Jiayi opened the door and saw a figure sitting motionless at the desk in the dim room, the desk cluttered with piles of items.

If not for the faint light from the window and her familiarity with her daughter, He Jiayi would get a scare.

“Ranran, you’re home but didn’t answer when I knocked? Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

He Jiayi turns on the light, squinting at the sudden brightness. Then she saw her daughter’s eyes, red and swollen from crying.

“What’s wrong, Ranran? Why are you crying again? Is it about that Chen Luobai boy? I was wondering why I saw him downstairs again.”

Zhou Anran, dazed from crying and not being able to reach him, snapped back at the sound of his name: “Mom, what did you say? He’s downstairs?”

He Jiayi nodded: “Yes.”

“You’re sure it’s him?” Zhou Anran shot up from her chair.

He Jiayi: “He’s hard to mistake with that face—”

Zhou Anran grabbed her phone, not waiting for her mom to finish: “Mom, I’ll explain later. I need to find him.”

He Jiayi grabbed her: “Wait.”

Seeing her daughter’s reaction, she realized it didn’t seem like he’d hurt her heart. Her guess changed.

“Are you two together?”

Zhou Anran nodded, no longer hiding it. He’d done so much for her in secret, how could she not have the courage to tell her parents?

“I’ll explain later, okay? I really need to find him.”

“Ranran,” He Jiayi paused, “he came to see you before.”

Zhou Anran froze: “What did you say?”

Details she’d overlooked rushed in. How did her mom recognize him? And she’d just said, ‘He’s downstairs again.’

He Jiayi: “He came to see you once, the day you transferred.”

Since Zhou Anran’s phone was with her mom that day, He Jiayi had answered his call and met him downstairs.

His appearance was so striking that, even years later, she recognized him instantly today.

He’d worn their school’s uniform, with no accessories except a watch for telling time.

But He Jiayi, thanks to her flashy sister-in-law, could recognize the watch and his limited-edition sneakers, ones her sister-in-law couldn’t get for her son, were expensive.

Yet he showed no trace of arrogance, speaking politely, asking to see her daughter.

What had she told him?

“You see her now, and then what? I’m not trying to be harsh, but I’ve raised my daughter this far, and last night was the first time I saw her cry that hard.”

“You’re in your second year of high school, a critical time. I can tell you come from a good family, exam scores might not matter much for you; you have plenty of options. But Ranran worked hard to get into the experimental class at No. 2 High School, waking up at five or six every morning to maintain her steady grades. I don’t want her efforts to go to waste.”

“She’s a girl, and finding a job will be tougher for her. We only have one child. Her father and I can’t protect her forever, and she has no siblings to rely on. We just hope she can get into a good university, to have a better chance at a stable future.”

Chen Luobai’s phone had been on silent all afternoon. When he finally checked it, there were nearly sixty missed calls.

Over thirty were from Zhou Anran.

The rest were from Zhu Ran.

His heart raced. Zhou Anran had never called him so many times, especially knowing he was on a business trip.

Fearing something was wrong, his fingers trembled as he hovered over her number, about to call back, when Zhu Ran’s call came in.

Since both had called so much around the same time, it was likely about the same thing. He answered quickly.

Zhu Ran sounded anxious, tinged with guilt: “Hey, Chen Luobai, I need to tell you something. Zhou Anran somehow found out from her friend that you sent those gifts. I ended up telling her the rest, too. She was crying when she called me. I don’t know how she’s doing now, you’d better go comfort her.”

He hung up before Chen Luobai could respond, as if afraid of being scolded.

Chen Luobai felt an urge to drag Zhu Ran back to Nancheng and give him a piece of his mind.

But knowing it was just his past actions being exposed, not something worse happening to her, he relaxed slightly.

Ignoring Zhu Ran for now, his priority was to comfort his girlfriend.

He was about to call her when he spotted a bullet train station downstairs. Pocketing his phone, he rushed back to the office, told the lawyer he’d come with that he was leaving, and hurried down.

The train to Zhou Anran’s neighborhood took just twenty minutes.

Every second felt agonizingly slow. He considered calling to comfort her but worried, like the last two times, that it might make her cry harder. Over the phone, he’d be helpless, and the rush-hour train was so packed he couldn’t even pull out his phone.

When he finally got off, he checked his phone, only to find the screen wouldn’t light up.

He’d left in a hurry that afternoon and hadn’t charged it. It likely has no batteries left.

Chen Luobai ducked into a convenience store by her neighborhood, bought two drinks, and borrowed a charger from the owner.

As soon as the screen lit up, he powered on the phone, opened the call log, and dialed her number.

The store owner, a middle-aged woman, warned, “Young man, they say it’s dangerous to use your phone while charging—it could explode.”

Chen Luobai didn’t look up: “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. Just calling someone to come down.”

The owner, used to seeing all sorts of people, guessed, “Your girlfriend?”

Chen Luobai nodded.

The call connected quickly. He focused, hearing her tearful voice: “Where are you?”

He coaxed her softly over the phone, gave her his location, unplugged the charger, thanked the owner, and went to wait under a tree at her neighborhood’s entrance.

Soon, he saw her running out.

Wucheng’s temperature was barely seven degrees. She hadn’t even grabbed a coat, running out in just a sweater.

Chen Luobai unzipped his down jacket and opened his arms.

Zhou Anran crashed into his embrace. She’d run so fast that, for once, he stumbled back a step, too focused on checking whether she was crying to brace himself.

He wrapped her tightly in his jacket, brushing her cheek and finding it wet with tears.

Regretting not buying tissues, he couldn’t dry her face with his hands. He kissed the corner of her eye, tasting the saltiness of her tears.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Chen Luobai coaxed softly.

Zhou Anran had calmed down earlier, but seeing him, the tears broke again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chen Luobai gently wiped her tears with the back of his hand, his voice low: “Didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“That love letter was my fault, after all. Zong Kai only slipped it into your English book to make Yin Yizhen give up on me. Your transfer was partly my fault. Asking someone to look out for you was the least I could do. Telling you would’ve felt like taking credit for something I should’ve done.”

“And the gifts… I used your trust in your friend. Not exactly honorable.”

“What about the ankle injury?” Zhou Anran asked.

Chen Luobai knew Zhu Ran had spilled everything, and that urge to drag him out resurfaced: “The injury had nothing to do with you. Who doesn’t get hurt playing ball? By then, school was about to start, and I already decided to pursue you. I was down for a bit that summer, but I wasn’t that fragile.”

Zhou Anran’s voice trembled: “What if I never found out?”

“You found out, didn’t you?” Her tears had soaked his hand, his heart ached. “Stop crying, okay? If you keep going, I’ll think you’re regretting it.”

Zhou Anran’s sobs paused: “Regretting what?”

He looked down at her: “Regretting for seeing me through rose-colored glasses. Thinking that Chen Luobai, besides being decent-looking and good grades, is just an ordinary guy full of flaws. Someone who’d use your trust in your friend for his own selfish reasons, who’s petty, bad-tempered, and always teasing you. Not really worth liking.”

Zhou Anran shook her head: “No.”

“No what?” he asked.

Without thinking, Zhou Anran said, “There's no rose-colored glasses. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you now. I still really, really like you.”

Chen Luobai’s hand, wiping her tears, froze.

He knew she liked him, her eyes, her actions, everything showed it.

But she was so reserved, rarely voiced her feelings, let alone something so direct. He’d never expected her to say it so openly.

“What did you just say?”

Wrapped in his jacket, Zhou Anran tugged at his sweater.

What he said when he confessed to her was right.

Some things needed to be said properly.

“You asked me last time what I meant by not just being good.”

 

Chen Luobai’s heart seemed to know the answer but asked softly: “What is it, then?”

Zhou Anran hugged his waist, pushing past her shyness, and looked up at him.

“Because I really, really like you.”

“That day at the restaurant, when I told Xixi and the others I didn’t like you anymore, it wasn’t true. I was just afraid they’d worry about me, and I also didn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“From the moment I saw you on the first day of high school, I’ve liked you every single second since, without stopping, without ever regretting it.”

Chen Luobai’s heart melted. His hand on the jacket slid to her waist, pulling her close before speaking softly: “That’s enough, then.”

Zhou Anran didn’t follow: “What’s enough?”

Chen Luobai: “You liked me before, you like me now, and you’ll always like me, right?”

Zhou Anran nodded.

He brushed the corner of her eye, finally dry, and let out a heavy sigh, his lips curving: “Then what’s there to cry about over me secretly sending a few gifts to my future wife?”

Zhou Anran: “…?”

Wait.

His future what?

“Can’t you be serious for once?”

Chen Luobai laughed: “How am I not serious? Didn’t you just say you’ll always like me? Backing out already?”

Zhou Anran: “…”

She puffed out her cheeks: “I can never outtalk you.”

Chen Luobai: “How can you not outtalk me?”

Zhou Anran: “?”

He pinched her cheek: “Just act cute with me, and I’m utterly defeated.”

---

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