Chen Yao had always been pretty good to Jiang Mian. Back when the original Jiang Mian used to boss her around, Chen Yao would still go along with it cheerfully, never once getting upset.

Even when Jiang Mian got into arguments with their roommates, Chen Yao would take her side without hesitation.

Forget it, Jiang Mian thought. For the sake of the past, she’ll let this slide.

She lowered her voice, warning, “This is the last time. If you ever dare to sell me out again just to chase after some celebrity, we’re done. I’ll cut you off.”

Chen Yao shook her head frantically, swearing over and over, “I swear, it’ll never happen again!”

As she spoke, she tugged Jiang Mian down to sit beside her, then shot a discreet OK sign to Cheng Wenhan across the way.

The New Year’s Eve party was buzzing with excitement, and when Chen Yao’s favorite band hit the stage, the cheers around them grew noticeably louder, the energy in the room practically doubling.

Jiang Mian kept her face cold the whole time, not sparing Cheng Wenhan a single word.

Cheng Wenhan didn’t seem to mind, acting like he was genuinely there just to watch the show.

The band performed four songs, and the crowd below went wild for nearly twenty minutes straight. Voices were hoarse, throats strained, but no one cared—they just kept screaming, desperate to catch the band’s attention.

At first, Jiang Mian managed to hold on, but as the night dragged on, sleepiness crept in.

She’d stayed up past 2 a.m. the night before, shooting and editing a video to get it out before New Year’s. Then she’d dragged herself out of bed early for class. She’d planned to crash as soon as the holidays started, but Chen Yao had sweet-talked her into coming to this party instead.

Now, exhaustion hit her like a wave. She yawned, her eyelids growing heavier by the second, struggling to stay awake.

Suddenly, a voice from her right snapped Jiang Mian wide awake.

Cheng Wenhan’s whole reason for being here tonight was, of course, to get closer to Jiang Mian. His attention had been fixed on her the entire time.

Noticing her struggling to stay awake—her eyelids drooping despite her best efforts—he leaned in slightly and said, “If you’re tired, you can take a nap.”

As he spoke, he reached out, trying to guide her to rest her head on his shoulder.

Jiang Mian jolted like she’d been shocked, instantly alert. Before Cheng Wenhan’s hand could even graze her, she quickly shifted away.

“No need. I’m not sleepy anymore!” she replied stiffly, sitting up ramrod straight, making sure there wasn’t even an inch of space for him to get closer.

But as time dragged on, the drowsiness crept back, heavier than before.

She couldn’t hold out any longer. All she wanted was to leave and get some sleep.

“I think I’ll head back now,” she mumbled.

Chen Yao let out a small, panicked squeak. She shot an anxious glance at Cheng Wenhan, hesitating before saying awkwardly, “But… the party’s not over yet.”

Chen Yao’s words were clearly meant to get Jiang Mian to stay a little longer—it was still early, after all.

But that fleeting glance she shot at Cheng Wenhan didn’t escape Jiang Mian’s notice. In an instant, she pieced it together.

Ugh, I hate dealing with this kind of stuff.

“Nope, I’m leaving. Right now,” Jiang Mian said firmly, cutting off any room for argument. She stood up without hesitation and walked straight toward the exit.

Chen Yao reached out instinctively but couldn’t stop her. She turned to Cheng Wenhan, panic written all over her face. “What do we do now?”

Cheng Wenhan had planned a whole surprise confession, waiting for the perfect moment after the party. But if Jiang Mian left early, who was he supposed to confess to?

“It’s fine. I’ll go talk to her.”

With just a few reassuring words to calm Chen Yao down, he turned and went after Jiang Mian.

The auditorium was packed, the heat thick and stifling, making Jiang Mian feel even sleepier.

But the moment she stepped outside, the cold night air hit her like a slap, slicing through the last traces of drowsiness.

A sharp gust of wind rushed past, making her shiver. She pulled her jacket tighter and glanced at her phone—only to be surprised.

Not only had Shen Shiyan sent her messages, but he’d actually called her.

Shen Shiyan? Calling me? Jiang Mian frowned. The number of times he’d ever called her could be counted on one hand—three times, tops. What’s going on today?

Two missed calls stared back at her from the screen, sending a faint ripple of unease through her chest.

She tapped on his message first: Where are you?

Jiang Mian hesitated, debating whether to text back or just call him directly, when she heard footsteps behind her.

Cheng Wenhan had scanned the area the moment he stepped out. Under the glow of a streetlamp, he finally spotted her.

The tension in his shoulders eased, and he strode toward her, calling out, “Jiang Mian!”

She turned, her expression indifferent, eyes cool as she glanced at him.

“What are you doing out here? Weren’t you watching the show?”

She was clearly asking just for the sake of it, and Cheng Wenhan felt like a wad of cotton was stuffed in his chest—soft, suffocating, impossible to shake off. Still, he managed to keep a gentle smile on his face.

“You left so suddenly. I was worried you weren’t feeling well, so I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Mian replied coolly, her voice flat and emotionless, like she was reciting from a script.

She lowered her head again, glancing at her phone. Might as well reply to Shen Shiyan, she thought.

She quickly typed: I’m at school, watching the New Year’s Eve party.

Just as she hit send, Cheng Wenhan stepped closer, closing the space between them without warning.

As a student from the sports department, he was naturally tall and broad-shouldered. Standing in front of Jiang Mian, he towered over her, casting a dark shadow that stretched across the top of her head.

Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket—probably a reply from Shen Shiyan. What did he say? she wondered, but there was no time to check.

Instinctively, Jiang Mian frowned and took a step back, creating distance between them again, her gaze sharp and guarded.

Cheng Wenhan caught the subtle retreat in Jiang Mian’s movements, and though it made his chest tighten with frustration, he quickly composed himself.

His dark eyes softened, locking onto hers with a rare seriousness as he called out gently, “Mianmian.”

It was the first time he’d ever used that name.

During the time he’d been pursuing her, Cheng Wenhan had always been polite and respectful. He’d either addressed her as Jiang Mian or Classmate Jiang, never something as intimate as Mianmian.

Jiang Mian’s brows furrowed slightly. She could already guess where this was heading. Taking a deep breath, she decided to cut to the chase.

“Cheng Wenhan,” she said firmly, her tone as cool as the winter air, “you’re a good person. But there’s already someone I like.”

It wasn’t that she wanted to be cruel—but if she didn’t reject him outright, she’d only be making things harder for herself later.

No need for drawn-out confessions. They both knew what was unspoken between them.

Cheng Wenhan had already heard from Chen Yao that Jiang Mian liked someone else. At first, it hit him hard—he’d moped around for days. Chen Yao, unable to stand seeing him so down, had quietly tried to cheer him up.

“Maybe she’s lying,” Chen Yao had whispered.

After all, Jiang Mian said she liked someone, but Chen Yao had never seen her get close to any guy.

Those words instantly reignited Cheng Wenhan’s hope.

He pulled himself together and started pursuing Jiang Mian all over again—this time with even more passion, even more persistence.

But Jiang Mian’s heart was like a stone—no matter how much warmth he tried to pour into it, it stayed cold.

He didn’t even get the chance to confess before she handed him the ultimate rejection: the good person card.

Cheng Wenhan’s face stiffened. His eyes turned red with frustration. “I don’t believe you!”

Jiang Mian was stunned. Wait… was he about to cry?

Panic flickered in her chest. She had no idea how to comfort a crying guy.

Her brain scrambled for something to say, and for some reason, the only thing that came to mind was: There are plenty of fish in the sea—why insist on this one flower?

Jiang Mian instinctively reached out, her hand hovering mid-air, but the moment she realized this was completely out of character for her—OOC alert!—she hesitated and quickly pulled her hand back.

“Uh… I really do like someone. Don’t cry, okay?”

Seriously, how does a guy who always seems so sunny and gentle end up crying like a little kid?

For the first time, she truly understood how Shen Shiyan must’ve felt whenever she got emotional.

But before she could fully process the thought, Cheng Wenhan grabbed her retreating wrist, his grip tight but trembling. His eyes were rimmed red, clearly fighting back tears, though he stubbornly insisted, “I’m not crying!”

“Okay, okay, you’re not crying!” Jiang Mian quickly agreed, twisting her wrist slightly, trying to wriggle free from his hold.

Cheng Wenhan might’ve been denying it, but the glistening in his eyes told a different story. His voice wavered as he said, “I asked around. You’re not seeing anyone. You’re just saying that to make me give up, aren’t you?”

“I…”

Jiang Mian stared at his teary face, feeling her resolve waver. She was the type to go soft—especially when it came to good-looking guys. Ugh, why does he have to be handsome and crying? That’s just unfair.

Desperately trying to diffuse the situation, she mumbled, “C-come on, don’t cry. People might think I bullied you or something!”

Thank God everyone’s still inside watching the New Year’s Eve party. If anyone walked by and saw this, who knows what kind of rumors would start flying.

But Cheng Wenhan wasn’t listening. His heart was too tangled up in disappointment. He’d spent so much time planning the perfect confession, only to be shut down before he even had the chance. His chest felt tight, his voice thick with frustration as he said, “If you don’t like me, just say it. Why lie to me about someone else?”

“I…” I don’t want to be doing this either…

Cheng Wenhan’s eyes were bright and clear, the kind that sparkled when he smiled—gentle and warm. But when he cried? It hit differently. It made it hard to say anything harsh, like kicking a puppy when it’s already down.

Jiang Mian had thrown him cold looks more times than she could count, yet he’d never shown this fragile side before. Who would’ve thought he’s secretly a crybaby?

It completely blindsided her.

“Y-you… stop crying already!” she stammered, feeling more flustered than ever.

Cheng Wenhan didn’t want to cry. It was just that after being rejected so many times, the emotions hit him all at once—like a wave he couldn’t hold back. Even he realized how embarrassing this was, so he quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

“Mianmian,” he whispered, voice raw but sincere, “I really, really like you. Just give me a chance, okay?”

His grip on her wrist tightened slightly, like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go.

And that’s when Jiang Mian’s brain decided to betray her with a sudden, ridiculous thought: What if I just… dated both? It’s not like Shen Shiyan would find out.

The thought had barely formed when—BZZT BZZT!

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Oh, come on!

That distinct ringtone—she’d set it specifically for Shen Shiyan.

Jiang Mian snapped back to reality in an instant. The thought of his sharp, piercing gaze sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

“You—you let me answer this call first!” she blurted, her voice a little too high-pitched to pass off as calm.

Cheng Wenhan didn’t miss a thing. His eyes were fixed on her face, catching every flicker of emotion. Just moments ago, she’d seemed slightly soft, almost wavering—but the second that ringtone chimed, her entire expression shifted, like someone had flipped a switch.

Who’s calling? Whoever it was, they clearly held a special place in her heart.

That realization only made Cheng Wenhan tighten his grip.

“Jiang Mian, you do like me a little, don’t you?” His voice lowered, filled with a mix of desperation and stubbornness.

He wasn’t clueless when it came to girls—plenty had chased after him before. He could tell, even in the smallest gestures, that Jiang Mian wasn’t entirely indifferent.

Sure, maybe she thought he was good-looking. Maybe she found him somewhat charming. But actually admitting she had feelings for him?

Yeah, not a chance.

Jiang Mian straightened her posture, her gaze still soft, but the words that followed were as cold as ice, chilling the air around them.

“Cheng Wenhan, I think you’ve misunderstood. I don’t have any feelings for you. We will never be together.”

Each word was clear, precise, and sharp—like a knife cutting through the silence, leaving behind a deep, aching cold.

^_^