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Lu Tinghe stood out sharply in the crowd with a black sketch bag slung over his back, hands stuffed in his pockets. His tall, upright posture carried a hint of laziness, yet remained strikingly eye-catching.
Perhaps it was because she heard Lu Tinghe speaking on her behalf, but Ning Mo’s phoenix eyes lifted slightly, her smile alluring and radiant.
“Tinghe, I never intended to make her pay.”
Tan Weiwei was about to explode: “???”
This woman had just been relentlessly demanding compensation for the spilled coffee, and now she had flipped like changing faces in an opera—one moment Empress Dowager Cixi, the next a pitiful little cabbage?
How could someone be so fake? Did Professor Ning change careers to start selling watches?
Lu Tinghe’s sudden appearance left Shang Li momentarily flustered. He had likely seen the whole scene of her being humiliated, and now was saying she must pay for the spilled coffee.
At this point, Shang Li no longer cared what Lu Tinghe thought of her. She only wanted to keep Tan Weiwei from getting dragged into this mess—best to resolve it quickly and leave.
So she didn’t hesitate and said, “I’ll go buy another coffee.”
Just as she turned to leave, Lu Tinghe reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Buy another coffee as compensation? That doesn’t seem quite fair.”
Shang Li looked up at Lu Tinghe, meeting his deep-set eyes, where a trace of amusement lingered.
Of course. Ning Mo was his girlfriend. No matter what, he’d always take her side.
“Then how should I compensate?”
Lu Tinghe turned toward Ning Mo, speaking lazily, “There’s still some coffee left. Why don’t you splash it on Shang Li? Once it’s done, we’re even.”
His words were like pouring boiling water into hot oil—the crowd instantly erupted.
The students watching exchanged incredulous looks. No one had expected Lu Tinghe to say something like that.
Maybe Ning Mo’s relationship with him was truly out of the ordinary, or maybe the Design School’s campus belle had unknowingly offended him somehow.
At this moment, Ning Mo was inwardly thrilled, though she tried hard not to let the glee show on her face.
She said coquettishly, “Oh, there’s no need. If word got out, people might say I’m bullying a junior.”
Tan Weiwei nearly gagged from how fake she was acting: “……”
Lu Tinghe said flatly, “I told you to do it. What, do you need an invitation?”
Now, Ning Mo felt her earlier worries had been completely unfounded. Since Lu Tinghe himself had spoken, she curled her lips into a sly smile, took the coffee cup, and took a bold step toward Shang Li.
The two were about the same height. Shang Li stared straight into her eyes.
In Ning Mo’s eyes, there was nothing but unrestrained mockery.
Shang Li thought she should’ve seen the truth long ago. Let her pour it then—it was her fault for bumping into her in the first place. After this, she and Lu Tinghe would be even.
Ning Mo raised the cup, her eyes glimmering with a seductive indifference.
She lifted the coffee cup and flicked it in Shang Li’s direction.
Almost at that exact moment, Shang Li shut her eyes with a sense of resignation, as if unwilling to witness the scene unfold.
Suddenly, she felt a wave of heat block her front, accompanied by the familiar scent of pinewood.
The onlookers let out a collective gasp of astonishment, like a crashing wave of shock.
Shang Li’s eyes snapped open—and in the next second, the coffee stain on Lu Tinghe’s white shirt seized her gaze.
Ning Mo had never imagined Lu Tinghe would step in front of Shang Li at the very last moment. Her hand faltered abruptly.
*Crash*—the coffee cup fell to the ground.
Tan Weiwei covered her mouth in surprise and blurted out a national treasure of a curse: “Holy shit…”
Lu Tinghe turned his head, the rising hostility in his eyes completely undisguised. “I’ve compensated you on Shang Li’s behalf. Don’t go around picking fights for no reason.”
Shang Li opened her mouth, stunned speechless by the scene before her.
Lu Tinghe turned away, ignoring the stares from the crowd. He swung the sketch bag off his shoulder. “I carried this for you all night. Giving it back now.”
Shang Li: “…”
“Don’t want it? Then I’ll carry it over to the Design School for you.”
That finally jolted Shang Li into action. She took the sketch bag from him, her voice dazed. “Thank you.”
…
A while later, in the back row of the Design School’s lecture hall.
Tan Weiwei was grabbing Shang Li’s slender neck, shaking her back and forth wildly, making Shang Li dizzy and nauseous.
“Li Li, be honest with me. What’s going on between you and Lu Tinghe? Why did he have your sketch bag?!”
“Stop shaking me! I’m gonna puke,” Shang Li forcefully pushed Tan Weiwei away. “I was at Sister Siyu’s place yesterday drawing her pet. I forgot to bring it with me…”
“No way,” Tan Weiwei shot back decisively. “To us art students, a sketch bag is our life. We’d forget our shoes before we’d forget our sketch bag! And did you see how Lu Tinghe blocked that coffee for you? Unreal! I’ll believe you’re not involved with him now, but don’t tell me you two never had a thing!”
Shang Li was still caught up in what had just happened.
Every time she made up her mind to stay away from Lu Tinghe, he’d do something that tugged at her heartstrings, making her want to fall in deeper.
“There’s really nothing between us. We just sat next to each other in Senior Year. But he barely spoke to me the entire time. You know I was a Special Admission Student at Dijin High School—didn’t really have any friends.”
Tan Weiwei pouted thoughtfully for a moment before her eyes lit up. “Then what was Lu Tinghe doing today? Fighting with Ning Mo and using you to piss her off?”
Shang Li looked down and pulled out her textbook, answering with a hint of gloom, “Maybe.”
Every time she saw Lu Tinghe, she became flustered. Too much of her affection was written in her eyes.
But Shang Li knew—Lu Tinghe could never like her. They weren’t even from the same world. Any kindness from him now was probably just a whim. If she kept falling deeper, the only one who would end up hurt was herself.
That white shirt Lu Tinghe had stained today was probably more expensive than all of Ning Mo’s clothes combined.
The two of them sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
Just then, a hand patted Shang Li on the shoulder from behind. She turned around to see Lu Tinghe smiling at her, the coffee stain on his white shirt glaringly obvious.
Shang Li: “…”
Tan Weiwei turned as well, her gaze immediately landing on Bo Yanzhi beside him.
“What are you two doing here? Crashing our class? Got too much free time?”
“I need to talk to Shang Li.”
As Lu Tinghe spoke, he leaned down slightly. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his solid chest.
Shang Li quickly looked away. “I’m in class…”
“Okay, I’ll wait until you’re done.”
“I have to work at the restaurant after class…”
Lu Tinghe: “Your class ends at 2:30. I already talked to the boss. You can go in at seven later.”
Shang Li: “…”
Tan Weiwei could tell Shang Li didn’t really want to get too close to Lu Tinghe. Suspicious, she swept a glance at him. “Why do you seem like some kind of stalker? Shouldn’t you be comforting Ning Mo right now? And did you know—our Li Li already has someone she’s secretly in love with? She’s not into your type.”
At that, the smile on Lu Tinghe’s face froze at the corners.
Shang Li: “?!!”