◎ Spouting nonsense like “appearance doesn’t matter” ◎

It wasn’t until two days later that Xu Tiancheng realized she was gone.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to the comment section lately, so he only vaguely sensed that something was missing but didn’t dwell on it.

It wasn’t until he accidentally saw a comment saying, “Today marks the third day since ‘No Name Teacher’ disappeared. I miss her.” that it finally dawned on him. Without her timely jokes and witty remarks, the other comments had become so unrestrained that they made him take a sharp breath.

At some point, this account had ceased to belong solely to him. It felt like something he and “No Name Teacher” were managing together.

It was a strange and indescribable feeling. Xu Tiancheng instinctively searched for her but found no trace—not just in the comments but also in his private messages. Even the usual playful texts like, “Hey, you there? Look at the abs!” were nowhere to be found.

Was it just because of his one comment about her going too far?

That couldn’t be it. No way.

…Right?

Then again, what if she was actually an outwardly extroverted, inwardly introverted, highly sensitive person?

Overthinking never helps. The more one thinks, the more uncertain things become.

It wasn’t something worth dwelling on, but when she finally reappeared after several days, Xu Tiancheng immediately noticed.

She didn’t seem like someone nursing wounds from a sensitive heart. She was back to her usual antics, cracking jokes and stirring things up as if she had never been gone.

What was she thinking? What had happened over the past few days? Why this post now? Why had she come back?

Xu Tiancheng had to admit—his curiosity about “No Name Teacher” was slowly growing. Maybe it was because the whole situation had become more interesting.

He liked a comment that said, “No doubt, ‘No Name Teacher’ is the best!”—and, just as expected, his inbox was instantly flooded with messages from her.

Smoke screens are only useful for couples playing the game of flirtation. Xu Tiancheng didn’t see the need for such ambiguous tactics between him and “No Name Teacher” so he got straight to the point:

“I thought you finally gave up.”

But “No Name Teacher” wasn’t so easily baited. She played the game of “if you’re direct, I’ll be direct; if you’re vague, I’ll be vague” with absolute mastery.

Of course, most of it was insincere.

“If a lie sounds better, I’d rather hear the lie.”

 “I haven’t given up. It took all my willpower to stay away for a few days.”

It was all fake.

If there was one thing she was truly serious about, it was—

Abs. Abs. Abs.

She asked for them so often that Xu Tiancheng started developing a rebellious streak. It was childish of him, really. This was just some stranger on the internet—there was no need to take it seriously.

He knew it was just a meaningless joke for her. He didn’t even need to put himself in her shoes to understand.

But no one likes being treated like a toy, casually teased without any sincerity.

With a simple “Suit yourself.” he ended the conversation, feeling unexpectedly uninterested. He realized he hadn’t needed to respond in the first place.

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

From that day on, Xu Tiancheng stopped replying to “No Name Teacher” in private.

She was sharp—her ability to read the situation was almost unnerving. The moment she sensed his withdrawal, she immediately retreated into the safety of her usual copy-paste jokes, sending playful but impersonal messages instead.

Eventually, she either grew tired of the game or found someone else to interact with. “No Name Teacher” disappeared from Xu Tiancheng’s page once again.

Days passed. Xu Tiancheng assumed they had both silently agreed to the unspoken social rules of the urban jungle, so he never expected her to reach out again.

But not only did she message him first—she also started posting daily logs of her healthy meals. The inspiration behind them was obvious.

The food in her photos looked awful.

Xu Tiancheng had long since gotten used to the blandness of healthy meals. As he got older, his cravings for rich flavors had faded.

But for someone like “No Name Teacher” who clearly cared about small pleasures in life, this had to be torture.

He was certain of her love for the little joys in life because her fitness meal photos accidentally revealed her left hand. Her fingers were long and slender, her nails neatly trimmed into a rounded shape. She wore a combination of gold and pearl accessories—a ring and a watch. He wasn’t well-versed in women’s jewelry, but even he could tell that her taste was refined. Everything about it suggested that she had both financial stability and an eye for aesthetics.

Alright, fine.

Even if all her meals were takeout, at least she was putting in slightly more effort than just joking about wanting abs.

Maybe it was her initiative in reaching out, or maybe it was how candidly she admitted, “Mentally, I don’t feel like I’ve eaten at all.”—without even pretending to enjoy the process.

Either way, they started talking again.

By the time Xu Tiancheng realized it, he had already spent a long time chatting with her.

She was bold and enthusiastic, constantly weaving between playing by the rules and breaking them. You could predict the general direction of her words, but she always managed to surprise you with the details.

Talking to her was genuinely fun. It was a rare kind of stress relief.

Xu Tiancheng lay sprawled across his massive sofa, randomly flipping through TV channels just to create some background noise and break the eerie silence of his home.

On the hundred-inch screen, a foreign documentary was playing. The camera shook as an outraged tourist, face flushed red, loudly complained about seagulls snatching fries at the pier.

Xu Tiancheng glanced down at his phone just as a new message from her popped up.

“So, in your eyes, what do I seem like?”

He looked up—right into the image of an arrogant, thieving seagull.

Then back down—where her message felt just as bold and mischievous.

Xu Tiancheng couldn’t help but laugh.

That night, he followed her account—not just out of courtesy but also out of curiosity. He wanted to see how long she could keep up this sudden obsession with healthy meals.

A small incident occurred when she posted her fourth healthy meal journal. Xu Tiancheng wasn’t sure whether to call it insignificant or a major turning point.

It seemed insignificant because, at first, he wasn’t even sure if she was a man or a woman. He was drawn to her purely because she was interesting.

As for it being a major turning point…

She had been improving in her healthy meal journaling, adding different filters to photos, using various stickers, and, of course, working on simple compositions and plating.

That day, in order to create a triangular composition, she deliberately placed a large water cup at the diagonal corner between her plate and her laptop.

Xu Tiancheng glanced at the photo, and his attention was immediately drawn to the cup’s reflective surface. Curious, he zoomed in on one corner of the mirror-like exterior. The reflection was mostly accurate, with a slight funhouse mirror effect in some areas.

Even with the slight distortion, a strikingly beautiful face appeared in his view.

Her hair was casually pulled into a messy bun, with a few loose strands framing her face. Her face shape wasn’t the trendy V-line that was all the rage—neither particularly angular nor round, more like an elegant oval. Her features were well-proportioned, her large eyes bright and captivating, her nose delicate, and the corners of her lips naturally curved upward in an effortless smirk. Even the slight distortion in the reflection couldn’t mask the lively and spirited expression in her eyes.

Rather than the cliché “stunning beauty,” the phrase “vibrant and full of life” suited her much better.

If he saw her on the street, Xu Tiancheng figured he would probably turn back for another look.

Forgive him for using the phrase “strikingly beautiful.” The reason it felt “striking” was likely due to his own preconceived notions. A woman this beautiful should, by all logic, be someone with a long line of admirers in real life—not someone spending time online casually bantering with random men.

He admitted it. Men were just this shallow. They talked about how looks didn’t matter, but the moment they found out the other person was an eye-catching beauty, their interest would skyrocket. It was instinctive, and he was no exception.