Chapter Thirty-Two: Softhearted

With each autumn rain, the air grew colder.

Ye Mian was always attentive in class, rarely exchanging words with anyone. Only at noon would she allow herself to relax, heading to the cafeteria with Jiang Yuan for lunch. That year, the school canteen had suffered severe budget cuts; the food was nearly inedible, and the students had to pick and choose just to feel half full.

After eating, Ye Mian returned to the classroom.

She found Jiang Chen sitting alone, a black lunch box in front of him. He ate slowly and methodically, a book resting at his side. A pang of sourness twisted in Ye Mian’s heart. Everyone was working hard, but Jiang Chen seemed to be the only one who studied even while eating. At this age, most believed time stretched endlessly before them—long enough to rest before working hard once more. But Jiang Chen’s time seemed perpetually scarce, as if he could never have enough, even sacrificing sleep to make room for more effort.

She remembered the message she’d sent him, still unanswered, and sighed softly.

In her previous life, Ye Mian had no memories of Jiang Chen from their adolescence. She only remembered that after he became the top scholar in the national exams, news about him faded away. She had no idea which university he attended, how he built his future, or what led him down his particular path. But she wanted to know the truth. To do that, she had to keep pace with Jiang Chen.

Perhaps her gaze was too intense, for the boy looked up from his book. Strands of hair fell messily across his brow, and his beautiful eyes lifted slightly, as if to say: What are you looking at?

Caught in the act.

Ye Mian drew a deep breath, entered the classroom without a word, and quietly took her seat, glancing back with worry at Jiang Chen’s textbook.

The college entrance exam was approaching.

A year seemed neither long nor short, but there remained a considerable gap between her grades and his.

Noticing her pitiful expression, Jiang Chen tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. “What’s wrong?”

She looked at him, her tone soft and plaintive. “I want to be first in the year too.”

At her words, Jiang Chen’s lips curled in the faintest of smiles. “Then you’d better work hard.”

How perfunctory, Ye Mian thought.

But she didn’t mind.

She drew her eyes away, yet didn’t immediately turn back, her large eyes curving into two crescent moons as she smiled, “Thank you for your encouragement.”

Jiang Chen glanced toward the doorway, offering a quiet “Mm” in response, saying nothing more.

Following his gaze, Ye Mian looked back to see a few familiar classmates returning from lunch.

After a moment’s deliberation, she turned again to Jiang Chen and said, “You didn’t reply to my message. During National Day, I really wanted to thank you. If you have time, let me treat you to a meal?”

Her voice was crisp and clear, with no concern for who might overhear.

Jiang Chen looked up at her and rubbed his temples, shaking his head in silence. He seemed a little tired.

Ye Mian didn’t press him. Still, a faint sadness lingered in her heart.

—

During the break after the first afternoon class, Ye Mian went to the restroom and ran into Li Xiaoqi.

Li Xiaoqi, the Chinese class monitor, was usually talkative. Seeing Ye Mian washing her face, she asked curiously, “Ye Mian, I heard you’re pretty close with Jiang Chen?”

Ye Mian wiped her face with a wet tissue and didn’t deny it. “Mm, he’s my neighbor.”

Li Xiaoqi nodded with a slight smile. “That’s nice.”

It was such a trivial matter that Ye Mian barely gave it a thought.

But soon, something in the classroom atmosphere shifted. Now and then, someone would steal glances at her and Jiang Chen, sometimes followed by laughter.

At seventeen or eighteen, young faces could not hide their thoughts.

From those looks, Ye Mian could tell that someone was spreading rumors about her and Jiang Chen.

She had a vague idea who had started it—it was probably Li Hao, who had brought her coconut milk that morning. With his instigation and Li Xiaoqi’s cooperation, those glances spread across the class.

Some students, with loud voices and lively personalities, made their comments clear for all to hear.

“That new girl, Ye Mian?”

“She’s with Jiang Chen now?”

“I heard Ye Mian’s the one supporting Jiang Chen, always treating him to meals.”

“So bold, so shameless.”

And so on.

Ye Mian was speechless, feeling stifled as she stared at her book.

Who would actually believe such obvious nonsense?

She snuck a glance at Jiang Chen; he remained absorbed in his book, and she let out a sigh of relief.

As long as Jiang Chen didn’t care, neither would she. Such rumors always faded with time.

But her backward glance did not go unnoticed, and a louder burst of laughter erupted from behind her.

This time, it was no longer curiosity—it was open, malicious ridicule.

Li Hao, with his nasal, mocking tone, called out, “Oh, look, the young lovers are gazing sweetly at each other—the lady patron’s in her honeymoon phase~”

Ye Mian considered herself even-tempered, but that strange, drawling voice made her angry.

Teenagers had no concept of restraint. Seeing she didn’t respond, they grew even bolder. “What, are you embarrassed? Young lovers are so shy!”

At last, Ye Mian couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up, her almond-shaped eyes glaring. “If you have something to say, say it to my face.”

Li Hao paused, a smirk on his lips. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

Ye Mian remained calm. “Then tell me, who were you talking about?”

“Whoever thinks it’s about them, that’s who. New girl, getting angry already?”

Li Hao looked smug, leaving himself room to back out, as if Ye Mian were the one in the wrong.

Ye Mian clenched her teeth, seething. This little cockerel—he dared to act but not to admit it.

In the corner, Jiang Chen had been reading with a blank expression. He glanced over, seeing the girl standing there, her hands tightly clenched, wrinkling her clothes. Her eyes were bright and wet, like a summer rainstorm full of passion.

Jiang Chen put down his pen.

In the next instant, he pulled out his chair, strode over, and kicked Li Hao’s chair hard.

The force sent Li Hao sprawling to the floor. Flushed with embarrassment, he snapped, “What’s your problem? I’m telling the teacher!”

But as he scrambled up, he met Jiang Chen’s cold, detached gaze.

Jiang Chen was tall, his features sharp, his eyes dark and threatening. The look he gave Li Hao was one of undisguised disgust.

He said nothing, but Li Hao suddenly wilted, feeling it all absurd and terrifying. He righted his chair, sitting back down with a huff, his pencil case and water bottle clattering loudly.

The entire class fell silent.

Everyone pretended to know nothing, not daring to look back.

For the most silent student in the grade—the one ranked first—to resort to violence, the contrast was too striking for anyone to comment.

Ye Mian leaned on her desk, staring in surprise at him as he handled the situation with icy composure.

In that moment, she understood the reason for his earlier coldness, and her heart softened, gentle and warm.