Jiang Yueming chewed on a jianbing guozi with one hand while Xia He held the other and pulled him forward.
He actually didn’t like eating breakfast and had never formed the habit, but Xia He had dragged him over just now and insisted he eat something.
Their pace was a little uneven—mainly because Jiang Yueming’s steps kept faltering. Xia He had been holding his hand the whole time, as if from the moment they met, their hands had stayed clasped without ever letting go.
Jiang Yueming looked down at Xia He leading him along. Their intertwined hands felt faintly warm. He gave a light, awkward tug, but couldn’t break free.
From childhood, only his mom had ever held his hand like this in crowded streets, afraid he would wander off. The girl in front of him was doing the exact same thing—gripping tightly, as though scared he would disappear the second she loosened her hold.
“Where are we going now?”
“Guess?”
Jiang Yueming had no idea. In the two years he had lived in this city, his entire world consisted of school, the net cafe, and home—a straight three-point line.
Occasionally Dong Ziyang dragged him out for barbecue, but that was still on the street right outside the school gate, never more than three kilometers round trip. He was like a house cat that had grown used to its territory, never venturing beyond familiar borders.
“I don’t know.”
He answered honestly. His wooden expression made Xia He want to laugh.
“Why do you look so dazed?”
“Dazed?”
“Dazed.”
Jiang Yueming shrugged. This was the first time anyone had ever called him dazed, though he figured it was probably because he and Xia He still weren’t that close.
Speaking of not being close…
Jiang Yueming glanced down at their joined hands.
“Us holding hands like this… won’t it look bad if someone we know sees?”
He knew all too well how the loudmouths in class loved to twist rumors, especially Dong Ziyang, whose mouth had no filter and whose storytelling talent was second to none.
The guy spent every class spinning wild tales, and Jiang Yueming’s poor grades owed more than a little to that mouth.
Xia He turned back, blinked at him, looked at their clasped hands, and smiled faintly.
“What’s wrong? I haven’t said anything, and you’re a big guy—don’t tell me you’re shy?”
“It’s not that. I just mean you’re a girl. If people from school see us, they’ll spread gossip, and that won’t be good for your reputation.”
“How would it be bad?”
Her counter-question left Jiang Yueming stumped.
“Are you worried that if others see us together, they’ll say stuff and it’ll mess up your chances with other girls?”
Jiang Yueming hesitated.
Come to think of it, that was exactly what worried him. He really didn’t want Wen Xiaoyu to see this and get the wrong idea.
His hesitation made Xia He’s brows furrow slightly.
“You have someone you like?”
“Not exactly like…”
He thought of Wen Xiaoyu’s back—the quiet girl with braided pigtails who always sat by the window. He had secretly watched her for an entire semester and had never even dared to say more than a few words.
Did that count as liking her? He couldn’t say for sure.
Jiang Yueming shook his head, tossing the messy thoughts aside.
“Why am I even telling you this? Anyway, where are we actually going?”
Xia He’s fingers tightened unconsciously, squeezing Jiang Yueming’s hand even harder.
She looked at him standing in front of her, holding her hand, yet his mind was clearly on someone else.
He looked a little embarrassed and shy, like someone whose secret had been guessed and who was now scrambling to cover it up.
It was cute.
She had never seen him like this before—green, childish, carrying that awkward, bashful nervousness unique to young people when it came to romance.
She liked it.
But she was also disappointed.
Because this was the first time she was seeing it.
A long, long time ago, this side of him had belonged to someone else. By the time he and Xia He fell in love, Jiang Yueming had already passed the age of passionate, innocent first love.
His first crush, his hazy daydreams about romance, his nervousness, his clumsiness, the way his palms had sweated the first time he held a girl’s hand—all of that had already been given to someone else.
He had a first love.
It just wasn’t her, Xia He.
That truth had always been a thorn in her heart: the person she loved so deeply had once loved someone else.
Even after she finally got what she wanted and they were together, he was no longer a blank sheet of paper when it came to love.
He was considerate, gentle, humorous, and knew exactly how to navigate the boundaries of a relationship.
But Xia He had never been truly happy.
There had been no clumsy exploration, no earth-shaking friction—only the maturity of someone who had already been through it all, solving their emotional problems in the most rational way possible.
She loved a man who already had a past.
Her fingertips slowly tightened until even Jiang Yueming frowned slightly.
A sudden impulse surged through Xia He. She couldn’t explain what she wanted to do, but she simply could not stand seeing him like this.
She wanted him to look only at her.
She wanted to be the one who pushed open the door to love for him the very first time.
She wanted the very last look in his eyes before his final breath to reflect only her.
Xia He refused to be just one chapter in his life story.
She wanted to be the only shadow in his eyes from beginning to end.
Unique. Eternal.
The impulse faded quickly.
She remembered what he had said to her that day: We can start as friends first.
Xia He took a deep breath and forced a teasing tone.
“So that means you do have someone you like? Who is it? Tell me.”
Her hand still refused to let go. She gripped Jiang Yueming tightly as her steps quickened. It didn’t feel like she wanted to stop and chat about the topic; it felt more like she was fleeing.
As she walked, the pressure in her grip grew heavier until Jiang Yueming could no longer ignore it. His hand even began to tremble.
Xia He didn’t know what she was afraid of.
Afraid he would say the name?
Afraid the name wouldn’t be hers?
Jiang Yueming’s steps turned unsteady. He could tell the girl in front of him was angry, but he had no idea why.
They soon crossed the wide street and arrived at the entrance of a bookstore.
Xia He stopped. Jiang Yueming looked up.
It was a modest bookstore. Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched a long table that spanned the entire shop front. High stools lined the back, and a few people sat facing the glass, reading.
So this was today’s first stop. Jiang Yueming was a little surprised—why come to a bookstore on a day off?
“Xia He?”
“Hm?”
“Nothing, just… it’s a little too tight.”
Jiang Yueming pointed at their hands. Xia He acted as if she hadn’t noticed.
“Like this? I get nervous in crowded places, so I like holding onto something. Bear with me, okay?”
Jiang Yueming felt that holding hands with a girl like her could hardly be called a hardship. Plenty of people would kill for the chance. The only minor issue was that she was squeezing a bit too hard.
Xia He sensed his thoughts.
Her fingers loosened, rotated half a circle, then interlocked with his one by one, changing their hold from a simple clasp to fingers fully entwined.
The intimate gesture made Jiang Yueming freeze instantly. He had never been this close to a girl before.
“Better now?”
Xia He smiled slyly. The smile looked so lively.
Behind the bookstore glass, passersby glanced over. They first marveled at the sudden appearance of such a stunning girl, then their eyes dropped to the tightly interlocked hands. Their mouths twisted in disdain.
Coming all the way here just to show off?
How annoying.
Jiang Yueming jumped in shock and stared blankly at Xia He.
Just as Xia He was about to say something, she saw his gaze change sharply. Then he yanked his hand free.
In her shock, Xia He realized he wasn’t looking at her at all—his eyes were fixed on something behind her.
“Wen Xiaoyu?”
She heard him blurt out in panic.
She turned.
A girl was just pushing open the bookstore door, arms full of books.
Braided pigtails. White shirt.
Jiang Yueming’s eyes met hers, filled with flustered helplessness.
Xia He watched the way he desperately wanted to explain but had no excuse to give. Then she looked down at her own empty hand.
She had never found the girl named Wen Xiaoyu quite so hateful before.