Jiang Yueming kept his head down, reading. The girl beside him rested her cheek on her hand, her gaze lazily following the pages he turned.
“Wait a second, you’re reading too fast. I haven’t finished yet,” Su Xiaoyue said. She reached out and pressed two fingers on the edge of the page to flip it back.
Jiang Yueming stopped and let her turn the page back, sighing helplessly.
“Do you always read this slowly?”
“Mm,” Su Xiaoyue didn’t look up. “I always read books very slowly. If I go too fast, I can’t remember anything.”
“Then why don’t you read your own copy?”
Su Xiaoyue followed Jiang Yueming’s finger and looked over. Her own book had been tossed far away by her.
“That one isn’t good.”
Jiang Yueming paused.
Weren’t the two books the same?
“Is mine better?”
“Mm-hmm.” Su Xiaoyue nodded.
Jiang Yueming pushed the book toward her. “Then you can read this one.”
“No way, let’s read it together.”
Su Xiaoyue pushed the book back, her fingers still pressing the edge of the page. She had no intention of taking it.
Jiang Yueming had no choice but to keep holding the book. The girl leaned in closer, her shoulder almost touching his.
The scent of her shampoo was very faint—a subtle, clean fragrance that drifted over from time to time before quickly fading.
Jiang Yueming shifted to the side, creating a little distance. A moment later, she leaned in again, as if she hadn’t noticed, her eyes fixed on the pages the whole time.
“Do you think the craftsman will eventually get what he wants?” Su Xiaoyue suddenly asked.
Jiang Yueming had been staring at the book in a daze. He snapped back at her words and glanced at the passage she pointed to.
“It’s unlikely.”
Su Xiaoyue kept staring at the book and continued. “I think so too. If the female lead found out there was a person hidden under her chair, she’d probably be scared to death.”
Jiang Yueming made a sound of agreement.
“Living what seems like an ordinary life, only to have someone secretly watching you from the shadows… Just thinking about it gives me chills.”
Su Xiaoyue’s voice grew lower, carrying a thoughtful tone.
“And maybe she’s not just watching. Maybe she’s quietly pushing you along from behind, guiding you exactly where she wants you to go.”
Su Xiaoyue paused for a moment, then suddenly turned her head to look at him.
“Do you think something like that could happen to us? Maybe the chair we’re sitting on has someone hidden inside it.”
The joke didn’t sound funny at all. Jiang Yueming involuntarily glanced down at the chair beneath him.
It was a wooden stool with four legs. The space under the seat was completely empty and visible at a glance. He looked back up and found Su Xiaoyue smiling at him.
“What are you looking at?”
“The chair,” he said.
“Afraid there’s someone inside?”
“No.” He shifted his gaze back to the book. “It’s just that what you said made me a little creeped out.”
Su Xiaoyue laughed and pushed the book slightly toward him, her fingers still on the edge. Jiang Yueming could clearly see her well-defined fingers—slender and fair, with a faint pink tint at the tips.
“You’re such a scaredy-cat,” she teased.
“Anyone would be scared,” Jiang Yueming retorted, unwilling to back down.
“That’s true. Everyone would be scared.” Su Xiaoyue rested one hand on the book and the other on her cheek, her eyes studying his face as if examining something interesting. “What about you? What would you do if you encountered something like that?”
“I’d run away, of course,” Jiang Yueming answered without thinking.
“What if you couldn’t run?”
“How could I not run?”
Su Xiaoyue didn’t answer immediately. She stayed silent for a few seconds, then began describing a world he had never imagined.
“What if the person wasn’t just hiding under the chair? What if they were everywhere—underground, in the sky, inside the walls, on every road you walk, in every person you meet? She’s everywhere. She knows what you’re going to do next. Could you still run away then?”
Jiang Yueming followed her words and pictured the scene: a world with no escape, eyes watching him from every direction.
The thought made him uncomfortable. He shook his head and asked, “Isn’t that just The Truman Show?”
Su Xiaoyue smiled sweetly. “Exactly, like that movie. Suppose your entire life is one big lie, everyone around you is an actor, and everything you’ve experienced is a script written by the director. Do you think you could run away?”
Jiang Yueming thought about it for a moment, then looked up. “Have you watched too many movies?”
“Is that any way to talk to a girl?”
Su Xiaoyue playfully swatted his arm, the force light, like between good friends.
“Alright, alright. Then what do you think we should do?”
“I…”
Su Xiaoyue tilted her head and thought for a moment. Just as she was about to speak, the bookstore door was pushed open.
Jiang Yueming’s gaze passed over the thoughtful Su Xiaoyue and saw Xia He walking toward them with two bottles of oolong tea. As she walked, she also noticed the situation over here.
Jiang Yueming watched her expression shift from confusion to a faint hint of anger. His body instinctively created more distance from Su Xiaoyue.
He didn’t know why he did it, but his instincts told him it was best to keep some space between himself and others.
Su Xiaoyue was in the middle of speaking when she suddenly felt a shadow press in from behind. She turned her head, and what met her eyes was Xia He’s face staring directly at her.
“Hello.”
Xia He spoke first, placing the two bottles of oolong tea on the table—right in the space where Su Xiaoyue had been leaning toward Jiang Yueming, creating a barrier between them.
Su Xiaoyue paused for a moment, staring straight at Xia He in a daze. After a second, before Jiang Yueming could sense anything wrong, she naturally broke into a smile.
“Hello.”
“What are you two chatting about?” Xia He glanced at Jiang Yueming, seemingly casually. “You look like you’re having a good time.”
“We’re talking about this book.”
Su Xiaoyue held up the copy of Human Chair—not her own, but the one she had reached over and taken from Jiang Yueming.
“Have you read it?”
Xia He’s gaze followed those hands.
From reaching out, to naturally taking the book, to holding it up in front of her—the entire motion was smooth and fluid. Jiang Yueming hadn’t shown the slightest bit of resistance.
“I’ve read it. The writing is quite interesting.”
Xia He’s gaze lingered on the book for a second, then moved to Jiang Yueming’s face. “Oolong tea. I put yours here.”
Jiang Yueming made a sound of acknowledgment and reached for the bottle pushed in front of him.
Xia He didn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the seat Su Xiaoyue was sitting in—the chair that had been moved far too close to Jiang Yueming.
On the surface, Xia He showed nothing—at least not to Jiang Yueming—but inside, she was very unhappy.
She sat down on Jiang Yueming’s other side, then naturally grabbed the edge of his chair and pulled it toward herself, like a parent adjusting a child’s seat to bring them closer.
Not a little. A lot.
So much that a clear gap opened between Jiang Yueming and Su Xiaoyue, while she and Jiang Yueming were now almost touching.
Su Xiaoyue watched her actions, the curve of her smile unchanged.
“Are you Jiang classmate’s girlfriend?” she suddenly asked.
Jiang Yueming choked on the question. His hand slipped while twisting the cap, nearly spilling the tea.
“No,” he said.
“Not yet.” Xia He spoke at the same time.
Their answers differed, the voices overlapping in the air with a subtle sense of misalignment.
Su Xiaoyue’s gaze shifted between them, her smile deepening.