Chapter 2: Run, Girl

To make some extra cash, Su Yao had picked up quite a few side hustles. 

Writing sweet yuri romances was one of them. 

What started as a hobby had become more of a habit, though her books always flopped—lots of unfinished stories, even more readers complaining. 

Only her current series had managed to gain a loyal group of… piggies.

After uploading the latest chapter, she scrolled down to check the comments.

Nutrient Express: Thanks! I totally lost my mind there for a second. But I’m back now! Senpai is amazing—Senpai x Senpai is even better!

Su Yao couldn’t hide her smile. Being appreciated like this… felt great.

InMySupermarket: Qiu Nanmu? Ye Minghua? Author, you’re not talking about that person, are you?

MyGirlfriendRanOffWithTheOtherGirl: What’s going on?

InMySupermarket: X University’s literature goddess, Mu Nanqiu! She’s super famous here, and her childhood friend Hua Mingye is a genius painter from the neighboring art school. Author, did you get permission to base your characters on them?

Tsk.

Su Yao clicked her tongue at the thread but didn’t bother replying. 

Let them talk. 

Her piggies still loved her, and that was what mattered. 

Hmph!

Of course she knew who Mu Nanqiu was. 

Whether Mu Nanqiu knew her… that was another story. 

Highly unlikely, actually. Su Yao was a complete nobody in class—a transparent background character, practically invisible. 

Someone like her wouldn’t even register on the goddess senior’s radar.

But that didn’t stop Su Yao from shipping the two… or writing self-indulgent fanfics about them.

Ding-ling-ling!

The end-of-class bell rang, and Su Yao instantly put away her phone and grabbed her books. 

She couldn’t wait to escape the crowd. 

But just as she stood up, her homeroom teacher blocked her path.

A chill ran down her spine.

She tried to act like the teacher wasn’t looking for her, attempting to sidestep and slip away—but was promptly caught and dragged into the office.

The wooden bench felt like a torture device. 

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal, but today felt… different. 

Had she been found out?

Her heart pounded as the urge to flee built in her chest. 

She peeked at the young female teacher across from her—and got caught red-handed.

Swallowing nervously to soothe her dry throat, Su Yao thought, It’s probably just about playing on my phone in class… right?

A polite cough from the teacher snapped her posture straight.

“Su Yao,” the teacher said gently. “Are you usually this quiet at home too?”

“Huh?”

Su Yao blinked in confusion, lifting her head to meet the teacher’s concerned gaze. Why that question?

She shook her head. 

She lived alone. 

Who would she even talk to—ghosts? 

Oh, wait… the couple downstairs fought every day. She did curse them under her breath sometimes. 

That counted as speaking, right?

The teacher’s voice softened even more, filled with apparent worry.

“I’ve been observing you for a while. You never interact with your classmates. Is there… some kind of psychological issue?”

“No…”

Su Yao was stunned for a second, then realized what was going on.

She was withdrawn. 

Quiet as an NPC. 

The kind that just stands around in the background with no quests and no dialogue, the kind people don’t even notice even after maxing out affection points.

Others might think she had mental health problems.

But for Su Yao, it was the opposite—too much interaction caused problems. 

She actually liked things the way they were.

Wanting to end the conversation, she tried her best to sound convincing.

“Teacher, I’m really okay. I’ve always been like this.”

“…”

“Um… can I go now?”

Every second in this room felt like a mental stress test. 

She just wanted out.

“Wait.”

Clearly, the teacher wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. 

As Su Yao racked her brain for an escape plan, a knock came from the office door.

Before the teacher could even answer, the door swung open.

“Afternoon, everyone! Ooh, is this a new junior I see?”

The voice made Su Yao flinch.

She hated overly friendly, extroverted types. 

And this girl—this upperclassman—radiated that exact kind of overwhelming energy.

And then… somehow, Su Yao found herself walking out of the office beside her.

She didn’t dare make eye contact, just kept her head down and muttered under her breath.

“Um… you really don’t have to trouble yourself, senpai. I’ve got things to do, so I’ll just—eh?!”

“Don’t be shy!”

Wang Jing grinned and gave Su Yao a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let your senpai treat you to a meal.”

“Ah, uh, I don’t think that’s necessary…”

The moment Wang Jing suggested treating her to dinner, Su Yao practically shut down.

Forget free food—she usually avoided the cafeteria entirely during peak hours, opting instead to quietly pack a meal to take home, or just cook something herself. 

The last time she ate with someone else… might’ve been a year or two ago.

She opened her mouth to decline again, but before she could get the words out, Wang Jing had already grabbed her hand. 

Watching her senpai’s swaying ponytail bounce left and right, Su Yao’s brain felt like it had been turned to mush.

Nooo, this is how I die! 

Dying by free meal ambush!

Before she knew it, they were standing outside a mid-range restaurant. 

Su Yao sighed in relief—at least it wasn’t some five-star luxury place. 

That might’ve actually killed her.

She had no idea how she made it there. 

Wang Jing had been chattering non-stop the whole time, and Su Yao hadn’t absorbed a single word.

“Elbow! Elbow! Elbow!”

“…What?”

She felt like a keychain accessory dangling off her senpai, getting tugged along helplessly. 

When she caught sight of the tastefully furnished interior, Su Yao’s first instinct was to turn around and bolt.

Click. 

That was the sound of Wang Jing opening the private room door.

Thump. 

That was the sound of Su Yao’s heart slamming against her ribs.

***

Outside the glass windows, a small plaza bustled with life. 

Couples strolled hand-in-hand, families played with their children, and the nearby river reflected the dim hues of dusk. 

But none of that mattered to Mu Nanqiu.

She was irritated. 

Not for any specific reason—just deeply, profoundly unsettled.

It didn’t sit right with her. 

Playing the “good guy” for once left a sour taste in her mouth.

Across from her, Hua Mingye took a small sip of her drink and grinned.

“Aw, Qiu-qiu, she really ditched you, huh? Bet that stings. What, you didn’t think to drag her back and bully her properly? Say something, come on~”

Her tone dripped with mischief—smug, teasing, and begging to be slapped. 

When Mu Nanqiu said nothing, Hua Mingye fanned the flames with a smirk.

“Don’t tell me… no way… you actually got stood up and just took it? You? Miss Ice Queen herself? No way~”

“…Need help finding her?”

Mu Nanqiu narrowed her eyes. “Shut it, Gou Mingye.”

She hadn’t been that mad before. 

But after a full day of Hua Mingye’s relentless instigating, the irritation had fully fermented into pure rage.

Why was I the responsible one? Why did I let her go?!

Taking out her phone, she opened her photo gallery. 

There, among the images, was the girl in the sailor uniform.

Mu Nanqiu’s expression darkened.

“You’d better pray I never catch you. Or I’ll make sure you learn what running away from a proposal really means.”

Watching her expression shift, Hua Mingye couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. 

Her peach blossom eyes gleamed with playful menace.

Heehee~ This is way too fun.

“I’m heading to the restroom,” Mu Nanqiu muttered, sliding her phone away and stepping out of the room.

Left alone, Hua Mingye gently swirled her drink, eyes fixed on the spinning liquid. 

Those who knew her would recognize this look—she was plotting something.

A few minutes passed.

Click. 

The door opened again.

Hua Mingye looked up and squinted. 

Standing there was Wang Jing. 

She gave a sly smile.

“Looks like something ran off.”

“Huh?”

Wang Jing blinked and turned her head—only to find the seat beside her empty.

Su Yao had vanished.

Panicked, Wang Jing moved to go after her, but just then, Mu Nanqiu returned. 

She glanced at Wang Jing’s confused face, didn’t ask anything, and simply took her seat again.

Then she turned to Hua Mingye.

“…Am I that scary?”

“Nope,” Hua Mingye replied honestly.

Mu Nanqiu rolled her eyes.

Wang Jing returned, looking a bit dejected, and sat down. 

Mu Nanqiu half-joked, “Someone saw me and ran away…”

“…”

“…”

The small private room fell into an awkward silence. 

It lasted until the waiter arrived with the food, prompting Hua Mingye to clear her throat and urge everyone to eat.

***

Su Yao had bolted.

She didn’t stop until she was at least 400–500 meters from the restaurant. 

Finally, she ducked around a corner and leaned against a wall, gasping for breath.

When she’d seen Hua Mingye, she’d frozen in place. 

When she’d spotted Mu Nanqiu—her mind blanked out entirely.

Only one word remained: Run!

Running didn’t solve problems. But it did work.

She had shoved her way out of the restaurant, slipped through the crowds, and vanished into the quiet shadows of the evening.

Now she was curled up against a wall in a deserted alley, trying to calm her racing heart.

Su Yao had been writing fics about the two seniors for a while now. 

But she’d always believed they lived in a completely different world. 

Two parallel lines that were never supposed to intersect.

So why… why had she crossed paths with them?

Maybe because she dared to reach out first. 

But without the natural distance of the internet, interacting with strangers was just… too hard. 

Far too hard.

Even if those two were always seen together, it didn’t mean they had that kind of relationship. 

If they found out what Su Yao had written about them—

They’d probably drag her into a public trial and execute her on the spot.

I should’ve run the moment the teacher called me over. 

I shouldn’t have expected anything from anyone. 

Being alone is better. Safer.

Arms wrapped tightly around herself, Su Yao trudged back home. 

By the time she returned, it was already past 7 p.m. Her stomach growled, but she didn’t want to move.

She opened her door, yanked off the wig and hairnet. 

The tension on her scalp vanished, replaced by a strange and quiet relief.

After showering, she didn’t bother putting on clothes—or even pulling the blanket over herself. 

She simply lay flat on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Slowly, her breathing settled.

Then, in the silence, she murmured in her sleep—

“…Seriously… when will this weird dream finally end…”