The walk from the Sichuan restaurant back to the neighborhood wasn’t long, but Lin Mo felt it was exceptionally lengthy.
Su Qing walked by his side, appearing to be in a fairly good mood.
She didn’t mention what had happened at the restaurant again. Instead, she just chatted about trivial daily matters—the Student Council’s activities next week, a new soup recipe her mother had learned, and the new products at the bakery by the neighborhood entrance.
Her voice was soft, and her tone was relaxed.
Lin Mo responded vaguely, but his mind was still replaying scenes from the private room.
“We’re home,” Su Qing said, stopping at her front door.
She didn’t immediately open the door to go inside like she usually did. Instead, she turned around and looked at Lin Mo.
The streetlight shone from behind her.
“The soup is warming on the stove,” she said. “Do you want to come in for a bowl?”
Lin Mo was stunned for a moment. According to their “usual routine,” she would likely “hypnotize” him tonight to interrogate him about every detail of the dinner. He had already prepared himself mentally.
However, Su Qing’s expression was natural, and her eyes were clear, even carrying a hint of faint pleasure.
“I—” Lin Mo hesitated.
“Never mind,” Su Qing suddenly laughed. “You look tired. Get some rest; we have school tomorrow.”
She took a step forward and reached out to straighten his collar, which had been ruffled by the night wind. Her movements were very light.
“Goodnight, Lin Mo,” she said softly. Then she turned, opened the door, and went inside.
The door closed gently.
Lin Mo stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door. A strange feeling rose in his heart.
‘Did she… really just want me to come over for soup today?’
Returning to his own home, the living room light was still on. His mother poked her head out from the bedroom. “You’re back? Have you eaten?”
“I ate,” Lin Mo said as he changed his shoes.
“Su Qing’s mother brought over some soup earlier. I left a bowl for you in the kitchen.”
“Okay.”
Lin Mo walked into the kitchen and lifted the lid of the ceramic pot. A rich aroma wafted out. It was corn and pork rib soup, simmered until it was milky white. He served himself a bowl and brought it to the living room to drink slowly.
The soup was warm, soothing him from his throat down to his stomach.
He took out his phone and unlocked the screen. The WeChat interface was empty, save for a few messages in the class group.
His fingers unconsciously slid to his contacts and clicked on Shen Qingyue’s name.
Their chat history had stopped last week when she had sent him a photo of a problem’s solution, and he had replied with “thanks.”
After today… he should probably say something, right?
After all, she had helped him with tutoring for so long and had even treated them to a meal — though in the end, Wang Hao had insisted on paying.
Lin Mo hesitated for a few minutes. He typed a few words, deleted them, and typed again.
What he finally sent was a very simple message:
“Thanks for today. Wang Hao and the others were a bit rowdy; I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable?”
Sent.
He put his phone down and continued drinking his soup.
He thought to himself: ‘With Shen Qingyue’s personality, she’ll probably just reply politely with a “not at all,” and the conversation will end there.’
That was for the best. Maintaining a normal relationship as classmates, without crossing lines or making things complicated.
Just as he was thinking this, his phone vibrated.
***
Shen Qingyue lived in an old but neat neighborhood on the East Side of the City.
It was a two-bedroom apartment that wasn’t very large, but it was kept in perfect order.
A bookshelf occupied an entire wall of the living room, stuffed with learning materials, competition study guides, and several classical poetry collections with worn edges.
On the sofa, a chubby orange cat was curled into a ball napping. Hearing a noise, it lazily opened one eye before closing it again.
Shen Qingyue had just finished showering. She was wearing light blue coral fleece pajamas printed with small bunnies holding stars.
Her hair was still wet, wrapped casually in a towel. She sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the sofa with her physics notes spread out before her.
When her phone screen lit up, she was organizing common mistakes in physics electromagnetism.
When she saw the name, she froze.
Lin Mo.
‘He’s taking the initiative to message me?’
The tips of her ears turned slightly red. She put down her pen and picked up the phone, her fingertips hovering over the screen for several seconds.
‘Why would he look for me? Is it about studying? Or…’
Images of the restaurant from earlier tonight surfaced in her mind:
Su Qing’s smiling face, those words that sounded gentle but carried thorns, and the stiff profile of Lin Mo as he buried his head in his food.
A trace of bitter nervousness welled up in her heart.
She took a deep breath and typed a reply:
“Not at all, everyone had a great time. Your grades have improved significantly, so keep it up.”
Sent.
“Oh no, is that answer too formal?” She bit her lip, looking at that cold sentence with a bit of frustration.
Her gaze caught the orange cat sleeping soundly nearby. On a whim, she picked up her phone and took a photo of the cat.
In the photo, the orange cat had been startled by the flash. Its eyes were half-open, wearing a look of disdain that said, “You’re disturbing my sleep.”
She added a line: “This is my cat.”
The photo was sent.
After sending it, she buried her face in her knees. The tips of her ears grew even hotter.
‘Why did I send a photo of Qiuqiu… This is so… ugh (＞﹏＜).’
Then she cooed at the orange cat:
“Qiuqiu~~ Qiuqiu~~ come here, let me hold you~~ give me a hug~~ just one~~”
Qiuqiu glanced at Shen Qingyue and gave her a look of utter contempt.
It was as if he were saying, ‘If you want to pet me, come over yourself. You want me to come to you? You’re so lovestruck you don’t even know who the master is, you silly human servant.’
The phone vibrated again quickly.
Lin Mo: “Is that your cat? He’s so fat. What’s his name?”
Then another message: “He looks way more relaxed than you.”
Shen Qingyue stared at that sentence, her lips curling upward involuntarily.
She replied: “His name is ‘Qiuqiu’ because he’s curled into a ball all day.”
She hesitated for a moment and then added: “…Do I usually look that tense?”
She followed it with a shy, face-covering emoji.
The moment she sent it, she regretted it. It was too childish and didn’t fit her “cold Study Representative” persona.
But Lin Mo replied quickly: “A bit. Like you’re always thinking about a difficult problem.”
“But today at the dinner table… you were quite, well, different from usual.”
Shen Qingyue’s fingers paused.
He said she was “different from usual.” Was he referring to how she had responded to Su Qing?
That bitter nervousness surfaced again, mixed with an indescribable sense of… grievance?
She typed, deleted, and typed again.
What she finally sent was: “President Su seems to care about you a lot.”
She regretted it the moment it was sent. She had crossed the line. This wasn’t something she should have said.
She quickly tried to salvage it: “You grew up together, so you must be very close.”
When the two sentences were put together, it looked like she was trying to hide something.
Lin Mo’s reply didn’t come until a minute later:
“Yeah… we’ve known each other since we were kids, so we’re pretty close.”
Then he quickly changed the subject:
“I didn’t quite understand the third method for that last physics problem. Can you explain it again tomorrow?”
Looking at that sentence, the tiny bit of anticipation that had just risen in Shen Qingyue’s heart sank quietly.
‘He avoided it.’
It made sense. That was his childhood friend, someone he had grown up with. What was she? She was just a classmate who was helping him with tutoring.
She picked up the sleeping orange cat and buried her face in its warm fur.