At the same time, Xiang Di was also staring at her own personalized signature, but she wasn’t trying to solve a riddle—after all, she was the one who wrote it.
The numbers were from Bo Jiangxin’s name in Pinyin, arranged on the keypad. The three emojis after that were also related to him: a cypress tree, a painting of rivers and mountains, and a star.
Cypress stands for uprightness, unwavering in the face of wind and snow. Jiang means a gentleman as mighty as a river, vast and magnificent. Xin is a cheerful smile, joy and delight.
When you admire and like someone, even their name feels perfect, like a piece of bubblegum you never get tired of chewing—savoring it slowly, always able to taste something special and interpret all sorts of wonderful meanings.
Xiang Di glanced at her profile picture again: a chubby little internet-famous Orange Cat.
She used it because, when High School Senior Year first started, Qian Qian had pulled her into the Class Group.
As soon as she joined the dozens of classmates’ WeChat accounts, the first thing she did was look for Bo Jiangxin’s WeChat.
Bo Jiangxin’s WeChat name was just the initials of his name—a very lazy way to name oneself, but it suited his academic prodigy persona and his aloof personality.
But his profile picture wasn’t the sort of moody black or artsy landscape photo she’d imagined a cold male god would use. Instead, it was a handsome Ragdoll Cat.
It looked expensive, its deep blue eyes as beautiful and profound as the ocean.
For some reason, after learning that Bo Jiangxin actually used a pet cat as his avatar, she suddenly felt he wasn’t so high up and unapproachable anymore.
Turns out he liked cute things too, and would use a cute animal as his profile picture.
Because the cat was so pretty, Xiang Di subconsciously assumed it was a famous internet cat. She even went online and posted, saying it was the avatar of a boy she secretly liked, asking netizens to help identify which internet-famous cat it was.
Analyzing every detail about the person you have a crush on is a basic skill for anyone in love.
Under Xiang Di’s post, many enthusiastic sisters appeared—everyone had experienced a crush before and could empathize, helping her compare and identify. Soon, Xiang Di got her answer.
- That’s probably the boy’s own cat.
- Just add him! Then casually ask which internet cat it is, praise the cat for being cute. If it’s really his cat, you’ll have something to talk about, right?
Netizens love seeing crushes come true, offering her advice and strategies. In that moment, Xiang Di really felt an urge to add him as a friend.
But in the end, she gave up.
The reason she admired every brave person was because she herself didn’t have that kind of courage. She didn’t even have the courage to add him as a friend.
Xiang Di collected many Ragdoll Cat pictures, wanting to use one as her avatar. She even switched to one, but after thinking it over for a long time, she ended up changing it back to the current Orange Cat.
It was sort of a matching avatar with him, and not easy to notice—after all, so many people use cats and dogs as their avatars.
This Orange Cat, Xiang Di had used for a whole semester. Even Qian Qian would sometimes ask her how she could stand not changing her avatar for so long.
Xiang Di only said she didn’t like changing avatars often. But actually, before this, she was the type who’d die if she didn’t change her avatar—a record of four changes in one day.
Later, she racked her brains to come up with a personalized signature related to Bo Jiangxin, and it had stayed the same ever since.
To others, their WeChat accounts had nothing in common, except that both used cat avatars. Only Xiang Di knew it was all carefully arranged by her.
People in love always like to do meaningless things in the tiny details of life—afraid of being too obvious, but also of being too subtle.
If she really didn’t want anyone to find out, she could have posted updates visible only to herself—no one would ever notice, no matter how many she posted in a day.
But she deliberately put it in her most prominent personalized signature, which showed that deep down, she still hoped someone would notice.
So Xiang Di continued her contradictory secret crush, until Bo Jiangxin came to ask her what her personalized signature meant.
Would he notice? Would he realize her signature was a riddle about his name?
Xiang Di could feel her heart racing. If he solved it, how would he react? Would he tease her, reject her, or just ignore it?
None of those—Bo Jiangxin just sent a simple moon emoji, meaning he was going to sleep, and that was the end of their conversation.
Of course, he was a Heavenly Darling who’d never tasted the bitterness of a secret crush.
How could he possibly understand all the twists and turns in the hearts of people like her?
Xiang Di let out a light, slightly disappointed sigh, flopping onto her bed and rolling around.
Afraid of being found out? As if! He doesn’t have time to play childish puzzle games with you, okay? People with secret crushes are always so dramatic.
How could Bo Jiangxin possibly analyze her signature word by word? He wasn’t her, he didn’t like her.
Just adding her as a friend was already the greatest courtesy—how could she expect him to analyze her posts like she did with his?
He probably just happened to click on her profile after adding her, glanced at her signature, found it meaningless, and casually asked about it.
Wait! Could he have also clicked into her Microblog?
Xiang Di shot up from the bed and quickly opened her Microblog to check if there was anything inappropriate for him to see.
Thankfully, there wasn’t. Her public persona was still that of a reserved little lady, and her Microblog was mostly complaints about school and exams, just the usual High School Senior Year stuff, with the occasional trendy meme or music share.
While checking, a notification popped up—someone had liked her post.
She clicked in. It was the familiar Ragdoll Cat avatar.
Her heart skipped wildly—Bo Jiangxin had liked her post?! Which one?! Which of her posts was so lucky to get his little red heart?
Xiang Di’s Microblog was set to show only the past six months.
The earliest post was from half a year ago, when the bakery downstairs had a like-and-share event: get enough likes and win a new dessert.
Didi Da Dida: [Family, please help, I’m really craving this~ (pitiful face)]
That post had gotten enough likes within a few hours. Qian Qian even commented, telling her to bring some to school for her to try.
The post Bo Jiangxin liked was that one.
So he was helping her get likes on a post from half a year ago?
Xiang Di flopped back onto her bed.
That meant he’d scrolled through her entire past six months of posts, all the way to the earliest one, and then liked it.
…He really underestimated her social circle. How could a post not have enough likes after half a year?
…He was really aloof. She had so many interesting posts, and he liked the one with the least value.
…He was really too nice. Seeing her asking for likes, even though he was so cool and distant, he actually lowered himself to give her a like.
No matter how she analyzed Bo Jiangxin’s behavior, Xiang Di could only come to one conclusion: she really, really liked him.
Just the fact that he scrolled through her Microblog and gave her a like made her so happy she forgot the world.
Hugging her phone, Xiang Di grinned foolishly, curling up on her bed—excited, shy, thrilled. Just thinking about her crush going through all her posts from start to finish, she felt as if she’d been stripped bare for him to see.
She couldn’t help it—she yelled at the ceiling.
“Wooo!”
No, she was still too excited. Xiang Di started humming a song.
“You are my little star, shining bright up in the sky. I’ve already decided to love you, I won’t give up easily, oh yeah yeah yeah—”
She threw in some random vocal runs, thinking she sounded skilled, but actually it was just funny.
Sure enough, the next second, her door was knocked on, and Xiang Sheng’s lazy voice came from outside: “Hey, Miss Pop Diva, can you quiet down? I’m trying to do homework and you’re throwing a concert?”
What a killjoy. Xiang Di’s face fell instantly: “Mind your own business.”
Xiang Sheng: “If I didn’t look after you, would you have grown up this much? Go wash up and sleep, don’t expect me to wake you tomorrow.”
Xiang Di: “Sorry, tomorrow is Sunday. I’m on vacation.”
“High School Senior Year and you still get a day off?” Xiang Sheng sounded surprised. “Your Teacher actually lets you have a day off? Not making you go to class seven days a week? That’s just irresponsible.”
Xiang Di gritted her teeth: “Are you even human?”
“I’m not, so you’re on your own for food tomorrow.” Xiang Sheng’s voice was lazy. “Dad gave me five thousand yuan. You’re off tomorrow, I was going to take you out to eat something nice, but never mind.”
The moment she heard about free food, Xiang Di’s attitude did a complete 180 and she ran to open the door.
Xiang Sheng smirked, arms crossed, leaning against the door, looking down at her.
“You’re definitely not human,” Xiang Di started, then raised her voice, “you’re a handsome guy.”
Xiang Sheng snorted arrogantly through his nose: “How handsome? If you say it well, maybe I’ll take you out to eat.”
Xiang Di said straight away: “So handsome I want to have a sibling romance with you.”
Xiang Sheng’s expression froze.
Xiang Di gave him a sweet smile, using the most innocent tone to say the most worldview-shattering words.
No normal man would want to hear that from his real sister, even as a joke—it would still be shocking.
Just moments ago, Xiang Sheng had been swaggering in front of his sister with his five thousand yuan, but now he was instantly unsettled, cursing “pervert” as he turned and left.
His sister was just too scary.
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