Xie Zhuran brought Jiang Zhi to where Jiang Xiao and the others were.
Along the way, Jiang Zhi’s walking posture was so elegant that the two of them drew an extremely high amount of stares, making Xie Zhuran feel shy.
It was the same high amount of attention, but back when he had that wild hairstyle, the looks he got were all mixed and complicated.
But maybe he’d grown indifferent—even when people looked at him like he was some kind of freak, he always stayed very calm.
Even now.
“Lao Xie, who’s this?”
Song Qiuyu looked at the man next to her roommate, dressed in a white suit, wearing round sunglasses, and flashing a smile. She sounded a little puzzled.
“He said he’s Lao Jiang’s cousin. His name is Jiang Zhi.”
Xie Zhuran immediately handed the business card Jiang Zhi had given him to Song Qiuyu, not daring to glance at Jiang Li again.
If he did,
the number of people wanting to beat him to death would double—from one of Jiang Li’s brothers to two of them.
Jiang Xiao and Jiang Zhi would probably both take a swing at him.
Sigh, my college romance youth story really is full of problems.
“Hmm?”
Song Qiuyu took the black-gold business card politely.
She lowered her eyes to read the text on the card, her expression freezing slightly.
Chairman of Huatian Xingyu International Culture and Media Co., Ltd.? He looked at most three or four years older than them, yet he was already chairman of a big company?
She knew a bit about entertainment companies—Xingyue Entertainment had quite a reputation.
“I look too young, so it doesn’t seem believable, right?”
Jiang Zhi smiled and took off his round sunglasses.
Once the eyes hidden behind the lenses were revealed, everyone at the table froze. They fully believed that this man really was Jiang Xiao’s cousin.
After all, the two looked so much alike.
“Brother, sis, is this really our cousin?”
Jiang Yu still asked his brother and sister for confirmation.
As the youngest in the family, he had no memory of this cousin.
“We do have a cousin, but he was kicked out of the house by Grandpa and Grandma a long time ago.”
Jiang Li glanced at her brother, thought for a moment, and said.
Her family only liked well-behaved kids who studied hard, not those lazy, good-for-nothing troublemakers.
Even if that troublemaker later made a name for himself out in the world.
What’s more, their cousin had originally been a promising top student, but in the end, he abandoned his studies for his hobby.
Jiang Xiao frowned slightly. He had some memory of this cousin—when they were very young, the cousin had taught him how to play the piano.
“You still remember me, right?”
Jiang Zhi strode over to Jiang Xiao and said cheerfully,
“When you were little, I even held you. That’s not a joke—I really did hold you!”
Hearing this, some images surfaced in Jiang Xiao’s mind.
“When I left, you were the family’s hope. I never thought you’d end up on the same path as me, even choosing the same university!”
A mischievous smile appeared on Jiang Zhi’s face, as if he was both surprised and regretful about this outcome, but also… somewhat satisfied.
“Those old fogeys in the Jiang family must be really upset.”
“Cousin, you might be disappointed.”
Jiang Xiao’s expression turned serious.
“Huh?”
Jiang Zhi was taken aback.
“I’m different from you.”
Jiang Xiao said in a low voice.
Song Qiuyu watched Jiang Xiao’s current demeanor and couldn’t help but feel moved.
The next second, she unexpectedly met Jiang Xiao’s gaze.
Thinking of the reason he had come to Nanxi, she nervously swallowed, then twisted her hands together, both tense and shy.
Even now, she was still moved by Jiang Xiao’s resolute decision, though sometimes she still felt sorry for him.
Jiang Xiao could have had a better future.
Deep inside, it felt like a seed called inferiority had quietly sprouted.
Fortunately, she now understood that when facing inferiority, running away was cowardly. The right approach was to make herself good enough!
Whether ten years from now or fifty, she hoped that the two of them—that everyone—would never regret the decisions they made now.
Feeling her determined gaze, Jiang Xiao was slightly stunned, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Although he felt that Xi’er was overthinking again, it seemed the result was positive.
Seeing his cousin suddenly smile, Jiang Zhi was also caught off guard. Then he followed the other’s gaze, and his eyes slowly widened.
Song Qiuyu.
The roommate who had ambiguous relations with his cousin.
He had secretly hired a private detective to look into this person and his cousin’s affairs—they weren’t just simply ambiguous.
Plus, Song Qiuyu, no matter how you looked at her, was clearly a girl.
Because they were close enough, they could be easily fooled, but since he and Song Qiuyu were complete strangers, he wasn’t misled at all.
The eyes might deceive, but some things are always honest.
“I know you’re different. You came to Nanxi because of a girl, right?”
Jiang Zhi sighed.
As soon as he said that, countless ears in the cafeteria perked up.
They couldn’t help it—they wanted to eat in peace, but that table was just too eye-catching. They couldn’t control their own eyes.
And they couldn’t resist the urge to gossip.
Go on, keep talking—they’d quietly eavesdrop till the end.
Song Qiuyu couldn’t listen calmly.
She covertly made faces at Xie Zhuran, handed the business card back to him, and slowly stood up from her seat.
“Hello, Mr. Jiang. My name is Song Qiuyu. I’m Jiang Xiao’s friend and also the leader of his dorm. Would you like to sit down and keep talking with Jiang Xiao?”
She looked at Jiang Zhi, acting mature and polite, signaling Xie Zhuran to go get small cakes together, then continued politely, “Oh, by the way, the school anniversary has small cakes. Would you like one? Should I grab one for you too?”
“So you’re Song Qiuyu. You really do look like a girl.”
Jiang Zhi didn’t beat around the bush with Song Qiuyu; he smiled and remarked.
“Heh…”
Song Qiuyu scratched the back of her neck.
She should have denied it immediately, but she couldn’t help feeling excited at those words “really look like a girl”!
That’s right—she really was a girl.
“You seem very close to my cousin. What exactly is your relationship?”
Jiang Zhi squinted.
Hearing this, Song Qiuyu’s pupils contracted.
Being questioned about the relationship no longer brought only anxiety—it brought more of the shyness of secretly dating Jiang Xiao.
Close? Was it that obvious? They thought they had been restraining themselves—they hardly even held hands at school.
These past few days, they’d mostly talked about serious matters, no dates, no sweet talk. At night, they just held each other and slept.
They were too exhausted to have any desire for sweetness.
She even felt like their relationship had grown distant… No, no! She needed to explain quickly.
Before she could speak,
the cafeteria echoed with the sound of a Grand Confucian Debate.
But this time, the Great Scholar was not Xie Zhuran—it was more than one person.
The students eavesdropping from the cafeteria spontaneously started to argue on her behalf, splitting into multiple short sentences and finishing together in unison: “Sir, you’re mistaken—Song Qiuyu is a boy. He and Jiang Xiao are just ordinary classmates, friends, roommates. They’re completely innocent! Everyone at Nanxi knows that! You’re welcome!”
After hearing that, the number of calm people at the table could be counted on one hand.
Was there anyone at this school who didn’t know that familiar phrasing? How had it spread almost as fast as that three-word children’s song in just one semester?
Was that right?
Song Qiuyu’s facial expression was about to lose control.
Well, thank you very much.
“Is that so?”
Jiang Zhi smiled at the girl in front of him and raised an eyebrow.
“But I still think you’re a girl.”
Song Qiuyu pursed her lips, feeling like she had finally met a tough opponent.
Xie Zhuran looked even more worn out. The more confident Jiang Xiao’s cousin was, the more it highlighted how clueless the three of them in Dorm 602 were.
Living with a cute girl like Lao Song for an entire semester, and none of them figured it out.
Just then, a message from the Drama Club President came to the rescue, calling everyone to the school swimming pool.
Naturally, “everyone” included Jiang Zhi.
At the swimming pool, Song Qiuyu, Jiang Li, Jiang Yu, Xia Qi, and Jiang Zhi quickly changed into swimsuits, while the rest had already changed.
The promotional video they were shooting was actually quite simple—it told the story of the worries of a swimming pool.
In the video, all buildings and objects were personified.
They gathered to discuss a very serious question: Do humans really exist?
In the past, they seemed to be constantly played with and trampled by humans, but for the entire short-term holiday, they hadn’t seen a single human.
They just kept basking in the sun, weathering the wind and rain, working day and night.
Were humans real, or just a fantasy of a better future? A fantasy of a two-legged sheep creature that didn’t have to work forever like them.
Especially the swimming pool—it could no longer tell whether humans were real or an illusion.
It only vaguely remembered that humans always liked to gather, jump naked into its body, wreak havoc, and make a mess.
Some humans even brought their partners and did things inside its body that made even the swimming pool blush.
Now, the promotional video only had one last scene.
Filming began.
As everyone started acting by the book, Song Qiuyu kept a tight frown, scrutinizing their performances.
Since AI technology would be used for compositing for the first time, this shoot was pretty high pressure.
The shoot went unusually smoothly.
Jiang Zhi had already put his round sunglasses back on. With a carefree smile, he quietly watched everyone’s performance.
He had been following their short video works, and had to acknowledge their outstanding performance.
He turned his gaze to Song Qiuyu, who was only acting as director this time, not appearing on camera. The corner of his mouth lifted.
This was the person who had brought his cousin into the director’s world, delivering the most devastating blow to the Jiang family.
She really seemed like a talent—gifted in every aspect.
As the shooting came to an end, with half an hour left until lunch, Jiang Zhi smiled and walked toward Song Qiuyu, who was currently holding the camera alone and looking through the lens.
He stopped just outside the frame, beside her.
He put his hands in his pockets, all elegance and grace gone, looking like a complete rake.
He turned his face, watching the tense Song Qiuyu, and spoke with a hint of arrogance, “Little sister, you like my cousin, right?”
At these words, Song Qiuyu’s heart lurched, her hand trembled, and the camera slipped from her grasp.