After leaving, Pei Xu sat in the car for a long time.
He opened WeChat and stared at the chat logs with Qiao Shi’an and Zhou Ruo in his chat list, his gaze dark and unreadable.
He had been suppressing these feelings that crossed the line, not wanting to betray the expectations of Zhou Ruo and her husband, not wanting to disappoint them.
But in the end, he still couldn’t let go of Qiao Nan, destined to let them down.
At the core, he was just a selfish person.
A self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Pei Xu closed WeChat and drove toward Nanjiang Academy of Fine Arts.
According to the class schedule, Qiao Nan should be in the main lecture hall for Art Theory right now.
After messaging Zhao Yutong to ask for the location of the lecture hall, he followed the directions and made his way there.
The tiered lecture hall was packed.
Pei Xu stood by the back door, glancing inside, and immediately spotted Qiao Nan sitting in the middle rows.
Unlike the other students slacking off on their phones, Qiao Nan held his pen in his right hand, looking up at Professor Qi on the podium, listening intently.
A sliver of sunlight slipped in through the window and happened to fall on the side of his face, casting a faint halo around him, making him look as if he were wrapped in a layer of enticing honey, luring Pei Xu to take that last step forward.
Pei Xu gazed at him for a long time.
Countless surging emotions gradually settled, becoming a heavy weight that completely tipped the scales of his reason.
Just then, Qiao Nan turned his face, his beautiful eyes curving in a smile.
Before Pei Xu could etch that image into his mind, his gaze was drawn to the girl speaking to Qiao Nan, and his expression instantly froze—
The girl was Xie Ruanruan.
The two sat together, quietly discussing something in their textbooks, youthful faces bright with smiles, just like any number of young couples in love.
Pei Xu had seen classmates bring their boyfriends or girlfriends to class during his university days too.
In the quiet classroom, even a single exchange of glances, a barely-there brush of hands, could stir up an incomparable longing.
Pei Xu’s expression smoothed out, but he continued to watch Qiao Nan, wondering if he too was caught up in the throes of youthful infatuation.
The smile on that young face was so genuine.
All of this should have belonged to him.
Yet, because of his own worries, he had pushed Qiao Nan away.
Resentment and jealousy swelled, filling his chest.
Suppressing the urge to storm into the classroom, Pei Xu sent a WeChat message to Qiao Nan.
Qiao Nan was quietly discussing the painter Professor Qi had just mentioned with Xie Ruanruan, when suddenly, his phone buzzed several times in a row.
He picked it up and glanced at it, seeing messages from Pei Xu.
[Pei Xu: I’m at the back door of your classroom.]
[Pei Xu: I need to talk to you.]
Qiao Nan looked back toward the lecture hall’s back door in confusion, and to his surprise, actually saw Pei Xu standing by the doorway.
Pei Xu seemed to give him a small smile, but the distance made it hard to see his expression clearly.
Qiao Nan grew even more puzzled.
He wanted to ask what it was about on WeChat, but worried it might be urgent.
So, after requesting leave from the professor, he hunched over and made his way to the back door.
When Pei Xu saw him come out, his expression finally eased a little, his gaze fixed intently on Qiao Nan.
He wasn’t wearing glasses today.
Those long, dark eyes seemed to hold countless emotions, so complex that Qiao Nan couldn’t read them at all.
Qiao Nan felt that Pei Xu was acting a little strange today, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He could only lower his voice and ask, “Why are you here?”
Instead, Pei Xu asked, “Are you dating Xie Ruanruan?”
Qiao Nan was even more baffled, frowning as he looked at Pei Xu, just about to reply when Pei Xu interrupted, “It doesn’t matter.”
***
Just then, Qiao Nan felt his wrist being seized.
Pei Xu firmly dragged him toward the stairwell at the corner.
“What on earth do you want to say?”
Qiao Nan instinctively tried to struggle, but Pei Xu only gripped tighter, leaving Qiao Nan almost powerless as he was forced into the stairwell.
The Art Theory lecture hall was on the ninth floor, and with class in session, the stairwell was completely empty.
It was only when Pei Xu pressed him against the wall that Qiao Nan realized something was wrong.
His voice rose involuntarily, but the echo in the stairwell made him lower it again at once, his tone a mix of annoyance and grievance, “What’s wrong with you? I’m still in class!”
Pei Xu had always been gentle, never rough like this before.
Qiao Nan glanced sideways at his own wrist—it was already red from the grip.
Pei Xu followed his gaze, loosening his grip a little.
He gently cupped the back of Qiao Nan’s neck, kneading it softly like soothing a small animal.
His voice softened as he asked again, “Do you like Xie Ruanruan? How far have you two gone?”
Qiao Nan was speechless.
He felt he shouldn’t have lied for the sake of a moment’s satisfaction.
See, this was retribution coming for him.
“I’m not dating Xie Ruanruan. I lied to you before. I don’t like anyone,” Qiao Nan said, frowning, his tone reluctant.
Pei Xu lowered his head, carefully watching Qiao Nan’s expression.
They were standing so close.
Qiao Nan was trapped between Pei Xu’s arms, the wall at his back, and Pei Xu’s hand still at his nape.
He had no choice but to tilt his head up to meet Pei Xu’s eyes, almost able to feel the warm breath brushing his face.
Uncomfortable, Qiao Nan turned his head slightly, wanting to put some distance between them.
This posture was really awkward.
But his attempt to evade only plucked at the most sensitive, tightly wound string in Pei Xu’s heart.
“Little liar.”
With a low sound, Pei Xu gripped the back of his neck, forcing him to turn back, then bent down and captured his lips.
The sensation of their lips meeting was too wonderful; Pei Xu was instantly consumed by it.
He didn’t close his eyes, his lips and teeth ravaging greedily, a storm raging between them, while his gaze locked onto Qiao Nan’s eyes, watching as his pupils contracted in panic and fear, then widened in shock.
In his panic, Qiao Nan tried to struggle, letting out a muffled whimper through his nose.
But Pei Xu was so much stronger—Qiao Nan couldn’t break free at all, forced to tilt his head back and endure it.
Whether from fear or grievance, his eyes reddened at the corners, and tears welled up and slipped down.
Pei Xu’s heart trembled.
He slowly pulled away.
He gently wiped away the tear at the corner of Qiao Nan’s eye, his lips brushing almost imperceptibly against Qiao Nan’s cheek, the words rasping from his throat, “Didn’t you always want to know why I moved out?”
Qiao Nan stared at him in confusion.
Pei Xu hooked an arm around his waist, pressing them tightly together, his burning lips sliding along the curve of Qiao Nan’s face to his ear.
He whispered, “That’s the reason. Do you feel it? Every day at the Qiao house, just looking at you, I couldn’t help wanting to pin you down…”
Those indistinct words made Qiao Nan shiver.
His dazed gaze turned to disbelief, eyes wide as if meeting Pei Xu for the first time.