Chapter 36: Oh, I Love You

Weekends were the happiest time for both students and overworked office workers.

Even Zhu Niao got a break today — and a two-day weekend at that.

The shop manager lady was being unusually kind to her. Not only did she let her continue working, but she also gave her an employee gift package and didn’t express a single word of blame.

Zhu Niao had been fully prepared to face her wrath, but to her surprise, the manager wasn’t even remotely angry.

She said, “This was my intention from the beginning.”

So those two tickets weren’t meant for Zhu Niao and the manager’s brother to go out at all. They were for her and Gou Yu.

And all the kindness the manager had shown her wasn’t part of some transactional fake relationship, either.

Maybe the manager had figured it all out a long time ago.

Come to think of it, the manager had seen Gou Yu picking her up after delivery shifts more than once. It would’ve been strange if she hadn’t noticed anything.

Or maybe she had just used this method to help Zhu Niao slowly accept such straightforward kindness.

But could people really be this good?

Did she really deserve that kind of warmth?

“Don’t spend your whole weekend holed up in this tiny room like a spider waiting to grow cobwebs,” Gou Yu said, still chewing on a big piece of dried mango.

He sat on the floor by the foot of her bed, his tousled black hair fluttering in the breeze from the air conditioner.

Zhu Niao’s room always carried a faint, sweet fragrance. Subtle enough to go unnoticed at first, yet it lingered in every corner.

Gou Yu, having spent time in close proximity with her, knew it was her scent — a soft lavender aroma.

“And you?” Zhu Niao kicked him twice from the bed. “Your idea of ‘getting out’ is running from your room to mine?”

Her kicks were soft and completely ineffective. Naturally, Gou Yu didn’t pay them any mind.

He turned to retort, but his gaze unintentionally brushed past her slightly raised feet and the hem of her nightdress.

There seemed to be something captivating about that glimpse.

His face didn’t change as he turned back around, continuing to chew on his dried mango as if nothing had happened.

“My air conditioner broke,” he replied. “And I’m only taking a short break at noon. I’ll be out delivering soon. Are you really gonna let your poor old dad bake under the sun doing deliveries?”

He shot a pitiful glance at Zhu Niao.

“And you’re snacking on my stuff while whining. That dried mango’s from the gift pack the manager gave me,” she gritted her teeth and lunged to snatch the mango back from him.

But Gou Yu effortlessly reached out and pressed her head down, holding her in place without even looking.

“Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west — don’t bully the poor youth,” Zhu Niao mumbled from beneath the blanket.

“Anyway, forget that for now.” Gou Yu casually grabbed more snacks from the gift bag and stuffed them into his pockets.

It was his dear little sister who had gifted the bag to Zhu Niao — so he had no qualms about helping himself.

Come to think of it, that wasn’t all his sister had sent. The amusement park tickets were from her too.

The day before the trip, when he went to pick Gou Yu up from work, his little sister had leaned over while the little bird was still sleeping and asked if he’d ever been on a date — then handed him a “special gift.”

That’s what had made him think she was about to out his identity — but instead, she handed him a pair of couple’s tickets and told him to take Zhu Niao out.

She probably knew if she gave them to him directly, he’d just resell them online.

There was another “gift,” too.

Yesterday, when the little bird kissed his cheek, he’d thought he heard the click of a camera shutter. It wasn’t his imagination. That moment had been captured and sent straight to his phone.

His dear sister had also helpfully informed him that she hadn’t just sent it to him — she’d sent it to their parents as well.

The sky was falling.

“Weren’t you supposed to help one of your roommates pretend to date someone? What happened with that?” Gou Yu suddenly remembered.

Zhu Niao rolled around on the soft bed, then turned to lie on her back. She scooted her head toward Gou Yu, who was sitting on the floor.

“No idea what’s going on with her.” She pulled up her chat history with Ye Qingchang. “She sent me a message like this out of nowhere and then vanished.”

Gou Yu tilted his head slightly to glance at the message on Zhu Niao’s phone.

“Tell her she already signed up for the sports meet. No backing out now,” he said. After all the effort it took to rope a girl into the event, there was no way he was going to let that go to waste.

Zhu Niao was too physically weak to participate herself — he would never let her do it.

“Uh, I’ll call her.” Zhu Niao hesitated, then dialed.

The phone rang twice before Ye Qingchang finally picked up.

“Hello? Little Bird? What’s up?”

Her tone was rushed and unusually serious — she seemed to be in the middle of something.

“If you don’t plan on using Gou Yu, you know you still can’t drop the 800-meter event…” Zhu Niao mumbled cautiously.

“Whatever, I really don’t care anymore,” Ye Qingchang replied bluntly.

Zhu Niao immediately sensed something was off. “Did something happen with your virtual pet?”

“I underestimated how much he was attached to my online persona,” Ye Qingchang sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was juggling two chat accounts while also keeping an eye on her “good employee” in another chat window. “If I push too hard, he might just emotionally explode. I seriously don’t know what else to do except stabilize things.”

“Is it really that bad?” Zhu Niao asked, finally realizing this wasn’t just some silly online drama.

“Oh, right — yesterday, since you two went out, I had to cover for you with Old Two and answer roll call. We both ended up getting marked absent. How are you gonna make it up to me?” Her tone suddenly shifted to accusation.

There was a long silence on the other end.

“Ah, I just remembered, I have to go deliver food,” Gou Yu said immediately.

“And I have to go check for weekend part-time jobs,” Zhu Niao followed up.

Before Ye Qingchang could respond, the call had already ended.

“…These damn lovebirds…” she muttered.

Sighing, Ye Qingchang turned back to her phone screen.

She might’ve made the wrong move — and because of that, she hadn’t slept properly in days.

But at the time, there hadn’t been a better option.

She had told her virtual pet not to lose hope, to bravely chase after love.

And now she had no choice but to suspend the “fake love interest” storyline.

“Ugh…” Ye Qingchang groaned, pulling off her glasses and slamming her forehead onto her desk — hard enough to startle Liu Xie, her roommate in the next bed.

A wave of helplessness swept through her.

She couldn’t just outright tell him that there was no chance. She couldn’t even hint that hope was slipping away.

What she hadn’t expected was that, to her “electronic pet,” that online persona of hers — which didn’t even exist in the real world — had become a mental crutch.

Before she could ask him to give up on that persona, she had to do one thing:

She had to help him fall in love with someone in real life — not her online alter ego, but a real, tangible person. At the very least, she needed to give him a new emotional anchor, so that fictional version of her wouldn’t be all he had left.

Ye Qingchang winced, half from emotional pain and half from the very real throb on her forehead.

But how was she supposed to help someone fall in love with reality?

Then, it hit her.

The romance quest she’d been assigned — she still had that.

This… this could actually work.

She didn’t need to make him truly fall for her. She just needed to create a counterbalance — something to replace or even compete with his infatuation for her virtual self.

And she still had her role as the literature club president to fall back on.

Her expression shifted.

There was only one problem: she’d never pursued anyone before.

She had no idea how to make someone fall in love with her.

She shook her head, put her glasses back on, and slapped her cheeks to refocus.

No big deal. If I could make that guy fall head over heels for my online persona, I can definitely do it again. I mean, this face isn’t bad either.

After a moment of hesitation, she picked up her phone and recorded a voice message.

This time, she’d use her real identity — and her self-appointed role as his mentor in love — to slowly teach him how to love.

And to teach him how to love her.

“Do you have time today? Your master is ready to impart the secrets of love.”