11. The Campus Male Supporting Character

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The topic shifted abruptly, leaving Wu Qiyun momentarily bewildered; she stammered softly, unsure of what was going on.

Chu Xiang asked, “Did you only bring orange-flavored candy? Nothing else?”

Wu Qiyun rummaged through her pockets.

Seeing her compliant demeanor and lowered gaze, Chu Xiang took the opportunity to bend down and press his lips to hers.

It was his first kiss, infused with the rich sweetness of orange, fresh as the summer itself, sweet as the girl before him. His arms trembled as he drew her closer, gripping her waist tighter and tighter until he struggled to breathe...

When he finally let go of Wu Qiyun, reluctance lingered in his heart. For a fleeting moment, he wondered, “People online say you can exchange breaths during a kiss, so why can’t I?”

Yet on the surface, he smiled calmly. “Yes, it tastes like orange.” Only the slight quiver in his voice betrayed his true feelings.

Wu Qiyun, in the same situation, failed to notice. She buried herself in his embrace, unwilling to reveal the flush burning her cheeks.

Chu Xiang’s heartbeat was heavy and steady. Wu Qiyun gradually synced her breathing with his, then heard him ask, “Do you have any more candy?”

Startled, she straightened up. “No more!”

A shadow loomed over her. “I don’t believe you.”

This time, Wu Qiyun truly had no candy left. For several days afterward, she was too anxious to carry candy outside.

Meanwhile, every time Chu Xiang saw an orange or smelled its fragrance, he recalled that summer evening, when even the air seemed infused with the sweet scent of orange.

Yang Yunan’s tolerance for alcohol was perhaps only superior in name—this day, he slept at Chu Xiang’s house, until well past noon the next day, remaining unresponsive even when Chen Qian arrived.

Chen Qian had come for the restless couple as well.

His girlfriend called, saying that Cheng Jin had cried all night over Yang Yunan, suspecting that Cheng Jin had feelings for him. She hoped Chen Qian could help mediate between them.

Chu Xiang recalled that he, the “bridge” between them, had never befriended Cheng Jin or had any contact, nor was he close with her. So when Cheng Jin sought someone knowledgeable to confide in, she had to settle for Chen Qian’s girlfriend.

Chu Xiang asked Chen Qian, “Do you know why they’re breaking up?”

Chen Qian honestly did not. “Isn’t it because of those immature reasons from before?”

Even Chu Xiang felt embarrassed to state the reason: “Yunan said the person Cheng Jin has always liked is me, so he wants to break up.”

Chen Qian was startled and quickly asked, “You two didn’t argue, did you?”

Chu Xiang skimmed over the events from yesterday involving Yang Yunan, saying only, “No, but before we help, we need to understand Cheng Jin’s true feelings so Yunan doesn’t remain confused.”

Chen Qian readily agreed, even suspecting Cheng Jin might be problematic: “I’ll have Yueyue ask her directly. What’s wrong with her liking you but agreeing to be with Yunan?”

Chu Xiang spoke pragmatically: “Yunan is a bit domineering; how they got together is hard to say. But now that he’s decided to break up, he won’t force anyone. Cheng Jin can think it through herself.”

Chen Qian recalled the harsh words his girlfriend had said about Yang Yunan over the phone. Well, this guy often did whatever he wanted—domineering and arrogant. If his approach to love was as self-centered, it was no wonder he got hurt.

But despite this, Chen Qian still pitied his brother drowning his sorrows in alcohol and was displeased with Cheng Jin’s indecisive behavior between the two brothers.

So Chu Xiang left the matter in the hands of Chen Qian and his girlfriend.

Amid his internship, he occasionally listened to their discussions and offered brief opinions. Most of the time, Chen Qian ran errands between both sides, relaying messages.

Yang Yunan and Cheng Jin’s breakup lasted half a month, ending decisively.

Yang Yunan could not accept his girlfriend’s wavering heart.

This was quite unusual; in the previous life, it was not like this. The original owner and Yang Yunan had a period of rivalry, vying for Cheng Jin’s favor, with Cheng Jin even siding with Chu Xiang at one point. But during a basketball game, tempers flared, and both Yang Yunan and Chu Xiang fell, injured and unable to get up.

Cheng Jin immediately rushed to Yang Yunan’s side.

That moment forced Yang Yunan to confront his feelings, and the two finally came together, never breaking up again.

In the previous life, Yang Yunan could compete and persistently win Cheng Jin’s affection, but this time, he simply could not bear it and wanted to break up.

As a fellow man, Chu Xiang understood this feeling by putting himself in Yunan’s place.

Before, it was fair competition for a girl’s love, but this time, Yunan’s feelings felt more like betrayal. A domineering man like him could compete because he never feared rivalry; what he resented was his girlfriend harboring feelings for another, uncertain if she had truly let go.

Realizing this, Chu Xiang felt a pang of sympathy—for the original owner and this once-true love.

Love needs the right time, place, and mutual harmony. He realized he was that “harmony” in someone else’s love story.

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After this reflection, he felt no inclination to sacrifice himself, only a desire to distance himself from this strange triangular relationship.

Wouldn’t it be better to have wealth, a family legacy, and a devoted lover who loves you wholeheartedly?

The college entrance exam results were out. Chu Xiang’s score was enough to apply to university, while Wu Qiyun achieved unprecedented success: first in the entire school, among the top hundred in the province, breaking the historical record of South City High School. The class chat was abuzz, and the teachers were proud of her.

They returned to their high school one last time to attend the graduation ceremony.

Chu Xiang messaged Wu Qiyun: “Remember to wear your school uniform; we’ll take a commemorative photo.”

Wu Qiyun, a blooming eighteen-year-old girl, had planned to dress up nicely to revisit her alma mater now that everything had settled. But after his message, she agreed and reverted to her usual modest, somewhat plain attire.

Everyone was used to seeing Wu Qiyun like this at school, so it didn’t strike anyone as odd. After the ceremony, Chu Xiang grabbed Wu Qiyun and quickly ran ahead.

Wu Qiyun followed, asking, “Aren’t we taking photos? I asked Yanyan to help us.”

Chu Xiang, panting, pulled her under the shade of a tree on the playground and held her shoulders. “Before we take pictures, there’s something we need to do.”

Wu Qiyun tilted her head. “What is it?”

He reached out and took off her glasses. “Can you see me clearly now?”

Wu Qiyun squinted. “A little blurry.”

Chu Xiang moved closer. “How about now?”

She said it was much better.

He leaned in a bit more. “Now?”

Wu Qiyun still found it somewhat blurry; the difference between naked eye and glasses was significant, but she dared not speak, feeling his breath against her face.

With a slight smile, Chu Xiang asked, “Can you see me now?”

Wu Qiyun pursed her lips and shook her head faintly.

He smiled and lifted his chin, kissing her gently.

Wu Qiyun’s eyes widened.

Chu Xiang kissed her lips with his eyes half-closed; though she couldn’t see clearly, she noticed his trembling eyelashes.

She tried to pull back, but hands gripped her waist, and something firm pressed her back. Distracted, she thought, “My glasses...”

“This is my greatest wish from senior year,” Chu Xiang said softly, pulling away with a smile.

During evening study sessions, he would take her for walks on the playground, then hide under the trees to kiss her under the night sky. He had seen other couples do this and envied them but lacked the impulse—until he fell for Wu Qiyun.

Every time he watched her focus on solving problems, heard her logically explain things to him, admired the flawless pale profile framed by her glasses, and saw her lips pressed in amusement or slight annoyance, he wanted to pull her here and kiss her once—just once.

But Wu Qiyun was self-controlled. At school, she restrained her emotions and kept distractions at bay to study diligently. Seeing her work so hard, he did not want to disrupt her calm focus.

Until today.

Wu Qiyun was stunned at first, then realized, her face burning red. “You deliberately made me wear the uniform...”

Though she knew she couldn’t see clearly, Chu Xiang lowered his eyes, hiding his embarrassment, and said, “For the commemorative photo.”

Wu Qiyun, shy and annoyed, couldn’t help but giggle at his stubborn yet bashful expression.

Chu Xiang felt his cheeks heat up and carefully looked at her, seeing her gaze three parts annoyed, seven parts amused.

“Chu Xiang, I saw your eyelashes trembling just now.”

He widened his eyes. “But you said you couldn’t see clearly?”

Biting her lip to suppress laughter, Wu Qiyun mumbled, “But I could still see...”

Chu Xiang glared. “Forget it!” He knew night and day were different; if only he had known earlier...

Wu Qiyun laughed heartily.

Chu Xiang: “...” Why is it that after just a few kisses, my girlfriend is calmer than me and even has time to notice whether my eyelashes are trembling or not? My long-awaited playground kiss... so unfair...

Amid the laughter, his face grew hotter until, in a moment of distraction, a warm imprint pressed upon his lips.

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Wu Qiyun rose on tiptoe, clasped his shoulders, and kissed him.

A brief touch, then they parted.

“This is something I’ve always wanted to do too.”

Chu Xiang’s heart blossomed like a flower. In a flush of impulse, before she could pull away, he pressed his hand to her back, holding her close...

They still took the commemorative photos. Yang Yunan, listless and heartbroken outside the school gates after his breakup, waited for them to return. Chu Xiang dragged him along as the photographer, unconcerned whether his heartbroken friend might feel depressed witnessing such sweet affection.

Yang Yunan did not show depression, but anger—his teeth nearly ground to dust. He was convinced Chu Xiang was taking revenge for the fight he had instigated earlier.

But what could he do? As a close brother, and clearly at fault himself, he endured. The tall, burly man crouched, bent, and shifted repeatedly, patiently adjusting angles to capture the “in-love couple” photos.

He was completely soaked in jealousy.

After the photos, the three of them laughed and chatted amicably as they left, only to see Chen Qian’s girlfriend and Cheng Jin at the school gate.

This was Cheng Jin’s first time approaching Yang Yunan of her own accord.

Yang Yunan’s previously expressive face instantly turned icy cold.

Cheng Jin was a straightforward young woman who had likely come to terms with things, her expression free of hesitation or complexity. After a brief pause, she walked over.

She first approached Chu Xiang and Wu Qiyun.

“Senior, senior sister, I’m sorry. I may have caused you some trouble recently, and I apologize!” She bowed deeply.

Chu Xiang and Wu Qiyun quickly stepped aside.

Wu Qiyun reached out to steady her. “It’s no trouble. You’re caught in the middle, so your view is unclear. The one truly affected is someone else. You should talk to him.”

With that, she pulled Chu Xiang away and got into the car first.

Cheng Jin looked toward Yang Yunan, who had turned away.

Chu Xiang watched them through the car window, feeling a sting in his arm.

“Ouch—” he turned and asked, clutching his arm, “Did you pinch me?”

Wu Qiyun looked innocent and confused. “No.”

Chu Xiang narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. “No?”

Wu Qiyun leaned back calmly. “Yes, why would I? Maybe you imagined it.”

Chu Xiang snorted and pinched her cheek. “Wu Qiyun, you’re jealous, aren’t you? You’ve been jealous all along, haven’t you?”

Wu Qiyun’s eyes flickered, but she firmly said, “You’re mistaken...” Her words were muffled by his grip on her cheek.

Chu Xiang found her utterly adorable and laughed heartily, already forgetting the quarrelsome couple behind them. Holding her face, he kissed her deeply. “Wu Qiyun, how are you so cute?”

Inside the car, the atmosphere was sweet and warm; outside, the summer heat seemed to have dropped several degrees.

Cheng Jin first apologized to Yang Yunan.

Yang Yunan remained silent.

Cheng Jin had never seen him so cold and had finally realized how deeply she had hurt him. She lowered her head and sincerely bared her heart.

“I was indeed attracted to Chu Xiang because he is my ideal type. Even before you confessed, I admired him. We got together because you decided so without letting me speak. At first, I wasn’t invested and even resisted you deliberately. But later, as you neared graduation, I started to feel reluctant to let go. I didn’t understand why before, but now I do. Although my reason tells me I like someone like Chu Xiang, my heart involuntarily leans toward you...”

She raised her head, looking at Yang Yunan. “Yunan, I’m sorry. I came today to tell you that I like you. Your kindness over the past year was not one-sided. When I was with you, I was genuine and never took advantage or deceived you.”

“One-sided” was how Yang Yunan self-mockingly described their fights. Cheng Jin wanted to show him that their past love was not so despicable.

Yang Yunan looked into Cheng Jin’s reddened eyes, his heart tightening. Yet he had always been arrogant and proud. He could believe Cheng Jin liked him now, but he could no longer naturally cling to her or soothe her.

That pure affection and passion had suddenly changed, no longer able to be expressed naturally.

It was as if something stood between them, keeping them apart, and neither could bridge the distance.