Chapter 62: Gu Shiyan Sends a Friend Request—Luo Xing, Won’t You Think About Me Again?

Luo Xing, feeling sullen and dispirited, opened her messages.

A picture.

Gu Shi Yan occupied a third of the frame, dressed in a tailored school uniform. His tie dangled carelessly from his fingers, the loose collar revealing a prominent Adam’s apple and sharp lines at his shoulders and neck. His gaze was languidly cast downward, as if unaware he was in the shot, his natural air of pride unmistakable.

What stood out was the girl beside him.

She wore the same uniform series, her pleated skirt swaying, arms cradling a crystal trophy, her smile gentle and demure. Luo Xing recognized her face. The day she searched for photos of the eldest Miss Wen, she’d forced herself to close her phone and not look. Yet, late at night, when she opened Baidu, the browser auto-recovered, jumping straight to the search interface.

Luo Xing recognized them easily: Gu Shi Yan and Wen Nuan, likely still in middle school. Behind them was an award platform—clearly, they’d just stepped down after receiving their prize.

Even back in middle school, Gu Shi Yan already stood taller than those around him, the boys behind him blurred into mere background. The girl at his side wore her hair in a high ponytail, slender and radiant, her crescent-moon smile sparkling as she gazed up at him.

Luo Xing knew that look all too well—it was the way she once looked at Gu Shi Yan.

Annoyance flared in her chest; she sent a question mark in reply, then typed another message:

[I’ve already broken up with Gu Shi Yan. There’s no need for you to send me this.]

She’d actually seen the photo before, from a different angle. After searching for Wen Nuan, it had popped up: a shot from their middle school days, when she and Gu Shi Yan advanced from the provincial physics competition to the international stage. The photo Luo Xing saw was of them on stage, together with other team members.

Everyone in that photo was exceptional—no doubt about it.

Her phone vibrated; Su Mo sent another message.

[I know you broke up, but it seems like you two are still entangled, aren’t you?]

Luo Xing frowned at the message. Sweat dampened a patch of fabric on her back, sticky and making her even more irritable.

[Are you dating Gu Shi Yan? Are you questioning me as his girlfriend?]

She sent another message.

[Why send me these? Do you think I’m the one standing in your way?]

The clock on the wall ticked steadily toward five o’clock.

Luo Xing sent another message.

[Then please tell Gu Shi Yan directly. I have no interest in talking to you. Sorry, but I’m going to block you now.]

With that, she immediately blocked the sender.

Just as she finished, her phone vibrated again—a new friend request from her contacts.

Luo Xing opened it.

The profile picture was pitch black.

—Gu Shi Yan (from the group “Physics Class 2331”)

Her heart gave a violent jolt; she glanced swiftly out the window.

In the thick night, the light from inside spilled onto the balcony, merging their gazes as their eyes met.

He leaned his elbow on the wooden railing, shoulders steady, back slightly arched. His wrist hung loosely, long fingers holding a cigarette, the ember glowing, but what drew Luo Xing’s attention was the unwavering gaze he fixed on her.

Perhaps it was the way the indoor light cast over him—he didn’t seem as indifferent and apathetic as before.

Luo Xing’s gaze followed his wrist to the cigarette, then returned to his eyes.

He looked serious.

His eyes were openly searching hers, not holding back in the slightest.

His fingers moved, flicking ash from the cigarette.

Luo Xing took a deep breath, chest rising and falling as she exhaled.

He’s sick.

She waved her phone at him, asking what madness he was up to.

Gu Shi Yan came inside, cigarette in hand, which he stubbed out in the ashtray on the bookshelf.

He looked at Luo Xing first, then walked toward her.

His voice was as lazy as ever, “Luo Xing, add me.”

Luo Xing frowned, snapping, “Is your brain full of balcony wind?”

Her words were sharp.

Gu Shi Yan nodded indifferently. “Sure, say whatever you like.”

He stepped closer. “Add me.”

Luo Xing had just seen his middle school photo; compared to now, his features were sharper, his aura colder, his posture more upright.

“A proper ex should be as good as dead,” Luo Xing retorted mercilessly, quoting Shen Que.

Gu Shi Yan lowered his eyelashes, drawling, “Then I won’t be your ex.”

Luo Xing felt her mind must be fried—or rather, it was Gu Shi Yan’s mind that was fried.

She didn’t reply, still dazed.

Gu Shi Yan stepped even closer, his long legs carrying him forward, the chill in his presence palpable.

Yet his lowered eyes held a hint of warmth.

Silent and still, time seemed to halt.

Until he spoke again, “Luo Xing.”

He pressed his chest forward, continuing, “...Will you reconsider me?”

For once, his tone lacked its usual arrogance.

...

Not a sound.

“Gu Shi Yan, go outside and let the wind clear the water from your head.”

Luo Xing turned her face, avoiding his gaze. “Or maybe you should eat—you’re probably hungry.”

“Luo Xing.” He took a few more steps, stopping at the foot of her bed, eyes lowered, holding a fever patch he’d just grabbed from the table.

He walked toward her, methodically tearing open the packaging. “My head isn’t full of water or wind. I’m not hungry, either. I’m telling you, let’s get back together.”

He stood before her, reached up, pulled off the expired fever patch from her forehead, tossed it in the trash, and pressed a new one in place.

Coolness spread across her brow, clearing her mind and reminding her—this was not a dream.

Gu Shi Yan was asking her to reconsider him, to get back together.

She couldn’t quite describe how she felt.

Maybe there was a bit of satisfaction—being pursued by the one she once loved—mixed with helplessness and an unspeakable sense of defeat.

Why now?

Why after she’d already chosen to let go?

He had to be joking.

Or maybe he was sick.

Or just playing with her.

Weariness swept over her in waves.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the horizon was turning pale.

Luo Xing wondered vaguely, is it dawn? Should she wake up?

Was she dreaming just now?

“Luo Xing, try again with me.”

Her swirling thoughts were wiped out as Gu Shi Yan’s words landed.

Unbelievable.

She was honestly dumbfounded.

“Are you out of your mind?” Luo Xing’s voice was still hoarse. “Just because I stopped liking you, your possessiveness flared up?”

Another cold laugh. “Oh, you haven’t had enough fun yet and want to keep playing?”

On the small tray before her, the seafood porridge had long since cooled and congealed, its aroma gone. The two light side dishes sat scattered with drops of oil.

She felt awful.

Everything was uncomfortable—her sweat-soaked clothes clinging, the urge to rip them off overwhelming.

Her head buzzed, thoughts drifting and tangled, impossible to grasp.

She still thought—

Gu Shi Yan was sick.