At some unknown point, the times when Yan replied to messages had concentrated in the evenings.
Originally, Song Fu had wanted to interpret it as the male lead having no time to deal with the female supporting character, spending all his time deepening his feelings with the female lead instead. But judging from the game’s online times, it wasn’t quite like that. She rarely opened the Combat Power Leaderboard for a look and discovered that the name “Yan” wasn’t even on it anymore. A spin through the game forums even revealed people asking if Yan had quit the game.
Song Fu propped her chin on her hand, watching the little avatar spin circles on her computer screen, pondering whether the male lead actually had time to spend with the female lead.
As she thought about it, the little icon in the bottom right corner representing the friends list flashed twice—a new friend request had arrived.
【Friend Request】Coriander Tasty: I still think I should explain things to you.
The System spoke up: [This is the female lead’s game nickname.]
So Song Fu accepted it. To show she wasn’t easy to get along with, she sent over a question mark without any politeness.
Coriander Tasty: Hello, I’ve already decided to transfer servers.
Fu Guang Luo: ?!!
Coriander Tasty: But before transferring, I think I still need to explain. The Romance between you and me isn’t as ambiguous as the forums say. I triggered a quest, and your Romance seemed pretty interested in the quest rewards. Since my level wasn’t high enough, he helped me level up a bit, but I didn’t expect you to misunderstand.
This whole big paragraph appeared at the same time as the three punctuation marks Song Fu had sent—probably something the female lead had pre-edited and copied over, showing how nervous she was.
Fu Guang Luo: Transfer servers, not quit the game?
There was no reply from the other side for a good long while. Just as Song Fu and the System confirmed that in the plot, she was supposed to quit the game entirely, the chat box finally updated.
Coriander Tasty: [Big Cry][Big Cry] Do I have to quit the game?
Coriander Tasty: I’ve talked it over with my friend—we’re going to play on his server.
Song Fu re-examined the message she’d just sent, belatedly tasting the confrontational edge in it. Worried she’d completely scared the girl off, she hurriedly tried to fix it: No no no, that’s not what I meant by forcing you to quit.
Fu Guang Luo: What I mean is, isn’t it more fun to play on a hot server? Can’t you get your friend to transfer to our server?
Coriander Tasty: He has a lot of stuff on that server, I don’t, so it’s fine.
The female lead gave a very earnest answer, with no intention of changing her mind.
Song Fu bit her lip and discussed with the System whether quitting the game and transferring servers made a big difference. From the purpose standpoint, ‘Anyway, it’s just to make the male lead feel like someone’s missing from around him, that something’s off—so transferring servers should have the same effect… right?’
[Maybe?] The System was equally hesitant.
There was no way to change the current situation anyway, so she could only accept it.
Fu Guang Luo: Alright then TT.
The midday class ended, and there were no other classes that day. Another bout of snow had fallen, so Song Fu’s roommates discussed heading out of campus to play—they said there was a park nearby that was great for photos.
Song Fu deliberately wore a new skirt she’d bought, had her roommates help snap a few pictures, simply added some rabbit stickers over her face, and sent them to the male lead: Brother, how do I look?
She got no response, which was only to be expected. She shut off her phone like she’d completed a task and put it out of her mind.
“Wait, I’ll sprinkle some snow for you.”
As they sprinkled snow, it inexplicably turned into a snowball fight. The four girls’ ears and noses were frozen red, their mouths curved in the same bright smiles.
It ended with three out of the four sneezing, their hair all dusted with snow.
The only one who didn’t sneeze was Song Fu—perhaps due to adapting from her childhood environment, this body of hers was pretty resistant to the cold. “It’s flu season lately; maybe we should buy some cold medicine anyway?” Back in the dorm, Song Fu’s three roommates wiped their noses with tissues.
“I don’t like taking medicine; a shower will fix me right up.”
Facts proved that a shower fixing everything was wrong.
Fortunately, the next day was a weekend with no classes. Otherwise, the three of them croaked with hoarse voices, unable to speak even when questioned, coughing their heads off, looking utterly wretched.
Song Fu, the only one who’d held out, took it upon herself to buy food and medicine. She headed out resolutely, only to get smacked in the face by a blast of cold wind and sneezed right away. “So cold.” She should’ve dressed thicker.
One could say the misfortune had been foreshadowed from that sneeze.
First, the teriyaki chicken rice window her roommates wanted was closed. Then, while paying, the auntie accidentally overcharged her. It took a huge effort to track down the cafeteria manager and get her money back. Then, when picking up medicine at the school gate, she found the delivery guy had sent it to the wrong place… These simple errands dragged on for two hours, and the already overcast sky finally gave out, starting to sleet.
Pure snow was still somewhat acceptable; sleet made Song Fu’s head throb.
Even the System said she was jinxed.
After a thousand hardships, Song Fu returned to the dorm and let out a long breath. “Luckily I ran into the dorm head from next door. She had her boyfriend bring an umbrella and we came back together.”
“This is when the comparison shows.”
One roommate poked her head out after wiping her nose, seizing the chance to lecture: “Stop obsessing over that online fling of yours. In a situation like this, what’s he good for?”
“It helps.” Song Fu nodded. “The money he gave can buy an umbrella.”
Her roommate’s words did give her inspiration, though—she could use the chance to complain to the male lead.
Song Fu: Brother, I’m so miserable!
Song Fu: Everyone else has a boyfriend to bring an umbrella, but I don’t [Little cat wide-noodle-style tears.jpg]
Song Fu: I sent photos hoping you’d compliment me, but you don’t even say I look good. What’s the point of asking if I’m cold? Of course I’m cold!
Song Fu gave herself full marks for shameless pestering.
Yan: You don’t have a boyfriend?
Song Fu: ?
Song Fu: Aren’t you?
The “typing…” indicator in the top left lingered for a long time.
Yan: Am I?
Ah, she’d been speechless-countered. Song Fu sent back a cat-head emoji with zero actual meaning, brushing it off like a prank, and the conversation ended there.
…
So was he or wasn’t he? Lu Yan Zhi reached out and poked the cat head, as if prodding the other person’s skull.
After taking their medicine, her roommates started picking photos to post to Moments. After flipping through a few, they took an interest in Song Fu’s skirt. “Fu Fu, can you send me the link for this skirt?”
“Sure.” Song Fu found the link and sent it over, mentioning her dilemma in choosing: “Brick red and navy blue both look great. Want to check out the brick red one?”
The designs were the same—long skirts with built-in linings, versatile for all seasons. She’d bought hers intending to wear it for formal important occasions, like interviews or graduation ceremonies, or even a rich kid’s birthday party—
The kid’s invitation came very last-minute, just the day before his birthday.
Song Fu was drawing a renovation design she’d taken online when she got a call from the kid on his toy watch.
She hadn’t done tutoring for a while since winter break, but this contact was added back when it was convenient for the kid’s questions. The kid wasn’t one for studying and had never reached out before—this was the first time he’d initiated contact.
In his soft, childish tone, he asked if she’d come to his birthday party, saying he’d ordered a super gigantic cake.
Song Fu hadn’t planned to go at first and even pre-emptively wished him happy birthday over the phone. But the kid burst into tears, gasping out whys and begging her to come, even saying “please.”
The kid had a bit of a proud personality—this reaction seemed off.
Song Fu couldn’t help thinking of common social news stories, wondering if there was something only she could help with. She hesitantly agreed, then properly bought a handwriting practice book and a fountain pen as birthday gifts, since the kid’s writing was truly atrocious.
The next day.
With no reimbursement for travel, Song Fu’s mode of transport became bus plus taxi—no helping it, since it was a villa district, and that taxi segment couldn’t be fully avoided.
Song Fu rang the doorbell at the gate, and the first person to come was the auntie she’d met several times before.
The auntie froze a bit upon seeing her, then lowered her voice: “Teacher Song, no tutoring today, it’s…”
“Sister!” The kid in the living room heard the commotion and came toddling over, grabbing Song Fu’s hand like she’d saved his life and dragging her toward the elevator. “Hurry hurry.”
Song Fu had figured she’d see a bunch of kids crowded together playing, but instead only spotted piled-up gifts and a huge cake. She asked: “Little Yuan, are you taking me to find your friends?”
Once out of the elevator, the kid shook his head vigorously in denial. “No, earlier Brother and Mom talked for a really long time. Whenever that happens, Brother gets in a bad mood. Sister, go cheer him up. Sister, why didn’t you come in with Brother?”
As the words fell, Song Fu got a bad premonition. But before she could even open her mouth, the kid shoved open the door in front of them.
The teenager inside had flawlessly handsome features from every angle—raven-black hair and ink-dark eyes, pale skin accentuating a touch of sullenness. Perhaps because of his broad shoulders and long legs, even his overly exquisite looks didn’t come off weak; instead, they were sharp. Just like now, the instant he raised his eyes to look over made one think of a black panther—and he was definitely in a bad mood. “Cheng Yuan, didn’t they teach you to knock?”
The kid only then remembered, shrinking back a bit before immediately piping up proudly, like claiming credit: “Brother, I brought your girlfriend over!”
The teenager looked baffled, his voice cool and raspy—probably hit by the flu too. “Girlfriend?”
One word at a time.
Song Fu, who had backed up half a step but hadn’t managed to slip away: “…”
In that instant, she pieced together the situation.
She and the kid’s brother hadn’t informed the other party involved about their fake couple status—no wonder the auntie at the door had looked so off. So the kid didn’t actually need help with anything; he’d just mistakenly thought whether she came to the birthday party determined if his brother would show up, hence the heartfelt plea.
Song Fu could feel the teenager’s gaze fixed on her face.
She gritted her teeth, trying to steady things. “Little Yuan, do you know what a white lie is? Your mom just wants you to study seriously…”
The kid couldn’t accept it and reached out to shove her. “Liar.”
“Fu Fu?”
Song Fu turned her head and met the eyes of the teenager who’d spoken, looking stunned. “Hm?”
Had they colluded? He was just a bit slow on the uptake?