In response, Yan Huai Xu said he knew a little.
According to the important principle that most protagonists possessed humble virtues, Song Fu automatically translated “knew a little” as “good at.” Her eyes lit up as she thought of a new way to harass… no, express her infatuation. “Then, would you paint a portrait of me?”
She was rejected, as expected.
Yan Huai Xu’s pale, slender fingers pinched the black pieces, placing them one by one back into the chess jar. “No tools. It would waste a lot of time.”
She could just buy painting tools. The real reason was probably the second half of his sentence. Song Fu puffed out her cheeks, her voice dropping a few degrees. “Fine.”
Old Master Song doted on his granddaughter but never interfered in the squabbles of the younger generation. Seeing that Yan Huai Xu had already put away the pieces, he felt itchy too. “Come play a game with me.”
“I’m not playing with you.”
Song Fu stepped aside and ran to the path paved with bluestones alongside the stream, scattering the leftover cake crumbs to the little fish inside.
Old Master Song shook his head with a smile. “Your mom called this morning. She said she’ll be back next month and asked if you wanted any gifts. She called you, but you didn’t pick up.”
Song Fu stirred the water with her hand. “I probably hadn’t gotten up yet.” The supporting female lead’s parents knew how to enjoy life, traveling all over the world without a fixed schedule. They might be watching the aurora today and skydiving in Switzerland tomorrow. Old Master Song’s philosophy was to live happily, and he never restricted the younger generation’s behavior.
Song Fu stared at the fish in the water for a moment, then turned her head to look at Yan Huai Xu. “I want a watch. A couple’s watch, the kind where you can tell at a glance they’re a pair.”
Old Master Song nodded, thinking it was no problem to give Yan Huai Xu a watch. It was good to have a high-end one when out and about, but a couple’s watch was too much. “Look at how good your parents’ relationship is. Have they ever used couple’s stuff?”
Song Fu retorted, “Qiaoqiao and her boyfriend wear couple shirts. I saw it on her Moments.”
“Exactly, that’s for showing off to others.” Old Master Song placed a piece on the board. “Besides, Huai Xu isn’t your boyfriend.”
Song Fu let out a “tch” and walked away.
The Qiaoqiao just mentioned was Zhao Qiao, full name, one of the supporting female lead’s good friends. They often hung out together.
But Song Fu had been in this Small World for almost half a month and hadn’t spared the energy to connect with her girlfriends—
Speak of the devil and she shall appear. The moment Song Fu thought of them, the next day, the supporting female lead’s friends came to visit.
They waited in the living room. When Song Fu, having tidied herself up, arrived, one of them stood up first, looking crestfallen. “Fu Fu, are you still mad?”
Thanks to those words, Song Fu successfully recalled the reason for their argument: Her friends knew nothing about the game and couldn’t understand the supporting female lead’s obsession with a data paper figure, so they said some very offensive things from her perspective.
The friends apologized very sincerely and even bought game-related merchandise, stuffing a whole paper bag full. “We won’t talk about that anymore.”
“Okay.”
Song Fu smiled. She explained that she hadn’t contacted them out of grudge but because she had things to do.
“What things?”
“Chasing someone.”
She spoke clearly. No chance of hearing wrong.
The friends exchanged glances, figuring it was probably something from the game. With Song Fu’s personality, how could she chase anyone? They didn’t press and changed the subject.
“Hello~” Song Fu’s gaze caught a familiar figure and she greeted him proactively.
Yan Huai Xu came from the backyard, probably just escaping Old Master Song’s chessboard.
The two groups bumped into each other. At that moment, the girlfriends were excitedly talking about how her family’s entertainment company was screening people lately, with plenty of good-looking prospects. “How about we go watch them dance later?”
Yan Huai Xu’s appearance made the enthusiastic group fall silent.
He nodded. “Hello.”
Before her friends could ask, Song Fu boldly introduced him. “This is the person I like.” In a tone full of certainty, she imagined the future. “When we get married, will you be my bridesmaids?”
Her peripheral vision caught Yan Huai Xu’s furrowed brows, waiting for a denial to slap her in the face. It never came. Instead, she heard her girlfriends exclaim in surprise. “So you’re living together now?”
This time, Yan Huai Xu spoke. “It’s temporary.”
The young man had been nurtured by healthy meals for half a month. His already striking looks gained even more radiance. His long, narrow black phoenix eyes were calm like still water, and his refined brows and eyes made girls his age glance once, then again unconsciously. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Song Fu explained on his behalf. “He’s connected through my grandpa’s friend.”
She didn’t elaborate. She told Yan Huai Xu she was heading out and casually asked, “Want to come?”
Yan Huai Xu’s voice was coldly fatigued. “I have class in the afternoon.”
Her girlfriends thought it was no big deal. Home schooling was all about flexibility and convenience. “Just adjust the time.”
In Song Fu’s memory, the supporting female lead did the same. “You go ahead with class. I’ll…” She only got halfway because she saw disapproval on Yan Huai Xu’s face, like a good student’s disappointment at her lack of ambition.
Song Fu twisted it deliberately, grinning. “You don’t want me to go have fun, huh.”
Yan Huai Xu: “No…”
Song Fu followed up with her real goal, her tone light and cheerful. “Then paint my portrait!” Without waiting for a response, she nodded herself. “It’s decided. Last night, I had Uncle Wang look. There are tools.”
Yan Huai Xu didn’t refuse. Song Fu took it as agreement and happily said goodbye to her girlfriends.
They didn’t insist either. After all, they were going to watch hot guys dance, and her guy wasn’t thrilled about it. Normal. Before leaving, they couldn’t help but gripe. “How are you so whipped already.”
Song Fu didn’t take it to heart. After seeing off the guests, she took Yan Huai Xu to the top floor.
The special thing about the top floor was the windows—arched and round. Sitting there made for a perfect composition. Song Fu walked ahead. “Should I change clothes?”
Yan Huai Xu suggested, “You could use a cushion.”
Song Fu asked, “Why?”
Yan Huai Xu answered, “It’ll be tiring.”
That was the truth.
Song Fu sat on the windowsill as planned, striking a pose. Not even fifteen minutes later, she felt her limbs stiffen, especially her raised arm, aching like it wasn’t hers.
She thought, was this the male lead’s punishment for the overbearing supporting female lead?
Insisting on having him paint that stupid portrait. Now she reaped what she sowed.
Yan Huai Xu probably wouldn’t drag out the painting on purpose, right? Song Fu pulled a sour face, unable to help judging a gentleman with a petty heart.
As if seeing through her reluctance, with a “click,” the young man’s clear, cool voice sounded. “You can move.”
Song Fu felt amnesty, slumping bonelessly against the wall. She looked at the phone in Yan Huai Xu’s hand. “Right, take a photo and paint from that.”
Regaining her freedom, she dragged a small stool to sit beside Yan Huai Xu and suddenly said, “You’re really nice.” When they ran into her girlfriends downstairs, he hadn’t refuted her talk of marriage. Probably didn’t want her to lose face. Though he hadn’t agreed to paint, he’d come up and actually did it.
Yan Huai Xu turned his head to look at her, doubt in his ink-dyed phoenix eyes, as if asking why.
Song Fu propped her chin like a little flower, with no intention of continuing.
Painting took time, and painting one satisfactorily took even more.
Song Fu went from excited at first to yawning later. She even went downstairs once, grinding herself a cup of coffee and picking milk tea for Yan Huai Xu.
Sitting back down, sipping coffee while watching, she noticed that though he’d taken a photo, he barely looked at it while painting. “You have a great memory.”
Perhaps caught off guard by the sudden comment, a stroke meant for the eyes clearly overstepped. Yan Huai Xu paused, setting down his brush. “Can’t finish today.”
Song Fu, feeling like she’d done something wrong, didn’t press. She just gazed at the painting, which only vaguely resembled her, and spouted nonsense with her eyes closed. “I’m so good-looking in your heart, huh.”
Yan Huai Xu gave her a somewhat speechless look.
Song Fu felt a bit thick-skinned too and stood first, embarrassed. “Go to class first.”
She’d probably drunk too much coffee during the day.
That night, Song Fu tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She played on her phone in bed for a bit, got thirsty, and remembered the supporting female lead’s favorite cup was left on the top floor, so she went up.
She found the room’s light on. Pushing the door open, she saw Yan Huai Xu painting inside.
Their eyes met.
Song Fu went over and picked up her cup. “Can’t sleep either?”
Yan Huai Xu replied, “Mm, nothing to do.”
She walked over, leaned down to check the painting’s progress, but noticed his turned head. She froze, looked down, saw her nightgown’s wide neckline gaping open, and silently straightened up.
It wasn’t that open; it was fitted. Nothing showed.
Now she was self-conscious too…
If she hadn’t run into him, Song Fu would’ve grabbed the cup and left, but since she had, chatting and building her persona wasn’t bad.
She opened the window, letting fresh air pour in. “I wanted to write you a love letter, but nothing I wrote satisfied me. No way to let you know how much I like you.”
Sweet words entered Yan Huai Xu’s ears. Perhaps he’d heard too many and was numb to them. Song Fu saw no emotion on his face.
“What do you want from me?”
Yan Huai Xu’s gaze fixed straight on Song Fu’s face, confusion plain. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“Did you figure it out?” Song Fu shook her head. “I lack for nothing. If I had to say, I want your love. How about that?”
Her lips curved into a bright smile. “You’ll fall for me. We’re fated to be together.”
“Fated.” Yan Huai Xu repeated just those four words, lowering his lashes, looking pensive.
Song Fu hesitated over whether to tell the male lead the real reason for the supporting female lead’s obsession with him. The plot focused on her overbearing behavior after becoming fiancée, with more ink on the main couple’s romance, leaving much for her to improvise.
Song Fu stopped the teeth-aching sweet talk, sat on the bay window in a daze. The wind chilled her, so she thought to grab the stool again.
The girl’s fair, smooth calves swung the soft white skirt hem. Her pink-white toes touched the ground. Yan Huai Xu withdrew his gaze. “Shoes are to your left.”
“Oh.” Song Fu was still wondering why she hadn’t found them with her feet— she’d seen them looking down earlier.
She put on her shoes. “When you finish painting, I’ll pick a nice frame, hang it in the most prominent spot.”
In the end, Song Fu’s words didn’t come true. Not because she went back on her word, but because the painter was too demanding of himself.
Faced with the painting he’d labored over for half a month, he frowned the whole time, nitpicking like finding bones in an egg.
Song Fu said it looked great.
Yan Huai Xu said, “It doesn’t look like you.”
Song Fu: “…?” So rude.
[What do you mean? The host is super pretty! The male lead’s got no eye for beauty.] The System huffed indignantly. If it had a body, it’d surely whack the male lead on the head.
Because this supporting female lead’s hobbies were wide-ranging—games aside, she liked reading all sorts of novels—Song Fu, with the supplemented memories, understood common novel tropes better too. Like how many systems had their own agendas, not fully aligned with the host.
But hers didn’t seem like that.
Song Fu thought of her dismal score. ‘Do you systems have performance pressure?’
[We used to.]
The System’s mechanical voice sounded hesitant, lowering it. [The last two tasks barely passed. The host had shortcomings, but the male lead bears a big blame too. He…]
It seemed as though it had encountered some kind of restriction, and the System was unable to continue speaking. [In any case, no one can deduct my performance points.]
The System had said similar things before, and Song Fu had thought that was just meant to console her. She hadn’t expected that this theory could actually support the System in maintaining its own performance points.