His voice was neither loud nor soft.
Yet it struck like a sudden clap of thunder, instantly jolting Wen Yifan awake to the words she had spoken to Sang Yan when she came here days ago.
—"Sorry, but this is a reputable bar."
—"That’s a shame."
"..."
Wen Yifan pressed her lips together, overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment.
Fortunately, the noisy surroundings drowned out Sang Yan’s words, leaving the bartender oblivious. He only asked in confusion, "Bro, what are you doing?" Then, pointing to a drawer, he raised his voice, "Have you seen the bracelet that was kept here?"
At the sound, Sang Yan glanced over indifferently.
The bartender explained, "This guest left a bracelet here the other day after visiting. Yu Zhuo picked it up, and I—" He paused, correcting himself, "Didn’t you put it away?"
Sang Yan sat on a barstool, lazily replying, "Hmm."
Bartender: "So where did you put it?"
Sang Yan averted his gaze, his expression indifferent. "Never seen it."
"..." The bartender choked, seemingly speechless at his capriciousness.
Just then, two young women approached the counter to order drinks.
As if spotting a lifeline, the bartender tossed Sang Yan a quick, "Boss, take care of this. I’ve got work to do," before immediately turning to attend to the newcomers.
Yu Zhuo had also disappeared from the area at some point.
Leaving just the two of them.
Even in the crowded, clamorous setting, it felt no different from being alone—especially after the bartender’s remark. One standing, the other seated, the atmosphere between them severed from the surroundings, oddly tense.
Sang Yan picked up a clean glass and casually poured liquor into it until it was half-full.
Then, he slid the glass toward her.
Wen Yifan looked at him in surprise.
The man’s dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, his lashes like crow feathers, his features half-lit in the dim light. Still holding a half-empty beer can, he raised a brow. "How would you like me to entertain you?"
This time, Wen Yifan genuinely felt the illusion that she really was here to solicit services.
After a brief silence, she didn’t touch the drink. "No need, thanks."
—Awkward silence.
Perhaps Sang Yan was also embarrassed by the bartender’s explanation, as he didn’t bring up the contact information again. Considering this was his turf, Wen Yifan decided to spare his pride and didn’t mention it either.
She steered the conversation back to the original topic. "Does the boss here handle all lost items?"
Sang Yan smirked. "Who told you that?"
Wen Yifan pointed toward the bartender.
Following her gesture, Sang Yan loosened his grip and suddenly set the beer can down on the counter with a clink.
"He Mingbo."
He Mingbo instinctively looked up. "Yeah? What’s up, bro?"
Sang Yan replied flatly, "Since when have I had the free time to deal with trivial shit like lost items?"
"..." He Mingbo clearly hadn’t processed the question, and since he was still busy, he only said, "Bro, hold on. Let me finish this drink for the customer first."
Sang Yan’s attitude was far from pleasant.
Wen Yifan pressed her lips together and placed her business card beside the glass. "I’ll leave my contact here. You can call me directly if it’s found, and I’ll come pick it up. Thanks."
Sang Yan didn’t even look up, responding with a perfunctory "Hmm."
Wen Yifan couldn’t help but wonder.
If this was how he treated every customer.
How on earth did this bar stay in business?
Or maybe it was just her.Perhaps it was because he was displeased by her earlier words; or perhaps he still harbored resentment over past events, pretending not to recognize her and refusing to show her any kindness when they met.
She had gone to the police station early this morning, then rushed to three different locations for interviews. She still needed to discuss terminating her lease early with her landlord, figure out a new place to live, and stay vigilant against retaliation from the man next door.
A mountain of tasks awaited her.
Compared to all that, Sang Yan’s attitude seemed almost insignificant.
But for some reason—perhaps due to lingering sleepiness—she inexplicably felt a bit stifled.
Wen Yifan added softly, “It’s something very important. I appreciate your help.”
Just as she was about to leave, Sang Yan spoke up: “Wait.”
Wen Yifan paused.
Sang Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he called out again, “He Mingbo, what’s taking you so long?”
He Mingbo: “Huh?”
“She left something here,” Sang Yan said, enunciating each word as he looked at him. “Aren’t you going to look for it?”
“…”
With Sang Yan’s words hanging in the air, He Mingbo had no choice but to search again, reluctantly. This time, miraculously, he found it in a lower cabinet. He sighed in relief and handed it to her immediately. “Is this the one?”
Wen Yifan took it. “Yes, thank you.”
He Mingbo glanced at Sang Yan, rubbing the back of his head. “No problem at all. We’re sorry for taking up so much of your time.”
Sang Yan continued drinking, silent.
Wen Yifan nodded, bid them farewell, and left.
Outside, it was damp and cold, with few people around. The streets looked desolate and empty.
Too cold to even touch her phone, Wen Yifan quickly sent Zhong Siqiao a message on WeChat—“Found the bracelet”—before shoving her hands back into her pockets. She sniffled, her mind inexplicably wandering.
Memories began to seep into her thoughts.
Because of that familiar yet abrasive version of Sang Yan just now.
She recalled the first time they’d met.
…
On the first day of high school, Wen Yifan was late.
By the time she arrived at school, she didn’t even have time to go to the dormitory. She asked her uncle to leave her luggage with the dorm supervisor before rushing to Building A, where the first-year classes were held, and climbing to the fourth floor.
She walked down a hallway, heading toward the inner section. Passing the school’s water dispenser, she saw Sang Yan for the first time.
The tall boy stood there, wearing a blue-and-white striped uniform, his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder. His features were handsome and refined, his expression indifferent, giving off an unapproachable air.
He was the complete opposite of her current state.
As if unaware the bell had already rung, he was leisurely filling his water bottle.
Wen Yifan was in a hurry to get to class but only knew her homeroom was on the fourth floor of this building—she didn’t know the exact location.
Not wanting to waste time, she stopped to ask for directions. “Classmate.”
Sang Yan released the dispenser’s switch, and the sound of running water ceased. He slowly screwed the cap back on his bottle before glancing at her.
His gaze lingered for only a second before he looked away, showing no intention of responding.
At the time, Wen Yifan didn’t know him yet. She just thought this person had no fear of being late—strolling around to get water during class time without any of the caution or anxiety typical of a new student.
More like a seasoned veteran who’d been around the block.
So after a brief hesitation, she changed her approach. “…Senior?”
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow and looked at her again.
“Excuse me,” Wen Yifan said, “do you know where Class 17 of the first year is?”This time, Sang Yan didn’t maintain his usual indifferent demeanor. He lifted his chin and spoke with a rare hint of generosity, "Go straight and turn right."
Wen Yifan nodded, waiting for him to continue.
But Sang Yan said nothing more.
She didn’t hear any concluding remark like "you’ll find it there."
Worried he might not be finished, she cautiously pressed on, "And then?"
"Then?" Sang Yan took a step forward, his tone lazy and infuriating, "Then check the class numbers on the doors yourself. Did you expect this senior to recite them one by one for you—"
He dragged out his words, enunciating deliberately, "Junior."
"..."
Wen Yifan politely thanked him.
Following his directions, she turned right and immediately spotted the sign for Class 15, Grade 1. Further ahead, the innermost classroom was Class 17. She quickened her pace and called out softly at the door, "Reporting in."
The homeroom teacher on the podium glanced at her, skimmed the attendance list, and asked, "Sang Yan?"
Wen Yifan shook her head. "Teacher, my name is Wen Yifan."
"Yifan, huh." The teacher checked the list again, surprised. "Only you and Sang Yan haven’t arrived yet. The name sounded more like a girl’s, so I thought it was you."
Before the teacher could invite her in, another voice came from behind Wen Yifan. "Reporting in."
Instinctively, she turned toward the sound.
There stood the "senior" who had just given her directions, now right behind her. With only two steps between them, she realized just how tall he was up close.
She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
His presence was cool and imposing, carrying a faint trace of sandalwood scent.
His expression indifferent, he offered a half-hearted apology. "Sorry, teacher. I’m late."
"You two, come in first. The seats are over there." The teacher pointed to the only two remaining spots in the classroom and added, "Why are you late on the first day? Did you come together?"
The seats were in the last row of the innermost group, side by side.
Wen Yifan answered honestly, "We didn’t come together. My family had other things this morning, so they dropped me off a bit late. Plus, I got a little lost, which delayed me further."
"I see." The teacher nodded and turned to Sang Yan. "And you?"
"My dad forgot I’m in high school now," Sang Yan strode straight to the outer seat, dropping his bag onto the desk as he drawled, "so he dropped me off at the middle school instead."
"..."
Silence.
Then, in an instant, the room erupted into laughter. The quiet classroom buzzed with noise.
Wen Yifan’s lips curled slightly in amusement.
"Then remind your dad next time he drops you off," the teacher chuckled. "Alright, both of you, take your seats."
Sang Yan acknowledged with a nod. As he pulled out his chair, he suddenly noticed Wen Yifan still standing nearby.
He paused. "You want the inside or outside seat?"
Their eyes met.
Wen Yifan quickly schooled her expression and hesitated. "Inside, please."
The classroom wasn’t spacious.
Desks were arranged in four groups, each with seven rows of two columns. The last row had little room left, with chairs pressed against the wall. To get to the inner seat, the person on the outside would have to make way.
Without a word, Sang Yan stepped aside to let her pass.The homeroom teacher at the podium began speaking again, "Let me introduce myself once more. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the next year, as well as your chemistry teacher." As she spoke, she tapped the blackboard. "This is my name."
Neatly written on the blackboard were the three characters "Zhang Wenhong," followed by a string of phone numbers.
Wen Yifan took out a notebook and pen from her bag and carefully jotted them down.
After a while, the boy sitting in front suddenly leaned back, resting his elbow on Sang Yan’s desk. He seemed to know Sang Yan, turning his head slightly with a cheeky grin. "Miss Sang, your name really does sound quite girly, huh."
"..."
Wen Yifan froze for a moment.
She suddenly recalled what Zhang Wenhong had said when she first entered the classroom.
—"Only you and Sang Yan haven’t arrived yet according to the roster. I thought this name sounded more like a girl’s."
Hearing this, Wen Yifan’s attention shifted to Sang Yan.
He was tall and broad, crammed into the narrow seat with his long legs barely fitting under the desk, looking awkward and constrained. One leg was even stretched out to the side. His drooping eyelids gave off an air of perpetual drowsiness and slight irritation.
Now, he was staring expressionlessly at the boy.
"Hey, I didn’t say that—it was the teacher. But now that she mentioned it, when I think about your name, it really could sweep me off my feet," the boy said, barely suppressing his laughter. "If you were a girl, I’d totally go for you."
Sang Yan looked him up and down, then drawled, "Su Haoan, do you really have no self-awareness?"
Su Haoan: "Huh?"
"If I were a girl, would I even glance at a toad like you?"
"..." Su Haoan’s face darkened instantly. After three seconds of silence, he spat out, "Get lost."
Wen Yifan half-listened to their exchange, barely holding back a laugh.
His tone also reminded her of how Sang Yan had earlier called himself her "senior" and referred to her as his "junior." She paused, muttering under her breath, "Shameless."
Just then, Zhang Wenhong was called out by another teacher.
Without anyone to keep order, the classroom gradually grew noisier.
"Also, about my name," Sang Yan continued, undeterred, "my old man spent seven days and nights flipping through the Chinese Dictionary, held dozens of family meetings, and after careful consideration—"
Wen Yifan rested her chin on her hand, zoning out slightly as she listened to his words.
Then, after a deliberate pause, he finished lazily, "—finally picked the manliest character possible."
Amid the chaotic background noise that provided a sense of security, Wen Yifan stared at the words in her notebook and sighed almost inaudibly, murmuring, "And yet it’s still less manly than mine."
"..."
Su Haoan scoffed. "Then why not just call yourself ‘Manly Sang’?"
Wen Yifan found this inexplicably funny and ducked her head to stifle her laughter. After a long moment, she suddenly realized that Sang Yan beside her hadn’t responded to Su Haoan’s remark.
Silence.
Now, he was so quiet it was as if he wasn’t even there.
She instinctively glanced at Sang Yan.
Only to find that, at some point, his gaze had shifted to her. His dark, slightly cold eyes were tinged with flecks of sunlight at the corners, yet it did little to soften his expression.
His stare was direct and unguarded, carrying a hint of scrutiny.
Wen Yifan’s heart skipped a beat.
What’s going on?
"..."
Did he hear what I just said…?
No way, right?
Surely not?
Before she could reach a conclusion—Sang Yan tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, speaking leisurely, "Ah, right. I haven't had the chance to ask yet."
Wen Yifan's breath hitched, her grip tightening around the pen in her hand.
"New deskmate?" Sang Yan tilted his head slightly, his tone carrying a hint of arrogance. "What's your name?"
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