Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Sang Zhi's gaze flickered between the two of them before she tactfully exited the kitchen, leaving them alone together.
On her way out, she even thoughtfully closed the door behind her.
Wen Yifan averted her eyes and continued chopping the meat on the cutting board. Her hair was tied up completely, leaving only a few stray strands near her ears and nape. Her usual gentle smile was gone, replaced by an expressionless face.
Sang Yan walked over to her side. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke as if finding the situation absurd. "Wen Shuangjiang, you think I cheated on you, yet you still ate that takeout?"
"..."
His counterattack hit the mark perfectly.
Wen Yifan paused mid-motion. His words nearly broke her composure, dissolving the lingering irritation. She lowered her eyes, forcing her expression to remain calm. "It was already bought."
The implied meaning was clear—
Wouldn’t it be a waste not to eat it?
After staring at her for a while, Sang Yan let the matter drop. He remembered something and pulled out his phone from his pocket, casually waving it. "Why didn’t you reply to my messages?"
Then, as if giving her an out, he added, "Didn’t see them?"
"I saw them," Wen Yifan turned on the faucet and began washing the vegetables, bluntly stating, "I just didn’t want to reply."
"..."
Noticing her actions, Sang Yan rolled up his sleeves, grabbed her hands out of the sink, and took over the task. He was so speechless he almost laughed, wanting to pinch her cheek but holding back because his hands were still wet. "Fine."
Wen Yifan glanced at him and shamelessly wiped her wet hands on his clothes.
Catching her move, Sang Yan said meaningfully, "Wen Shuangjiang, you’ve got quite the temper now."
"..."
That’s! Because! You! Woke! Me! Up!!!
Wen Yifan inexplicably felt stifled again. She ignored him, turning to grab a large pot and filling it with water. As if drawing a line between them, she stepped back a few paces after filling it.
Sang Yan turned off the faucet, dried his hands with a tissue, and lazily called, "Wen Shuangjiang."
Wen Yifan placed the pot on the induction cooker and pressed the power button.
He broke his sentence into three parts, emphasizing the severity of the matter.
"You."
"Gave me."
"The silent treatment."
"..." Hearing this, Wen Yifan immediately looked at him. After a moment of thought, she realized he might have a point and made what she considered a reasonable demand. "Then don’t talk to me."
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow. "That’s allowed?"
Afraid of being accused of the silent treatment again, Wen Yifan nodded.
As she opened a pack of noodles and pondered how much to cook, Sang Yan suddenly wrapped his arms around her from behind. Taller than her, he bent slightly, resting his chin on her shoulder.
Their bodies pressed together.
As if using her for support, his weight leaned against her loosely.
Wen Yifan immediately turned her head.
"What’s the big deal? It’s just a kiss," Sang Yan’s dark eyes gleamed as he smirked, dragging out his words. "Last night, I kissed you so many times, and you didn’t get mad."
"..."
Were the two situations even comparable?
Finding him particularly infuriating, Wen Yifan couldn’t resist pinching his cheek.
Like magic, the moment she did, the dimple at the corner of Sang Yan’s lips appeared, softening his features. Suppressing a laugh, his tone carried a hint of surrender. "Alright, my bad."
Wen Yifan stared at him without blinking.
Meeting her gaze, Sang Yan added, "Don’t be mad, okay?"Pausing for a few seconds.
Seeing her expression remain unchanged, Sang Yan's tone turned playful. "Why are you so hard to coax, girl?"
"..."
"Why don't you show me some sympathy? I barely slept a few hours before that bastard Duan Jiaxu bombarded me with calls to go out and pick someone up. And after bringing that little brat back," Sang Yan said leisurely, "my wife gives me the cold shoulder."
Wen Yifan pursed her lips, unable to resist replying, "I wasn't that 'violent.'"
Sang Yan said idly, "But it hurts so much."
"..." Wen Yifan amended, "I wasn't that 'cold' either."
"Oh? But I'm cold." Sang Yan tightened his embrace, as if trying to mold her into his body. He lightly nipped the soft flesh of her neck, employing every shameless method to extinguish her anger. "Warm me up."
"If you're cold, put on a jacket," Wen Yifan said, ticklish. Her anger had long dissipated because of his antics, and she almost laughed. "You're a grown man, and don't you always boast about being a tough guy? Why are you acting coquettish with me?"
As she spoke, she happened to glance toward the door.
The kitchen door was made of glass, and from this angle, she could still see Sang Zhi playing on her phone on the sofa. Worried they might be seen, Wen Yifan's mood was instantly replaced by another emotion, and she pushed his head away. "Behave."
Sang Yan: "Hmm?"
"Zhi Zhi is outside. It'd be awkward for her," Wen Yifan said, feeling that he was utterly unbothered, as if he didn't care who saw them. She could only patiently remind him, "Besides, don’t you, as an older brother, want to maintain a good image in front of your sister?"
"Good image? That doesn’t exist in her eyes when it comes to me."
"..."
After saying this, Sang Yan turned his head to glance at the living room and added lazily, "Besides, that little brat has Duan Jiaxu as her boyfriend. She’s seen her fair share of storms."
Wen Yifan didn’t quite understand his meaning. "Huh?"
Despite saying this, Sang Yan straightened up, propping himself against the counter instead, tilting his head to look at her.
"You think that beast is any more restrained than me?"
"..."
Hearing Sang Yan say this, Wen Yifan couldn’t help but grow curious about what kind of person Duan Jiaxu was. From her perspective, Sang Yan’s level of narcissism and shamelessness was already unparalleled.
After finishing the noodles, the three of them sat at the dining table.
Perhaps worried that Wen Yifan might actually misunderstand because of the receipt, Sang Zhi, for once, didn’t antagonize Sang Yan and cautiously explained, "Sister Yifan, that takeout was ordered by my boyfriend. He wanted to wake my brother up to pick me up, so he wrote that note randomly. It wasn’t anyone else."
Wen Yifan smiled. "I know, I was just teasing your brother earlier."
Only then did Sang Zhi relax, though her gaze still lingered on the two of them. Maybe because she wasn’t used to this scene, she found it somewhat unbelievable and couldn’t help but blurt out, "Sister Yifan, have you been living with my brother for too long?"
Wen Yifan: "Hmm?"
"Like," Sang Zhi muttered, "lowering your standards for a partner."
"..." Sang Yan turned his head, his tone icy. "What are you saying?"
Sensing that this was also indirectly criticizing Wen Yifan’s choice of partner, Sang Zhi held back and didn’t continue. She lowered her head to eat her noodles, then glanced at Wen Yifan again and changed tactics. "Sister Yifan, you’re so beautiful."
The implication was unmistakable.Sang Yan hadn't expected to bring back a hidden enemy. Leaning back in his chair, he stared expressionlessly at Sang Zhi. "Kid, what was that favor you wanted me to help with earlier?"
Sang Zhi, who had wanted him to put in a good word for Duan Jiaxu in front of their parents, immediately fell silent. "..."
After a pause.
Sang Zhi mustered her courage and reluctantly added, "But my brother is pretty handsome too."
"..."
...
After dinner, Wen Yifan wanted to return to the TV station to practice her dance some more. Considering Sang Yan hadn't slept much, she told him to take a nap and made up an excuse to leave, taking Sang Zhi home with her.
For nearly two months, Wen Yifan had been practicing in an empty conference room at the station whenever she had free time.
She was preparing to perform "The Nutcracker," a ballet piece she had once excelled at.
After so many years, her body's flexibility and agility were no match for what they had been. Though the practice was exhausting and painful, Wen Yifan gradually rediscovered the feeling she'd had during her training days.
The resentment and unwillingness she'd felt when forced to give it up slowly faded away.
Thinking about Sang Yan's reaction when he saw her performance, Wen Yifan inexplicably felt happy and found endless motivation.
The rehearsal for the annual gala was scheduled for the next afternoon, with the actual event starting at 7 p.m.
Around 7 p.m., Wen Yifan received a message from Sang Yan saying something urgent had come up and he might be late. She stared at the message for several seconds. Though she'd known he might not make it, after all her preparation, the news still left her feeling a little disappointed.
Her performance was scheduled quite early.
But the disappointment didn't last long. As long as he could see it eventually, that was enough. Wen Yifan asked Su Tian to record the performance for her. Then she sent Fu Zhuang's contact to Sang Yan and replied: [If I don't respond later, just have Da Zhuang bring you up.]
Sang Yan: [Got it.]
The gala was lively, with several acts designed to hype up the crowd—either comedic skits or upbeat songs. Wen Yifan watched and laughed along, occasionally checking her phone. By the time her turn was approaching, there was still no sign of Sang Yan.
Wen Yifan didn't wait any longer. After giving Fu Zhuang a few instructions, she headed backstage.
...
Everything had been going smoothly, but just as Sang Yan was about to leave the office, an issue arose with a project, forcing him to work overtime. After barely finishing, he finally left the office and drove to the location Wen Yifan had sent him.
When he arrived downstairs, Sang Yan sent Wen Yifan a message.
No reply.
So he added Fu Zhuang on WeChat.
Soon, Fu Zhuang appeared.
The moment he saw Sang Yan, Fu Zhuang urgently pulled him inside. "Bro, hurry up! Yifan-jie's performance is starting! I really want to watch! Don't slow me down!"
"..." Sang Yan's brow twitched. He wanted to say something, but what came out was, "Then walk faster."
They took the elevator upstairs.
Fu Zhuang was extremely talkative, chattering nonstop from the moment he saw Sang Yan. The topic revolved almost entirely around Wen Yifan, with endless praise: "Yifan-jie is seriously amazing. She's so talented. And she's been practicing for this performance for ages—every single day! The rest of us leave right after work, but she stays behind to practice in the conference room!"
"...""Ah, if only I weren't so terrible at dancing," Fu Zhuang sighed. "I'd keep her company, otherwise Sister Yifan must be so lonely. But bro, why don't you go with her? Even just sitting there as decoration would be nice."
Sang Yan felt something was off the more he listened.
But before he could ask, they had already arrived at the annual party venue. The interior was dimly lit, with only the stage brightly illuminated. It seemed a new performance was about to begin.
The host was speaking.
Fu Zhuang immediately quieted down, not wanting to disturb others.
Below the stage were dozens of round tables arranged by department, each set with drinks and snacks. Sang Yan was pulled by Fu Zhuang to one seat, where Wen Yifan's bag and phone were placed nearby.
As the host finished announcing and left the stage,
Sang Yan looked up and froze.
At that moment, Wen Yifan stood alone on stage. She wore a white ballet dress - sleeveless with layers of tulle, revealing delicate collarbones and swan-like arms, her bare back showing graceful shoulder blades.
Her striking beauty stood out, her skin so fair it seemed to glow.
The dress's skirt flared slightly, wrapped in layer upon layer of tulle.
The familiar notes of "The Nutcracker" began playing.
Light and cheerful, like jingling bells that irresistibly drew listeners in. Facing the audience, Wen Yifan rose on her toes, her body moving with fluid grace, every movement perfectly timed to the music.
Her neck arched proudly like a white swan as she spun across the stage.
Never expecting to see such a sight, Sang Yan's gaze remained fixed on the stage, completely captivated by Wen Yifan. His Adam's apple bobbed as this image gradually overlapped with memories of the girl from his past.
Nanwu No.1 High School's freshman military training lasted one week each year, always scheduled after final exams.
Held at the city's agricultural research institute.
During that year's training camp talent show, Wen Yifan had been roped into performing because of her dance student status.
It was the night before training ended. The atmosphere was relaxed, with instructors less strict than usual. Though students were initially told to sit properly, no one enforced it later.
Sang Yan found the whole event unbearably boring, constantly drowsy and just waiting for it to end so he could return to the dorm and sleep.
Until Wen Yifan appeared.
Being from the same class, students around Sang Yan cheered enthusiastically, some even howling excitedly. One loud boy stood up shouting, "Wen Yifan is Class 17's goddess!"
Yet the girl seemed not to hear any of it, completely unaffected.
Standing center stage in a pure white dress with her pale hair tied up, revealing a smooth forehead, she danced absorbed in her own world amidst the darkness - unafraid, like an exquisite doll.
As if glowing with light.
Sang Yan couldn't quite recall his exact feelings then.
Only that he, who had been waiting all evening for the show to end, found himself watching that performance a little longer than others.
Later.
After training ended, that performance made Wen Yifan famous throughout the grade. Not just among peers, but even upperclassmen came asking for her contact information.
For reasons unknown.Sang Yan had never paid much attention to this girl before, but after that evening event, he found himself coincidentally witnessing these scenes over and over. Sitting in his seat, he watched coldly as Wen Yifan politely turned down one person after another.
Wen Yifan treated everyone the same.
No matter their personality, grades, or appearance, she responded to each person with the same patience—never humiliating them, yet refusing them with unmistakable clarity.
Just like him, yet not quite the same.
She carried the same pride in her bones, but unlike his arrogance, hers was wrapped in extreme gentleness.
Like a dazzling yet never blinding light.
One afternoon, after playing basketball with his classmates, Sang Yan returned to the classroom to grab his keys before heading back to the dorm to shower. As he reached the door, he saw Wen Yifan also returning, only to be stopped by a boy who wanted to talk to her.
Sang Yan watched for a few seconds before looking away and heading to his seat.
After digging his keys out of his desk, for some reason, he didn’t leave immediately. He stayed seated.
A little over a minute later, Wen Yifan walked into the classroom. She was wearing her dance practice clothes with a jacket over them. She went to her seat, seemingly just to grab her meal card, and was about to leave again when—
Sang Yan suddenly called out to her, "Hey, junior."
Their seats were close, separated only by an aisle.
Wen Yifan turned back, unbothered by the way he addressed her. "What is it?"
Sang Yan asked casually, "You seeing anyone?"
Though unsure why he was asking, Wen Yifan answered honestly. "No."
Sang Yan lifted his gaze, his tone pointed. "Then why reject everyone?"
This really had nothing to do with Sang Yan.
But Wen Yifan was good-natured and didn’t see any reason not to answer. She wanted to say she couldn’t date in high school, but that felt like an evasion. After a moment’s thought, she simply said, "Haven’t met someone I like yet."
Her voice was clear, carrying a hint of softness.
Yet each word struck his heart with undeniable force.
Someone I like.
Silence fell.
The classroom was empty except for the two of them, unnervingly quiet. Outside, the sky stretched endlessly, sunlight spilling in. The air was thick with the scent of youth, carrying the distant sounds of classmates running on the sports field—and an indistinct heartbeat, coming from somewhere unknown.
In that instant, Sang Yan understood everything.
Why he had never noticed before, but now kept stumbling upon these scenes. Why this girl, who had once been no different from any other classmate in his eyes, suddenly appeared so frequently in his vision.
Was it a coincidence?
Probably not.
He had simply—
gone from indifference to caring.
Leaning back in his chair, the boy tilted his head slightly to look at her. His hair was still damp with sweat, his eyes bright and clear. He turned his head a little and suddenly laughed, his usual arrogance lacing his words.
"Yeah?"
But this time, there was an unmistakable certainty in his tone.
"—Then you’re about to."
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