"Yunhua?"
"Shixiu?" My voice cracks a little. "W…what are you doing here?"
I can't even look at him properly. My heart's pounding like crazy and my face is heating up. Why now? Why is he here?
His eyes flick past me, toward the apartment behind.
"He's still here?" he asks, voice low—but it's tight. Not calm. Not friendly.
No no no—shit, Jiang! My head snaps around, bracing for disaster.
But nope. There he is, sitting on the couch like a perfect little drama student. Eyes bright blue, sure, but antenna hidden neatly under his black headband. He even gives Tang a tiny, innocent wave.
Cool smart boy! I mentally toss him a gold star.
I turn back to Tang, straightening my back and pushing down the mess inside me.
"It's none of your business," I say flatly. "And I'm busy. Please leave."
"Wait, Yunhua," he says, grabbing my arm.
"Don't touch me." My voice comes out barely above a whisper, but it's sharp.
He blinks and lets go immediately. "Oh. Sorry."
I don't look at him. "What is it?"
"Ah… about that paper formalities," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "It's been two days. You didn't go to the police station."
"Oh… yeah. Right." I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. All this mess, I almost forgot. Ugh, whatever…
"I'll do it today," I mumble. "I was just… busy."
"Umm… you going somewhere this early?" he asks.
"It's none of your business. Thanks for the reminder, though." My tone is clipped as I shift the bag on my shoulder.
"Uh… yeah, well… I'll accompany you then."
"I can go on my own."
"But this police station thing is my business too, right?" he says, almost trying to sound casual. "Also, I have to show up there as well…"
I don't respond. Just look down, sigh, and pull the door shut behind me. Then I start walking toward the elevator in silence.
He follows without a word.
I step into the elevator. Of course, he steps in too. Tch. Why are we standing so close? This box suddenly feels too small. I just want to get out of here. Why is he so… nonchalant? Like nothing ever happened?
"Yunhua…" he starts, his voice low. "About what happen—"
"Listen," I cut him off, staring straight ahead at the elevator doors. "I don't have any intention of having that conversation. You gave your answer, and I get it. Let's just move on."
My voice is calm, but my nails dig into my palm.
A long, heavy silence stretches between us before the elevator doors finally slide open. I step out without a word. So does he. I walk fast, hoping to just leave him behind—but of course, he falls right in step beside me like a shadow.
Then, with a small awkward chuckle, he says, "Haha… yeah, right. Move on. You're not that little kid anymore who used to follow me around all the time."
Oh please—no. Don't say that. Don't go there.
My chest tightens. My eyes sting.
Don't cry, Yunhua. Don't cry. Not now, not in front of him.
Why is he bringing this all up? Why now? Tch. Just stop it. My heart isn't ready. Don't open those wounds. Not again.
"Taxi… Taxi…!" I wave my hand like a maniac, and thank god, one finally stops.
I swing the door open and hop in, slamming it shut behind me like I just escaped from a zombie apocalypse.
But nope. The real horror isn't behind—he opens the door and gets in too.
"Tch, can't you take another taxi?" I glare at him.
He smiles like he didn't just stomp on my mood with his size-eleven shoes. "But why waste natural resources and money, right?"
Unbelievable.
He just sits there beside me, calm as a monk, while the taxi starts moving. And me? I'm squished between my broken heart and his unbothered face.
"Um, Yunhua… about that guy living in your apartment?" he says carefully.
Oh no. No no no. Don't bring up Jiang! Not now!
I cross my arms and glare out the window. "Listen, you don't have anything to do with him. He's my friend."
He chuckles, all casual and smug. "Haha, Yunhua, I've been your friend for so many years. I know all your friends. There's no model-looking, blue-eyed 'good looking friend' like him."
Ugh. Right. Who am I even trying to fool here?
Even I wouldn't buy that excuse if I were him.
"Yunhua, it's not safe to, you know… give your residential location to anyone. Not when you live alone—"
Tch. There he goes again, acting all worried and protective. Like we're still close. Like he still cares.
Don't do this. Don't make me fall for this again.
I clench my jaw. Fine. I snap my head toward him. "He's not just anyone. He's my boyfriend—Jiang Yu."
There. I said it. Let that sit in your chest for a while, Tang Shixiu.
His eyes flicker—just for a moment. There's something unpleasant in them. A tiny muscle in his jaw twitches. Is it… jealousy?
Why? Why is he making that face?
Didn't he say I'm not his type? That I'm like family to him?
Then why now?
The taxi stops. I swing the door open and step out. He does too. I pull out some cash, ready to pay, but—
"Ah, I'll pay," he says casually.
Tch. No thanks.
"I don't want to owe anyone," I mutter, shoving my share into the driver's hand.
Without waiting for his reaction, I turn and head straight toward the police station.
He follows quietly behind me. After a long, boring wait and a bunch of headache-inducing forms, signatures, and some random questioning, we finally get it over with. It takes a whole hour.
An entire hour.
Ughhh.
There goes my secret blood test. Again.
At this rate, I'll retire before I uncover anything about Jiang's DNA. What am I even doing with my life?
"Thank you so much, you can leave now," the officer says with a polite smile.
Finally.
"Thanks," I mumble, already speed-walking out of the Public Bureau like it's on fire. I barely make it past the front steps before Tang comes jogging up behind me.
"Wait, Yunhua, I want to talk about something—"
"Tch," I snap, not even turning to look at him. "Listen, Tang. The police thing is done. And there is nothing left for us to talk about, okay? I'm already late, so please—stop bothering me."
I don't wait for his answer. I just walk off. Fast.
If he really didn't want to lose me, he should've thought of that before breaking my heart.
"Cab—please, please, stop!"
I wave frantically, and one finally stops.
I jump in, slam the door shut. "NBRC, please."
The driver nods, pulls into the street. The second the car moves, I finally let go.
The tears come out—hot, silent, desperate. I turn my face toward the window, hiding as best I can, but my shoulders still shake. I sniffle hard, biting my sleeve, but it's no use.
The driver glances at me through the mirror, eyes full of quiet concern. He doesn't say anything, just adjusts the radio to a softer volume.
But I can't stop. I just… can't.
Why did he have to show up?
Why now, when I'm just starting to get it together?
Why does it still hurt this much?