Chen Mengyao had been playing with her phone at the board game bar for an hour and was getting annoyed.
She’d spent the entire summer vacation at art exam prep classes in Dongzhou. If her mother found out she’d skipped two days of classes, who knew how she’d mock her for wasting money and lacking ambition—and all just to sit here being ignored?
Zhou Yingxiang had gone to such lengths to reimburse her travel expenses and eagerly invited her, then half an hour ago told her to wait five minutes. Had his sense of time expanded, or had his ego expanded, keeping her waiting like this?
Just as Chen Mengyao picked up her bag to leave, the private room door was pushed open and a group of boys noisily entered.
“Hey, beautiful! Long time no see! It’s harder to see you than a celebrity!” Wu Pengcheng was the first to greet her.
A woman’s intuition is always accurate, especially regarding “who likes you, who hates you”—particularly sensitive in this matter.
She could tell Wu Pengcheng didn’t get along with her, so she replied with a superficial smile: “Indeed.”
Zhou Yingxiang tried to mediate, “Everyone sits down. Boss, bring some food and drinks first?”
“No problem!”
Everyone sat down, naturally giving the birthday boy the main seat. Chen Mengyao sat next to Zhang Shu, and they naturally made eye contact as she greeted him: “A-Shu, it’s your birthday today? Happy birthday.”
It should have been a romantic, intimate moment that deserved some teasing, but because of what Zhang Shu had said on the way, no one initiated it, leaving the room momentarily silent.
Zhang Shu lazily leaned back in his chair, expression bland: “Whether it’s happy or not mainly depends on how much money I can win tonight.”
Completely irrelevant.
Chen Mengyao felt somewhat embarrassed.
With so many people present, Zhang Shu seemed rather cold today.
Her feelings toward Zhang Shu were complicated. She knew she liked him, but she could never be with him.
Zhang Shu couldn’t afford to support her, nor would he try his best to empty his pockets to support her.
She just wanted to keep Zhang Shu on the hook, neither swallowing nor willing to let go. If he dated someone else, she’d be furious.
At this point, she felt she and Zhang Shu had reached an unspoken understanding—
Zhang Shu liked her too but didn’t want to be with her. Because he knew what she needed, and he couldn’t provide it. Being such a proud person, once he started self-reflecting, his entire demeanor would fluctuate between hot and cold.
Today he must have been triggered by something sensitive again.
She couldn’t be bothered to comfort him either. Men were just despicable—the more you comfort them, the more arrogant they become. Leave them alone and they’ll get better on their own.
Zhou Yingxiang was a perfect counter-example—sucking up for so many years, had Zhang Shu ever truly respected him?
Chen Mengyao understood people like Zhou Yingxiang well. After suddenly becoming rich, they needed validation. He just felt being close to Zhang Shu gave him face.
It had been like this since middle school.
Some people are naturally cherished by others. In a group, everyone just wants to listen to them. This kind of natural leadership can’t be explained—Zhang Shu must have been the king of kids since childhood.
The middle school Zhang Shu was a bit more flamboyant than now, always surrounded by groups of people wherever he appeared. He was good-looking, tall, and though dressed ordinarily, carried himself with dignity, looking very unlike someone from their town.
Chen Mengyao was also often told she “didn’t look like someone from this town.” To some extent, they were alike—they were the same type: people destined not to be buried in obscurity.
So even though they weren’t in the same class, Chen Mengyao knew about Zhang Shu early on, though they’d never really interacted.
She was quite surprised when she heard Zhang Shu got into Affiliated High School; he looked like he was just killing time, and nothing about him suggested he was studious.
One evening during military training in their first year, she was holding a guitar and sang a folk song at the bonfire party. Countless eyes were fixed on her, including Zhang Shu’s. After the gathering, she met him under a tree on the field.
She still remembers his first words.
“Chen Mengyao? Could you sing for me again?”
What, was she a street performer?
If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have even bothered glancing at them.
But just the way he called her name so naturally—surely he must have known about her for a while too?
As if possessed, she asked: “What should I sing?”
“The same song as just now, sing it once more.”
That old song was so outdated, that few people had heard it, but she loved it, so it felt like a spiritual resonance.
His approach was very clever.
So much smarter than those who just asked for her number straight away.
Zhang Shu’s most obvious charm was his intelligence.
Right now he had drawn the Emperor card, his hand was terrible, and he was being severely suppressed at the start, but he wasn’t anxious, just waiting for the right moment to dominate later.
It had to be said that in situations like this, Zhang Shu’s eyes—seemingly lazy but shrewd and sharp—were truly captivating.
He didn’t smoke, just sucked on a lollipop, yet had more presence and authority than those blowing smoke clouds.
Sometimes Chen Mengyao wanted to throw caution to the wind and date him.
…
“A-Shu, I see you received quite a few gifts this year. What did you get? Let your brothers envy you a bit?” Hou Junqi teased during a break in the card game.
Zhang Shu threw down a set of cards, casually answering: “Haven’t looked at them.”
Zhou Yingxiang asked: “Really? How many?”