Chapter Twenty-Five: The Old Friend Arrives at the Door Four

  Can't help but say this is a dramatic development, after Li Chiwei left I was thinking when He Mochen would come too, and that face which looks gentle but is actually icy cold would be filled with disdain, then use a magnetic voice to mock me - Bai Yaoyao you really have no shame, haven't you given up yet, for me you even opened a dessert shop here?

  So I can smoothly pick up a cup of whatever and splash it on his face, then proudly retort: "Your mom is sick, you look like a normal person but didn't expect to be an idiot. You've never even seen me before and yet you dare use such a lowly trick to hit on me? Get out!" Then I sweep the floor and leave, from now on treating him as air.

  But now it seems I was really overthinking things, and not just that, but completely off track.

  He's finally here, but I took a glance at the almost empty glass in front of him and wondered why he could still be so calm drinking lemonade at this time? And that heavy tone with a hint of bitterness... was it because our shop's genuine lemonade had harshly soured his good voice?! What I couldn't understand the most was the obscure gaze he gave me, why was it obscure? Shouldn't it be a freezing cold ridicule instead?!

  I couldn't fully experience the domineering aura and it made me feel a bit stifled, so I dryly smiled: "It's been a long time since we last met."

  He didn't respond.

  What he said can't be taken as a representative of all university students, it's just some people randomly commenting.

  Cheng Qiao's face can only be described as exquisite and beautiful, while He Mochen's features are majestic yet gentle. His thick eyebrows and big eyes were already attractive, with a heroic sword-like eyebrow and a pair of slightly upturned peach blossom eyes, his nose had a smooth curve, straight and slender to the point of being captivating, and his lips were beautifully plump. The lines of his facial contours looked firm and clear, much more so than before when he was thinner.

  But now his eyes are increasingly dull and difficult to discern after we said hello, coupled with his pale and sickly complexion, making people can't help but think of the legendary high-educated refined pervert.

  His eyes wandered over his face, and I looked at him with a complicated expression: "Even if you're in college, you can't be so unrestrained. At such a young age, you're already indulging in excesses, and you have to think about the future..."

  "I don't have."

  "What?" The hall was too noisy and I didn't hear clearly at once.

  He furrowed his brow and averted his gaze, his lips pursed so tightly they turned white.

  Looking at him with a cold expression, for a moment I felt very ridiculous. The surrounding guests occasionally cast inquiring glances, and Cheng Qiao in the distance also had a puzzled look on her face. It was extremely rare that even someone as thick-skinned as me would feel a sense of embarrassment like being paraded through the streets.

  I lowered my head and chuckled, saying: "Then you drink slowly, I have friends looking for me."

  But just as I was about to move, my right wrist was grasped by an irresistible force and I froze.

  "Yao Yao," his hoarse voice uttered a vague syllable, "it's been so long since we last met, don't you want to say something to me?"

  I didn't shake his hand, nor did I look at him. I just stared at the visible veins on the back of his hand and said with difficulty: "Classmate, you should know that although accompanying a chat is fundamentally different from three accompaniments, in a dessert shop with a regular business license, as a part-time employee and boss, do you think I have time and obligation to accompany you at this moment? Besides, you just came to drink a cup of lemon water, not some big spender who splurges money. And," I paused, "at this point, what else is there for me to say to you?"

  He fell silent for a long time before laughing softly, seemingly pleased, but his tone was as if he was mocking himself: "I treated you like that, and yet you don't hate me at all?"

  I raised my head and met his gaze filled with cold intent.

  The warmth and familiarity of the touch on my wrist made me pause, my breathing caught for a moment. A sour taste suddenly rose from my chest to the tip of my nose. I slowed down, looking straight into his eyes without backing off: "He Mochen, what do you mean by asking this? Are you trying to probe something? Do you think I'm still stupid and can't forget our past feelings, so you want to come and thoroughly cut off my thoughts to eliminate future troubles? Well, let me tell you, not only don't I hate you, but on the contrary, I should thank you. Because if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to take the college entrance exam; if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have realized what I wanted during my treatment for that ridiculous heartbreak; and most importantly, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had my own dessert shop so soon. So, I don't hate you. Is this answer satisfactory?"

  He stared at me steadily, his eyes expressing an indescribable emotion. After a while, he lowered his eyelids and slowly released my hand: "It's good that you can think this way." The corner of his mouth curled up into a sarcastic arc: "Satisfied, of course satisfied."

  "So you came today just to confirm whether I hate you or not?" I secretly took a cold breath, and my wrist transmitted a real pain, glanced at the red mark that was pressed out, and silently cursed in my heart.

  He fell silent for a moment: "I'm just passing by."

  "I hummed and said: 'Then next time you pass by, remember to detour around here.'"

  He suddenly stood up, looking down at me with a dark and stormy gaze: "Are you that unwilling to see me?"

  His intense expression was something I had never seen before, as if he had endured extreme anger. I couldn't help but pause for a moment, thinking before saying: "You see me unhappy, I see you unhappy too, why do I still want to meet you when we're both unhappy?"

  He furrowed his brow tightly, his eyes still gloomy, but didn't respond.

  A surge of inexplicable anger rose from my chest, and I stared at him steadily: "He Mochen, I really don't understand what you're thinking. Since I met you, you've always been so inexplicably strange - your words are strange, your actions are strange, your eyes are strange. Why are you normal to everyone else but only strange to me? Is your whole family surname 'Inexplicable'?"

  He stared at me intently, then looked away, his pale face tinged with a hint of blue, and he curled up the corner of his mouth, but didn't make any sound.

  "Never mind, anyway we're destined to be strangers for the rest of our lives, why bother with past things. Go back and take good care of your girlfriend, tell her not to come here making a scene for no reason, she may not have any shame but I do."

  I thought he wouldn't answer either, I was just about to leave when I heard him say: "Okay."

  I pulled up the corners of my mouth and smiled silently.