Vol2 Chapter 6: Promises

Lu Mingfei stared at his phone, trembling.

“Lu Mingfei, is this your number?
It’s Chen Wenwen.
The literature club is meeting at Sofitel Pizza at 11:30 AM today.
Come if you get this.”

His first crush was calling him.

It was his birthday, too, and Lu Mingfei’s head was spinning.
What a hectic birthday—literature club meetup, his aunt’s endless errands, and tonight, a family dinner for Lu Mingze’s study-abroad send-off.

With a toilet seat around his neck, he circled Sofitel Pizza a few times before entering.

The waiter froze at the sight of Lu Mingfei, toilet seat dangling like a necklace.
What kind of weirdo is this?
Who wears a toilet seat as jewelry?
But professionalism won out, and he flashed a polite smile.

“Sir, please leave.
Our restrooms are squat-style—we don’t need your toilet seat.”

Lu Mingfei knew it looked ridiculous, but what could he do?
His aunt’s orders were ironclad—his uncle faced the washboard for less, and Lu Mingfei, a mere “eunuch” in this household, didn’t dare defy her.

The hardware store was far from his uncle’s place.
After calculating, he realized buying the toilet seat left no time.
He’d sprinted here, toilet seat around his neck like a knight’s breastplate, and finally made it.

Inside the reserved room, he found everyone late.

Lu Mingfei fumed.
How unreliable were these people?
He was a Cassell elite, a U.S.-returned scholar, practically a success!
And they made him wait?
Shouldn’t they be waiting for him?

Alone in the room, bored, he impulsively dialed Bai Ci.

Beep, beep—Sorry, the number you’ve dialed is unavailable.
Please try again later…

He hung up, sighing deeply.
Was she still asleep?
Too engrossed in gaming?
Back in the day, she’d answer instantly.
She’d been living in that internet café for a week.
He’d visited, played a couple rounds, but his aunt kept dragging him away for errands.
He’d wanted to check on her today, but Chen Wenwen’s text came, followed by the toilet seat mission.

She wouldn’t have died in the café, right?

Lu Mingfei shook his head.
She wasn’t fully human—how could a few sleepless days kill her?

He was nervous, too.
It’d been ages since he’d seen Chen Wenwen.
What expression should he use?
Last time at the theater, he’d left abruptly, and they hadn’t spoken since.

“Pathetic,” he muttered.
Chen Wenwen had a boyfriend now, and thinking back to his old frustrations made his heart flutter.
What a cheapskate he was…

He shook his head, practicing his reunion smile.

The door opened, revealing a short, chubby guy with a belly his belt could barely contain.

Xu Yanyan.
Lu Mingfei flashed his “perfect” smile, unsettling him.
Xu Yanyan sat, wary.

He sized Lu Mingfei up.
Same old style: white oversized tee, baggy shorts, knockoff Nikes, and… a toilet seat necklace.

Tacky and weird.

“Here to fix a toilet?” Xu Yanyan probed.

“Nah, my own seat’s comfier,” Lu Mingfei quipped without thinking.

“Nice one,” Xu Yanyan said, growing warier.
A guy with a multi-thousand-dollar scholarship, sitting on a toilet seat?
Humble despite success—a tough rival!

Ten minutes later, people trickled in.

The crowd was loud and stylish.
Lu Mingfei glanced at a mirror—his reflection looked glum, hair like a chicken’s nest.
He wanted to cover his face.
How could Cassell’s elite education produce this?
He’d read in a magazine that nobility depends on one’s environment before age 13.
True enough—a mutt stays a mutt.
Even driving a Bugatti Veyron, he’d never have Caesar’s princely aura.

He sat, checked his phone, and closed it.
Standing to stretch, he pushed the door and saw a familiar face.

“Lu… Lu Mingfei?”

Young Master Zhao’s eyes widened, spotting the familiar face.
He stepped back cautiously.
“She’s not here, right?”

This dark horse had staged a comeback at graduation, crushing countless prodigies, topping the college entrance exam charts, outshining even Zhao Menghua, the top scorer.
Zhao couldn’t figure him out.
For three years, Zhao paid for internet, Lu Mingfei played sycophant—perfect teamwork.
That slap years ago still stung, leaving Zhao fuming.

“Oh, she’s not here.”

Lu Mingfei stepped out, opened his contacts, and called again.
No answer.
He sighed, suddenly craving a cigarette to match his melancholic vibe.

Looking up, he locked eyes with a familiar gaze and froze.

“Hi, Lu Mingfei.”

She waved, walking slowly toward him—or rather, toward the room.

Lu Mingfei stared, dazed.
Chen Wenwen was still Chen Wenwen—familiar white skirt, low-heeled sandals, eyes like water reflecting light.

But he felt no flutter.

The same as before?
Yet… different.

Her steps lacked their old lightness, dragging like she carried iron weights.
Her eyes, once shimmering, were now eerily lifeless, no longer rippling with life.

She looked… lonely.

Lu Mingfei always sensed these emotions in others.

Raymond didn’t take his junior to a hospital—her dragon scales would’ve baffled doctors.
Luckily, Cassell taught how to handle this.
Likely a concussion—bandage the wounds, give painkillers, and rest.

But this girl was fierce.
After two hours, she woke, took painkillers, and searched for her phone.
Not finding it, she checked the time.
Raymond urged rest; she refused, said, “Thanks, Senior,” and left.
What was the rush?

Were all S-ranks this hardcore?
He’d have been bedridden for weeks.

Lu Mingfei crouched in the women’s restroom, eavesdropping—not on girls’ bathroom sounds; he wasn’t that perverse.

He was listening to Zhao Menghua and Liu Miaomiao flirt—kisses, rustling clothes, footsteps, soft murmurs making his head buzz.

In a daze, he pushed open the stall door and stepped out, stopping short.

In the mirror by the sink, he saw Sadako—white dress, black hair covering her face.
Her hands were under the faucet, unmoving, as if frozen mid-wash.

At that moment, Lu Mingfei wished it was Sadako crawling out of the mirror.
He’d scream “Ghost!” and be done.

But it was Chen Wenwen.

The girl he’d loved most in high school, his first crush.

He glanced at her phone, unsure what to say—its screen was filled with Zhao Menghua’s annoyed messages.

“Don’t look,” she said softly, taking it back and turning off the screen.
“It’s fine.”

“Oh, okay.”
Lu Mingfei nodded quickly.

She lifted her white skirt to wipe her face, fixed her hair, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.
No trace of a scorned woman—more like Joan of Arc heading to battle.

“Don’t say anything.
Promise.”
She looked at him through the mirror.

He thought he should act—mock her?
Comfort her and secretly gloat?

But he didn’t dare.

“Yeah, promise.”

They returned to the room.
Zhao Menghua announced again, hand-in-hand with piano prodigy Liu Miaomiao, showing off Cartier platinum rings, proclaiming their engagement.
Chen Wenwen’s eyes reddened, like a wilting flower.

The boy she liked was leaving with someone else.

But that day at the theater, they’d been so happy…

Zhao Menghua must’ve liked her then, right?
You don’t confess so boldly without real feelings.

They’d been so in sync, eyes full of each other.

But less than a year later?
Did love have such a short shelf life?
Did those vows of eternity crumble in just a year?

Amid the lively cheers, unnoticed by all, one person collapsed silently, burned to ash—except by Lu Mingfei.

Could that artistic girl be as pathetic as him?

He’d seen a movie, Jesus in Nanjing, about a girl, Jinhua, fixated on a boy, Gangchuan.
People and gods deceived her, yet even near death, she loved him.

Maybe that’s how girls are.
Once they choose someone, no force can stop them.
They’ll love to the ends of the earth, forgive every fault in a night, smile through pain, and watch their beloved until they fall into an inescapable hell…

Love was a damn nightmare.

He stood, recalling Bai Ci that day—he was going to slap Zhao Menghua.

“Can’t you have some ambition?”

Today, he’d protect Chen Wenwen, show some spine.

Guys protect girls—he’d made up his mind, hadn’t he?

“Brother, you don’t like Chen Wenwen anymore.
Why meddle in her life?
Does saving your first crush make you feel good?”

The kid was dressed impeccably—combed hair, black suit, stand-collar shirt, bow tie, lace handkerchief in his pocket—sitting beside Lu Mingfei, elegantly cutting a steak.

“Not my first love, my first crush,” Lu Mingfei corrected.

Lu Mingze huffed.
“Why cherish scraps others carelessly drop, while you toss my boundless, selfless love aside like trash?”

“Come on, true love that costs a quarter of my life?”
Lu Mingfei waved dismissively.
“But it did warm me once.”

His innocent eyes turned mournful, pitying yet furious, laced with deep sorrow.

“Brother, when did you sink so low, living off others’ scraps?
Why so pathetic?
Why wear a mask of worthlessness?
You’re the world’s most violent monster!”

His voice was hoarse, cold, his gaze icy and feral, like a beast watching from the shadows.

“They’re too scared to let a monster like you despair.
They drip-feed you hope like charity, and you gobble it up like a delicacy, wagging your tail like a lapdog!
One day, you’ll despair, facing reality—because I’m the only one who loves you unconditionally!”

His rage seemed to burn the world, consuming all traitors and thieves…

Lu Mingfei felt its weight, heavy enough to drag the world down.

“Then let me be reckless once.”

He ruffled Lu Mingze’s head, his eyes clearing.

“Good luck, Brother.”

Lu Mingze vanished.
Lu Mingfei stood.

“Lu Mingfei, what the—”

Slap!

Lu Mingfei shook his hand—ouch, that stung.

Everyone froze.
Zhao Menghua felt the pain on his face, eyes wide.
“You son of a—”

“How long’s this meetup?”
A guy interrupted, addressing Lu Mingfei.
“The college has a task for us.
I’m here to assist.
Waiting on you, boss.”

He glanced around.

“Chu Zihang, fellow alum.”
The guy flashed his sunglasses, then put them back on.

Chu Zihang had been eavesdropping at the door for two minutes.
Hearing the slap, he walked in.

He was worried Lu Mingfei would get beaten to death by this crowd.