Vol3 Chapter 3: Lu Mingfei smiles, Bai Ci also smiles

The moment the words left his mouth, the world fell silent.

The hum of the air conditioner, the rustle of the curtains—it all vanished. Lu Mingfei could only hear his heart pounding like a drum, deafening, threatening to burst from his chest. After his outburst, he froze, his hand gripping Bai Ci’s fingers slick with sweat. He felt drained, like he’d just run a marathon, left with only ragged breaths and a blank mind. He stared at her, a prisoner awaiting final judgment.

Bai Ci was utterly stunned.

Her usually calm, deep eyes reflected Lu Mingfei’s flushed face and his gaze, brimming with nerves, hope, and reckless abandon. She seemed to process it for a few seconds, her long lashes drooping, hiding the emotions swirling within. When they lifted, the still lake of her eyes rippled as if struck by a boulder—waves of surprise, joy, and… panic.

Her cheeks, at a visible pace, bloomed with a sunset-like blush, spreading quickly to her ears, even warming the fingertips Lu Mingfei loosely held.

Her lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no sound came. The air in the infirmary thickened, heavy and hot.

Lu Mingfei’s heart nearly leaped out of his throat at the sight of her vivid blush and the turmoil in her eyes. He’d never seen Bai Ci like this, stripped of her quiet shell, revealing a girl’s raw, vibrant shyness. It rattled him more than any response could.

“I…” Bai Ci finally found her voice, barely a whisper, tinged with uncharacteristic fluster, the words almost spilling out. She tried to pull her hand back, but Lu Mingfei instinctively tightened his grip—though he was so nervous he felt his soul might leave his body.

Suddenly, Bai Ci’s body tensed almost imperceptibly. The stunning blush faded rapidly, like a tide forcibly restrained, leaving only a trace of pallor and a storm in her eyes, suppressed under a thick, cold layer of ice. The ripples hadn’t calmed; they churned deeper, hidden beneath a frozen surface.

She didn’t try to pull her hand away again, but her fingertips trembled faintly in his palm, an uncontrollable shiver like an electric current that shot through Lu Mingfei, sparking a wild hope—Does she… like me too?

“Lu Mingfei,” her voice returned to its usual calm, but he caught a faint, suppressed hoarseness, like a taut string’s low hum. “Thank you… for telling me.”

Thank you…

Those words hit like a bucket of ice water.

The flush on Lu Mingfei’s face drained, leaving him pale. His grip on her hand loosened unconsciously. Thank you? That opener… something was wrong. He’d imagined all sorts of reactions—shy, angry, even a punch—but not this calm… gratitude? A chill crept up his spine.

Bai Ci felt his fingers slacken and gently withdrew her hand. The moment her cool touch left, Lu Mingfei felt a piece of his heart carved out, hollow and drafty.

“But…” Her voice was soft, like a sigh, yet each word was a poisoned ice needle piercing his eardrums, seeping into his bones. “…I’m sorry…”

Lu Mingfei’s heart sank into a cold, black abyss of silence.

“Can you tell me why?” His voice was dry, raspy, like a broken bellows, each word burning with a bloody tang. His soul felt flayed by those three words. The “pig-rush” bravado was gone, leaving only crushed humility and panic.

After what felt like a century, she spoke, her voice faint as smoke but heavy as lead:

“Lu Mingfei,” she paused, as if gathering strength or enduring immense torment, “you… deserve better.” The words sawed at his nerves. “Not… pinning your hopes on me, or a… doomed, heavy relationship, or one you’d regret.”

Bai Ci had thought countless times about what she’d do if Lu Mingfei confessed. She used to think she’d say yes, until he found a girl he truly liked. But now, he was amazing, and so many wonderful girls would love him.

And her? What was she? A monster in a woman’s skin, her soul still carrying fragments of a man’s memories. Lu Mingfei with her—what would that be? In love with someone whose core was male? The thought churned her stomach with disgust and self-loathing.

Lu Mingfei deserved the purest, unshadowed love, with a girl whose soul and body were wholly, naturally female, sharing all the sweet joys of youthful romance.

To love someone who was once male, with those lingering memories and traces… even thinking about it felt like a betrayal, a desecration. He deserved a pure, normal love, not her chaotic existence.

How could someone like her, broken and conflicted, dare hope for love from him—a boy like Lu Mingfei, offering his heart so earnestly?

She wasn’t worthy. She could never be the pure “girl” he deserved.

Lu Mingfei stared, speechless.

So that was it. In her eyes, he was never meant to be her lifelong partner—a doomed, heavy relationship…

His clumsy courage, his all-in confession, were just… an escape from reality? A weak dependency? He thought of his burst of power against the Dragon King, his usual pathetic self, the part of him that always felt unworthy…

A tidal wave of defeat and self-loathing drowned him. He felt like a complete joke. He’d dreamed of “pig-rushing” the cabbage, but in her eyes, he didn’t even have a chance—just a pitiful fool clinging to driftwood.

That familiar feeling, like when she pulled him out of the movie theater years ago. Who’d pull him out now? No one, probably. No girl would keep watching him.

“Heh…” A short, self-mocking laugh, thick with a nasal tone, escaped his throat. He straightened slowly, the noodle bowl feeling like a ton, a reminder of his earlier clumsiness and the current irony. He stared at the glaring oil stain on his pants, then at the faint spots on her shoes he’d barely noticed, finding it all absurd.

Without thinking, he bent down, grabbing a tissue to wipe her shoes.

Bai Ci stood quietly, looking down at his trembling back, taut like a bow about to snap. His humbled posture stabbed her heart, urging her to blurt out, “Don’t do that.”

But a deeper chill seized her—what right did she have to pity him? She was the source of his pain.

Her fingers curled at her side, nails digging into her palms, the sharp pain barely holding back the inexplicable sourness in her throat and the urge to bend down. Her lips pressed into a pale line, her jaw tight, her heart ground by heavy, sharp sorrow. Rejecting him felt more exhausting, more painful than any danger.

He wiped for ages, long after the oil was gone, her shoes gleaming. He clutched the soiled tissue, as if it were his last shred of dignity. Standing slowly, he didn’t look at her, his gaze hollow on the floor where his tears had fallen and been wiped dry.

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine.” His voice was a hoarse, meaningless grunt. “Take care, then.” He paused, forcing out, “Japan… sounds good.” His tone was oddly upbeat, a brittle, forced acceptance uglier than crying.

He didn’t dare wait for her response, terrified another word would break him. Like a marionette, he turned stiffly, trudging to the door. Each step was leaden, echoing hollowly on the cold floor, as if trampling the heart he’d just offered, still warm.

His “pig-rush” bravado now felt like bone-deep irony and shame. He hadn’t charged forward—he’d bared himself, offered his heart, and been gently, painfully… pushed away.

He opened the door, the corridor’s breeze making him shiver. A hand grabbed him. He turned, forcing a smile uglier than tears. “Miss Bai, go do your thing. Don’t worry about me.”

Bai Ci flinched. Lu Mingfei slipped free, fleeing like he couldn’t bear her expression. The dim corridor light bathed him, a cruel spotlight. He didn’t look back, stumbling out, forgetting to close the door, like a failed fugitive from a crime scene.

The infirmary fell into dead silence.

Bai Ci moved to the door, slow as an old woman. Her fingers touched the cold door, pausing. With great effort, she slowly closed it.

Click.

The lock’s soft snap rang clear in the quiet room.

It shut out the light and sound, and the fleeing figure outside, along with her own heart—torn by heavy chains and aching sorrow—into two separate worlds.

She stood like a soulless statue, looking down at her freshly cleaned shoes. They were spotless, as if nothing had happened, yet something had changed.

The emotions she’d suppressed burst like a flood, shattering her defenses. Her body trembled like a leaf in a storm. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but a choked, broken sob escaped, raw with unspeakable pain.

She slid down the cold wall, curling up, burying her face in her knees. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. She laughed briefly, then silent tears poured, soaking her skirt. She wasn’t numb, wasn’t unmoved—his reckless passion had seared her heart like a red-hot brand. His clumsy sincerity, his desperate courage, his reddened eyes—every detail was etched in her.

Maybe I really do like Lu Mingfei…

Her stifled sobs echoed in the empty infirmary, fading into the air conditioner’s hum. The spilled noodle bowl lay quietly in the corner, a dried oil stain marking the floor.