Chapter 8: Lin Yingyuan’s Day

Lin Yingyuan headed toward the back of the school, her hand unconsciously brushing her sleeve cuff.

Today was September 20th, a Monday, and trouble had already come knocking.

She spotted a familiar figure.

Her brother sat on the bench, staring in astonishment at his palms, flipping them over repeatedly, even pinching his cheek—what was wrong with him?

She wanted so badly to go chat with him, but she couldn’t; they’d agreed to pretend not to know each other at school.

This had been her request, yet now it felt so inconvenient.

For Lin Yingyuan, the primary reason she’d made this request was… she didn’t want to burden her brother.

Back in middle school, someone had tried to get her contact info through Lin Zhiyi; he’d turned them down, and afterward, that person had kept hassling him.

Though Lin Zhiyi had handled it himself in the end, she never wanted anything like that to happen again.

The memory was still vivid: the girl had asked timidly,

“Bro, is there… anything I can do?”

“No need—I’ve got it sorted.”

The boy had said calmly, but seeing the bandage on his face made her heart ache faintly.

On the other hand, she didn’t want her background to become fodder for gossip.

In middle school, after she’d rejected a boy, he’d lashed out in humiliated rage, spreading vicious rumors around campus.

“I heard her parents are both gone.”

“She was adopted, right…?”

“Rumor is, she’s not even blood-related to her brother?”

The most nauseating had been that crude speculation:

“With just the two of them living together, who knows what they get up to.”

Her brother had tracked down the rumor-monger and beaten him up, but it solved nothing—instead, he’d earned himself a school reprimand.

The whispers lingered like shadows.

Laughter in the halls cutting off abruptly, deliberate coughs outside bathroom stalls, the ambiguous glances from boys during PE.

Worst of all, once the rumors reached the teachers’ ears, the homeroom advisor’s “concerned” talk laced with scrutiny.

Lin Yingyuan saw things clearly then, building walls in her heart.

From that point on, during breaks while classmates chatted, she maintained just the right measure of silence.

Gradually, the chatter around her during breaks faded away.

The girl twirled her pen idly, her gaze drifting to the sky outside the window.

She knew all too well: at this age, an unconventional family setup became fresh meat for others’ tongues.

Gossip clung like maggots to bone—the more you tried to refute it, the more it seemed like a cover-up.

After starting high school, she thought: rather than repeat the cycle, better to erect an invisible barrier from the start.

She just wanted to be an ordinary student—no need to explain her family, no probing stares to face.

Lin Yingyuan arrived at the back of the school, and the boy’s opening line already grated on her.

“You’re here, Yingyuan…”

The girl cut him off.

“Don’t call me that—our relationship isn’t that close.”

“Uh…”

The boy looked awkward but tried to play the gentleman.

“You’re right, you’re right.

But no worries—we weren’t close before, but we can get that way.

Feelings can be built…”

?

Lin Yingyuan sighed; why did these weirdos always have to bother her?

Always dragging her to this dim spot opposite the teaching building, always spouting the same drivel.

Mindless, thoughtless, bloated with ugly, self-absorbed delusions—utterly disregarding, even twisting, others’ wishes.

Why did these types always latch onto her…?

How many times this month already?

She couldn’t recall—didn’t want to waste brain cells tracking it.

“Lin Yingyuan, I…”

At times like this, the usual follow-up was: I’ve liked you for a long time.

“I’ve liked you for a long time.”

The girl’s eyes went vacant, utterly unmoved.

“I’ve been quietly admiring you since last semester; the first time I saw you…”

Who cares?

Lin Yingyuan didn’t even know his name.

He launched into a “profoundly romantic” poem next, voice rising and falling with what seemed like bel canto flair.

The boy gazed skyward, eyes brimming with feigned passion.

The botched performance climaxed in a bellow:

“Classmate Lin Yingyuan, please be my girlfriend!”

Lin Yingyuan had listened in silence, offering no reaction; out of politeness, she waited until he’d finished before speaking.

“Thank you for your feelings—I’m sorry, but just staying alive takes all my effort.

I really don’t have room for romance; I wish you luck finding someone who suits you.”

Lin Yingyuan dipped a slight bow, returning the courtesy with flat, fluent words, then turned to leave.

It sounded like a stock rejection, but it was true: she and her brother Lin Zhiyi had no guardians; pre-college living expenses came solely from their father’s savings, so they scrimped and saved, picking up part-time jobs over breaks.

If possible, she didn’t want ties to anyone—it was just a time sink.

“No need to worry!”

The boy suddenly thumped his chest, striking what he thought was a reliable pose.

“And I want to make clear: my liking you isn’t just because you’re pretty—it’s because you’re smart.

You’re a girl, yet your science scores never drop below top three in the grade; our kids would definitely be bright too…”

“…Blah blah, oh right—I asked the teachers about your family; things aren’t great at home, huh?

You’re in luck, haha; my family’s got some pull…”

The boy’s words choked off, for the girl’s gaze had turned icy cold, laced with killing disdain.

He shivered.

“Wh-what? Why are you looking at me like that…?”

Lin Yingyuan regarded the creature before her indifferently, her sight piercing his shell to the garish, grotesque soul within.

Pampered life, spending parents’ cash.

Ranting on about fantasized futures.

Clueless about real life, shoulders too frail for any burden.

“Done talking?

You make me sick.”

“Y-you! How ungrateful!”

“Ungrateful?

What even is your ‘like’?

Digging into my family? Weighing genetic merits?

Every time one of you drags me here, it feels like a zoo visit.

You’re the one in the cage, yet you insist I stand outside and watch your ugly tantrum show.”

“I suggest you go recite today’s confession lines to your mom—I’d love to know what kind of upbringing produces an idiot who mistakes harassment for affection and daddy’s wallet for mating rights.

If you get it, then scram.”

The boy’s face crumpled; his tone quickened, chest heaving, agitation mounting.

Lin Yingyuan gripped the sharp pen hidden in her uniform sleeve, silently mapping an escape.

If he lunged, punch his nose, bolt when the chance came.

If he grabbed her, jam the pen tip into his temple, scream for help.

She’d been lured to spots like this too often by boys; she knew the quickest path to the crowded teaching building.

So she was certain: hold out a moment, and she’d slip free.

But the boy didn’t actually get physical; he muttered something and stormed off—probably too scared to lay hands on the teachers’ star pupil.

Lin Yingyuan exhaled in relief, feeling a wave of fatigue.

Maybe ignoring these invites was the way, but each time she considered it, thoughts of Lin Zhiyi stopped her.

If it was genuine feeling, it deserved a proper response.

Thinking of her brother softened her heart again; she mused: she couldn’t accept them, but at least she could listen fully before refusing.

Sadly, every time—without fail—she discovered their sham affection couldn’t touch even a fraction of what she held dear.

Suddenly, Lin Zhiyi’s smile surfaced in her mind, drawing an unwitting one from her.

At some point, she’d developed this reflex: in moments like these, his face would appear, and her mood would lift.

Right—I want to buy bro some new shoes.

His current pair’s worn out, so old; would he feel embarrassed in front of a girl he likes?

If I don’t step in, he’ll grab those cheap stall knockoffs again.

Bro’s in his growth spurt—can’t have him in that shoddy junk.

Lin Yingyuan pictured him dashing in new sneakers, a smile blooming unbidden.

Yeah, pick up an extra shift this weekend.

She rounded the building corner, and the next second, she froze.

There, right before her, was the very person she’d been thinking of: Lin Zhiyi, standing close with a very pretty girl.

She recognized her as the one her brother liked—or so she recalled, the name was Cheng Xiran.

She knew who her brother fancied, though he’d never told her; he never discussed such things.

No surprise she knew—she just did.

Long ago, from afar, she’d first noticed how he looked at her, and that was that.

When facing someone you don’t like, girls don’t stand that close, she thought.

That’s great—bro’s crush isn’t one-sided; unrequited love’s the worst.

In the time she’d kept distance from him, had they gotten this close already?

…Isn’t that wonderful?

Even she, who shunned gossip, had heard plenty about Cheng Xiran: affluent beauty, top grades.

Just as outstanding as her brother.

Lin Yingyuan averted her gaze, face blank as if spotting strangers; she turned and left, seamless.

On the way back, she pondered two things.

She’d push her grades higher.

And she absolutely had to get bro the best shoes.