Chapter 16 — To keep you from bothering me late at night.
“The seating chart for the exam is posted up front. Everyone, take a look for yourselves.”
The class monitor pulled out a glue stick, smeared the back of the paper, and pressed it onto the wall. In an instant, a crowd of students swarmed around it.
Seeing there were too many people, Nan Xu stayed in her seat.
Xiang Weishi, tall with sharp eyesight, stood behind the group and easily managed to make out most of the chart.
“Hey, Wen Qi, you’re in the same exam room as me again,” he said with a grin. “Looks like we’re about on the same level, huh?”
At No. 1 High, exam rooms were assigned based on grades. Knowing he was grouped with Xiang Weishi, Wen Qi let out a sigh. “Heaven has no eyes!”
Xiang Weishi chuckled smugly, then turned his head to remind Nan Xu: “Nan Xu, you’re in Room 23. Probably because you transferred in—you don’t have last semester’s grades—so they just put you in the last exam room.”
“Oh, okay, thank you!”
Nan Xu forced a smile, but her mind was elsewhere.
Last night, after washing up and lying in bed, she had been chatting with her friend Qi Zhiyu from No. 3 High.
Qi Zhiyu was a boarding student and didn’t get much phone time, so Nan Xu cherished every chance they had to talk.
They kept chatting until 1 AM, Nan Xu’s eyelids were drooping, yet she forced herself to stay awake. In the end, it was Qi Zhiyu who couldn’t hold out any longer, sending her a “goodnight, baby” sticker before signing off.
1:31 AM.
Nan Xu rubbed her eyes, planning to send back a sticker before sleeping.
But then a notification popped up. She glanced at it—some kind of news alert—but she was so exhausted she just wanted to swipe it away. Her finger slipped, opening it instead, and in a flash, the screen redirected to some random app.
She hurriedly exited, yawned, and her eyes immediately welled up with tears.
Her eyelids felt weighted down with lead, drowsiness crashing over her like a tide. Her finger moved sluggishly across the screen, each swipe heavy with fatigue.
Guided more by instinct than focus, she opened her chat with Qi Zhiyu, found the sticker Qi Zhiyu had once told her to save—“Goodnight, miss you, kisses,” surrounded by bright red hearts.
Nan Xu squinted hard, confirmed it was the right one, hit send—and accidentally tapped it a dozen more times in a row.
She slept soundly through the night, but far too late. In the morning, when her alarm first went off, she silenced it instantly, hugged it to her chest, and fell back asleep.
It took several more rounds before she finally dragged herself up to wash.
Still half-floating in a daze, she sat down at the table. Seeing her barely able to keep her eyes open, Xie Hejing glanced at her and remarked meaningfully: “So you went to sleep at 1:30 last night?”
Nan Xu nodded. “How did you know?”
She had only been chatting—could the sound of typing really have disturbed him?
“No wonder.” Xie Hejing didn’t explain further. He stood, grabbed his backpack from the chair, zipped his jacket all the way up, and left the house.
No wonder… what?
Nan Xu’s foggy mind wondered if she had missed part of the conversation.
But thinking back, they had barely exchanged a few words. It wasn’t possible she had overlooked something.
A dull headache pressed at her temples. She gave up guessing, rubbed her neck, and decided to focus on breakfast instead.
Usually, once Xie Hejing left, Nan Xu would tidy up a little and head out soon after.
But this morning she delayed too long. Growing anxious, she grabbed her phone to check the time—
Only for last night’s unread messages to pop up first. Dozens of them, one after another, nearly overwhelming her.
[Qi Zhiyu: Why didn’t you send me goodnight? Xuxu, have you fallen out of love with me?!]
What followed was a flood of accusing stickers.
Nan Xu froze. She had sent them—just a minute after Qi Zhiyu’s message. But looking at the chat now, none of her stickers were there.
Could it be… she sent them to the wrong person?
Who did she send it to?!
Nan Xu’s muddled brain suddenly cleared, connecting it with the words Xie Hejing had said before leaving.
Her chest tightened instantly. Narrowing her eyes, she cautiously opened her chat with him, hoping she was wrong.
But reality hit her hard.
In their sparse conversation history, there it was—an entire row of pink, lovey-dovey stickers.
Oh my god!!!
By the time Nan Xu calmed herself down and hurried to school, morning self-study had already started. The math teacher was at the podium, going on and on with a test paper in hand.
Nan Xu took a deep breath, knocked gently on the door, then pushed it open and leaned half her body inside. “Excuse me, teacher, sorry I’m late. I overslept.”
The math teacher stopped what he was doing and said sternly, “Come in. But don’t be late again.”
“Okay, thank you, teacher.”
With everyone’s eyes on her, Nan Xu’s face burned red as she walked back to her seat.
. . . . .
“Xie Hejing, you’re back. Hey, let me tell you, your exam room is in Class 1…” Xiang Weishi’s voice rang out.
Blah blah blah—Nan Xu didn’t hear the rest. Her head was full of just one thought: how to find the right time to explain things to Xie Hejing.
It was impossible to talk at school. She’d have to hold it in until they were home. Just thinking about it made her even more upset, and she couldn’t focus the entire day.
When school ended in the evening, for the first time, Nan Xu didn’t stay behind to do extra problems before heading home.
Instead, she calculated the time. About three minutes after Xie Hejing left the classroom, she couldn’t wait any longer. Grabbing her already-packed bag, she rushed out toward the school gate.
Her steps quickened unconsciously, and sure enough, she spotted him—the most striking figure in the crowd ahead.
Xie Hejing had his backpack slung over one shoulder, his uniform jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled up halfway to reveal lean forearms. The glow of the setting sun fell over him, radiating a kind of youthful ease and confidence.
Nan Xu didn’t dare get too close. She slowed her pace, trailing behind him.
Even when they reached the bus stop, she still couldn’t bring herself to speak. She only prayed the bus would come quickly, so they could get home and she could finally explain everything.
The No. 3 bus did arrive, but it was already crammed with people. Only four or five passengers got off at their stop. Nan Xu ended up at the very back of the crowd, following along as everyone pushed forward.
The No. 3 bus wasn’t easy to catch, and everyone was desperate to squeeze in. Nan Xu only zoned out for a few seconds, but when she looked around again, the space around her was empty—she’d fallen to the very end of the line.
A little discouraged, she glanced back. She figured she probably wouldn’t make it onto this bus and would have to wait for the next one.
Suddenly, a familiar voice came from ahead.
“What are you standing there for? Get on.”
Nan Xu looked up—Xie Hejing was right in front of her.
He was the last one to get on, standing near the fare box. Nan Xu lowered her gaze at the clearly overcrowded space, hesitating.
“Get up here.” Xie Hejing turned, fixing his eyes on her.
“I…”
“Hey, student, you’re the last one. Hurry up! The next bus won’t come for another half an hour,” the driver called out, then urged everyone inside to move in further.
Just then, a single spot opened up—just enough room for Nan Xu to stand.
She stepped onto the bus. Xie Hejing kept facing the door, and with her smaller frame and the way she ended up standing, it was almost like Nan Xu was tucked into his arms.
The bus lurched forward. Nan Xu stumbled and fell against him, her hand pressing against his chest.
It was so warm it startled her—she quickly pulled her hand back.
“Can’t even stand steady. Been staying up too late?” Xie Hejing’s voice cut through the noisy bus, landing squarely in her ears.
At the mention of it, Nan Xu’s throat tightened.
“No,” she protested, “I… only stayed up late last night.”
Another stop came. It was a big one, and many people got off, making space. Nan Xu and Xie Hejing moved farther inside, but the rush of new passengers soon pushed them apart.
On the ride, Nan Xu kept rehearsing in her head how she was going to explain things to him.
When they finally got off at their stop, she had barely stepped through the front door before blurting it out.
“That sticker—I was chatting with my friend last night, and it was meant for her. I sent it to you by mistake. Sorry.”
She stood in the entryway, backpack still on her shoulders, not even changing her shoes yet. All the words she’d bottled up all day came rushing out at once.
“A guy?” Xie Hejing didn’t look up. He was sitting on the sofa, lazily scrolling on his phone.
“No, she’s a girl.” Nan Xu finally set her bag down, feeling much lighter.
“Sent by mistake…” Xie Hejing repeated.
Hearing the calmness in his tone, she relaxed completely and nodded. “Mm.”
“Good night, miss you, kisses,” he read aloud, raising his brows at the text from the sticker.
Nan Xu’s eyes went wide.
It wouldn’t have mattered if it had gone to Qi Zhiyu. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Qi Zhiyu read it out loud. But it had gone to Xie Hejing—and now he was reading it aloud himself.
It was embarrassing. No, more than that—it was mortifying.
Nan Xu let out a flustered sound. “Brother, don’t say it.”
“Don’t say what?” He arched a brow at her, spinning his phone in his long fingers until the screen faced her. “Didn’t you send it to me yourself?”
Nan Xu hurried closer. “That’s not what I—”
But her words cut off. She caught a glimpse of what he had saved her as in his contacts. It wasn’t her WeChat username—it was…
She couldn’t see clearly.
And before she could, Xie Hejing flipped the phone back around.
Nan Xu frowned. “Brother, what name did you save me under?”
His fingers paused for a moment. His voice gave nothing away. “Didn’t put any note.”
“I saw it! That wasn’t my username—my username’s a long string of letters!”
“If you already saw it, why are you asking me?”
“…I didn’t see clearly.”
On his contact list, next to her name, a tiny cat emoji glowed. Xie Hejing glanced at it and replied casually, “Just typed something random.”
“…”
Nan Xu made a soft, disgruntled hum under her breath. She was too tired to press the issue any further. With the lack of sleep weighing on her, she kept yawning, her face looking worn-out.
Her eyes drifted toward the fruit on the table, and her appetite perked up. She grabbed an apple and began peeling it, planning to eat and then head straight to her room to sleep.
From across the room, Xie Hejing suddenly spoke.
“Hey.”
“What is it?” Nan Xu paused mid-peel.
“My mom’s not home. Before she left, she reminded me to take good care of you.”
Nan Xu stayed quiet, waiting for what he would say next.
“Staying up late is a bad habit, you know that?” Xie Hejing said.
Nan Xu nodded obediently. “I know.”
Just as she was about to “promise” that she wouldn’t stay up late again, Xie Hejing spoke up, a hint of malice in his voice.
“So…” He deliberately paused there, watching her slightly puzzled eyes before breaking into a grin. “You’ll have to report to me.”
“Report?” Nan Xu blinked. “Why do I need to report?”
Leaning back lazily against the sofa, his posture screamed arrogance. “So I can keep track of when you’re going to sleep. Otherwise, you might stay up like you did last night—and who knows who you’ll send messages to next time.”
“I told you, that was an accident. I sent it by mistake, by mistake,” Nan Xu protested, unwilling to let it go.
Of course, Xie Hejing knew that perfectly well. But he only flashed an infuriatingly bright smile. “Who can say for sure?”
“You—!” Nan Xu was terrible at arguing. Wen Qiu and Nan Xiaochen had never fought in front of her, so she had no vocabulary for insults. After racking her brain, she finally blurted out one clumsy line.
“You’re so annoying.”
He smothered a laugh and went along with it. “Mm. I’m annoying. I’m mean.”
Nan Xu frowned. “But what if I report to you and then still don’t sleep?!”
At that, Xie Hejing’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Our rooms are only a wall apart.”
Just a few steps of distance.
…What did he mean by that?
Nan Xu blinked. She remembered Xiang Weishi mentioning that Xie Hejing had trouble sleeping if someone entered his room. Maybe he was really sensitive when it came to sleep. Even just being separated by a wall—could she make him lose sleep too?
Xie Hejing added, “Right now, we’re… let’s say, roommates. For the sake of getting proper rest, and to prevent you from disturbing me at night with suggestive messages, it makes sense for us to let each other know when we’re going to bed, doesn’t it?”
If it was mutual, that didn’t sound so bad. But then Nan Xu realized what he had just implied. “Wait—when did I ever disturb you?”
He pointed at his phone. “Want me to read it out again?”
Nan Xu went silent.
Seeing her unwilling expression, Xie Hejing coughed lightly. “Put yourself in someone else’s shoes for a second. Say you had a male roommate—big and burly—”
Nan Xu’s eyes widened.
“—not describing you,” he clarified lazily, “just imagine it. A bulky guy roommate sends you a bunch of ‘I miss you’ texts in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t you be scared?”
Nan Xu actually pictured it—and shuddered. “Scared.”
“Mm. I was scared too.” The corners of his lips lifted. “So tell me—does that count as harassment?”
“…Yes,” Nan Xu admitted with a nod.
“Then my request is reasonable, isn’t it?” he pressed.
“…Reasonable.”
His brows arched in triumph. “That’s it.”
Nan Xu: … Somehow she felt like she’d been tricked.
Xie Hejing stood and headed upstairs. Halfway there, he casually snatched the half-peeled apple from her hand and took a bite. “Thanks.”
“!!!”
Nan Xu puffed her cheeks angrily.
She was definitely going to change his contact name to Big Demon King!!!