Chapter 19 — Who knows what schemes they’ve got in mind…
Xie Hejing had been acting really strange lately.
As Nan Xu ate her breakfast, she glanced at his empty seat and couldn’t help but think that.
Lately, she kept feeling like Xie Hejing was deliberately avoiding her.
Not only did he leave home much earlier than her every day, but at school, he didn’t give her a single word or even a glance.
Taking a slow sip of porridge, Nan Xu’s mind was in a storm of questions.
What did she do to upset him?
She hugged her bowl, racking her brain.
She couldn’t figure it out.
Weren’t things fine before? Why was he suddenly so cold?
She had even been planning to invite him to the music festival—perfect timing to bring up the bracelet.
But the message she sent had completely vanished into the void.
Which meant… the bracelet matter would be postponed indefinitely again.
Nan Xu slapped the table lightly and sighed.
Men’s hearts are like needles lost at the bottom of the sea.
Xie Hejing’s heart—more like the Mariana Trench.
She couldn’t even invite the person she wanted to, yet she’d already made all the preparations to avoid running into the one person she didn’t want to see at the festival.
“Wen Qi, should I wear this outfit tomorrow, or this one? Which one makes me look more charismatic?”
Xiang Weishi was holding up his phone, showing Wen Qi two carefully chosen outfits.
Nan Xu bent over her exercises, but her mind wasn’t on them at all. Her ears were tuned to the two people conversation beside her.
For once, Wen Qi didn’t brush him off. Instead, he asked seriously, “How can you highlight something that doesn’t exist?”
Xiang Weishi rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Wen Qi, seriously? And here I was inviting you to the music festival!”
Wen Qi was going too?!
At that, Nan Xu’s head shot up, startling them both.
“What’s wrong?” Xiang Weishi asked, staring at her dazed expression. Then he added, “Hey, Nan Xu, do you want to come? I can get you a ticket.”
Nan Xu: …
She shook her head. “I have something to do tomorrow, so I won’t be going. Thank you, and have fun.”
. . . . .
Saturday, Zhi’an Music Festival.
Nan Xu’s band had a bit of a name for themselves, but most people in the crowd had come for the bigger headliners. So their performance was scheduled earlier in the day.
Looking out at the sea of people, Nan Xu’s heart gave a sudden thump. For the first time, she felt the weight of stepping out of that little bar and onto a much bigger stage.
Ever since Xie Hejing lent her the practice room, she’d been sneaking in every night before bed to rehearse. A month of practice had made the songs smoother, her skills sharper, and her anxiety before going on stage much easier to manage.
But this was still her first time facing such a huge crowd, and nerves were inevitable.
Would anyone like their songs?
Would their performance be a success? Would people cheer for them?
Could she really pull it off?
If she messed up, she’d drag Sister Jia down with her—and the whole band.
She kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart, but the more she did, the more jittery she felt. Right then, Cheng Jia placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Relax. Everyone has a first time. We’ve practiced so long it’s harder to mess up than get it right. Just play the way you always do.”
Nan Xu had learned guitar from her, and no one understood her ability better than Cheng Jia.
Cheng Jia truly wanted to grow the band, and if it hadn’t been for Nan Xu’s talent, quick learning, and surprising chemistry with the group, she never would have suggested letting her join.
“Come on. Time to get on stage.”
Nan Xu pulled her mask on and nodded firmly. She took her place with the others.
The crowd hushed to silence. She drew in a deep breath, let her fingers glide across the strings, and music poured out from her fingertips.
This song was meant to hype up the crowd. Barely a few seconds in, with Cheng Jia’s first note, the audience’s screams hit the night’s first peak.
The energy below the stage was electric. Cheng Jia even found a moment to turn and wink at Nan Xu.
Nan Xu grew more and more relaxed. She even felt like she was playing better than she ever had during practice.
The performance ended perfectly. As Nan Xu packed up her things, she was in high spirits—she had done really well tonight.
The only regret was that Xie Hejing hadn’t come. She had wanted him to see the results of all her hard work.
Still, Nan Xu didn’t want to kill the mood, so when Cheng Jia suggested a little celebration, she didn’t refuse.
The night went smoothly. Just as Nan Xu thought she had successfully avoided running into Xiang Weishi, she heard that all-too-familiar voice:
“Sister Cheng Jia, over here!”
That guy had once complained to Cheng Jia about her posting too few videos of his “goddess.” He was bold and annoyingly chatty, often sending her private messages. Over time, they’d gotten familiar. In Cheng Jia’s mind, he was already an “old fan.”
And now, with an old fan saying hello, ignoring him would’ve seemed rude.
He was actually standing across the street, but his enthusiasm was impossible to ignore. So Cheng Jia called the band over—specifically naming Nan Xu.
“Xiao Xu, this is your die-hard fan. Remember when you barely appeared in our videos? He even messaged me, warning me not to play favorites. I thought he was a total nutcase and nearly blocked him, but later he found out we were struggling financially and even offered to help fund us!”
At that, the drummer, standing behind Nan Xu, immediately stepped forward.
“Holy crap, he’s a sponsor? Sister Jia, why didn’t you say so earlier? Let’s go—he’s calling us. Can’t keep him waiting. What if he gets tired of standing there?”
“I…” Nan Xu looked troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Cheng Jia asked, turning back.
She couldn’t admit she didn’t want to go, so she pressed her lips together, trying to think of an excuse.
But patience wasn’t one of Xiang Weishi’s virtues. The moment he called out and saw the group hesitate, he was already striding toward them with his trademark grin.
Nan Xu panicked, unable to find a place to hide. Cheng Jia was standing too far away, so the only option was to duck behind the drummer closest to her, hoping Xiang Weishi wouldn’t notice.
As he drew closer, Nan Xu hunched her shoulders and shrank further behind him.
The two of them were nearly pressed together when, at last, the one who had been silent all night in the shadows could no longer hold back.
Xie Hejing.
He strode quickly up behind them.
At that exact moment, the pedestrian light turned red, and Xiang Weishi was stuck on the other side of the street. His “goddess” was right there within reach, but he couldn’t cross. Frustrated, he grumbled under his breath.
“Sister.”
The familiar voice came from behind her.
Nan Xu turned in disbelief.
It was Xie Hejing—hat pulled low, mask covering half his face, disguised even more thoroughly than she was. If he hadn’t spoken, she might never have noticed him.
And the direction he’d come from…
He had gone to the music festival tonight!
Nan Xu felt a jolt of shock, quickly followed by confusion. If he was going to show up, then why hadn’t he answered her messages? And why did he seem even more desperate than her to avoid being recognized?
Among the group, only she and Cheng Jia were girls. Cheng Jia immediately pulled Nan Xu behind her protectively, glaring at Xie Hejing.
“Xiao Xu, who’s this? How come I’ve never heard you mention a brother before?”
Seeing Nan Xu hiding behind Cheng Jia, Xie Hejing’s eyes darkened with a flicker of anger.
What was this supposed to mean? Was she… afraid of him?
Nan Xu glanced across the street at Xiang Weishi. The red light only had ten seconds left. If she was going to leave with Xie Hejing, now was her best chance.
She stepped out from behind Cheng Jia.
“Sister Jia, this is… a brother I know. I’ve been staying at his place recently.”
Cheng Jia blinked, taken aback. “You’ve been… staying at his place?”
“Mm.”
The seconds on the traffic light ticked down. Nan Xu didn’t have time to explain.
“I’m sorry, Sister Jia. I forgot I promised my brother I’d have dinner at home tonight. Let’s get together again next time. Sorry, everyone—I’ll head out first.”
“Hey, Nan Xu—”
With only two seconds left on the red light, Nan Xu grabbed Xie Hejing’s hand and pulled him in the opposite direction.
Dark waves surged in Xie Hejing’s eyes. His brows drew down slightly, his gaze locked on their joined hands.
This was the second time.
He didn’t like being touched, not at all.
She’d better let go now.
His expression cooled.
Behind them, the crowd faded into the distance. The girl laughed brightly, guitar strapped to her back, holding tight to the boy’s hand as they ran through the bustling streets, lighting up the night with a streak of vivid color.
“Brother, we beat the clock!” she said, smiling up at him.
Xie Hejing’s gaze shifted from their hands to her face. Her eyes sparkled, laughter brimming like it was about to spill over.
For a moment, the noisy street fell silent. In the rush of their run, all he could hear was the wind whistling past—and his own heartbeat, stubbornly betraying him.
He decided to ignore her. But his mouth betrayed him first.
“Mm. Watch where you’re going.”
Xie Hejing: …
The tone wasn’t warm, but not too cold either—like he was more afraid she’d crash into something and drag him into trouble.
Nan Xu immediately promised, “I won’t crash into anything.” Two seconds later, she added, “I’ll protect you.”
That tiny frame protecting him? Xie Hejing doubted it.
“No need.” His answer came quick and firm.
“You’d better watch the road properly. If you run into—”
Before he could finish speaking, a vendor pushing a snack cart passed through the crowd, calling out for people to make way. But Nan Xu was so busy trying to hear what Xie Hejing was saying that she didn’t notice the cart was about to hit her.
But Xie Hejing saw it. His heart seized, and without thinking he yanked her into his arms.
The pull was so strong she practically slammed against his chest. His pounding heartbeat thudded right against her ear, so loud it made her nervous without even knowing why.
“Brother, what’s wrong? Your heart’s beating so fast.” Her voice was tentative, almost cautious.
What’s wrong?!
He was going crazy!
Just now, he’d actually panicked—wondering what he’d do if she really got hit.
And this girl… she’d never been able to stand pain. If she got hurt, who knew how hard she’d cry?
He hated it when she cried.
When had he started hating her tears?
Xie Hejing frowned. He didn’t even know when that damned thought had taken root.
He had been keeping his distance from Nan Xu, avoiding her on purpose, trying to see if that reckless thought from that night would fade.
But the harder he tried to push it down, the more it surfaced—leaving him restless, irritable, sleepless, his face locked in a permanent scowl.
Meanwhile, Nan Xu had no clue. She ate well, slept soundly, and even cheerfully handed him an envelope one day, saying she had something nice for him. It turned out to be a love letter—from someone else.
And now, she was looking at him with those dewy eyes, asking softly what was wrong.
Xie Hejing’s frown deepened.
She didn’t like him. And there was no way he could like her first.
…No, that wasn’t right. He could never like her.
He couldn’t. It was just a passing thought. That’s all.
Just a thought.
By the time Xie Hejing spoke again, he was completely calm.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go home.”
When they got back, Zhang Huiwan was already fast asleep. Both of them moved as quietly as possible, especially Nan Xu, who took each step on the staircase as if she had to weigh it a dozen times before setting her foot down.
Back in his room, under the dim yellow light, Xie Hejing sat in silence.
After a long while, he picked up a pen from his desk.
Carefully, stroke by stroke, he wrote the two characters for “Nan Xu” on a sticky note. He stuck it to the wall in front of him, stared at it for a long time, then peeled it off. Beneath her name, he wrote a tiny word in English—”stop”—and pressed the note back onto the wall.
The pen twirled between his fingers over and over. Nearly ten minutes passed before he finally changed his movements.
Leaning forward, he tapped the note lightly with his pen, his gaze fixed on the letters as he whispered, “Nan Xu.”
A few seconds later, he slashed a line through the word stop.
. . . . .
Nan Xu hadn’t eaten dinner, and by now her stomach was growling. She crept into the kitchen, planning to make some tangyuan.
But the moment she reached the doorway, she jumped—startled by the figure leaning lazily against the fridge.
Xie Hejing.
He was gulping down ice water straight from a cup, looking half-asleep and half-strung-out.
He’d gone to bed early, but his sleep had been restless, plagued by a dream he shouldn’t have had.
In that dream, her fingers no longer brushed the guitar strings—they touched him instead, sparking fire with ease. And worse, he hadn’t pushed her away. He’d leaned into it, lips tilted upward, accepting everything without hesitation.
Now, with the dream standing in front of him in flesh and blood, his grip on the cup tightened. His dark eyes still carried the lingering waves of heat from that vision.
“Brother, you’re hungry too?” Nan Xu asked.
Expressionless, he downed another gulp of water and muttered, “Not hungry.”
“Oh.” She handed him her phone. “Well, I am. I’m making tangyuan. One of my classmates just asked me a question—only one step left. You’ll definitely know the answer. Help me reply?”
On the screen was a message from a boy in the neighboring class, asking her about a chemistry problem.
Nan Xu, ever patient, had been answering him by turns—writing it out, typing, even using voice messages.
“He asks you for help a lot?” Xie Hejing’s voice sounded deceptively calm, but the heat beneath it seeped through.
Nan Xu filled a glass of water and thought for a moment. “Not really a lot. Just sometimes. My chemistry isn’t that great either, but when we discuss it, I feel like I get to reinforce what I know. It’s kind of nice, actually.”
Xie Hejing pressed his lips together.
Top three in chemistry asking her for help? At night?
By then the pot was on the stove, water ready to boil.
Nan Xu walked toward him.
Xie Hejing set his cup down on the table with a sharp thunk, his expression taut.
“Nan Xu,” he warned, “you’d better stay away from those boys. Who knows what schemes they’ve got in mind?”
But when he turned, she was already right beside him.
And in that split second, he realized that if he just reached out, he could so easily draw her into his arms.
Just like in his dream.
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard.
The kitchen light stretched their shadows long across the floor. The dream he had just tried to drown with cold water surged back to life.
Nan Xu froze for a moment at his words, confusion flickering in her bright eyes.
Tilting her head, she asked slowly, almost innocently—
“Brother… are you included in those boys too?”