Chapter Six
The Sinking Ship
It had been a week since they last ate together. In that time, Zhao Fanzhou had taken care of all the paperwork for reinstating his student status, while Zhou Xiao had started tutoring Lee Doyou every afternoon for an hour. She had texted Zhao Fanzhou to let him know—he simply replied: "Okay, got it."
At the cafeteria, Zhou Xiao absentmindedly picked the carrots out of her plate. She hated carrots—but weirdly liked the meat in shredded carrot stir-fry.
If she hadn’t bumped into him at the cafeteria door, would he have just never planned to contact her again?
“Why are you picking out the carrots if you weren’t going to eat them?” he asked.
“If you don’t like it, you can just eat them for me,” she replied instinctively.
It just slipped out—just like the old days when she always bullied him around. But now… with how awkward their relationship was, should she really still be doing this?
To her surprise, he reached over with his spoon and scooped the rejected carrots back into his bowl. She blinked.
Whatever. It’s not like he hasn’t eaten my leftovers before.
Then her thoughts took a turn. Why does that sound vaguely… suggestive?
“Come with me to my place. I need to grab something.”
They were leaving the cafeteria when he said this.
“Your place?” she echoed out of habit. She had this flaw—if she didn’t process something fast enough, she’d just parrot it back.
“The place you visited last time.”
“Oh.”
She had so many questions… she just didn’t know where to begin.
Once they got in, he locked the door with a click and walked toward her. Zhou Xiao’s heart skipped a beat.
Oh no. Don’t tell me he’s finally going to sit me down for a serious “relationship talk.”
“Why did you lock the door? You're not planning to… do anything to me, right?”
Distraction! Distraction!
He gave her a sharp look. “Talk.”
“Talk about what?”
Why did he always speak in cliffhangers?
“You know exactly what.”
There it is again—that "you know" line. What is this, a detective novel?
“I don’t know how to say it,” she mumbled. Fine. No use playing dumb—this guy’s too sharp. No way she’d win at mind games.
“Then just say it straight.”
Fine. She took a breath. If he wanted honesty, he was getting it.
“Did you and that childhood sweetheart of yours do anything? You know, anything?”
Oops. That came out too fast.
“Childhood sweetheart?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Jia Yichun… Jia Yichun… Jia ‘fake alcohol’... you know, Jia-yi-chun... fake ethanol… fake alcohol…”
Her voice got quieter and quieter.
“No.”
“No what? No fake alcohol?”
Oops again—she was confused now.
“No, we didn’t do anything.”
His voice was raised now. Someone was getting mad. Zhou Xiao shrank back, startled.
Looking at her like a scolded puppy, Zhao Fanzhou sighed.
“I’ve always seen her as a little sister. There’s nothing going on between us.”
Yeah right. Every guy says, “I only see her as a sister.”
If you want a sister that badly, ask your mom to give birth to one. Wait—no, that’d be a second child. Not allowed.
“Don’t drift off!” He flicked her hair lightly.
“Oh—”
She slipped back into her helpless little wife mode with full dedication.
“Stop pretending to be pitiful. Spit it out—all of it!”
“Is this apartment rented or owned? What do your parents do? Who's in your family? Where did you grow up and go to school? When did you first fall in love…?”
Whew. So many words in one go—exhausting.
“My dad bought the apartment. My parents are both in business—they sell clothes. I grew up and went to school in H City. First fell in love at nineteen.”
Nineteen? So innocent?
Wait—he's twenty now. They’ve been dating for nearly a year.
So that means—nineteen?
“Nineteen? Was it… me?”
She wanted to throw her head back and laugh out loud. But no, must. Stay. Calm. Otherwise, he’d totally flip.
His face turned a suspicious shade of red.
A guy over 6 feet tall, blushing—so adorable.
“Anything else you wanna know?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“What cartoons did you like as a kid?”
“Dragon Ball.”
He was used to her randomness by now.
“I liked Doraemon. Used to be called Xiao Ding Dang. I liked the old name better—it felt more relatable and down-to-earth…”
“Shut up,” he cut her off, clearly losing patience.
“Why?” She was annoyed now—no one likes being interrupted mid-nostalgia.
“Because I want to kiss you.”
“Oh really? Well then, go ahead.”
She made a face that practically screamed “do your worst.” Her shameless self was back in full form.
What the hell?!
He actually went through with it. Truly not a normal man.
After the kiss…
“So, since you love giving everyone nicknames—what do you call me behind my back?”
Crap.
Uh-oh. No swearing, no swearing. Crap.
Resting on his chest, she looked up.
“I didn’t! Are you still mad about me calling her fake alcohol? You’re too protective of her!”
“Stop dodging. What do you call me?”
“Well… your name is Fanzhou, right? Which literally means… ‘sailing boat’. So…”
“So?”
His tone rising. From a linguistics perspective, this was clearly a threatening intonation.
“Shipwreck.”
Let’s get this over with. Chop chop. Bring on the guillotine.
“You are so dead.”
“Ahhhh—!”
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the residential complex…
…for days, people said they still heard it faintly bouncing off the walls
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