“Ah…” Zhang Xueji was momentarily stunned for two seconds but instinctively replied, “I just—like you, that’s all. No need for so many reasons.”
“If I had to find a reason—”
He thought for a moment, then suddenly curved his eyes into a smile and said, “Do you remember when we first met, I asked if we’d seen each other somewhere before?”
“That wasn’t just small talk. I genuinely felt you looked familiar—the voice, the face. Then we ran into each other again in the cafeteria. Didn’t I tell you it might be some unconscious memory? But later, I thought about it and realized it probably wasn’t possible.”
“If I had met you before, I definitely wouldn’t forget. Even just a fleeting glance in a crowd, I would clearly remember.”
“For two days after that, I kept having nightmares. Monsters chasing me. Then one time, you appeared in my dream—like a divine warrior descending from the heavens—and with that peachwood sword you use to slay ghosts, you sliced the monster’s back in one strike.”
“After that, I never had nightmares again. Maybe it was because you were protecting me. From then on, I suddenly had a desperate desire to know you, to build some kind of relationship with you.”
Zhang Xueji slowly lowered his head, shifting the ice cube pressed against Xie Qiaoqiao’s palm, then continued, “Any kind of relationship is fine. I want to latch onto you, stay by your side, be with you.”
“As long as the relationship is strong enough, as long as you don’t push me out of your life, it doesn’t really matter if we’re boyfriend and girlfriend or not. If you want, you can just treat me as a friend. But don’t treat me like a classmate or a neighbor.”
“Classmates graduate, neighbors move away. I don’t want to be a fleeting moment in your life.”
The mild redness and swelling gradually faded.
Zhang Xueji removed the ice pack, blew gently on Xie Qiaoqiao’s palm, then looked up at her earnestly: “So even if I’m chasing you, you don’t have to feel like you have to give me an answer right away.”
“When you want to accept and take things further, just say so. If not, just treat me as a friend. Friends exchange gifts, go out together, take care of each other—that’s how it should be.”
As he spoke, his chaotic Aura churned violently in sync with his pounding heartbeat.
Ordinary people couldn’t see Aura, but Xie Qiaoqiao could, and Zhang Xueji’s boiling Aura engulfed her completely.
Being able to clearly see Aura is almost like cheating, because Aura changes with the owner’s emotions—it cannot be hidden or altered, it’s direct and precise.
Xie Qiaoqiao’s feelings were generally indifferent; her lack of understanding of common emotional norms made it hard for her to comprehend others’ feelings.
But due to her innate ability, she could clearly see others’ Aura with the naked eye, keenly sensing their emotional fluctuations.
So Xie Qiaoqiao knew exactly who disliked her, who liked her, and… who was secretly in love with her.
Besides Qi Chen, others had tried to pursue Xie Qiaoqiao, but she was cold and oblivious enough to bluntly and decisively reject them every time, her harsh attitude enough to kill any budding feelings.
Only Zhang Xueji, despite multiple rejections, continued to stick around, gradually probing her limits, maintaining their relationship on a vague, ambiguous boundary.
Xie Qiaoqiao said, “I’m not an ordinary person. Building a relationship with me means stepping into the line of sight of many ghosts and monsters.”
She glanced at the Red String freshly tied on Zhang Xueji’s wrist and said calmly, “Monsters like those in your nightmares, the Clinical Ghost on the basement floor, corpses packed into cardboard boxes in the middle of the night—these are my everyday reality.”
“Do you want to live in such a reality? I can’t always be like the divine warrior in your dream, coming to your rescue at just the right moment. I’m dangerous. If you come near me, you’ll be in danger too.”
Zhang Xueji removed the ice pack, gently poked the numb spot on Xie Qiaoqiao’s palm, and asked, “It’s not swollen anymore. How does it feel?”
Xie Qiaoqiao wiggled her fingers and answered, “It’s very cold, a little numb, but not painful.”
Zhang Xueji relaxed, put the ice pack aside, grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, and wiped the moisture off her palm.
After drying her hand, he looked up—no trace of fear on his face, just a bright smile showing his gleaming tiger teeth and dimples, like a bottle of sweet, fizzy soda.
Xie Qiaoqiao didn’t understand why he was smiling and was about to ask when Zhang Xueji casually took her freshly wiped hand in his.
“I used to think ‘Destined Fate’ was pure feudal superstition, but now I don’t think so.”
“See, you’re a dangerous person, and I happen to be someone who can heal from fatal wounds on my own. We’re basically a perfect match!”
Xie Qiaoqiao said: “The bracelet you’re wearing was woven by Qi Chen.”
The radiant smile on Zhang Xueji’s face froze: “What?!”
Perhaps it was true that what one thinks about by day appears in dreams by night—Zhang Xueji had just told Xie Qiaoqiao about his nightmares during the day, only to have another nightmare that very night.
He dreamed of a fire.
He stood in the corridor of the apartment building.
The fire alarm wailed sharply, thick smoke billowed, choking him, making it impossible to breathe. Amid the chaos, he heard someone panic: “The stairs are blocked! We can’t get through!”
Scorching flames snaked along the ceiling and walls, biting at people’s heads.
The smell of burnt protein mingled with the dense smoke, weaving a smoky wall that trapped people inside. The air they could breathe was gradually—
Zhang Xueji suddenly woke up from the nightmare, clutching his throat, coughing.
Sweat slid from his forehead down to his eyelashes, finally dripping onto the pillow.
After catching his breath and calming down, his gaze slowly focused on the Red String tied around his wrist—wasn’t this supposed to ward off ghosts?
Unsure if this nightmare was just a dream or if a ghost was haunting him again, Zhang Xueji was too scared to sleep and got up to send Xie Qiaoqiao a few messages.
After sending the WeChat messages, he noticed it was already 3 AM.
He decided to take a shower, chop vegetables, rinse rice, cook porridge, then go for a morning run—running early or late was running, as long as he burned off some energy and could nap afterwards.
At 3 AM, the corridor’s motion sensor lights were triggered by overlapping door sounds and lit up.
Zhang Xueji stepped out and ran into the new neighbor: she was wearing a lilac dress, the narrow sleeves covering her slender arms tightly.
Not bothered by the heat, Zhang Xueji thought to himself, then stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor.
The elevator had only the two of them.
The neighbor brushed back the long hair falling over her shoulder, slightly turning her cheek toward Zhang Xueji.
The young man kept a polite distance of almost a meter, arms crossed, leaning against the elevator wall. On his wrist was a brightly colored Red String strung with square-holed copper coins.
As the elevator neared the first floor, Zhang Xueji suddenly remembered the strange man who knocked on her door, and spoke up: “Yesterday evening, my friend and I saw a man knocking on your door, claiming to be your boyfriend.”
The new neighbor tilted her head fully toward him, black bangs falling over her snow-white cheek, wearing a serene smile: “A boyfriend? I don’t have one. Maybe he knocked on the wrong door.”
Mistaken identity?
Zhang Xueji recalled the man clearly calling out the neighbor’s name when knocking—he might not be her boyfriend, but was probably someone she knew.
After thinking it over, he kindly warned, “Our elevator doesn’t require a card, and security isn’t very strict. You should be a bit more careful about safety lately.”
The neighbor’s smile deepened, two symmetrical, beautiful dimples appearing on her cheeks: “Thank you for your concern, I will be careful. That man didn’t bother you, did he?”
Her gaze dropped to the faint dark scab on Zhang Xueji’s chin.
Zhang Xueji, indifferent to such minor wounds, shook his head to indicate he was fine, then put on his earphones—a subtle way to refuse further socializing.
After they left the elevator, the neighbor watched his steady running back, a puzzled look crossing her face. She pulled out a mirror, examined herself, and tilted her head in confusion.
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