Chapter 83: I Thought This Was Payment for My Company Tonight

Tang Yu lowered her eyes, her dense lashes trembling lightly. Just as she was about to say something, Bian Yang’s phone rang.

He took out his phone and glanced casually at the screen. His gaze visibly darkened for a brief moment.

Tang Yu keenly sensed the change, unsure who was calling, but he didn’t answer. When he looked back at her, the emotion in his eyes faded, returning to his usual nonchalance as he drawled lazily, “It’s getting late. I’ll head to class. You should rest well this afternoon.”

He walked out through the glass door. Tang Yu got off the bed and followed behind him.

She watched as he took another set of keys from the living room drawer and tossed them to her. Tang Yu reached out and caught them.

“The apartment keys,” Bian Yang said to her.

Tang Yu examined the keys. A panda head keychain dangled from them, identical to the one on Bian Yang’s own keys.

He changed his shoes and stood at the door, looking at her. “I’m leaving.”

Tang Yu sat on the sofa, lowering her head to take out her books one by one. “Alright.”

“I’m really leaving.”

“Mm.”

Bian Yang paused with the door open. “Aren’t you going to see me off?”

Tang Yu’s hands stilled. She tilted her head and looked at him hesitantly.

Seeing she had no intention of moving, Bian Yang spoke slowly, “What a brother I am…”

His tone and expression seemed to gently reproach her.

Tang Yu immediately stood up and walked over, her steps small. Bian Yang was extraordinarily patient as he waited.

Standing before him, Tang Yu said good-naturedly, “Do you need me to walk you downstairs?”

Bian Yang was satisfied. “No need for that. Just to here is fine.”

Tang Yu: “…”

His jacket hung loosely over his arm as he strolled leisurely outside.

He’d expected her to say something, but halfway down the corridor, she remained silent.

Bian Yang finally couldn’t resist turning his head. She was still standing quietly at the doorway, watching him…

So obedient it almost hurt.

Suddenly, the scene felt like a wife seeing her husband off to work.

And… he was utterly charmed.

Tang Yu hadn’t thought so much. She assumed when he turned back, he’d simply forgotten something.

Who knew, after flashing her an inexplicable smile, he just left.

She closed the door speechlessly.

With Bian Yang gone, the apartment felt strangely quiet—so quiet she was unaccustomed to it.

It was as if something was missing. She could almost hear his voice, glimpse his silhouette lingering in the corners.

To dispel this odd mood, Tang Yu busied herself. She took out her books and test papers, arranging them neatly in the study, then brought her clean clothes to hang in the large wardrobe in the bedroom.

Opening the wardrobe, Tang Yu was dazzled by the array of clothes inside.

The wardrobe stretched to the ceiling, separated by frosted glass on her side.

Three tiers, each crammed full. Only the top held a few pieces of the boy’s clothing; the rest were all girls’ clothes.

The other two wardrobes were the same—various styles, every color imaginable… even a rainbow wasn’t this complete.

Without exception, all the tags had been removed.

Clothes for this season were thin, yet the wardrobe was packed to bursting.

Had he cleaned out an entire street stall?

Tang Yu stood in a daze for a while. For years, she’d been reluctant to buy new clothes. Now, with just a few outfits in her hands and the wardrobe overflowing, she didn’t know where to hang hers.

Even if each piece was only twenty yuan, three wardrobes full must have cost quite a bit…

Tang Yu, conflicted, bit her fingertip, counting one by one before giving up halfway.

Then she quietly checked her phone balance… just over four thousand nine hundred left.

Assuming an average of twenty per piece…

She transferred three thousand via WeChat, leaving enough for living expenses and her grandmother’s medicine, but Bian Yang quickly returned it.

He sent a message: “Am I only worth this much?”

Tang Yu realized his misunderstanding: “This is for the clothes you bought me. If it’s not enough, I’ll owe you the rest.”

He replied, “Oh, I thought it was for keeping you company at night.”

Tang Yu’s eyelid twitched: “…”

A few seconds later, he typed slowly, as if explaining: “I meant keeping you company in the hospital, not what you’re thinking.”

Tang Yu: “…”

She pursed her lips and resent the money.

He still didn’t accept it, nor did he return it—just left it sitting there.

He was probably in class.

Tang Yu finished tidying up, then buried herself in a practice paper. Checking later, she saw the transfer still uncollected.

She considered reminding him, but didn’t want to disturb his class, so she dropped the idea.

After going over her answers and correcting her mistakes, she found dozens of similar problems to practice until she fully grasped the concepts. Only then did she stretch, resting her chin on the desk to check the time—it was already seven.

Tang Yu tidied her desk, changed her shoes, picked up the keys, and headed downstairs.

Night markets were a deep part of Liangcheng’s culture. As dusk fell and the heat dissipated, the streets filled with vendors setting up their stalls.

Students poured into the streets, bustling and lively, the air filled with shouts and laughter.

The aroma of food mingled with the scent of camphor trees, not at all unpleasant.

A deep breath seemed to draw the city’s energy right into your veins.

Freshly steamed buns still let off wisps of heat, corn and tea eggs soaked in rich broth, the chimes of public transit announcements echoing in the background… Rustling leaves and the cacophony of sounds somehow soothed the spirit, making even the moonlit, unlit corners peaceful.

She’d taken a few days off from her part-time job at the milk tea shop to recover.

Usually, she’d be rushing through these streets, racing against time, rarely ambling as she did now, even humming along to the English song in her earphones.

Tang Yu paused outside a brightly colored hair salon, hesitated, then went in.

“Here for a haircut, student?” the hairdresser asked, pausing at the sight of her uneven, choppy hair.

Tang Yu pressed her lips together, awkwardly nodding, “I’d like my hair to look… more normal…”

She tried to think of words that would help the hairdresser understand.

Unexpectedly, his eyes lit up. “Are you Tang Yu?”

She froze, breath catching—her nerves so taut she instinctively took a step back, fearing what he might do.

The hairdresser smiled, “You look just like the girl on the school honor board—the top senior student. My son is in Senior Two, Class Two as well. He told me Tang Yu took first place again—seven hundred and twenty points! I told him, in the same key class, with the same teachers, how does that girl score so high while my son only gets five hundred or so…”

Hearing this, Tang Yu’s tension slowly eased.

A boy walked into the salon, tossed his jacket onto a chair, and shouted, “Dad, I’m starving! Is dinner ready? I have to go play basketball…”

He stopped abruptly when he saw Tang Yu. “Tang Yu? You’re out of the hospital?”

Tang Yu’s lashes fluttered as she looked up at him.

The boy, holding a basketball in one hand, wasn’t as tall or as handsome as Bian Yang, wore Qingyuan’s school uniform, and was sizing her up curiously—his face familiar, though she couldn’t recall where she’d seen him.

Her unfamiliar gaze stung him a little. “We’re in the same class—you don’t remember me?”