Chapter 95: What Should He Do? He’s Completely Fallen

Her lowered cheeks couldn't help but flush slightly with warmth.

The bus threaded through the bustling city center, soon veering away from the crowded streets, surrounded instead by dense camphor trees. The air was filled with the scent of freshly cut grass, tender and sweet, as if mountain spring water had melted into the atmosphere.

Bian Yang only felt the small hand in his palm, cool and smooth like jade, so soft it seemed as though it might melt away at any moment. He gently squeezed the delicate hand. All of Tang Yu’s attention was focused on her left hand; the slightest movement from him made her sit up straight, tense and motionless.

But he was only playing, as though he’d discovered some new delight, endlessly amused. Tang Yu propped her arm on the bus's handrail and rested her chin, gazing out. The glass reflected the boy’s lowered profile; even as stray strands fell messily across his face, they couldn’t hide his striking, handsome features.

The bus seat was cramped for him, his long legs stretched idly into the aisle. When Bian Yang glanced over, Tang Yu quickly feigned a yawn, pretending to be sleepy, leaning her head against the glass to rest. But then Bian Yang reached out, gently pulled her closer, pressing her mechanical head onto his shoulder, and their hands intertwined, fingers laced together.

“Sleep,” he said softly.

Tang Yu’s back, rigid as an iron board, gradually relaxed as she leaned against him, sleepiness settling in. She fiddled with her hair to shield herself from his gaze and mumbled, “When we reach Little Tang Town, ask the driver to stop.”

“Alright.” He smiled, picking up an earphone and placing it in her left ear, the other in his right. English songs played in sync between them. “Sleep,” he repeated.

His voice was gentle, “I’ll wake you.”

Music drifted in her ears, and Tang Yu’s tense spine slowly eased, her nerves unwinding. She’d taken this route countless times since her first year of high school, always choosing the seat closest to the driver, never daring to rest for fear of missing her stop. For the first time, she could close her eyes without worry, not needing to be anxious about the driver hearing her, nor about missing her destination.

The dusky sky blushed with crimson; outside the window, the sun hung small and round on the branches. The bus occasionally passed by clear streams and sometimes plunged through dark bridge tunnels.

Bian Yang lowered his head, quietly enjoying the sight of her sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. Her eyelashes were long and curled, and when she opened her eyes, the bright gaze beneath them reminded him of sunlight reflecting off floating ice at sea. Her dark hair framed her cheeks, which were much rosier than when he first met her a month ago.

He felt immense gratitude for the tricks he’d invented to coax her into eating during her hospital stay. She’d grown healthier, and his efforts had not been in vain—though the journey ahead remained long.

But what he liked most was her voice. He loved the way she called his name, “Bian Yang,” with a gentle smile, as sweet as a glutinous rice pastry. Whether she was angry, teasing, or ordering him to write test papers, he loved it all.

He watched her for a while, chuckled softly to himself, pressing down the smile that threatened his lips. Even the passengers in front couldn’t help but turn and glance at him.

What could he do? He was completely smitten. He loved her, loved her to death.

She could just move her finger, and he found it unbearably adorable...

When he confessed, he’d already decided—if she refused him, he’d still keep her close. Whether it was love that grew over time or coaxing and trickery, he couldn’t let anyone else have a chance. Fortunately, she didn’t reject him, though she set conditions.

Never mind six hundred marks—even if she wanted the stars in the sky, he would reach for them.

—

At the destination, Bian Yang woke her, and Tang Yu slowly came to her senses. Bian Yang carried all their belongings in one hand, holding hers with the other as they got off the bus, Tang Yu following quietly behind.

Standing by the roadside, she rubbed her bleary eyes, a misty haze gathering in her gaze, tiptoeing to see if there were any taxis.

“Bian Yang, I’ll get a car to send you home.”

“Tang Xiaoyu,” Bian Yang didn’t let go, looking at her casually, “We’re already at your doorstep, and you won’t invite me in?”

Tang Yu paused, lips moving, unable to form the words. After a moment, she lifted her lashes and replied softly, “If you don’t head home now, it won’t be safe for you on the road tonight.”

Bian Yang kneaded her palm, speaking slowly, “I think you just worry I’m not likable, afraid your grandparents will throw me out, right?”

Tang Yu couldn’t help but smile, pressing her lips together, shaking her head. No one could dislike him—well, except those who’d encountered his fists.

“Which way?” He swung her hand, gaze falling on several forks in the road ahead.

Tang Yu hesitated, then pointed to the most winding path.

Bian Yang, unfazed, pulled her forward.

Whenever people passed by, she quickly let go of his hand. Bian Yang’s hand dropped to his side, and he raised his eyebrows at her. The two of them were acting almost like secret lovers.

Tang Yu hid her hands behind her back, as if his touch still lingered, genuinely anxious about being seen.

After about ten minutes, they stopped before a low house.

Unlike the two or three-story homes with walls that lined the road, this old house had no wall, only a circle of prickly pepper trees serving as a fence. Inside, there was a small vegetable garden with many varieties, though she couldn’t name them all.

It seemed her grandfather knew she was coming home today; he sat on a small stool at the door, fanning himself, waiting. Her grandmother sat in a wheelchair, hands busy weaving colorful baskets.

“Grandpa, Grandma, I’m back!”

At the sight of their granddaughter, her grandfather beamed and hurried over. Tang Yu spread her arms, flying into his embrace like a little bird.

Bian Yang watched silently from behind; unlike with anyone else, her face was filled with warmth and dependence. After hugging Grandpa, she dashed to Grandma.

“Xiaoyu, did you do something to your hair?” her grandmother asked, gently stroking her head.

Tang Yu’s smile froze for a moment before she quickly brightened, “Yes, do you like it?”

“Beautiful, beautiful, our Xiaoyu always looks best!” The old woman laughed heartily, not thinking too much.

Her laughter warmed the whole small courtyard.

Grandpa turned to the tall, handsome boy accompanying her. “Xiaoyu, who is this?”

He looked so tall and attractive, his temperament quite different from theirs.

Before Tang Yu could answer, Bian Yang stepped forward. “Hello, Grandpa, I’m Tang Yu’s…”

Meeting her anxious gaze, he raised his brow and smiled, “Her classmate, and her friend.”

“Xiaoyu’s classmate, come, sit!”

Grandpa and Grandma pulled him in for conversation.

Bian Yang sat on a low stool, legs cramped, clearly not used to it, yet he smiled from start to finish.

Tang Yu saw nothing but warmth on his face, exhaled lightly, and led him around the courtyard.

Bian Yang leaned in, listening attentively, poking unfamiliar things with his finger, eager to learn.

He admired her rabbits and the vegetables she grew.

He saw the certificates covering the wall—like medals.

He noted the towering stacks of textbooks and workbooks, all taller than him.

On the faded wall, Grandpa had marked her height. Bian Yang made her stand there so he could mark it too, but found it hadn’t changed, teasing her for not growing all year.

Tang Yu, unwilling to accept defeat, wanted to mark his height, but couldn’t reach. So she dragged over a tall stool, climbed up, her soft hand pressing his shoulder, stone in the other, carefully marking his head.

She compared their heights and complained, “Bian Yang, you’re so tall!”

Bian Yang clasped her slender waist, lifted her off the stool, bent down, and teased, “Yes, Tang Xiaoyu, you’d better eat well and grow taller. Otherwise, I’ll always have to bend down to kiss you—so exhausting.” His voice lowered, laughter wicked.

Tang Yu’s face turned scarlet, and she reached to cover his mouth.

Thankfully, Grandpa was in the kitchen and Grandma was busy weaving baskets, so neither heard.

Grandpa insisted he stay for dinner, catching a chicken from the yard, gathering fresh eggs from the coop, and picking fat, round vegetables for a feast.

Later, while Tang Yu carried dishes, Grandpa quietly called Bian Yang over and asked if he had a lighter.

Bian Yang, who had quit smoking, replied honestly that he didn’t.

As soon as he said “no,” the old man broke into a smile, and Bian Yang realized it was a test—Grandpa was checking if he was a bad kid who smoked.