A Sweeter Reunion

He Had Known All Along

When Cheng You’an noticed everyone’s gaze drifting toward Jiang Ping, she cast her mind back to dinner. The boys—Su Mingpeng and the others—had walked in beside Jiang Ping but left the seat next to him conspicuously empty when they sat down. Ye Yingyue, trailing behind, had slipped naturally into that spot. The same thing had just happened with the singing.

Sensing an unspoken pattern, Cheng You’an couldn’t help but look at Jiang Ping too.

He’d been glued to his phone since stepping through the door. Feeling the shift in the room, he lifted his eyelids and swept a glance over the group, his gaze settling at last on Su Mingpeng.

Su Mingpeng caught on immediately, waggling his brows at him. “The class president’s song—sing it with her, buddy.”

Jiang Ping uncrossed his right leg. A faint glimmer lit Ye Yingyue’s eyes as she moved to pass him the microphone, but he merely switched which leg he had crossed and dropped his gaze back to his phone. “Don’t know this one. Class president, find someone else.”

Ye Yingyue’s fingertips went white. In the span of a blink, a smile soft as water smoothed over her face again. She turned toward the corner where Cheng You’an sat. “You’an, do you know this song?”

Only then did the others notice that, aside from Jiang Ping, Cheng You’an hadn’t sung a single song all evening either. Trust the class president—so pretty and so thoughtful—to make sure no one was left out.

Cheng You’an nodded. “I’ll sing it with you.”

She took the microphone. Ye Yingyue sang the female part; she took the male.

"Can't fall asleep in the middle of the night, I hum my feelings into a song, so I have to..."

The moment Cheng You’an opened her mouth, the boys who’d been huddled together chatting all stopped and lifted their heads to look at her. Jay Chou’s songs weren’t easy, but not only did she stay perfectly in tune—her voice was sweet and clear, yet soft and low, a sound utterly refreshing.

Su Mingpeng slung an arm over Jiang Ping’s shoulder, pleasantly stunned. “Bro, this relative of yours—good looks aside, she can sing Jay Chou like that? She’s a hidden gem!”

Jiang Ping sat with his legs sprawled open, the words GAME OVER glowing on his phone screen. His dark eyes fixed on Cheng You’an. He was surprised too. He’d pegged her as a little bookworm who did nothing but study, though considering her mother was with the opera house, it made a certain sense. But all he said was, “She’s all right.”

Just all right at that level? Su Mingpeng clicked his tongue. His bro’s standards were sky-high.

Ye Yingyue hadn’t expected Cheng You’an to be such an impressive singer. Watching everyone’s attention shift toward her, she silently regretted asking her to duet. Maybe it was nerves, but Ye Yingyue was off-key the entire song, making Cheng You’an’s steady breath control and solid technique stand out even more.

When the song ended, Cheng You’an moved to return the microphone. She turned and met Jiang Ping’s gaze. He was resting his chin on his hand, looking like he’d been listening rather intently. Wasn’t he playing a game? But in a blink, his head was bent over his phone again. She frowned to herself. Had she imagined it?

She got up to go to the restroom. Su Mingpeng sidled up to Jiang Ping again. “Bro, does Cheng You’an have a boyfriend?”

Jiang Ping played a four-of-a-kind and raised his eyes. “Why are you asking?”

Su Mingpeng rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “She’s exactly my type.”

Someone threw down a pair of sevens. Jiang Ping crushed it with a pair of twos. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“Why not?”

“She likes guys who are top of the class.”

Su Mingpeng touched his nose. His grades were about the same as Jiang Ping’s—both dead last. He thought for a moment. “I still want to give it a shot.”

“You serious?” Jiang Ping’s fingers paused, and he narrowed his eyes at him.

Su Mingpeng grinned, his teeth a flash of bright white. “When am I ever not serious?”

By the time Cheng You’an returned from the restroom, the private room was already clouded with cigarette smoke. All the boys except Jiang Zihang had a cigarette in hand, gathered around a table playing dice. She choked on the fumes, took a step back to steady her breath, then found a seat.

The boys had pulled a small table into a circle. From her angle, she could just see Jiang Ping with a cigarette between his lips, his lean, pale fingers resting on a blue dice cup. He drawled, utterly at ease, “Two ones.”

Su Mingpeng’s face pinched with hesitation. He wavered, then followed. “Three ones.”

Jiang Ping laughed. In the swirl of smoke, the boy’s lips were red, teeth white, his dark eyes carrying a sly, cunning glint. It took Cheng You’an a long moment to find the right words: he looked like a beautiful male fox.

“Show.” He lifted the cup. Not a single one.

Su Mingpeng’s face went green. He had two ones and three fives—phenomenal dice—and he’d still lost. He drained a full glass of liquor in one bitter gulp.

Cheng You’an couldn’t make sense of the game. After listening to songs a while longer, she began to fidget. Her eyelids drooped, drowsiness creeping in.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before Jiang Ping came over and said, “Let’s go home.”

She scrambled to her feet at once and said goodbye to everyone. As they were leaving, she didn’t see Su Mingpeng. Jiang Zihang said he’d had too much to drink and was throwing up in the bathroom. She thought nothing of it and, under Jiang Ping’s impatient stare, hurried after him.

They walked down the corridor. Cheng You’an could smell alcohol on him, but his expression and stride seemed normal, so she figured he wasn’t drunk—at least sober enough to remember the way home.

The moment they got into the car, he propped his elbow against the car door, rested his forehead on his hand, and closed his eyes. She tactfully left him alone, gazing out at the scenery and letting the cool night breeze wash over her.

About halfway through the drive, she felt eyes on her. She turned and collided straight into Jiang Ping’s stare. Compared to his usual lazy indolence, his eyes now seemed steeped in a river of stars—so bright it was hard to meet them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It made her deeply uneasy.

“Thinking,” he said flatly.

“About what?” Did it have to do with her?

“About f*****g you.”

Cheng You’an instantly regretted her curiosity. She clamped a hand over his mouth, casting a panicked look at the driver. The night wind rushing through the window was loud; the driver was bobbing his head, belting out a Huangmei opera without missing a single beat. He probably hadn’t heard.

She looked back and saw Jiang Ping’s brow furrowed in obvious displeasure at being muffled. She hurried to speak before his temper could ignite. “No more drunken nonsense, you hear me!”

Jiang Ping let out a soft scoff. It had only been three bottles.

His breath fanned across her palm, light as a feather, ticklish and damp. Cheng You’an shot him another warning glare before yanking her hand away, stealthily wiping it behind her back. But that hot trace of him still seemed to cling to the lines of her skin—faint, yet impossible to ignore.

Jiang Ping watched her scoot toward the car door, curling into a tight, hedgehog-like ball bristling with invisible spines. He raised a brow. “You’re the one who asked.”

Cheng You’an revisited his words in her mind, and every quill stood on end. “Can’t you think about something healthy for once!”

“A healthy s*x life is the cornerstone of a marriage,” he countered. “Not thinking about it would be unhealthy.”

Cheng You’an was so mortified she wanted to claw a hole in the floor and burrow into it. She clamped her hands over her ears. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear this!”

Sex life? Marriage? She was only eighteen. All she wanted right now was to get into university. She silently prayed: get home soon, get home soon. She truly couldn’t stand another second stuck with this person whose head was crammed full of trashy thoughts.

The second the car stopped in their neighborhood, Cheng You’an yanked the door open and bolted, desperate to put distance between them. But when she reached the house, the villa’s main gate barred her way.

Jiang Ping, as if he’d foreseen this exact moment, had deliberately taken his time following behind. He fished out a key, pressed the fob, and the small electric gate clicked unlocked. Cheng You’an sucked in a deep breath, pushed through, and went inside.

Past the main gate lay the entry door. She waited for Jiang Ping to unlock it with his fingerprint, then immediately dashed upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut. She grabbed her phone and called her grandfather.

It rang twice before he picked up.

“Grandpa, I want to—”

The words break off the engagement never made it out. The other end cut in first. “My dear granddaughter, I’m in the middle of a chess game with your Grandpa Liu. We’ll talk later. Gotta go—beep beep beep—”

Cheng You’an deflated. She sat on the edge of her bed, collected herself for a moment, then gathered her clothes to go shower. Her room had no bathroom; she’d have to use the one at the top of the stairs on the second floor.

She’d almost reached the bathroom when Jiang Ping came up the stairs directly toward her. She pressed her lips together and spun around, but after only a few steps, an arm caught hers and pinned her against the hallway wall. The weight of male hormones pressed down on her.

“Why are you running?”

“I’m not running. I just remembered I forgot something.”

Jiang Ping’s condescending gaze enveloped her. “What did you forget?”

After everything that had happened on the bus and in the taxi, Cheng You’an’s emotions were already frayed. Under his interrogation, she cracked. “I find you unbearable to look at. Can’t I just get away?”

Jiang Ping lifted a brow. “Then you’d better get used to it. After all, we’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of us.”

A whole lifetime, my foot. Tomorrow I’m breaking off this engagement. Her small face puffed up in fury, a tiny pufferfish just begging to be prodded.

He seized Cheng You’an by the wrist, making every fine hair on her arm stand on end. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. He simply shoved her into the bathroom and shut the door behind them.