Three years ago, A University east field, guitar, singing 'Meet'.
It felt familiar.
"I remember too. The emcee said it was an impromptu addition and vaguely mentioned it was for someone special. It caused a huge stir at the time."
"Exactly. Everyone thought the aloof campus heartthrob was about to confess, but then nothing happened, and we assumed it was just a gimmick..."
As the chatter pieced together, Jian Ran confirmed one thing: she had been there that day.
She remembered going to air out her maternal grandparents' house and coincidentally hearing that Zhou Yu was back at their alma mater on business. So she went to find him happily. On the way back, they passed the east field and stopped to watch for a while.
But then Zhou Yu got a work call, and they left hastily.
Just as they were leaving the crowd, Jian Ran heard a male voice from the stage, singing 'Meet' with a guitar accompaniment.
The voice was lazy and refreshing yet penetrating, each note wrapped in story and emotion, gently brushing the softest part of one's heart.
It made her stop in her tracks.
Plus, it was her favorite song. Jian Ran craned her neck to look at the stage several times, but there were too many people. She only saw a blurry figure under the spotlight.
Jian Ran turned to Chu Lulin, eyes lighting up.
What a coincidence!
Chu Lulin asked, confused, "What's wrong?"
Jian Ran excitedly told him the story. "Too bad I didn't see your face clearly."
Chu Lulin was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Even if you saw me clearly, you might not remember."
Jian Ran replied matter-of-factly, "Of course I would."
It's hard to remember others, but with his looks, it's difficult to forget.
Chu Lulin lowered his head and smiled. "Liar."
"What?" His voice was too soft, and Jian Ran didn't catch it.
Chu Lulin looked up casually. "Nothing. I said it's a pity."
Jian Ran blinked. "What's the pity?" Shouldn't it be 'what a coincidence'?
Chu Lulin smiled back. "A pity I wasn't seen by big sister back then. Otherwise, we could have met earlier."
Jian Ran disagreed. "No, it's not a pity. It means we have fate."
Fated people always meet. Fate is predetermined.
"Don't you believe in fate?"
Chu Lulin's lips curved. "I do."
But he believed more in human determination overcoming destiny.
The game continued. Jian Ran barely held on for a few rounds but eventually lost first.
According to the rules, the person who made her put down her last finger could ask her a truth question.
It was just a simple game; no one took it seriously. The punter intended to go easy and asked a relatively simple question.
"If I ask what type of guy you like, it's too cliché. So let me ask something fresh: what's the one thing you dislike most in a guy?"
This question wasn't hard. Jian Ran thought for a few seconds and replied, "I dislike scheming people the most."
Chu Lulin's figure stiffened slightly.
His lowered lashes hid the panic in his eyes.
They played a few more rounds, then called it a night when it was late.
Jian Ran had eaten too much and wanted to walk it off before returning. Chu Lulin naturally accompanied her.
Between the guest rooms and the hot spring area was a garden with stone paths lit by ground lamps, away from the noisy lobby—a perfect place for a digestive stroll.
But Chu Lulin kept zoning out since arriving.
Jian Ran asked if he was tired. "Maybe you should go back first. This place is close to the rooms—just a straight road. I'll wander a bit and go back on my own."
Chu Lulin paused. "No, I'm not tired."
Jian Ran said "oh."
As if to prove he really wasn't tired, Chu Lulin started small talk.
They chatted as they walked for a while, then he suddenly asked, "Big sister said she dislikes scheming people. May I ask why?"
Jian Ran was surprised he'd ask that, but she didn't hide it. "Because it's insincere."
She always believed that sincerity is crucial in human interactions.
Some might say being too sincere as an adult makes you vulnerable, but she still held that view.
"But what if beneath the scheming lies unreserved true feelings?" Chu Lulin asked cautiously.
Jian Ran raised an eyebrow.
Seriously? Were all academic elites this logically rigorous?