Baby, You Should Break Up with Him - Chapter 2

The reflection in the mirror was one Feng Wen found both familiar and…

“Zhizhi? Can… you hear me?”

It was unclear whose network connection was worse—the voice of his friend Yu Nian on the phone faded in and out, occasionally cutting out entirely.

Xie Zhizhi, who had been holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek, took a moment to pull it away and check. The signal was full bars. After calling out “Hello?” twice with no improvement on the other end, he simply put it on speaker and tossed it onto the desk.

“Hea… ring… zzz… dumb… ass!”

Xie Zhizhi propped his chin on one hand and retorted, “Electronic barking?”

The four words hit Yu Nian’s ears perfectly, pissing him off so much that his voice crackled even more as he cursed more viciously.

After running into the school gates, Yu Nian’s three-bar signal finally became full. He yelled into the phone, “How about now?! Hey? Hey? Hey? Dumb—ass—!”

“You’re the dumbass,” Xie Zhizhi quickly turned down the volume. “Stop shouting, I can hear you.They were the same age but attended different schools—the Guilty Golden Délann University where Xie Zhizhi studied was separated from Yu Nian’s remote mountain school by countless miles. They occasionally called each other to ease their longing.

Yu Nian had just finished eating and, recalling a few messages from the group chat, said, “Xie Zhizhi, people in the group said your tears shot out just like that meme—whoosh! —for real or cap?”

Hearing this, Xie Zhizhi picked up his phone and switched to the messaging app to check. His own class group was dead silent, not a single message. He had no idea how Yu Nian, from a different school, had gotten hold of some wild group chat ID and was lurking there daily, secretly watching him.

“Got a crush? Your intel is way too timely,” Xie Zhizhi rolled his eyes.

A retching sound came through the phone. Yu Nian said, “New number, don’t even start.”

Xie Zhizhi glanced into his desk drawer. “Cried so hard your dad drank two liters of water, you know?”

Yu Nian was speechless. “Oh? Really? Want an award for being so dedicated?”

“Sure,” Xie Zhizhi nodded calmly.

Yu Nian cursed, “Sure your ass.”

…

The two chatted idly until Yu Nian, having entered his school building and nearly suffocated from climbing the stairs, had to hang up.

As soon as the call ended, the empty classroom fell so quiet Xie Zhizhi could hear his own breathing.

He zoned out for a moment, then pulled an apple and a small roll of pink satin ribbon from his desk. His slender, articulate fingers fluttered like butterflies, swiftly tying an exaggerated, oversized long-tailed double bow around the apple, which had originally cost only 1.8 yuan.

Xie Zhizhi examined it, nodded in satisfaction, then stood up and placed it neatly in the very center of Shen Che’s desk. This was the key prop he had prepared for the afternoon.

But Shen Che didn’t come to class that afternoon.

It didn’t really matter to Xie Zhizhi—at most, he’d lost a 1.8-yuan apple. But he couldn’t avoid the few subtle, probing glances scanning him like X-rays.

Even during Economics, a class where looking away for a second meant coming back to incomprehensible material, the omega girl sitting behind him couldn’t resist poking his back and stealthily leaning in with a gossip-hungry expression.

When he turned slightly, she pointed discreetly at the unclaimed apple in the third row and whispered, “Did you put that apple on Shen Che’s desk?”

Duh.

Knowing he couldn’t avoid it, Xie Zhizhi blinked his watery eyes and nodded pitifully. “Yes, it was me.”

Successfully receiving the omega sister’s insincere comfort and her utterly sincere delight in watching the drama unfold.

The omega sister couldn’t hide her excitement as she said, “Stop crying, Shen Che probably isn’t coming to class today.”

Xie Zhizhi obediently pursed her lips, putting on a pitiful act, “Why not?”

The omega sister leaned in to gossip with the person in question: “I saw Shen Che having lunch with the new omega from the next class. Probably skipping afternoon classes together?”

As soon as she finished speaking, the omega sister watched with satisfaction as Xie Zhizhi’s already pale face lost all color as if heartbroken, the reddened corners of her eyes making her appear even more pitiful.

Feebly accepting the tissue handed over in advance, Xie Zhizhi dramatically dabbed at tears that hadn’t even fallen yet. After putting on a show of utter devastation, she turned back and slumped over her desk, emitting intermittent sobs.

Five minutes later, she stopped moving.

Actually, she had fallen asleep.

While Xie Zhizhi was sound asleep, to outsiders—including but not limited to Feng Wen—the scene was interpreted as follows:

The poor beta, having received shocking news, appeared utterly heartbroken. Too devastated to even cry properly, she lay slumped over her desk like a lovesick corpse.

Wow, she must really be in love, thought the omega sister.

–

8:30 PM.

A Rolls-Royce Cullinan pulled up steadily at Shanhuan’s entrance. The door opened, a long leg stepped out, revealing a cold and aristocratic face. Feng Wen turned to give a few instructions before leisurely walking through the softly lit entrance.

Thick glass refracted gentle blue-purple light. After scanning the room, Feng Wen had no intention of lingering on the crowded first floor and was guided to the second level, which wasn’t open to the public.

Ding Yizhou, curled up on a sofa, spotted Feng Wen first and waved enthusiastically. Feng Wen walked over and took a seat.

“Late.” Rows of shot glasses stood on the dark transparent tabletop. Ding Yizhou pointed at them and declared firmly, “Drink.”

Feng Wen chuckled: “Who begged me to come?” Still, he picked up an ice-blue shot and downed it in one go.

The new owner had good taste—the ceiling was adorned with meticulously arranged lights resembling a breathing, flowing galaxy.

“Check that out, OK?” Ding Yizhou pointed.

Feng Wen lazily turned his gaze to the first-floor stage. The bass and drums on stage were half-submerged in dim lighting, their presence nearly invisible compared to the captivating figure dancing at the forefront to the music.

“Pretty, right?” Ding Yizhou crossed his legs and grinned, taking a sip of his light blue cocktail.

Feng Wen narrowed his eyes, then turned back disinterestedly, “Average.”

Ding Yizhou. “That’s just average?!”

He was shocked, “Are you blind?! She’s gorgeous!”

Feng Wen remained silent.

Ding Yizhou looked incredulous. His eyes slowly traveled downward as he asked in pained exasperation, “Tell me honestly—do you even have a d1ck?”

Feng Wen met his gaze calmly.

Two seconds later, Ding Yizhou sighed as if he’d seen through everything, “Are you really staying celibate for Shen Che to this extent?”

Feng Wen laughed, genuinely questioning his childhood friend’s mental capacity for the first time. His thin lips moved, delivering two words, “Fucking idiot.”

Tonight, he had come solely for the alcohol. If Ding Yizhou hadn’t stubbornly insisted on meeting at a bar, he wouldn’t have shown up at all—let alone been subjected to Ding Yizhou’s brainless, in-your-face questioning about whether he was “not up for it.”

“You’d seem smarter if you talked less,” Feng Wen turned his face away.

Ding Yizhou scoffed in displeasure and snapped, “No taste.”

Feng Wen downed the shot that had been shoved into his hand in one go. As the sharp, lively burn of the alcohol spread through his mouth, he glanced broadly toward the figure on stage. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he withdrew his gaze again, unimpressed. It really was just that—nothing special.

Not attractive?

It wasn’t as if he lacked an eye for beauty.

The man on stage had sharp, clean shoulder and neck lines, broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and well-proportioned muscles. His legs were longer than most people’s lifelines. Even the black lace-and-leather mask he wore shimmered under the lights, exuding a refined yet wild, torn aesthetic—of course he was attractive.

But there were plenty of attractive people in the world—far too many.

If you wanted innocence, it was there; if you wanted allure, that was there too. Since when has this world ever lacked beauty?

If it was just about looks, that was far too cheap and utterly uninteresting. Besides, the person on stage hadn’t even shown his face, playing into some masked aesthetic Feng Wen didn’t understand. He couldn’t fathom why Ding Yizhou, who usually prioritized looks above all else when picking gaming partners, was making such a fuss.

Feng Wen patiently made small talk with Ding Yizhou until the band finished their first set. “Going to take a leak,” he said, standing up and heading out.

The second floor was sparsely populated; if you strayed a little from the main area, you wouldn’t see a soul. The noise faded from his ears like threads being pulled away.

Five minutes later, he leaned against a dim corner outside the restroom, pulling a Black Ice cigarette from the pack with his teeth. The lighter gave a soft click, and a faint red glow flickered between his fingers.

Exhale—

The smoke rolled in his mouth before gently drifting out.

“Hey? Brother Zhang?”

Not far away, the sound of a flush followed by a door closing echoed softly. Though quiet, it was enough to make Feng Wen lift his eyelids.

A tall man walked out, speaking into his phone, “It’s fine, I checked. Not a scratch, don’t worry.”

A few seconds later, the man stopped in front of the left sink. His black silk shirt was loosely tucked into a leather waist cincher, cinching a waist slimmer than any comic book exaggeration. Leaning slightly forward to check himself in the mirror, he arched his back, his spine tracing a line of lean, fluid muscle—pleasing to the eye like a drawn bow.

In his left hand, hanging loosely at his side, was a leather-and-lace mask.

Feng Wen’s eyebrow lifted slightly as he recognized the man—the little lead singer from the band downstairs.

The singer casually set down his still-active phone and raised his right hand, fingertips gently checking and stroking a faint red mark on his neck.

Looking up further— Feng Wen’s eyes narrowed. Reflected in the mirror was a face that felt both familiar and… not quite.

Feng Wen watched the singer quietly from the corner for a long time, until the ash at the tip of his cigarette could no longer hold on and suddenly fell, surrendering to gravity.

“Ah—Xie Zhizhi?” The name slipped out in a breathy whisper.

Studying the strikingly eye-catching “deskmate” lead singer who looked nothing like his memory, Feng Wen found it all rather amusing. Suddenly, he lifted his wrist and crushed the still mostly intact Black Ice against the smoking post.

“Yeah, really nothing, just got scraped a bit. Be right back, Zhang-gee.” Xie Zhizhi tapped the screen to end the call, leaving a faint, nearly imperceptible damp trace on the cold glass.

Footsteps approached from behind. Accustomed to maintaining his masked persona, his nerves instantly tightened. Without bothering to check the mirror again, he hurriedly raised his left hand and fastened the leather mask over his face.

The newcomer, however, seemed completely unaware of him. The tall figure naturally brushed past and strode inward.

Good. Xie Zhizhi breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The intermission wasn’t long. After confirming the injury on his neck was merely a reddened scratch, he turned to leave.

But the man’s footsteps came to an abrupt, unnatural halt not far away, freezing in place.

The air grew still with the sudden absence of sound.

“Hey—”

As he spoke, the tall alpha slowly turned sideways.

He held an unlit cigarette between his lips and offered a polite yet distant curl of his mouth, his tone neither warm nor cold, as if casually addressing the only stranger nearby.

Behind his mask, Xie Zhizhi’s pupils constricted sharply. Staring at the other’s face, he never expected it would be Feng Wen who stopped him.

How could it be Feng Wen?

Feng Wen took in Xie Zhizhi’s instantly tensed posture but merely asked with perfectly measured puzzlement:

“Got a light?”

As he spoke, Feng Wen tilted his chin up slightly, as if indicating the unlit cigarette resting between his lips.

Xie Zhizhi didn’t answer.

What did this mean?

His hand, hanging at his side, unconsciously twisted with anxiety. Although the man before him seemed natural and sincere without a flaw, Xie Zhizhi’s gaze cautiously swept over Feng Wen’s face before settling on the unlit cigarette between his lips.

Picking a fight? Or genuinely asking for a light?

The warm touch of his fingertips, unobstructed by the black gauze and leather mask, steadied him slightly. Xie Zhizhi reminded himself that he was wearing a mask that thoroughly concealed his appearance.

Even if Feng Wen had x-ray vision, he wouldn’t be able to recognize him.

Besides, even if he did recognize him, why would Feng Wen—Shen Che’s childhood friend—pretend not to know him here?

With that thought, Xie Zhizhi suddenly calmed down.

He wet his lips and met Feng Wen’s smoke-gray eyes. “Yes.”

His tone was even, though a faint, barely noticeable tremor lingered if one listened closely.

The curve of Feng Wen’s lips deepened slightly. He took a timely step closer, leaning in slightly.

His neatly trimmed black hair brushed across his forehead with the movement, and his narrow, smoke-gray eyes crinkled with impeccable friendliness.

Feng Wen said softly, “Thanks.”

Between his slightly parted lips holding the cigarette, his pink tongue flickered twice as he spoke.

Xie Zhizhi forced his gaze away from the small damp spot on the cigarette filter and struggled to suppress the pressure that came with the other’s proximity.

Unease…

Click—

Xie Zhizhi murmured, “…You’re welcome.”

A small ice-blue flame ignited from the metal lighter. The alpha with the cigarette dipped his head a few inches closer. Within seconds, the pristine white cigarette was lit, its tip glowing red.

Xie Zhizhi remained perfectly still, his spine straight and composed. As Feng Wen straightened up, he smoothly returned the lighter to his pocket.

“Anything else?”

Feng Wen tilted his head aside to prevent the smoke from his mouth from drifting toward Xie Zhizhi. Hearing the words, he turned back and replied leisurely, “No more. Thank you.”

“Goodbye.” Holding the cigarette between his index and middle fingers, Feng Wen bid farewell naturally and politely.

Xie Zhizhi remained silent.

Feng Wen let out a soft chuckle, turned away without a hint of reluctance, his footsteps resuming in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

His acting was flawless.

Only when the man’s figure completely vanished around the corner did Xie Zhizhi finally let out a sigh of relief. He tilted his head toward the large mirror nearby.

In the reflection, aside from a pale sliver of his neck, the black veil and leather securely concealed his entire face, leaving no trace of familiarity visible.

There was no way he could have been recognized. Xie Zhizhi reaffirmed to himself.

His nerves, strained until this moment, finally relaxed. Adjusting his collar, he turned and walked away.