Being "Crushed" - Chapter 1

Chapter 1
“After Being Framed by My Crush”
by 一娪
April 25, 2025

Zhonggang—

Snowy nights on the winter solstice always carry a poetic charm. The snow falls gently from the sky, some of it landing on the shoulders of lovers, adding a romantic touch to their confessions; some brushing past the crowd, silently melting into the earth…

Only a small part of it gets caught intentionally, cradled in warm palms… gradually returning to its original form.

Zhonggang has always been bustling, with streets crisscrossing like a web and buildings rich in vintage artistic charm. In the sea of people constantly moving, a particularly tall figure suddenly stopped at the street corner. Under the curious gazes of passersby, he looked up in a daze at the passionate snowfall.

A moment later, the man removed his black leather gloves and held out his palm, catching a single, pure white snowflake.

After a brief chill, the snow melted.

He curled his fingers to hold it tightly, letting the snow slowly merge with the warmth of his palm.

His long lashes drooped, and a faint, satisfied smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

A sweet, familiar voice echoed in his mind, as if from deep within a long-lost memory:

“Snow is cold by nature, but when someone chooses to catch it, it too will gradually become warm.”

He had remembered this sentence for a very long time—so long that he’d forgotten who said it.

Yet every time it snowed, he would instinctively stop, just like that person from his memory: carefully catching the snow, holding it, watching it melt in his palm, feeling its coldness gradually warm to body temperature—again and again, never tiring of it.

He had become the person willing to catch the snow. But the thing he truly wanted to catch had never been the snow.

When he opened his palm again, it was empty—no trace of moisture remained, as if reminding him: the warmth just now was nothing more than a self-imposed illusion.

Thinking of something, he gave a self-deprecating smile, put his black glove back on, shoved his hand into the pocket of his dark leather jacket, and merged back into the surging crowd.

Then, he walked alone into the only pharmacy still lit on the street. Just as he arrived, a young couple stepped out— the girl’s face was flushed, eyes darting away shyly; the boy held her hand with a grin, leaning in again and again. Their playful banter reached his ears clearly:

“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Then you must be shy. Your face is so red~”
“Don’t flatter yourself!”

The mischievous smile on the boy’s face and the blush on the girl’s cheeks made it clear—they were at that tender age of first love, sweet and dazzling.

Unbidden, some long-buried memories rose to the surface, and he once again thought of that person he claimed to have “forgotten.”

He was seventeen then, full of youthful arrogance.

That was when he met her—the girl who was as pure and cold as a snowflake.

Every time he got near her, he couldn’t help teasing her.

“Hey, why are you like a sensitive plant? Just a little closer and you get all shy?”
“I’m not shy. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh? Then why is your face red?”
“…It’s cold.”
“Oh, then I’ll kiss you—to warm you up.”

The girl’s face turned even redder, like a shy red plum blooming in the snow—charming and lovely, making it impossible for him to look away.

He grinned with triumph, admiring how she wanted nothing more than to bury herself in the ground from embarrassment. To him, she was irresistibly cute.

Just getting a little closer was enough to make her melt, like snowflakes—cold on the outside, but melting easily under a warm touch.

Most people would have stopped there. But he was Lu Sifang, the infamous troublemaker of Yunsheng High School, known as the “Little Tyrant of Yunsheng.” Wild and unruly, his reputation was legendary.

He hadn’t backed down in the face of Song Yuhan’s cold and aloof exterior back then, and now, of course, he wouldn’t miss a golden chance to get closer.

While she stood there red-faced and speechless, he leaned in again, grinning playfully:

“Sensitive plant or snowflake— which do you like better?”
She turned away coldly, voice firm: “Neither.”
He blinked as if understanding, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully:
“Everyone says I’m a little tyrant. That sounds more fitting for a snowflake. But you, when you get shy, look just like a sensitive plant…”
Seeing her trying to suppress her expression, he smiled wider, then snapped his fingers as if an idea struck him:
“Got it! I’ll just take turns calling you both—that way it’s perfect!”
He grinned smugly, flipping his hair, “You’re so lucky to have such a clever classmate like me.”

The way he exaggerated the last word made the teasing even more ambiguous.

Song Yuhan’s face flushed even deeper. Unable to hold back any longer, she raised a fist and swung at him.

Lu Sifang instinctively dodged, and due to the momentum, she lost her balance and stumbled toward the ground.

At the last second, he caught her by the waist and pulled her toward him. Once she stood upright, he released her like a gentleman—then immediately leaned in again, teasing:

“What, do you like me that much?”

She pushed him away, red-faced: “Are you sick?!”

But the insult sounded more like something else entirely.

“Yeah. And you’re my medicine,” he said with a smirk.

She fell silent.

Thinking of those slightly childish days, he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, though it was unclear whether he was laughing or sighing.

He couldn’t remember what came after.

He only knew how it ended—
She leaned into another man’s arms, walking away without looking back. Sweet and happy… and deeply painful.

Five years had passed. Now he had medals piling up, hailed by the media as a once-in-a-century skateboarding genius.

After all these years… he wondered how she was doing.

Was she happy?

…Forget it.

He didn’t really want to know.

A cold wind blew past. He pressed down the brim of his cap, snapping out of his memories.

He almost forgot—he came here to buy medicine for his manager.

Zhou Shangqing, that guy, got sick the moment they arrived in Zhonggang—vomiting and diarrhea. He told him to work out more, but of course, he never listened.

Now look: right before the finals, the gold medalist had to run around town in the middle of the night looking for diarrhea medicine…

But what could he do? That bowl-cut guy had been calling him “bro” for nearly ten years.

So he walked past the affectionate couple and headed straight into the store.

The shelves were neatly arranged. He walked purposefully down one of the aisles. On the other side, a snowy white silhouette was approaching. At first, he thought it was just another customer and didn’t pay much attention.

But the moment he passed by that slender figure—separated only by a shelf—that familiar fragrance, the one that had defined his youth, suddenly rushed back and enveloped him.

At the same time, his heart pounded with a force it hadn’t felt in years…

No one knew better than he did what that meant.

And no one else could trigger such a visceral response—except her.

Swallowing hard, the relaxed calm in his eyes vanished, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief.

What unsettled him even more was that, even though time had passed… she hadn’t left. The white figure still lingered in his peripheral vision.

Instinctively, he held his breath. But the next moment, he was furious at himself for doing so.

It’s been years.

What was he expecting? Why was he so nervous?

He knew perfectly well—it couldn’t be her.

So, in a desperate attempt to shut down his own delusions, he turned his head abruptly, ready to use the most direct method to force reality into his brain.

But when he finally saw her face clearly, his pupils contracted.

He froze in place—completely stiff.

Their eyes met, and both of them saw the shock and recognition in the other’s gaze. For a long moment, neither spoke or looked away. They just stared, overwhelmed.

He finally shook his head and let out a soft laugh:

“Am I hallucinating? Why now, of all times…”

Song Yuhan, too, snapped out of her daze. Quietly wiping away a tear, she composed herself. While he was still muttering to himself, she cautiously called his name:

“Lu Sifang…”

The familiar sweetness in her voice made his body freeze once again. No matter how many years passed, she could still stir his heart and burn away every ounce of reason with just a word.

Just a second ago, he’d been convincing himself to let go—
But one word from her, and it all came crashing down.

He looked up suddenly. That beautiful face, her cool, snow-like aura—perfectly overlapped with the person he had once tried so hard to forget.

Compared to her teenage self, she had lost her baby fat and now radiated elegance and poise. Time had only made her more stunning.

Even more dazzling than before—so much so that he felt she was out of reach.

Lu Sifang quickly lowered his eyes, the brim of his cap hiding his panicked gaze. His hands at his sides clenched into tight fists.

From Song Yuhan’s perspective, all she could see was the taut line of his jaw, but his expression remained unreadable.

She looked down and smiled bitterly.

Of course… he must really hate her.

He wouldn’t even say hello.

Just like back then.

To ease the tension, she forced herself to smile politely and said:

“Didn’t expect to run into you here…”

Ironically, Lu Sifang had just mustered the courage to say something too—but the moment he saw her breathtaking smile, his breath caught in his throat.

His heart—again—completely lost its rhythm, thudding wildly in his chest.

It seemed like in front of her, he was always this ridiculous—totally out of control. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

He started to wonder if his body didn’t even belong to him—but to her.

Forcing himself to look away, his cold face twisted slightly in frustration. He was clearly ashamed of how he reacted after seeing her. Gritting his teeth, his heartbeat grew increasingly erratic… it was getting harder to breathe.

What was happening to him?

Before he could say a word, he collapsed—right in front of her stunned eyes.

“!!!”