I Fell In Love With My Rival (GL) - Chapter 17.2

Su Chunyin’s sudden entrance into her world was like a mischievous rule-breaker throwing everything off course. Though their first few encounters had been unpleasant, Su Chunyin began showing up—helping her work, studying with her, chatting.

Sometimes she’d tell silly little stories. Sometimes she’d scowl over worksheets. And sometimes she’d bring small trinkets—useless things, really, much like Su Chunyin herself. But Fu Erqiu kept them all.

Fu Erqiu knew her own heart. She’d been alone for too long. She thought she didn’t need anyone, but the truth was—she did. She needed companionship, conversation, care, and laughter. Su Chunyin’s presence had brought a touch of warmth to her frozen heart. But she didn’t understand what was in Su Chunyin’s heart.

She looked at her. Why the sudden 180? Why this clingy persistence after being so combative before?

Fu Erqiu thought of the scene she’d walked in on earlier and understood: It was still about Lu Fang.

That delicate girl thought she’d hidden it well, but even people in Class 1 who barely knew her were already gossiping. How could Fu Erqiu not see?

She looked away. “Su Chunyin, why?”

Her voice was light, almost casual.

But Su Chunyin seemed startled. She blinked and swallowed hard. “Why else? I… I just want to be friends with you.”

Fu Erqiu gave a faint, mocking smile. The childish “let’s be friends” game she’d once heard from a little boss somehow found its way to her. Her tone was cold. “Stop pretending, Su Chunyin.”

Su Chunyin went quiet. Her face tightened, her eyes darted nervously. “What else could it be? Don’t overthink. I didn’t mean anything else…”

Fu Erqiu was losing patience. “Being friends” was just a front. In the end, Su Chunyin’s real goal was Lu Fang. And since the misunderstanding involved someone else, Fu Erqiu didn’t see the need to clarify anything on her behalf.

They stood in a quiet corner of the school building. Fu Erqiu reached out, easily pinning Su Chunyin against the wall. Her eyes lingered on her trembling lashes, flushed cheeks, and finally, her clenched fists. She gently pried open her fingers.

“Su Chunyin, I’m not interested in men. Stop chasing me.”

With that, Fu Erqiu turned and walked away. She didn’t see Su Chunyin standing behind her, cheeks burning red, frozen in place. So… Fu Erqiu really does like girls?

That night, Su Chunyin stayed uncharacteristically quiet, tossing and turning in bed. She kept replaying Fu Erqiu’s words in her mind. She’d already heard it from Song Rao, but hearing it from Fu Erqiu herself felt different—shocking, even. Her chest buzzed with emotion, like something was about to burst forth.

She messaged Qiu Ye but found herself distracted. Then her phone buzzed with a special ringtone. She froze—Lu Fang’s custom alert. He’d sent a lengthy analysis of Emperor Wu of Han and reminded her that Mr.

Chen had sharp eyes, so she should hand-copy it.

She replied with a simple [Okay], feeling a sour bitterness. She remembered how Lu Fang used to help write their apologies whenever any of them got in trouble. He’d always make sure they rewrote them by hand, though. But at some point, all of that had started to fade into unfamiliarity.

She glanced at their chat again and thought: Lu Fang had many good qualities—except his taste in girls. He had fallen for a lesbian. No way he was getting a response.

As someone who prided herself on good taste, Su Chunyin was ready to pester Fu Erqiu again the next day. But as soon as she snuck out, she got caught by her homeroom teacher and became a target for strict surveillance. Until finals, she didn’t get another chance to visit Class 1.

In Jiangcheng, high school freshmen hadn’t been sorted into classes yet. Final exams lasted three days. The first day included a math problem on conic sections. Su Chunyin flubbed most questions, but surprisingly nailed that one.

When comparing answers afterward, her score was higher than expected. Yang Yuxia put her in a headlock. “Wow, Chunyin! Were you secretly cheating on us?”

Su Chunyin modestly waved it off. “All thanks to Scholar Fu’s brilliant teaching.” Mentioning Fu Erqiu made her sigh—they hadn’t spoken since their falling out.

Song Rao noticed her gloomy expression and leaned over. “Haven’t seen you around Scholar Fu lately. Something happen?”

Su Chunyin glanced at Yang Yuxia and Xu Chang, then pulled Song Rao aside. After all, she had bragged in the group chat that Fu Erqiu adored her. She whispered, “What do I do if she’s ignoring me?”

Song Rao’s eyes gleamed. “Easy. Just strike where it hurts. To get through to someone, you gotta find their weak spot.”

Strike where it hurts?

Su Chunyin sat in her exam room at No.1 High School, finishing the last question on her science paper. At that moment, she finally had a plan.

No.1 High was quick to release students. The second day of exams marked the beginning of a long summer break. Fu Erqiu rushed to McDonald’s to try to resume her job, but the manager stammered, “We’re fully staffed for the summer.”

She understood and moved on to another part-time job where she’d previously taken leave. That boss looked her up and down. “A student? What kind of work can you do?”

Fu Erqiu got the message and didn’t press further.

Fu Erqiu ended up going to Brother Wang’s restaurant. He was happy to see her, but the neighborhood where his restaurant was located had recently been affected by the night market clean-up campaign, and business had significantly declined. Given the circumstances, Fu Erqiu didn’t feel comfortable asking him to take on a part-time worker.

After going in circles, she still couldn’t find a suitable place.

Fu Erqiu took out all her bank cards and carefully calculated her funds. While her savings were still relatively stable, Fu Ying’s health hung over her like a sword suspended by a thread, forcing her to find every possible way to save more money.

She opened her phone contacts and politely messaged the parents of a middle schooler she had once tutored—one whose grades had notably improved—asking them to settle their outstanding payment. Though she knew this might lower her chances of being rehired for the next term, at the end of the day, money in hand was what really counted.

Then she opened a chat with Zhu Lulu and reminded her to pay the remaining balance. Surprisingly, the usually procrastinating girl didn’t play dead this time and promptly transferred the rest of the money.

Fu Erqiu sent a simple “[?]” in reply. Zhu Lulu responded somewhat awkwardly:

[It’s just… um… have you heard any rumors lately?]

Fu Erqiu frowned.

[What rumors?]

It took a long while for the next reply to come:

[Guess not then. That’s good, haha. So… we’re settled now, right? If you ever hear any strange rumors in the future, please don’t come looking for me again.]

Before Fu Erqiu could even react, Zhu Lulu blocked her.

Fu Erqiu stared at the screen but didn’t take it too seriously.

That evening, she arrived at the Little Laundry Shop as usual. But even before she stepped inside, she noticed something felt different.

It was… lively. The place hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.

Someone had hung a fresh flower wreath at the entrance, with lush blossoms stretching outward and a soft floral scent wafting through the air. The old doorbell had been replaced with a wind chime that rang cheerfully in the breeze.

But the biggest change was inside the shop.

Even from outside, Fu Erqiu could hear Fu Ying laughing uncontrollably—light and joyful, the kind of laughter that could lift your spirits. For a moment, Fu Erqiu froze.

How long had it been since she’d heard her mother laugh like that?

Was it back in elementary school, when Fu Ying collapsed during the school’s parent-child sports event? Or was it during middle school, when a month-long hospitalization and the soaring medical bills buried her under a mountain of debt? As far back as Fu Erqiu could remember, her mother’s declining health had slowly stolen her laughter. And life had chiseled Fu Erqiu into a cold, quiet girl. Between medical bills and

debt, the weight on their shoulders had been suffocating. When it was just the two of them at the shop, silence was the norm. If they spoke at all, it was only about chores—never like this, never laughter and joy.

Fu Erqiu’s expression shifted subtly as she pushed open the door and walked in.

Inside, a bright and delicate girl was excitedly telling a story. She gestured animatedly as she talked, and when she noticed Fu Erqiu entering, her face lit up with delight. In a flash, she charged toward her like a cannonball, lost her balance, and stumbled right into Fu Erqiu’s arms.

Fu Erqiu raised a hand to steady her and frowned. “Be careful.”

Su Chunyin looked up, wrapped her arms around Fu Erqiu’s waist in the position they landed in, and beamed like nothing had happened. “Qiuqiu, why’d you come back so late?”

Though it was phrased like a question, her tone was sweet and teasing.

Fu Erqiu glanced at her without answering. She walked over to move the laundry basket beside Fu Ying. “Mom, how many times have I told you? Leave this for me when I get back.”

She stepped forward, causing Fu Ying to retreat a bit. “My body can still handle moving a couple baskets.”

Fu Erqiu didn’t reply, silently carrying the laundry into the back room.

Su Chunyin instantly realized—Fu Erqiu was deliberately ignoring her.

She felt a little wronged. She’d always had a bossy streak and rarely humbled herself like this. And now that she had, Fu Erqiu was still unmoved.

Undeterred, Su Chunyin followed her into the back. When Fu Erqiu folded clothes, she folded too. When Fu Erqiu picked up a basket, she grabbed one as well. When Fu Erqiu reached for the drying rod, Su

Chunyin snatched it first. This time, Fu Erqiu couldn’t ignore her anymore.

Fu Erqiu put down what she was holding and took a step back, standing in a narrow corner surrounded by laundry baskets and hanging rods. The dim overhead light cast a wide shadow across her face, obscuring her expression.

“Su Chunyin,” she said, her voice cool as ever, but with a flicker of something else. “How long is this little act supposed to last? A week? A month?”

Su Chunyin blinked, caught off guard. “What act? What do you mean a week or a month?”

Fu Erqiu didn’t answer. Su Chunyin, too eager to show off, quickly moved on without probing deeper. She stepped forward, eyes shining. “Qiuqiu, do you have any plans for summer break? I heard from Auntie that you’ve always done summer jobs, but they don’t pay well. Why don’t you tutor me instead? Thanks to the formulas you taught me, I did way better on the finals this time…”

Fu Erqiu’s gaze flicked over her, then looked away. Su Chunyin could feel the weight of that gaze—probing, analyzing—but it never lingered long.

Su Chunyin’s face darkened. She stepped closer, until the space between them was almost too close. Fu Erqiu was backed into the corner, and Su Chunyin leaned in as if about to fall into her arms.

Frustrated, Su Chunyin grabbed Fu Erqiu’s face and turned it toward her. “What are you avoiding?”

The warm light still masked Fu Erqiu’s expression, but Su Chunyin looked into her eyes. “So? Will you tutor me this summer?”

A tense silence fell over the cramped little room. Su Chunyin hated this kind of emotional tug-of-war. What good did silence do? Did it solve anything? Was she supposed to guess the answer?

She clenched her teeth, her tone urgent. “Yes or no? If yes, say yes. If not, fine. Just give me a clear answer!”

Fu Erqiu shifted slightly, and the faint rustling of her clothes sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet space.

Suddenly, Su Chunyin felt nervous for no reason. She had a strange hunch that whatever Fu Erqiu said next would be very important.

Sure enough, Fu Erqiu lowered her head slightly, and the overhead light spilled across her face. For the first time, Su Chunyin could see her expression clearly—gentle, serious, and unlike the Fu Erqiu she usually knew.

She stared directly at Su Chunyin. Her lips moved slowly.

It took a beat for Su Chunyin’s brain to catch up and interpret the words.

Fu Erqiu asked, “Why are you getting close to me?”

Su Chunyin could’ve given countless casual answers—nothing deep, nothing sincere. She could’ve made up something on the spot. But maybe it was the dim lighting, or maybe it was the unfamiliar softness in Fu

Erqiu’s tone that made her heart skip a beat. Whatever it was, she couldn’t tell the perfect lie she’d rehearsed.

The light illuminated her blushing cheeks, and her heart thudded uncontrollably in her ears.

She stammered, “Why else… I… I like you, okay?”