Chapter 20

Take twenty bites.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: You mean the song, or the person?
[BK]: Is there a difference?
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Of course.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: The song is fine. The person isn’t.
[BK]: ?
[BK]: Why?
That question made her feel oddly uncomfortable.
The reason behind her answer was complicated. If she really had to boil it down into a “because,” then there was only one reason left.
Ying Tao thought about it, searching for wording that wouldn’t wound a fan’s pride too badly. She weighed it for a long time before finally replying.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Maybe…
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: He’s too much of a scumbag.
[BK]: …
It was…
How should she even describe it?
From childhood to adulthood, He Mingye had coasted on that face of his and cashed in on who knew how many “benefits.”
Girls chased him all the way to his front door and still refused to leave.
She remembered the year He Mingye graduated from high school.
That was when Japanese dramas were all the rage, and their affiliated school suddenly got swept up in a trend called “the second button.”
They said the second button on a shirt was the closest to the heart.
So if a boy handed that second button to a girl, it was the same as giving her his heart.
Back then, a lot of girls blocked He Mingye’s path and asked him for his second button.
By chance, when He Mingye’s grade was taking graduation photos, her class was in PE.
When the teacher announced free activity time, Zhou Lubai suddenly ran over, grabbed her, and said, “Come on, come on—word is someone confessed to the Young Master. Your Brother Xiao Bai’s taking you to watch the drama.”
She frowned immediately, chewing on her milk straw, completely uninterested.
“I’m not going. What’s there to see?”
“This time it’s different,” Zhou Lubai whispered with a mischievous grin. “The one confessing is the recognized school belle—remember that girl who stole the spotlight at the New Year’s art showcase? The dance-specialty student.”
Ying Tao had some impression.
At the last New Year performance, Tang Mingfei had worked herself to the bone trying to stun the crowd with her dance, only to get crushed by an upperclass senior’s presence.
“So what?”
Ying Tao still wasn’t interested. “What’s so special about that?”
“You’re dumb,” Zhou Lubai said. “If the school belle confessed to you, how would you feel?”
“Do you think the Young Master will accept or reject?”
“If he accepts, you can film it—get the evidence.”
“Then go whisper a little in front of Aunt He, and wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge for the last time he stole your game console?”
“…You just want revenge,” Ying Tao said, deadpan.
“Is there a difference?” Zhou Lubai hooked an arm around her neck. “My business is your business.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to vent that anger.”
Thinking of how He Mingye had promised her he wouldn’t tell anyone about her faking sick leave, only to turn around and sell her out anyway, Ying Tao bit down hard on her straw.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
The two of them snuck over, all furtive and guilty.
They hadn’t expected Shen Minglin to be there too. The three ran into each other head-on.
Shen Minglin had come to hide from the noise. But to keep him from being discovered, they dragged him into it by force.
Conscience aside—the school belle really was a school belle.
She was beautiful: soft brows, gentle eyes, and her proportions were incredible.
Her long legs were honestly jaw-dropping.
Zhou Lubai sighed in admiration. “Those legs are longer than my life. As expected of the Young Master—he can even hook the school belle.”
Ying Tao quietly glanced down at her own legs.
Because she’d trained gymnastics since childhood, her legs were well-shaped.
But they weren’t those skinny, comic-book legs. Her calves were tight with muscle, and the boys in class even mocked her for having “radish legs.”
She wasn’t sad about it.
She only thought their definition of beauty was narrow—too low-level to appreciate her uniqueness.
But staring at those long legs, she didn’t know why she suddenly felt uncomfortable, like her chest had gone stuffy.
“Classmate He… could you give me your second button?” the girl asked shyly, making the request delicately.
The boy standing opposite her was tall.
The same shirt and dress pants looked exceptionally striking on him.
He didn’t stand straight—only leaned against the railing, messy fringe brushing his brows and eyes.
His long lashes were lowered, his mood unreadable.
It was like he hadn’t heard her at all. His gaze stayed fixed on his phone.
Suddenly, his brows knit, a hint of impatience flashing. He turned the phone screen off.
In the instant the lock screen flickered, an image flashed by.
The girl froze for a moment, thinking she’d seen it wrong.
Looking at the boy’s obvious impatience, she was a little scared.
Seeing that he seemed to have no intention of responding, she snapped back to herself and, in a rush, confessed loudly:
“Classmate He, I like you.”
“From the first time in the dance studio—when you stood up for me—I’ve been hopelessly in love with you.”
“I know if I miss today, I’ll definitely regret it in the future, so—”
She drew in a deep breath, like she was making the biggest decision of her life, mustering all her courage.
“Classmate He, please date me.”
Even if it was only a fleeting blossom.
Even if they’d go their separate ways later.
At least at this moment, she didn’t want to leave regrets behind.
Not everyone had that kind of courage.
Ying Tao hid off to the side to watch the show, but she couldn’t help admiring the girl’s all-or-nothing resolve.
Not just her—even Zhou Lubai looked a little moved.
After all, who would bear to reject a pretty girl and make her sad?
Zhou Lubai said, “I bet you the Young Master’s totally tempted. I think he’ll definitely say yes.”
Shen Minglin only glanced over and raised a brow. “Not necessarily.”
They were a bit far away. They could only see He Mingye’s back.
Maybe he said something, because the girl’s adoration slowly shattered. Even her face turned pale.
Zhou Lubai couldn’t hold back. He squeezed forward, trying to hear what they were saying.
But he wasn’t careful—jostling and pushing, he shoved Ying Tao right out into the open.
The commotion was loud enough that it immediately drew their attention.
Someone was confessing, and she popped out like a giant lightbulb—how awkward was that?
Seeing the two look over, Ying Tao could only play dumb.
“What a coincidence,” she said with an innocent laugh. “You guys have PE too?”
He Mingye’s gaze was dark and heavy as it landed on her.
He looked like he was thinking about something. Then, with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile, he said:
“Third-year middle schoolers come here for PE class?”
“…”
Behind her, Zhou Lubai and the others were trying not to laugh.
Ying Tao lowered her head, so mortified she wished the ground would swallow her.
He Mingye stared at her for a moment, then spoke abruptly.
“Come here.”
Ying Tao walked up stiffly, her scalp tight, her voice weak.
“What?”
In the next second, a black shadow flickered in front of her.
He casually tore off the second button of his shirt and tossed it into her hand.
Ying Tao was completely lost. She looked up at him, confused—
Only to see He Mingye lift his eyes coolly, his gaze sliding over the person beside him, and say lazily:
“Sorry. I don’t have any extra buttons.”
“…”
The girl’s beautiful eyes instantly reddened. Tears trembled at the brink, making her look heartbreakingly pitiful.
Even Ying Tao felt bad for her.
She was about to say something, when her neck jerked—He Mingye tugged the back of her collar.
“Let’s go.”
That one flashy move made her look like some eternal sinner.
She held that button like it was a burning coal—keeping it felt wrong, throwing it away felt wrong.
Ying Tao felt guilty as hell. All she could do was mutter softly,
“Sorry.”
“Next time, don’t be so blind.”
“Meeting the wrong person is just temporary bad luck—but not being able to read people can bury a lifetime of happiness.”
…
So how was she supposed to explain something like that clearly?
People online only looked at faces.
He Mingye was basically unstoppable. No one would ever know just how scummy he’d been in the past—how many girls’ sincere feelings he’d hurt, all without even trying.
Ugh. Scumbag.
Ying Tao fumed.
Maybe her answer had been too ridiculous—BK seemed to go speechless.
Not long after, BK’s avatar dimmed.
And it wasn’t just that.
For a long while after, even when she logged on occasionally, she never saw that avatar light up again.
For some reason, every time she went online and saw that gray icon in her list, she felt a little disappointed.
They’d known each other for only a few hours.
She didn’t even know his name.
Maybe it was because on the day her beliefs collapsed completely, the brief companionship he’d offered made her feel a thread of familiar warmth.
Like…
That person.
The one who appeared quietly when her life was at its darkest, stayed with her through a long, cruel winter—
And then, after spring arrived, broke his promise.
Seeing her always zoning out at the game, Miao-miao eyed her suspiciously.
“Tao-tao, you’ve been really weird lately. Don’t tell me you’re in an online romance?”
Ying Tao shot back, “How old do you think I am? Online romance?”
Miao-miao didn’t get it. “Then why are you sighing at your phone every day? You didn’t even like games this much before.”
Ying Tao muttered, “Maybe I just have a lot of anger. Is that not allowed?”
Miao-miao shrugged. “Fine. Either way, online romance isn’t reliable. You know that.”
“Don’t end up getting your money and your body scammed.”
“Don’t follow in my footsteps. I’ve suffered for it.”
Miao-miao meant well.
Back then, she’d loved finding validation in games.
At first, it was just a gaming buddy.
Later, it slowly turned into an in-game couple.
Who knew the other side was a full-on catfish account?
Not only did they toy with her feelings, they also looted her account clean.
She was so furious she immediately bought a new account, went back, and pinned them on the duel platform—
Killing them seven times in and seven times out until their level got reset to zero, only then did she feel satisfied.
“Don’t worry,” Ying Tao said. “I can tell the difference between the internet and real life.”
She was just too annoyed lately, so she wanted to play a couple rounds and vent—that was all.
But soon, she didn’t have time to overthink.
Finals were coming.
Everyone buried their heads in review and focused on exams.
Ying Tao lived in the library. She didn’t have the energy to pay attention to anything outside.
When she finally survived the endless exam week, she’d barely stepped out of the exam room—
When Aunt He called.
“Peach baby, your Uncle He and I are back in the country. Will you come home for dinner tonight?”
“Auntie made your favorite sweet-and-sour spare ribs, and I have a special surprise for you too.”
Ying Tao had been happy at first, about to agree—
But the moment she thought she might run into He Mingye, the smile on her face froze.
She stammered, “Auntie He, I have exams—”
“Alright, alright, I know you’ve all been working so hard lately,” Aunt He said, laughing. “Perfect timing—come back and eat a good meal. Auntie will help you nourish yourself.”
Her voice was warm and coaxing.
“Baby Tao-tao, it’s been over half a year since we last saw you. Don’t you miss us?”
Ying Tao paused.
She could refuse anyone else’s requests.
But she couldn’t refuse Aunt He.
After her parents’ divorce, she’d lived in the He household.
Aunt He treated her well—like her own child.
The mother-daughter affection she’d never felt from Wen Yalan…
She’d felt it from Aunt He.
“I miss you. I really miss you,” she said softly. Her eyes even stung.
During the time they’d been abroad, she’d felt like a stray with nowhere to go.
Even on breaks, she didn’t know where she could go.
Ying Tao sniffed, then said quietly, “Then I’ll go back to the dorm to pack a little, and I’ll come home for dinner tonight.”
Aunt He laughed. “Okay. I’ll have someone come pick you up.”
“No need. I’ll come back myself.”
She didn’t have much to bring anyway—she only went back to grab her documents.
When she arrived, the moment she stepped through the door she smelled a rich fragrance.
Uncle He wore an apron and was busy in the kitchen.
Aunt He happened to be carrying dishes out. Seeing Ying Tao, she beamed.
“Tao-tao, perfect timing. Come taste your Uncle He’s cooking.”
Ying Tao nodded. “I’ll wash my hands first.”
Aunt He reminded her, “Oh right, Tao-tao—the faucet in the living room bathroom seems broken. The repair guy won’t come change it until tomorrow.”
“Go wash in Mingye’s room first.”
“Okay.”
…
After He Mingye went abroad, his room had been left empty.
Later, in her senior year of high school, so she could have a quiet place to study, Aunt He had even let her move in there for a while.
Only last time…
She’d been drunk and out of it. When she sobered up, she hadn’t dared stay. She’d fled in a panic.
She’d curled up and avoided coming back until now, finally mustering the courage to return.
Ying Tao knew the way well. She went up to the second floor.
The door wasn’t even closed. It opened with a push.
She stepped in without thinking—
And the moment she looked up, she saw someone standing inside the room.
The light was dim.
The man had his back to her.
A bony, defined hand hooked the hem of his T-shirt. The fabric lifted, revealing a lean, tight waist.
As he moved, the muscles in his back tightened slightly.
The grooves of his waist and abdomen were deep, the V of his hip lines drawing down—vanishing into the waistband of his pants.
In the low light, the outline of his back was cut from tension and strength.
The waistline was sharp.
Muscle definition was clean and unmistakable.
Ying Tao froze. Her brain abruptly stopped working.
The scene hit her head-on, brutally vivid.
She stared at him in a daze—then, on reflex, let out a sharp, short cry:
“Ah!”
The man paused.
The T-shirt that had been rolled to his waist dropped back down.
He turned, and that aggressively handsome face came into view.
His brow bone was high, his eye sockets deep, so he always gave people a feeling of arrogant wildness—unruly, untamed.
Ying Tao’s eyes widened into perfect circles.
Her gaze clung to him without blinking. She pointed at him, shocked and outraged.
“Why aren’t you wearing clothes?!”
He Mingye paused, then smiled like he was amused and not amused at the same time.
“This is my room.”
Ying Tao looked at him blankly, clearly not understanding what he meant.
His features were sharp. When he lowered his eyes lazily, he always looked like he couldn’t be bothered with anything.
He gave a low, mocking laugh.
“I’ll wear them or I won’t.”
Ying Tao: “?”
Ying Tao: “Fine. Then don’t wear them.”