41. Receiving Guests

This was the first time since starting college that anyone from Class Eight had heard any news about Pei Huan. Back in college, she had vanished without a trace, deleting all her old contact information, even leaving the class WeChat group. None of them could fathom why she would do such a thing.

As the others ate, their attention kept drifting toward the private room’s door. Upon hearing that Pei Huan would be coming, Yuan Tao’s gentle expression nearly faltered—she was one of the few who knew what had happened back then. From the moment she had seen Pei Huan in Minghan that day, she knew how it would end.

Tao Ranxi was there too. She hardly spoke to anyone and quietly ate throughout the evening. The arrogance that had once defined her in high school had been worn down by years of university and work. Even so, upon hearing of Pei Huan, she was momentarily taken aback.

No one knew how much time had passed before the door finally opened and Pei Huan stepped inside. At the sight of her, jaws dropped in shock. Pei Huan looked at the stunned faces, and, as if nothing had changed, teased them with her old familiarity: “It’s been so long you’ve all gone dumb just seeing me?”

“Wait, it’s really you, Pei Huan?” the class monitor exclaimed in disbelief.

Pei Huan folded her arms, smiling as she joked, “If I’m not Pei Huan, are you?”

After the initial surprise, everyone crowded around her. Surrounded by classmates, Pei Huan couldn’t even spot Lu Yinghuai in the crowd.

They bombarded her with questions and greetings—back in high school, Pei Huan had always gotten along well with everyone, her cheerful and forthright personality making her popular. Some were even bold enough to sling an arm over her shoulder as though no time had passed.

Lu Yinghuai, tipsy and muddle-headed from drinking, watched Pei Huan encircled by her classmates. His gaze hardened as he saw a male classmate’s arm rest naturally on her shoulder. But in his drunken state, his usually striking eyes were clouded, losing their usual intensity.

There were always so many people around her.

Thinking this, Lu Yinghuai silently covered his eyes with a hand, unable to watch any longer.

After catching up with everyone, Pei Huan added her old classmates on WeChat again, and those quick on the draw pulled her back into the class group.

Looking at all these familiar faces, Pei Huan thought how, seven years ago, they’d sat in the same classroom preparing for the college entrance exam. Now, they’d all gone their separate ways, each finding success. What she’d expected to be a contest of achievements never materialized; instead, everyone was just as they had always been.

When the reminiscing wound down, Pei Huan finally spoke up, “I’m here to pick someone up.”

At this, their eyes grew knowing, and someone teased, “Is it our class’s famous President Lu?”

A chorus of laughter erupted. Pei Huan didn’t shy away, nodding straightforwardly, “Yes.”

That set off another round of gossip. “All these years you were gone, did you ever keep in touch with our school’s heartthrob?”

Pei Huan’s smile faded a little, and she shook her head, “No, we lost contact.”

Regret swept through the group, but Pei Huan just smiled indifferently, slipped out from the crowd, and walked directly to Lu Yinghuai. Hearing footsteps approach, he dropped his hand and looked at her, then, as if sulking, turned his head away, face still cold and distant.

Pei Huan smiled helplessly, crouched before him, and gently touched his hand. “Lu Yinghuai?”

He ignored her.

She looked at him warmly, took his hand in hers, her thumb softly caressing the back of it, as if in comfort, and called his name again, “Lu Yinghuai?”

This time, he finally reacted. He stared blankly at his left hand, held in hers, but his mood was still sour. His tone was edged with displeasure: “Now you remember me?”

The familiar tone made Pei Huan’s smile deepen, her voice gentle: “I’ve always thought of you.”

The words stunned Lu Yinghuai, leaving him dazed.

Since their reunion, she’d never spoken to him like this—her attitude had been lukewarm at best. What if she was just humoring him now?

So he thought. But it didn’t matter—humoring or not, he’d take whatever warmth she offered, even if, once the alcohol wore off, everything reverted to the way it was before.

Their exchange was so private and natural that the others around them couldn’t keep up. The gesture was familiar—seven years ago, at that KTV, it had been Lu Yinghuai comforting Pei Huan in the same way. No one expected that, seven years later, the roles would be reversed, though the gesture remained. Whether it was intentional or not, who could say.

Someone quietly snapped a photo of the moment and posted it to Fifth High School’s campus forum. Back in the day, any photo of the two would draw a crowd, and now, within seconds, the post had garnered hundreds of replies. The campus forum had grown quiet over the years, with few users left, but the person posted it anyway, thinking hardly anyone would see it, then pocketed their phone.

Pei Huan was still coaxing Lu Yinghuai. “Shall we go home?”

His mind was slow to process, but after a long pause, he answered, “Mm.”

She helped him up from the sofa, said goodbye to the others, and together they disappeared through the doorway.

As soon as they left, a flood of chatter broke out. The group noisily speculated about Pei Huan and Lu Yinghuai’s relationship. Yuan Tao’s smile had already vanished, her expression icy as she stared at the closed door.

Tang Yue, who’d been watching Yuan Tao’s face the whole time, was gleeful at the murderous coldness now etched there. She couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Ji Qinshu heard and asked, “What’s so funny?”

Tang Yue told her, and after sneaking a glance, Ji Qinshu couldn’t help but laugh too.

Watching someone get their comeuppance was unexpectedly satisfying.

Outside, the city lights shimmered, and downtown Ling was lively as ever. But inside the car, the atmosphere was the opposite. Since getting in, neither spoke. Pei Huan asked several times for Lu Yinghuai’s address, but he ignored her. When she asked one last time and got no reply, she glanced over and saw he’d already fallen asleep. Helpless, she could only drive toward her own home.

Halfway there, Lu Yinghuai slowly stirred. In truth, he hadn’t been asleep—just resting his eyes, heavy with drink and unwilling to talk. He sat with his arms folded, gazing out the window as the orange streetlights slid across his face, making him look even more alone.

At a red light, Pei Huan turned to look at him, but his gaze never left the window, and he said nothing.

When they reached her apartment building, she parked and they got out. Lu Yinghuai trailed a couple of steps behind. Pei Huan opened the door and let him in.

She led him to the sofa, brought him a glass of honey water, which he accepted with a cold glance.

Still, neither spoke. The silence grew awkward, and just as Pei Huan was about to make her escape, Lu Yinghuai suddenly looked at her. Though his face was impassive, his eyes brimmed with wounded accusation as he called her name: “Pei Huan.”

“Mm?” She responded instinctively.

“You can’t do this,” his voice trembled. “You can’t keep treating me well, let me taste sweetness, then turn around and leave me all alone again.”

She crouched before him, silently gazing up at him. Lu Yinghuai’s eyes were red, all reason lost to drink; he said whatever came to mind: “I’ve spent all these years looking for you, missing you until I nearly lost my mind. I kept wondering why you left—was it because I wasn’t good enough? Or because you’d grown tired of me, so you just vanished without a word?”

“But why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me,” tears slipped down his cheeks. “You should have told me, even if we’d never see each other again. I missed you so much, really—I’d go to the university you said you were attending, just to catch a glimpse of you from afar, but I never saw you, not even once. I blamed my own bad luck for it.”

“But just a few days ago I found out—you never even went to that city for college, you were just in the neighboring town, so close.” His wounded gaze locked on hers. “You’d decided back then, hadn’t you? You just made up an excuse to brush me off, didn’t you?”

Pei Huan folded her hands atop his knees, her fists clenched tight. Faced with his questions, she nodded with difficulty.

It was the answer he expected, but it still broke him. His eyes were rimmed red, and seeing it made Pei Huan’s heart ache.

After a long silence, Pei Huan finally lifted her gaze to him and, after an even longer pause, smiled faintly. “Lu Yinghuai.”

He lowered his eyes to meet hers.

“Would you like to be with me?” she asked.

The question left Lu Yinghuai wondering if he was dreaming. He stared at Pei Huan, stunned.

She broke into a bright smile. “There’s only one chance. Will you take it?”

Like a miracle falling from the sky, the words struck Lu Yinghuai, sending a thrill through him more intense than sealing a multi-million deal. He stared at her for a long time, dumbfounded. “Really?”

“No tricks,” Pei Huan replied, her brow arching playfully.

His already dizzy head spun further at her words. When he finally came to, he lunged forward and pulled Pei Huan into a tight embrace, burying his face in her neck. She felt the warmth of his tears on her skin, and his whole body quivered. Her own eyes stung as she lifted a hand to gently stroke his back.

His suit shirt was exquisitely soft, and Pei Huan couldn’t help but notice the luxurious feel of the fabric as she held him.

He clung to her for a long time, refusing to let go. Pei Huan called softly, “Lu Yinghuai?”

From the crook of her neck came his muffled reply, “Mm.”

He still showed no sign of letting go. Pei Huan could only laugh through her tears, sweet from the very depths of her heart.

After all the twists and turns, they had come back together at last. She whispered, “You’ve been holding me for a long time now.”

But he only tightened his arms around her.

“Let me hold you a little longer.”

“I missed you so much.”