Chapter 6: Secret Diary

Song Yan’s arm went momentarily rigid. He averted his gaze, looking faintly flustered. “You look fine whether you wear makeup or not.”

Before the words had even fully settled, his phone rang. He glanced down at the screen, and his expression instantly flashed nuisance in giant letters. Still, he reluctantly picked up. “What?”

“Nyan-Nyan, baby~”

A voice dripped from the speaker, so cloyingly sweet it gave me instant goosebumps. Whether he’d accidentally hit speakerphone or done it on purpose, every single syllable came through crystal clear. The air instantly turned thick with awkwardness.

Recognizing my cue, I tactfully backed away. “I’m gonna head upstairs to grab something.”

I bolted back to the dorm, snatching the contract Xuanxuan had drafted for me off my desk. Then I lurked by the hallway window, discreetly spying on the situation below. Only when I saw him hang up did I dare head back down.

By then, Song Yan was practically radiating a localized blizzard, his face dark as a thundercloud. He didn’t say a single word the entire walk. Anxiety began to prickle at me.

Should I have stayed? What if that girl overheard another girl’s voice, misunderstood, and threw a jealous fit at him?

The more I thought about it, the more anxious I got on his behalf. I mean, he could’ve easily passed me off as a classmate, a cousin, or whatever, right? Are basic cover-ups really that hard to spin?

Throughout the lecture, Song Yan maintained absolute radio silence. Sitting beside him, I was squirming like I had ants in my pants.

Bro, shouldn’t you be pulling out your phone right now to text her an apology?

After an agonizing hour spent in suffocating silence, Song Yan finally snapped. He turned to me, his brows knitted tight. “What are you wriggling around for?”

“Haha…” I offered a weak laugh. “Just… not used to these new clothes yet.”

He stared at me for two solid seconds before suddenly leaning in dangerously close. “A woman just called me, and you’re not even a little jealous?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or do you really just see me as a walking ATM?”

Honestly… I physically couldn’t bring myself to be jealous. For thirty grand a month, my heart was wide enough to house the entire Sahara Desert. But playing the girlfriend without a drop of jealousy was just bad work ethic.

“Of course I’m jealous,” I replied smoothly.

“Then show me.”

I immediately balled up my fist, giving his chest a soft, dramatic little punch while pitching my voice to sound deeply “wronged”: “You jerk! I love you so much, yet you have the nerve to walk around arm-in-arm with other girls and take flirty calls right in front of me!”

While delivering my performance, I rummaged through my bag. “There won’t be a next time, babe. Your punishment is signing this contract.”

The moment I produced the document, Song Yan froze. For several long seconds, he just stared. Finally, grinding his teeth, he snatched the pen and scrawled his signature across the page with an expression of pure, unadulterated annoyance. “Unbelievable, Yu Sisi.”

Song Yan was genuinely pissed off this time. He stopped letting me tag along to his classes and couldn’t be bothered to reply to my texts. To make matters worse, he started ostentatiously strolling around campus with his arm around various gorgeous girls. And with my abysmal luck, I managed to bump into them every single time.

That was how my emergency “stealth kit” — mask, dark sunglasses, bucket hat—became a daily staple. The moment I caught sight of his silhouette from afar, I’d gear up like a ninja and pull a disappearing act. I even dragged Xuanxuan and Jiajia into my tactical retreat squad.

For weeks, our dorm lived like a band of guerilla fighters: eyes scanning all four quadrants, ears tuned to every frequency, retreating the second Song Yan entered our line of sight.

I racked my brain until my head hurt, but I had no idea how to smooth things over. Buy him flowers? Light a candle heart under his dorm? Write a dramatic “To the Boy I Loved Before” apology letter? Every single option sounded cringey enough to break out in hives.

In the end, I caved and texted Song Yan to ask for a sit-down. If I could fix things, I’d stay on the job; if not, I’d hand in my resignation. Besides, the money I’d already made was enough to keep me living comfortably for a long while, whereas playing hide-and-seek with my own employer every day was turning me into a certified ninja.

Late that evening, Song Yan finally texted back. He sent a single dropped pin — a high-end bar.

Standing outside the entrance, I dialed his number. But the person who picked up was one of his buddies: “Sister-in-law? Get in here fast, Song Yan is completely smashed.”

Inside, bass thudded hard enough to rattle my eardrums. Glamorous partygoers drifted through the venue, and the dance floor was practically fumes and heat. The moment I walked in, a table of guys frantically waved me over: “Sister-in-law! Over here!”

I’d never met any of them before, and I had no clue how they recognized me so instantly. Maybe my “thirty-thousand-a-month employee” aura was just that unmistakable.

I stepped closer. Song Yan was sprawled across the velvet sofa, one hand draped over his eyes, his head tilted back to reveal only a thin pair of lips and a razor-sharp jawline. He was so unfairly handsome that even passed-out drunk, he looked like a movie star on a shoot.

“Sister-in-law, did you guys get into a fight? He’s been drinking himself under the table for days straight. Now that you’re here, please give him a pass.”

“Yeah, sister-in-law. Song Yan is totally crazy about you. Look at how miserable he is — don’t be mad at him anymore.”

They took turns pleading his case, leaving me at a total loss for words. I stood there, staring down at the silent, thoroughly intoxicated man on the sofa, a sudden wave of guilt washing over me.

Looks like this time… I really took the joke too far.