Over the next few days, whenever I didn’t have class, I trailed Song Yan to his lectures, then sprinted frantically back to my own department for mine.

Tuesday, however, was easily my least favorite day of the week. Song Yan had classes on the South Campus, while my afternoon lectures were held on Main Campus. They were separated by a distance so absurd it made me question if the university blueprint had been drawn up by a mortal enemy. Every Tuesday, I was forced to skip lunch, stumbling into class on a totally empty stomach.

Today was no exception. Sitting in the lecture hall, my stomach rumbled continuously, broadcasting a live symphony of the destitute.

I clutched my abdomen, unable to hold back a dramatic sigh: Human nature really is terrifying. I’ve only tasted the good life for a few days, and I’m already soft.

I had grown up an orphan. Relying on government stipends, merit scholarships, waived tuition, and an endless stream of side hustles, I had dragged myself step by step all the way into college. My life had never offered many choices, and money always sat at the absolute top of the list.

Most of my free time was spent working, or on my way to work. I was so insanely busy that I didn’t even have time to breathe, let alone date. That was how I’d accidentally earned the nickname “Ice Queen.”

In reality, I was pretty approachable. I was just too broke to afford the time to be.

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice drifted down from above, cutting through my pity party.

I looked up. It was Jiang Yifan—the poor upperclassman I had dramatically mistaken for my “hubby.”

“Sure, go right ahead.” My face immediately flushed hot as I hurriedly shuffled over to make room.

Looking back, that morning had been mortifying. Dropping a loud, confident “hubby” on a complete stranger in front of a crowd, only to bolt without a word of explanation… If the tables were turned, I’d probably be traumatized too.

I took the initiative to apologize: “About the other day—I really got you confused with someone else. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jiang Yifan smiled warmly. “I didn’t come over because of that. I just had some free time, so I thought I’d drop in on this lecture for a quick refresher.”

He paused slightly before asking, “Though… how did you manage to mistake your own boyfriend? Are you guys doing the whole online dating thing?”

I instantly spun a lie without batting an eye: “Oh, no! It was love at first sight. We moved super fast, so we hadn’t actually spent much time together face-to-face yet. I woke up from a long nap and my brain completely blanked on his face.”

“Ah, I see.” Jiang Yifan turned to face me, his dark eyes crinkling with amused warmth behind his rimless glasses. “What a shame. If you’d met me first, maybe I would’ve been the one to give you that lightning-bolt moment.”

“Huh?” I went rigid as a board, totally caught off guard.

Honestly, I’d known of Jiang Yifan for ages. He was practically a celebrity in our department—present at almost every major campus event. Case competitions, debates, student rep speeches… The perfect storm of brilliant and gorgeous, born to give average students existential dread.

I just had no idea he even knew I existed. Someone like me, who spent every waking hour hustling, never had time to socialize.

“As far as I remember, you’ve never dated anyone,” Jiang Yifan noted, resting his chin on his hand as he studied me. “A few of my friends tried pursuing you, but you shot them all down. I honestly thought you were only interested in academics.” He offered a soft laugh. “Turns out you just hadn’t met the right guy yet.”

“Ah… ha, ha…” I let out a stiff, awkward laugh.

Mentally, I completed the sentence: It’s not that I hadn’t met the right guy—I just hadn’t met the right price tag.

After that, Jiang Yifan dropped the personal talk, pushing his glasses up his nose to focus on the lecture. Whenever he saw me looking utterly lost at a complex concept, he’d lean over and break it down in a voice so smooth and clear it made instant sense.

I had to hand it to him… he didn’t represent our department in academic competitions for nothing. His brain was built different. I got so swept up in his explanations that I completely lost track of time.

Until a cold, distinctly jealous voice cut through the air from right behind us:

“Enjoying the private lesson?”

“Babe, did you get your husbands mixed up again?” Song Yan’s icy tone drifted over my shoulder.

Jiang Yifan remained totally unfazed, casually pushing his glasses up his nose without looking away from his textbook. “Hardly,” he replied with a cool, nonchalant smile. “I’m just helping a junior out with her notes.”

“Is that so?” Song Yan smiled back, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes at all. He lifted a takeaway bag in his hand. “Well, you can finish the lesson next time. I brought her lunch.”

Only then did I notice the high-end takeout bag in his grip. I practically launched myself out of my seat: “Thanks so much for the help today! I’ve gotta run.”

Jiang Yifan looked up at me, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. “Sure thing.” He threw me a subtle, teasing glance. “See you around.”

For some reason, a sudden chill ran down my spine. Sure enough… I turned around to find Song Yan looking like he was about to murder someone.

He didn’t utter a single word on the entire walk back to my dorm, radiating a localized blizzard of hostility. I tried desperately to break the ice:

“You actually brought me lunch? You’re the best.”

“Mm.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Mm.”

“Was it good?”

“Mm.”

“…”

I was completely out of moves. The man was so mad he had literally downgraded into an automated answering machine.

Even a total relationship novice like me could see the writing on the wall: Song Yan was green with jealousy.

Panic set in. Oh crap. My thirty-thousand-a-month dream job is dangling on the edge of a cliff!

I discreetly slipped out my phone, pulled up Google, and typed: How to soothe a jealous boyfriend.

The top result popped up: Explain the situation clearly, reassure him of his special place in your heart, and proactively do something thoughtful to make him happy.

I was absorbed in reading when Song Yan suddenly ground to a halt, turning his head to glare at me. “What are you sneaking a look at?”

“Nothing!” I jumped, shoving the phone behind my back.

His expression darkened by another ten shades. He leaned down to light a cigarette, his movements slow, deliberate, and undeniably dangerous. Every line of his body screamed imminent explosion.

I immediately deployed the wisdom I’d just acquired from the internet: “Senior Jiang Yifan and I aren’t close at all,” I explained with absolute seriousness. “We just ran into each other by chance today. Please don’t overthink it. Your place in my heart is completely irreplaceable.”

That statement was 100% genuine. Aside from Song Yan, who else on this planet would pay me thirty grand a month just to play pretend?

Hearing this, the storm clouds on his face finally cleared a fraction. He exhaled a long drag of smoke and shot me a sideways glance. “And the phone?” He flicked his chin. “What were you hiding from me?”

I hesitated for a second before dutifully surrendering the device. Song Yan looked down at the screen, a faint, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So you actually noticed I was jealous?”

“It was kind of written all over your face,” I answered honestly. “Hard to miss.”

He let out a dry, theatrical scoff. “You’re my girlfriend, yet you’re calling other guys hubby, sitting side-by-side in lectures, throwing around ‘see you next time’s…”

The more he listed, the more irritated he sounded. “Did I drop thirty grand a month just to get cheated on twice?”

“I was wrong,” I bowed my head, accepting total blame.

“And?”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t the internet tell you to do something to make me happy?”

I blinked. “So… what do you want me to do?”

Song Yan flicked his chin toward my hands. “Open your camera.”

I obediently pulled up the app. He took the phone from me, casually flagged down a passing student, and asked for a quick photo. Stepping close, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder with effortless possessiveness, his other hand casually holding his cigarette.

“Look at the lens.”

After a few shots, Song Yan looked down to inspect the photos, nodding in approval. I caught on to my job duties instantly: “Should I post these on my feed to go official?”

“Look at you, learning fast.” The last traces of tension finally dissolved from his face. He pulled me along by the shoulder. “No rush. Let’s eat first.” He glanced down at my stomach. “Your belly’s been growling for ten minutes straight.”

I instantly clutched my stomach, my face burning red. I can’t believe he actually heard that.