Chapter 69: Let’s Take It Slow
“Didn’t you go to class?”
Not knowing what else to say, Song Yinxing could only start the conversation with this question.
“Shh.” Gu Yang placed a finger lightly on his lips. “I skipped class. Don’t tell anyone.”
Song Yinxing stepped forward silently, looking at the book Gu Yang was holding. “You’re still reading this?”
“They’re going to undertake a mass migration toward death. It’s the suicidal instinct flowing in the lemmings’ blood.”
Gu Yang read the passage softly. His expression seemed as if he wanted to smile, yet carried a subtle, deep sarcasm that made it oddly awkward.
“These contributors really know how to spin a story. But in the end, it’s all baseless nonsense.”
He spoke while raising the book in his hand.
“After all, it’s not a scientific journal—they won’t verify facts, and most people just read it for fun,” Song Yinxing said. “My middle school science teacher once explained this to us. I was shocked at the time: lemmings don’t have a suicidal gene.”
Song Yinxing used his serious, icy expression to emphasize just how shocked he was.
“And the person?”
Gu Yang asked suddenly, off guard.
The world seemed to quiet in that instant. All the surrounding noise was filtered away, and Song Yinxing felt as if he had been pulled into a barrier—a realm where only he and Gu Yang existed.
“Person… what?” he heard himself ask slowly.
Gu Yang’s expression shifted subtly. “No, it’s nothing.”
After saying this, he straightened up and was about to put the book back.
Seeing him try to leave the barrier, Song Yinxing grabbed his wrist, pulling him back, keeping him within sight.
“What did you mean by what you just said?”
Gu Yang froze. Slowly, his eyes drifted toward the wrist being held. He had never been treated this way—so assertive, so undeniable.
A strange shock rose in him, yet he said, “I wasn’t trying to say anything.”
His tone was even slightly impatient.
Song Yinxing could sense he was close—close to the answer he desperately wanted.
He had already theorized in his mind: Gu Yang must be, like him, reincarnated.
Only that could explain so many outcomes so different from the original.
He never thought himself special—he just couldn’t understand.
But this person in front of him repeatedly saved him from disaster, despite being a stranger.
Yet at his core, he seemed to have no desire to survive himself, endlessly lifting others from danger while letting himself sink deeper.
This couldn’t continue. Song Yinxing had to understand everything about Gu Yang.
“As for the Nie family… I don’t know what’s going on there now,” Song Yinxing abruptly changed the topic.
“Nie Runhua’s finished. He exposed so many scandals, Nie Corporation’s shares fell significantly. The board impeached him, stripped his position, and he’s under police investigation.”
Seeing that Song Yinxing was perceptive enough, Gu Yang decided to continue with the previous gossip from Gu Yuhui and Gu Qingxu during a meal.
“The old master of the Nie family is elderly, and he was so upset he went to the hospital. Now, the one in charge is Nie Liuhua.”
“I see.” Song Yinxing lowered his gaze and stared at him. “Originally, if Nie Ying’s family rose to power, Nie Siyu would have been sent to Africa to waste away. But now everything is different. I guess Nie Ying’s ending won’t be any better either.”
“Moreover…” he paused before continuing, “Gu Qingxu probably didn’t get hit by a car either.”
At first, Gu Yang didn’t react. Song Yinxing’s assertive approach had left him stunned. One thought after another slowly entered his mind, forming sentences and meaning.
It was like a gong banging in his head, shaking the words.
The book fell with a clack.
He stared at Song Yinxing with a completely unfamiliar gaze, as if meeting him for the first time.
“You…”
“I had a very long dream before, a dream where I experienced many things. I can’t explain exactly what happened, but I know for certain they really happened.”
“In the dream, I suffered terribly. I missed the college entrance exam, didn’t get into university, and couldn’t keep my mother.”
“But when I woke up, I realized none of it happened. It was all just a nightmare.”
Yes. As long as the culprit got their deserved punishment, he could treat it as a nightmare. Once the nightmare was over, he could start his new life.
“But that nightmare was so long, so despairing, and everything in it felt so real.”
“So when I returned to reality, and found no Nie Ying, no Ding Xiaoyu, and no harm had happened… do you know how lucky I felt?”
“Why are you telling me this…” Gu Yang instinctively tried to struggle. His hands tried to pull back, his body curling protectively, but Song Yinxing only tightened his grip, forcing him into his view.
“Because you saved me, Gu Yang.”
“I said I can tell you everything—everything that happened to me, everything in my heart.”
“Gu Yang, because I—”
Song Yinxing’s words stopped abruptly as Gu Yang’s gaze met his.
A near-prayer, a fragile and beautiful look, wishing everything could stop here.
In that moment, their roles seemed reversed.
The once assertive, harsh, unpredictable one was now in a pleading position.
All because of what he was about to say.
He hadn’t said it yet.
But Gu Yang understood anyway.
He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so acute—maybe it was instinct, a natural sensitivity to love.
He recalled the first time they met.
“If I give him a little help, he’ll fall head over heels for me.”
But now, facing the reality, he felt fear.
A fear capable of utterly overwhelming him.
The cold wrist in his hand began to warm; the faint trembling of the skin transmitted into his palm, shaking not just the skin but his gaze.
Like a butterfly trapped on a rotting flower, with nowhere to flee.
Yet in this moment, Song Yinxing couldn’t help but want to kiss those eyes.
It was the most instinctive impulse from his heart.
But he couldn’t.
Because a line had been drawn—a line he must not cross.
“I understand. Let’s stop here for today.”
Those few seconds felt like centuries stretched. Song Yinxing finally spoke softly, yet unmistakably: “Let’s take it slow, okay?”
And… there would be a future.
This statement made Gu Yang’s tempered breathing catch again. His mind burned and felt heavy, like a fever.
The tone carried no negotiation—it was a unilateral decision.
Yet somehow, his heart secretly hoped.
Gu Yang pushed him forcefully.
Song Yinxing staggered back several steps under the strength, but his eyes never left Gu Yang.
“Then I’ll step out first. You can calm down alone.”
Gu Yang turned away, ignoring him.
Song Yinxing retreated slowly until his back touched the door. It was only ajar. He forced himself to leave.
He hadn’t noticed—this wasn’t the door he had entered from. It led to the other side, poorly lit, with no lights on, and immediately he felt a chill.
Lost in thought, he hadn’t realized it.
Only when closing the door did he see someone else.
And when he recognized who it was, Song Yinxing’s mind froze.
He Ming’an.
…What is he doing here?
“Hey, isn’t this Xiao Song? What are you doing here?” The boy leaned against the wall, speaking in his usual casual tone. If it weren’t for this, he might have ignored him entirely in this secluded spot.
Song Yinxing didn’t reply.
Because he wanted to ask the same question.
“Did Ah Yang ask you to come?”
“No. He sent a photo. It was nearby, so I came to find him,” Song Yinxing replied calmly.
“I see.” He Ming’an nodded slowly. “Looks like you two get along pretty well.”
“But Ah Yang didn’t go to class this morning. He’s been here all along.”
“Something happened yesterday. He doesn’t know how to face me, so he’s avoiding me, still awkward as ever.” He Ming’an’s smile faded; his expression was neutral, and he spoke honestly.
Song Yinxing said nothing. He didn’t ask what happened, only realizing something strange.
Since when had He Ming’an been outside?
The class bell rang. He Ming’an pointed outside: “You should go back. You’ll be a bit late, but better than not going at all.”
“And you?”
He Ming’an shook his finger mischievously: “I’ll skip class, of course.”
He looked at Song Yinxing deeply, then silently left.
Watching Song Yinxing’s retreating back, He Ming’an’s expression was complicated, but he only sighed softly.
