Chapter 89: Extra Story 3
One day, Song Yinxing suddenly remembered something.
In his previous life, he had once seen Gu Yang.
It was already late at night. He was still inside the convenience store, even though his shift should have ended long ago.
The coworker who was supposed to replace him had arrived late again.
Again.
For that slick veteran employee, being late had long become a common occurrence.
If he showed up within half an hour, it was already considered good.
Song Yinxing expressionlessly rang up a customer’s purchase. As the customer left, he pressed the voice message button on his phone and complained to someone on the other end. Just before the door closed, Song Yinxing heard him grumble unhappily that he had encountered a dead-faced cashier when he came out to buy something.
Song Yinxing raised his head and glanced at the round mirror installed above him.
A cute smiling sticker was pasted on it, reminding employees to serve customers with a smile.
In the mirror was his own face—cold and exhausted.
He really was not suited for this job.
The store manager had already scolded him many times because of this issue. Every time he wanted to say the word “resign,” that slick coworker would wink at him and smooth things over with a laugh.
“Just listen to the manager with one ear,” he had said. “Don’t be so honest.”
“You seem to need money anyway. Jobs are hard to find these days. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m still counting on working shifts with you.”
People were complicated.
When that coworker disrupted his schedule by arriving late, Song Yinxing hated him.
But occasionally, he could still say something human.
Song Yinxing lowered his head.
When there were no customers, he didn’t know what to do.
It was like losing an anchor.
Because he had nothing he wanted to do, and no goal he could achieve.
So he could only keep working day after day, filling up the negative number in his bank account.
Water seemed to rise from beneath his feet.
It flooded upward, covering his mouth and nose, drowning his vision, making it impossible to breathe.
The sound of metal tapping against the counter suddenly dragged him out of the illusion.
Song Yinxing woke with a start. Cold sweat covered his pale forehead as he stared blankly at the person in front of him.
Even if someone with a kinder personality stood here, they would probably still think he looked unlucky.
The thing that anchored his returning focus was the lighter in the customer’s hand.
That was probably what had been used to tap the counter.
An enamel-painted casing, vintage and delicate.
But seeing it instantly triggered unpleasant memories.
Because in the nightmare he could never escape, there was also someone who played with a similar lighter in his hand. Then, with a click, the flame lit up in the darkness, igniting the cigarette between his lips.
“I said… I want to buy a pack of cigarettes,” the customer repeated, waving his hand in front of Song Yinxing’s face. “Are you deaf?”
The words finally registered.
Song Yinxing pushed the requested cigarettes across the counter.
“Oh? So you can hear.”
The voice was light and teasing, blurring the sense of distance. But once Song Yinxing truly looked at him, he suddenly became clear-headed again.
The man’s face was pale, gloomy, yet strikingly beautiful—delicate and cold at the same time.
The young man wore a long black military-style coat, with a dark half-turtleneck underneath. He lowered his head while opening the cigarette pack, the lighter still held between his fingers. His movements looked a little inexperienced.
“Sir, smoking isn’t allowed here,” Song Yinxing said.
“I know,” the young man replied, lifting his head and smiling.
The smile looked careless, as if it had been tossed out casually and meant nothing.
“I’m just throwing away trash.”
He peeled off the plastic wrapper and tossed it into the trash can.
Before leaving, he waved at Song Yinxing.
“Bye.”
The automatic door closed behind him.
Outside, the black coat blended into the night.
But the light from inside the store still outlined his silhouette through the glass.
He stood there.
A blue-red flame flickered briefly.
The cigarette burned between his fingers.
Smoke drifted outward, gray and pale, pressing against the glass door and obscuring his face.
Through the haze, he glanced back at Song Yinxing with some unreadable emotion.
Song Yinxing’s heart suddenly tightened.
He kept staring at the man outside.
The gaze was too naked.
The person outside laughed as if he had discovered something amusing and simply stood there smiling at him while holding the cigarette.
Finally, the coworker who was supposed to relieve him arrived, rushing in but not looking particularly anxious.
“Ah, Xiao Song, I’m here! Something came up at home. Sorry about that.”
He spoke while putting on the apron with the store logo. As he entered the cashier area, he leaned closer and whispered:
“Who’s that guy outside? Why’s he been staring in here the whole time? Your friend?”
He slapped Song Yinxing’s shoulder.
“You’re something, kid. You actually know someone like that. That coat he’s wearing is from XXX…”
Song Yinxing didn’t understand clothing brands.
His financial situation couldn’t support even the most basic luxuries.
But he understood one thing—
The coat cost tens of thousands.
He couldn’t understand why someone would spend that much on a single piece of clothing.
Yet he had once seen such scenes before.
During the few years he accidentally spent in that aristocratic academy, he had witnessed many things far beyond his social class.
“I don’t know him,” he said.
He neatly folded his apron, tidied his things, and left the store.
“Oh, you’re off work?” The young man was leaning nearby and spoke as soon as Song Yinxing stepped out. “Heading home?”
Song Yinxing nodded stiffly.
After a few seconds, he asked:
“Do you know me?”
“No.”
There shouldn’t have been any expectations.
But Song Yinxing still added another hint.
“…SM club.”
“Huh?”
The puzzled tone finally brought Song Yinxing back to his senses.
“Nothing. I’m leaving.”
They had only met once in a chaotic moment at a KTV club.
Yet the image had burned into his memory, impossible to forget.
Gu Yang.
They had once attended the same high school, yet lived in two completely different worlds.
Sometimes in the school hallway, their paths would cross.
Gu Yang would walk straight ahead, occasionally accompanied by others. When he spoke, he smiled slightly, the corners of his lips curving upward.
But the smile never seemed entirely real.
That summer, too many things had happened.
Amid countless tragedies, the presence of survivors had been buried under the chaos until they were invisible.
“You actually look pretty serious,” Gu Yang said, leaning closer with a faint smile through the smoke.
“So you like SM?”
Song Yinxing instinctively stepped back.
But the man pressed forward until Song Yinxing’s back reached the wall.
The distance between them had long surpassed normal social space.
Curiously, the man asked:
“So which type are you?”
He smoked a slim cigarette with a flavor capsule inside. The filter was marked with several teeth marks before he finally bit it open.
At such a close distance, the scent was not just tobacco.
There was also the sweet smell of pear.
The scent pressed down on Song Yinxing until he felt breathless.
“What… I’m not…” he tried to explain.
“Do you want to do it with me?”
Those misty gray eyes looked at him.
The words carried a shock so direct that Song Yinxing’s mind rang.
Why else would you mention such a thing?
That was the hidden meaning.
After a long pause, Gu Yang spoke again casually.
“It’s not impossible.”
Song Yinxing felt like he was drowning in those eyes.
His overloaded brain could barely process language. It almost felt as if Gu Yang had simply invited him to dinner.
Since his school days, he had always felt wary of people like them.
But in that moment, that resistance suddenly shattered.
How could someone say something so frivolous to a complete stranger?
Someone who stood so high above others—yet willingly sank into decadence.
The cigarette was still burning.
Song Yinxing desperately searched for a new topic.
“Smoking is basically slow suicide.”
Gu Yang hummed lightly.
Then he deliberately lifted the cigarette back to his lips and sighed.
“Is that so bad?”
The night air suddenly felt quiet and lonely.
The solitary cigarette burned slowly.
Looking at that face, Song Yinxing saw the excitement gradually fade from his expression—like the cigarette about to extinguish.
As if searching for something, Gu Yang reached out.
But in the end—
there was nothing he could hold onto.
?The phone suddenly rang.
“What’s up?” Gu Yang answered. Because he had a cigarette in his mouth, his speech was a little unclear. “I’m just near the apartment… wandering around, came out to buy something…”
“…Ah, I see you.”
His voice suddenly dropped.
The conversation ended there.
“Someone’s coming to take me back,” he said lazily, sounding weak.
“…Who?”
“My nanny.”
He deliberately raised his voice a little as he said this. The figure walking toward them from the street belonged to a handsome, refined young man.
The man only smiled helplessly and narrowed his eyes as he looked over.
Song Yinxing’s eyes slowly widened.
He knew him.
The class monitor of Class One in their senior year of high school, and also the heir of the Wanhé Group, which their school belonged to.
Sometimes, meeting someone from the past meant bringing back old memories—but some memories were clearly not pleasant.
“Ah, isn’t this Xiao Song? Long time no see.”
Song Yinxing barely maintained his expression and nodded. He tried his best to steady his breathing and suppress those memories.
It wasn’t the person’s problem. He Ming’an had helped him several times before; Song Yinxing had no negative feelings toward him.
“So now you are…”
Before the question could be finished, He Ming’an stopped himself.
After all, watching a once brilliant prodigy fall was something that made people sigh.
The incident during the college entrance exams back then had caused quite a stir, but in the end it had quietly faded away. Most likely some kind of agreement had been reached with the Nie family.
He Ming’an couldn’t interfere with that.
But after gaining real authority, he had made the decision to waive the portion of Song Yinxing’s debt related to financial aid. It didn’t improve Song Yinxing’s situation much, but since they had once been classmates, it was at least something.
He had also realized that not everyone could be helped or saved.
After becoming disheartened, he no longer held those naive thoughts.
The last bus stopped.
Song Yinxing boarded absentmindedly.
“You know him?” Gu Yang asked.
“A high school classmate. Song Yinxing. His grades were very good. It’s just a pity that something happened later and he couldn’t take the college entrance exam.”
Gu Yang didn’t remember the face, but he did remember the name.
Another mess caused by Nie Ying.
Yinxing—“Guiding Star.”
But in the end, it became a fallen star.
Just before the bus doors closed, their eyes met one last time.
“I thought you remembered him, so weren’t you reminiscing just now? What were you talking about?”
“Wrong place to stand. I inhaled too much secondhand smoke,” Gu Yang changed the topic.
“The one in your mouth right now is more poisonous, A-Yang.” He Ming’an spoke while extending his hand.
Looking at the palm offered to him, Gu Yang remained expressionless for several seconds before clicking his tongue and handing over the cigarette.
He Ming’an stubbed it out on the trash can lid and tossed it away.
Only then did he look at the young man who had turned his face aside and refused to look at him.
“I told you not to smoke, didn’t I?” he said softly.
The answer was weary silence.
“How is Gu Qingxu?” He Ming’an changed the subject.
“Still in the ICU. They’re trying to save him,” Gu Yang said coolly. “He won’t make it. It’s only a matter of time.”
As he spoke, he instinctively made a motion to take another cigarette, only to realize his hand was empty.
“Nie Corporation has started moving recently,” He Ming’an said in a low voice. “What happened to Gu Qingxu might be part of Nie Ying’s scheme.”
“More like an open plot,” Gu Yang couldn’t help complaining. “He just had someone drive a car straight into him. Gu Qingxu really is an idiot.”
He Ming’an fell silent.
So he really did know.
He knew Nie Ying’s intentions were malicious, yet he still went along with everything indifferently—taking cigarettes from one side, letting someone else light them from the other, letting himself be stained however they pleased.
“Then why did you rush back from abroad when something happened to Gu Qingxu?”
Still silence.
Gu Yang didn’t answer immediately either. After a long time, he slowly spoke.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Business overseas hasn’t been going very smoothly, but you don’t like hearing about that stuff, so there’s nothing much to say.” He Ming’an smiled.
“That’s not what I asked,” Gu Yang said quietly, losing interest in continuing the topic. No matter how many times he asked, the answer was always the same.
He looked up at the sky and thought silently to himself.
It really felt like he wanted to reload the save file.
Of course he couldn’t say something like that out loud. Otherwise He Ming’an probably wouldn’t go abroad again, and the elders of the He family had already scolded him about that matter. Those old men looked at him like he was some kind of disaster.
Thinking about it carefully, his life really was a complete mess.
And not just his.
Xie Wu’s yearly memorial day was approaching again. He Ming’an had been organizing the scattered classmates.
But this year even fewer people would come.
Ying Jiayi was near her due date and couldn’t move around much. Her mood during pregnancy had been poor, and she looked especially worn down. Lu Ran seemed to be tied up with family issues. The drama of the “true and fake young masters” was still dragging on. Cheng Zishi, who had been suppressed and banned in the industry, had finally managed to terminate his contract—but the huge compensation payment left him overwhelmed…
“I want a superpower,” Gu Yang murmured.
He Ming’an was already used to this kind of jump in conversation. He followed along naturally and pointed at the sky.
“Look, there’s a shooting star passing by. Make a wish. Maybe it’ll come true. Then we can go home—it’s really late.”
Shooting star, shooting star.
Since you’re already here, listen to his wish.
Could he know other people’s fates in advance? Could he change something—whether for himself or for others?
Gu Yang thought silently.
Making a wish required a price.
As for the price…
Gu Yang couldn’t think of one for the moment, so he casually told it to take whatever it wanted.
After all, a shooting star… was basically a fallen star.
“Hey, young man! Young man!”
The bus driver kept his eyes on the road but couldn’t help speaking up.
“Why are you standing there the whole time? There are plenty of seats. Sit down.”
Song Yinxing still stood there blankly.
He couldn’t hear the sounds around him.
One stretch of night scenery after another passed by outside the window, but none of it could fill the strange emptiness in his heart.
What was it that he had tried to grasp back then?
He wanted to go back.
Slowly, he curled his body inward, repeating the same thought countless times in his mind.
Finally the bus arrived.
He stepped down slowly.
The scenery shifted again.
As the door opened, everything gradually became brighter and clearer.
Someone sitting beside a desk turned to look at him.
The familiar school uniform made him feel as if time and space had become confused.
“Ah, Teacher Song is here.”
Gu Yang, who had been sitting lazily and scrolling on his phone out of boredom, smiled.
He was wearing a silver-gray shirt with a navy sweater vest—the autumn uniform from their high school days. It had long been folded away in the closet and never touched again. No one knew why he suddenly decided to wear it today.
In his hands he even held a Five-Year College Entrance Exam Practice Book.
Song Yinxing resisted the urge to rub his forehead.
He still remembered that book.
Back in high school he had bought it to tutor Gu Yang—only to later discover that applying to overseas universities didn’t require any of that.
It had basically become a black-history item.
“You… are…” Song Yinxing set down his things and walked over, trying to phrase his question.
“Teacher doesn’t remember?” Gu Yang tilted his head with the book in his arms. The smile on his face carried a faint, ambiguous charm. “Didn’t you ask me to come to your office after school one time?”
As he spoke, his chin almost rested on Song Yinxing’s shoulder. Then he continued softly:
“If a bad student doesn’t listen, they have to be punished.”
“….”
A hand moved almost uncontrollably to touch the face right in front of him.
The thumb pressed against the corner of Gu Yang’s lips, forcing his mouth open slightly.
“Did you smoke?”
The thumb pressed further inside, yet the sweet pear scent from memory still felt distant and faint.
“I don’t smoke. I only tried it once,” Gu Yang answered instinctively. But soon he leaned closer again, speaking in a teasing tone. “Teacher, you’re so bad.”
Song Yinxing’s gaze darkened.
Both hands held Gu Yang’s face.
Since Gu Yang was sitting, the height difference became huge, forcing him to tilt his head upward.
But Gu Yang clearly seemed intrigued.
He had only been bored at home, rummaging through old things, and found the old school uniform. On impulse, he wanted to play a little scenario game.
“You’re really something. What should we play next time, Teacher Song? Interrogation play? Prison? Actually I prefer something a little rougher—”
Before he could finish speaking, Song Yinxing lowered his head and sealed his lips.
Gu Yang’s breath was swallowed by the kiss.
Held by the face and kissed until his eyelashes trembled.
They kissed for a long, long time before finally separating.
“If you like it,” Song Yinxing said softly, holding his face and leaning down again, “we can try all of them.”
“Because I like it too.”
The protesting sound that had barely risen in Gu Yang’s throat never managed to escape.
He was pushed down onto the desk.
By the time the kissing stopped, Gu Yang lay there dizzy, staring at the ceiling for quite a while before suddenly realizing something.
Wait.
Did he just hear something… pretty unbelievable?
