Chapter 5

Chen Yabai actually didn’t say much. Ever since he got the answer he wanted last time, he hadn’t thought of me again.

I kept the sheet of paper where I could see it at a glance. A few days went by with no new handwriting. It wasn’t until I came back from being criticized by my fifty-year-old balding boss and glanced instinctively at the love letter that I finally saw fresh writing on it.

A graceful conical curve had appeared on the page, the handwriting loose, with a hint of impatience.

I ground my teeth. “Chen Yabai, are you using the Fairy Godmother’s love letter as scratch paper for your math homework?”

He suddenly realized, “You’re still here.”

Yes. I’ve always been here.

I asked, “Miss Little Yuan isn’t talking to you anymore, is she?”

The page was pressed with an annoyed mark.

Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

I checked the date. Time flowed at the same rate on both sides of the page. It should be the seventh over there, and my period was always steady around the seventh or eighth.

I said, “Don’t bother her today.”

A question mark appeared next to my words.

I explained, “She’s on her period today.”

Then I watched as the words on the page were crossed out and rewritten, until finally there was just a trembling, embarrassed ‘oh.’

I’d forgotten-he’s only seventeen now, and he gets shy about these things.

I set down my pen, curving my eyes in a smile. Suddenly, a scene flashed through my mind-something I’d never experienced before, surfacing from nowhere, as if it were new and truly happening.

I saw seventeen-year-old Lin Yu’an walk into the classroom, her lips a little pale. The room was noisy between classes, and she noticed a cup of warm red ginger tea on her desk. She had no idea who put it there. If she turned around, she’d see the lazy boy by the window covering his face with a book, but his flushed ears were visible.

That memory began to fade and age, no longer sealed clearly in my mind.

I blinked, lowering my head to look dazedly at the sheet of paper, almost on the verge of tears. So, did this just happen? Was it because of what I wrote?

On the love letter, I wrote: “Chen Yabai, where did you get the red ginger tea?”

He replied: “Don’t ask.”

I switched topics, almost coaxing: “The Fairy Godmother has come from the distant future to deliver a message on behalf of Miss Little Yuan. She says-the you in high school was way too much of a straight guy.”

He fell silent.

I added, “So, you’d better listen to my advice.”

Honestly, I didn’t expect anything. Chen Yabai was never one to listen to anyone; sometimes his arrogance was infuriating.

But his answer was-okay. If it could make Miss Little Yuan like me a little more, my answer is okay.

I sat at my desk, staring at that line, my knuckles turning white from gripping the pen.

What I do is cross time to deceive the boy I once was, teaching him how to stay away from Miss Little Yuan.

Don’t try to save Miss Little Yuan anymore, Chen Yabai.