Chapter 10: Exactly As I Predicted

At noon, the billiards hall was nearly empty. Since arriving that morning, Wei Qingxuan had stayed in the lounge the entire time, slowly turning a photo in his hand.

After double-checking the last entry in the accounts, Chen Yuyi stretched and turned to Wen Qi.

“It’s rare that we’re this free. What do you want to eat? I’ll treat you.”

Wen Qi had been treating her to milk tea and fruit the past few days, which made Chen Yuyi feel a little embarrassed. She’d been looking for a chance to return the favor.

Wen Qi glanced toward the lounge door several times without being obvious, wondering if what she’d said that morning had stimulated Wei Qingxuan a bit too much. Ever since she’d said it, he’d gone silent, just dropped her off at the billiards hall and shut himself in the lounge.

“Xiao Qi, what are you looking at?”

Wen Qi snapped back. “Nothing. Just thinking about what to eat later. You know the delivery places around here better, any recommendations?”

At the mention of food, Chen Yuyi immediately pulled out her phone and enthusiastically began listing which restaurants were good and which were scams.

Just as they were deep in discussion, Zhang Weigang suddenly appeared at the counter and knocked on it. “Count me in.”

Chen Yuyi looked up. “Don’t you always eat that pork knuckle rice place next door?”

“They’re closed today.” Zhang Weigang leaned on the counter with both hands and blinked. “You two must know what’s good. Add mine when you order.”

He even threw in a wink.

Wen Qi instantly got goosebumps and turned her face away.

Chen Yuyi didn’t hold back either. “Can you not make that expression? It’s terrifying.”

Zhang Weigang, who thought he was irresistibly charming, struck out twice in a row. With nothing to do, he slipped behind the counter.

“Chen Yuyi, say that again to my handsome face.”

Without even looking up, she replied, “Terrifying.”

“…”

Chen Yuyi ignored him and asked Wen Qi, “Let’s order this one, okay?”

“Okay.” Wen Qi opened her account backend. One of her recent voiceover videos had gone viral, and her follower count was surging.

In a little while, she’d probably break 200,000 followers.

Many private messages were asking when she’d stream again, and whether she could bring her “brother-in-law” along for a 200k special.

Your voices sound so compatible.

Wen Qi stared at that message for quite a while.

Wei Qingxuan’s voice was like sandalwood soaked in warm water, steady, low, with a lazy magnetism. Listening to him speak easily drew you into a calm, grounded rhythm.

When he talked to her, his low register always caught her bright tone perfectly.

But she had never paid attention to that before, so she remained skeptical about the message’s claim.

“Have you ordered yet? Don’t forget me,” Zhang Weigang reminded.

“Relax,” Chen Yuyi showed him the phone. “It’ll take an hour.”

Zhang Weigang nodded, then looked at Wen Qi, who had been quiet. “Xiao Qi, it’s slow right now. Want to play a round?”

She lifted her gaze from her phone and exhaled. “Sure.”

The lights slanted across the billiards hall, casting pale patches over the dark green felt.

Wen Qi leaned beside the table, lightly chalking her cue. Her gaze traced from the cue tip to the target ball in the corner. Then she bent down.

“Tricky angle,” Zhang Weigang said from across the table, spinning a ball between his fingers. “Want me to give you a handicap?”

She didn’t even lift her eyelids. With a steady wrist, she pushed forward.

The cue struck the white ball with a dry rasp from the chalk. It slid cleanly along the rail and hit the target ball dead on.

The ball dropped neatly into the pocket. The cue ball rolled into perfect position for the next shot.

Silence hung for half a second.

Zhang Weigang’s spinning fingers froze. The teasing words on his tongue died instantly.

“Didn’t you say you were average?”

Wen Qi shrugged. “First day here. Being modest.” She glanced up. “You actually believed me?”

He clicked his tongue. He had just missed an easy shot himself. Hearing a faint laugh from nearby, his face reddened.

Just as Wen Qi was lining up the next shot, the door chime rang.

Wei Qingxuan appeared in the backlight. His gaze swept over the table and landed on Wen Qi’s bent posture.

Her cropped top had ridden up slightly, revealing a strip of her waist. Seeing how unaware she was, he frowned.

Zhang Weigang reacted first. “Not busy. Just playing around.”

He was about to cue Wen Qi to back him up, since they technically were slacking off.

But before he could catch her eye, Wei Qingxuan stepped forward casually, blocking his view entirely.

Wen Qi steadied her cue, ready to strike, when a shadow fell behind her.

Wei Qingxuan’s presence pressed close, his breath brushing her ear. His arm came around her almost naturally, his hand grazing the back of hers where she held the cue.

He didn’t look at the table. His peripheral gaze rested on Zhang Weigang, his smile faint but unmistakably territorial.

“The person I brought, better I play with her.”

Wen Qi was pinned between him and the table. His cool woody scent wrapped around her. The white ball wavered slightly in her vision.

Zhang Weigang’s cue hovered midair. The smile on his face stiffened completely.

“Xiao Qi, Zhang Weigang, the delivery’s here!” Chen Yuyi called from afar.

Zhang Weigang coughed. “I’ll go eat first.”

After he left, Wei Qingxuan scanned the scattered balls before his gaze settled on Wen Qi’s face.

“So you can play. And you’re good. I remember you couldn’t in middle school.”

Wen Qi curved her lips. “Back in the east district, I had a few decent practice partners.”

His breathing stilled.

His palm tightened over her hand, guiding her arm back and forward.

“Like this? Taught hand in hand?”

She felt slightly dazed. Through two thin layers of fabric, she could clearly sense the firm lines of his abdomen.

The distinctive hardness of tightened muscle rose and fell faintly with his movement, radiating heat.

She also realized something was off. He was daring to get close first.

“Wei Qingxuan, are you doing this on purpose?”

She straightened. He straightened too, then stepped back a little.

He reined in the thoughts threatening to surface, tapping the cue lightly.

“Of course not.”

She blinked, feeling the conversation oddly familiar.

Still, she couldn’t help remembering the warmth from just now. It had been hot, enough to make her heart skip.

Her gaze slid downward involuntarily, to where the black T-shirt traced his waist. Her fingers twitched.

An inappropriate thought surfaced: It’s probably even firmer than I imagined.

“Not allowed.”

His voice dropped slightly, tinged with a low chuckle. He tapped her forehead.

“If you keep staring, I’ll take it seriously.”

Light, quick, half retreat, half test.

As expected, she jerked her gaze away like she’d been burned.

Watching her lowered head, the smile in his eyes slowly faded.

That afternoon, Zhang Weigang hovered around the register repeatedly, but Wen Qi was too busy to entertain him.

Ten minutes before her shift ended, he finally found a chance.

“You and Wei Qingxuan… what’s your relationship?”

He knew she had come with Wei Qingxuan. But aside from commuting together, they hadn’t acted overly close.

Yet today, that hazy, almost tangible tension between them had nearly spilled over.

Wen Qi almost answered “friends” casually. But for some reason, she changed it.

“Childhood sweethearts.”

That was enough.

No one could compete with Wei Qingxuan. Zhang Weigang had seen it clearly, during the game earlier, the way Wei Qingxuan had looked at him was unmistakably defensive.

The kind of defensive only men understood.

After work, under the streetlights, their shadows stretched long.

Wen Qi kicked small stones along the sidewalk, glancing at Wei Qingxuan’s broad back.

Damn it. She really was curious how hard it was.

He seemed to sense her silence. His steps slowed, but he didn’t ask anything. Reaching the motorcycle, he mounted naturally and started the engine. The roar broke the quiet.

Watching him sit there waiting, she inexplicably thought of the phrase “lamb to the slaughter.”

She cleared her throat and climbed on behind him. After two seconds of hesitation, her arms wrapped around his waist.

The instant her fingers touched his abdomen, she clearly felt the tight lines, firmer than she’d imagined.

She wondered what it would feel like without the layer of fabric. Would it tremble?

Stop. If she kept thinking, she wouldn’t be able to sit still.

She tightened her arms quickly, covering up. “This isn’t me touching on purpose. Purely for safety.”

His grip on the handlebars tightened. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Mm.”

The motorcycle merged into the summer night wind.

The breeze carried the cool scent of grass, but the waist beneath her arms felt burning hot. The heat seeped through the thin T-shirt, mixing with his clean scent.

Wei Qingxuan’s thoughts were anything but calm, louder than the engine’s roar.

When the bike stopped in the garage, she hadn’t fully let go yet.

The lingering sensation at her fingertips was like an electric feather brushing along his nerves.

“You go up first,” he said without turning around. His voice was unusually cold, and unusually hoarse.

He almost held his breath, waiting until she jumped off before straightening sharply.

“You should rest early too.”

Her voice carried a faint new note, though she didn’t dwell on it. Her fingers curled unconsciously, recalling the feel from earlier.

Not bad.

Wei Qingxuan waited until her figure disappeared before dismounting. His steps were quick, almost unsteady.

The tension sharpened with every step, like a slow burn. He rushed into his room without looking back.

His gaze landed on the shawl fluttering by the window. The torn part had been mended. Beside it, crooked stitching formed the character “栖.” (Qi)

He yanked it down, knuckles turning white.

Cicadas shrilled outside, blending with his pounding heartbeat.

Her breath near him at the billiards hall.

The pressure of her arms around his waist on the bike.

Her fingers grazing his abdomen.

Scene after scene surged forward, dissolving into the sound of fabric twisting in his grip in the silent night.

When the heat finally ebbed, he slumped against the headboard, staring at the wrinkled shawl and smiling soundlessly.

The crooked “栖” was gone again.

He’d have to mend it once more.