Chapter 12: Just Look at Me Alone

Wen Qi was tidying her clothes, though it was obvious her patience was limited.

The wardrobe door hung half open as she tossed a neatly folded set of pajamas into a storage box, then draped a wrinkled cotton-linen shirt over the back of a chair, her movements unhurried yet crisp.

The rattan chair creaked under her weight as she reached for her phone.

Qiao Mi’s messages were still popping up on the screen.

Qiao Mi had some reputation in the voice acting circle and even ran her own studio.

They had met by chance, and out of an appreciation for talent, Qiao Mi often helped Wen Qi with directing her scenes.

—Little Qi, for Xia Mo Orange’s crying scene, the original script marks it as a breakdown scream. Do you want to try sticking to the original lines? It’s safer.

Xia Mo Orange was the role she had passed the audition for last time.

Wen Qi took Qiao Mi’s advice seriously, but after days of pondering, she still replied:

—Sister Qiao, I feel like screaming might be a bit too outward.

Xia Mo Orange wasn’t a complicated character.

She was a girl who, upon discovering betrayal, decisively chose to leave.

Qiao Mi had listened to Wen Qi’s audition and said that she expressed all the necessary emotions perfectly, that the strength in her voice was handled just right.

But Wen Qi knew she still had a long way to improve.

If there was one thing Wen Qi feared most growing up, it was that hollow sense of emotional imbalance.

Even after passing the audition, she still held the script every day, studying the lines.

In this scene, the cheating boyfriend returns to their shared home and accuses Xia Mo Orange of mistreating him.

Wen Qi believed Xia Mo Orange had a streak of pride hidden in her personality.

She would rather stiffen her neck and say, “I don’t care at all,” than let someone like that see her cry herself into a mess.

After a pause, Wen Qi added another message, seriousness between the lines:

—She’s been holding it in all along. At this point, the emotion should be bottled up tight. I think when the tears fall, she should still curl her lips and tell him to get lost. That reaction feels more reasonable.

Qiao Mi replied:

—It’s a bit risky. Be steady. You finally got this role, don’t let them replace you.

Wen Qi curled her legs up, resting her chin on her knees.

The glow of the screen reflected in her eyes, bright and focused.

—I know being safe is important.

She typed slowly:

—But I want to record two versions. One with the original screaming, one the way I imagined it. Sister Qiao, can you listen and tell me which fits better?

—Sure. Send it before noon tomorrow.

Wen Qi let out a long breath, exited the chat, and opened her Moments feed.

By coincidence, the very next swipe landed on her mother Li Yu’s poolside photo.

Her breathing paused for half a second.

In the picture, Zhang Yi was brushing her mother’s scattered hair back into place.

Zhang Yangming was squeezing between them with a water gun, splashes scattering across the lens and blurring into a bright white haze.

Caption: [Two precious people. Grateful.]

Something lightly struck Wen Qi’s heart.

It didn’t hurt, but it felt hollow.

A faint sense of loss slowly wrapped around her, as if she had misplaced something.

The last time she lay in bed chatting late into the night with her mother had been three years ago.

Thinking of it now felt like looking through fog.

Her finger swiped faster across the screen.

When she found “Hide her Moments,” she hesitated for two seconds before pressing it.

Her phone vibrated again with a new message.

She thought it was Qiao Mi continuing their discussion.

Instead, it was Wei Qingxuan.

—Do you have time right now?

Normally, Wen Qi would tease him with, “What’s wrong? Miss me again?”

But this time she didn’t reply immediately.

She simply stared at the message, lost in thought.

By the time she snapped back, ten minutes had passed.

She tugged at the corner of her mouth, wanting to smile but not quite managing it, and pressed the screen.

—Yes. What’s up?

Before she could send the voice message, another one came from him.

It was a sticker of a little figure hugging its knees while squatting on the ground, with the words “Seriously waiting for you” floating above its head.

The art style looked silly.

Wen Qi canceled the voice message and stared at the squatting little figure on her screen.

Her lips curved unconsciously, and she couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh.

Where had Wei Qingxuan stolen that sticker from?

And how had he thought of sending her one?

He used to be blunt and straight to the point.

The dull heaviness in her chest was gently brushed away.

When she typed, her mood felt lighter.

—Just finished up. What’s wrong?

—Shooting range. Want to go?

Wen Qi leaned her head back, swinging her foot lazily, returning to her usual state.

—You’re asking me out? This counts as a date, right?

Wei Qingxuan looked at those blunt words from her and slightly raised his brow.

—No.

Wen Qi raised an eyebrow.

—There are other people?

—No.

She couldn’t quite figure out why he suddenly wanted to take her to the shooting range, but that didn’t stop her from teasing him.

—Then what is it if not a date?

He didn’t reply for a long while.

Only after she finished a glass of warm water did a message come through.

—The shooting range sent me a discount coupon.

“…”

Good thing she had already swallowed the water.

Otherwise she might have sprayed it out.

Fine.

She was a frugal person too.

—Alright. I’ll change clothes. Wait for me in the garage.

She walked back to her wardrobe and scanned through the pile before pulling out a black cropped tank top and slipping a loose, distressed denim jacket over it.

Just as she was about to leave, she paused, suddenly remembering something.

She turned back, opened the hidden compartment in her bedside drawer, and picked out a dark red silk scarf, tucking it into her bag.

In the garage, Wei Qingxuan was sitting on his motorcycle, wiping his helmet.

Hearing movement, he looked up, his gaze instinctively falling to her ankle, his Adam’s apple bobbing lightly.

Wen Qi walked over, took the helmet from his hand.

As she turned, a faint scent of laundry detergent followed her.

“You look good.”

Her hand paused while fastening the helmet strap.

She rarely heard him compliment anyone.

“Thanks. I know.”

She swung herself onto the back seat.

“Won’t you be hot?” he asked.

“Your denim jacket looks warm.”

Zhian’s summer could only be described as relentlessly scorching.

Wen Qi feared getting tanned, yet in the past few days she would rather slather on sunscreen and carry an umbrella everywhere than wear a jacket.

“We might get back a bit late tonight. Better not let the night wind give me a cold.”

“A bit late?”

His throat tightened.

“You have other plans?”

“Mm.”

Wen Qi looked at his back and smiled without restraint.

“A date. With someone else…”

If she had said that in middle school, he would have dragged her home immediately.

Hearing it now his body stiffened for a moment.

But that was all.

He did nothing.

Unfortunately, Wen Qi didn’t notice.

She only thought he seemed overly calm.

He really had grown up.

Much steadier than the boy who used to run to the parents over every disagreement.

But then he asked, “With who? Male or female? When will you be back?”

Wei Qingxuan had far too many questions today.

And far too much panic.

Based on their earlier conversation, this “date” could only involve two people.

Still the same as always.

Wen Qi wanted to laugh but held it back, answering seriously, “A classmate from No. 1 High School. We’re close. A guy. Around ten. When I come back, it shouldn’t wake Grandma and Aunt Sun, right?”

“It won’t. They usually sleep at nine.”

Wen Qi sighed in relief.

“That’s good.”

That’s good?

Classmate from No. 1 High?

Close?

A guy?

During the years he wasn’t by her side, had her feelings for someone else grown by leaps and bounds?

Close… how close?

Closer than with him?

Did she already have someone she liked?

Probably.

She smiled when she mentioned him.

Just how much did she like him?

Enough to change clothes specially for him, despite her lazy nature.

Wei Qingxuan felt his head tighten.

Even his breathing grew heavy.

A fierce jealousy rose within him, though that person was a complete stranger.

His mind uncontrollably imagined dragging Wen Qi back to her room and locking her inside.

Whether she was willing or not, she would only be with him.

He hated those who thought about Wen Qi.

Hated those who tried to approach her.

Even though he was one of them.

His hand had already left the handlebar.

In the rearview mirror, he looked at Wen Qi.

With one motion, before she could react, he could pull her back to her room.

Then lock it.

Perhaps he had stayed silent too long.

Long enough for Wen Qi to urge, “Hey, what are you spacing out for? Let’s go. Don’t waste your discount coupon.”

Snapped back to reason, Wei Qingxuan murmured, “Mm.”

The motorcycle braked sharply at the shooting range entrance, the screech of tires carrying an edge of barely suppressed anger.

Wen Qi unfastened her helmet.

Her hair was slightly messy from the wind.

Before she could speak, Wei Qingxuan swung off the bike in one fluid, almost reckless motion.

She followed him inside.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him casually hand the helmet to the attendant, never once taking out his phone or wallet.

The so-called “discount coupon” was nowhere to be seen.

The receptionist greeted him warmly.

“Same spot as usual?”

After receiving confirmation, she turned to Wen Qi.

“First time here? I’ll help you choose protective gear.”

Wen Qi blinked, glancing at Wei Qingxuan’s tense side profile.

He walked ahead, back straight, not turning around, yet radiating a clear don’t ask aura.

After putting on the protective gear, Wen Qi was led to the rest area to review safety instructions.

Her phone buzzed continuously in her pocket.

It was Xiang Weishi, asking if she had any dietary restrictions for tonight’s restaurant.

She lowered her head and replied quickly:

—Anything’s fine. I’m not picky.

He responded immediately:

—Oh please. You’re the pickiest one.

Then sent several screenshots.

Wen Qi zoomed in to look at the menu.

Wei Qingxuan stood beside her, fingers lightly stroking the holster, gaze sweeping over her soft profile as she looked down.

His fingers tightened unconsciously.

She must be replying to that man.

“This way, please.”

The attendant gestured.

Wei Qingxuan stepped forward first.

As Wen Qi followed, her phone buzzed again.

Xiang Weishi sent a picture of the restaurant interior.

—Window seat.

She walked while looking at it, her lips curving unconsciously.

“This place looks nice…”

—Hey, don’t get lost. I’m too lazy to come get you.

“…”

She was about to retort when Wei Qingxuan suddenly stopped and turned to her.

“We’re here.”

His exclusive lane was at the far end, separated by partitions into a private area, with spare protective gear and clean towels nearby.

Wen Qi had just put her phone into the locker when a gunshot rang out.

Wei Qingxuan was already at the lane.

The first shot hit a perfect ten.

The smell of gunpowder drifted over.

She turned her head and saw him fire again.

Another ten.

The second shot sounded even louder.

“Impressive.”

Wen Qi meant it sincerely.

When she closed the locker, another gunshot exploded, making even the partition seem to tremble.

Wei Qingxuan stood with his back to her, shoulders taut.

A passing coach joked, “Qingxuan’s in fierce form today. All tens. Even more ruthless than usual.”

Wen Qi quite liked the thrilling sensation.

She followed the coach to her lane.

After practicing for a while and finally finding some rhythm, her bullet merely grazed the edge of the target.

She pursed her lips in frustration when Wei Qingxuan’s voice came from beside her.

“Your wrist’s too loose.”

At some point he had come to stand near the coach.

His gaze rested on her grip.

“When the recoil hits, let your palm absorb it. Don’t sway with it.”

Wen Qi glanced at him, then straightened to figure it out herself.

Wei Qingxuan chuckled softly and stepped half a pace closer.

His warm fingertips lightly brushed the back of her hand, adjusting her grip.

“Like this. When you pull the trigger, stay steady. Don’t use brute force.”

His fingertips carried a trace of the gun’s coolness.

When they touched her skin, her fingers trembled unconsciously.

“There’s dust on your hands.”

She took out the dark red silk scarf from her pocket and handed it to him.

“Wipe it off. The coach can teach me.”

The gunshots in the hall were too overwhelming.

And his face was too close.

It made her heart waver, impossible to concentrate.

How had she never noticed before that Wei Qingxuan’s looks were so… exactly her type?

Tall and lean, pale cool skin.

When the corners of his eyes drooped slightly, a faint shadow lay over them.

He always looked indifferent, as if nothing interested him.

But whenever she met his gaze, she could see the faint hint of obsession hidden beneath.

Back at his own lane, for the next ten minutes his gunshots barely paused.

Bang, bang, bang, rapid and forceful, charged with something hard to name.

Wen Qi occasionally glanced over.

He narrowed his eyes as he aimed, his profile tense, every bullet hitting the bullseye.

The relentless gunfire sounded almost provocative.

For no clear reason, Wen Qi felt challenged.

A spark of competitiveness flared inside her.

She tightened her grip and fired again.

Unfortunately, hovering around five or six rings was hardly impressive.

Still, she wasn’t discouraged.

She resolved to practice more and surpass Wei Qingxuan next time.

Checking the time, she saw only half an hour left before her dinner with Xiang Weishi.

She walked toward Wei Qingxuan, her tone light.

“I’m heading off. The time we agreed on is almost here.”

Wei Qingxuan was loading bullets into the chamber.

At her words, his movement halted abruptly.

“So early?”

She smiled.

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”

Wei Qingxuan lowered his gaze, tossed the gun onto the table, and stepped forward in one long stride, blocking her path.

His body cut off the light, as if suppressing something fierce inside him.

“Qiqi, just look at me alone, okay? Isn’t having me enough?”