Standing at the entrance of the arcade, I was struck by a sudden sense of aimlessness. I had no idea where to go.
Maybe I could go home to my dad, but I didn’t want to make him worry about me.
Just as I was feeling lost, I saw Chen Qiao Luo sprinting toward me from a distance. He stopped right in front of me, bending over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
After a moment, he straightened up, still catching his breath, and scolded me angrily, “Zhu Yun Hao, you’re an adult now. Do you even have a shred of sense? Disappearing without answering your phone—are you trying to pull some kind of vanishing act?”
I took out my phone and realized it had run out of battery and powered off without me noticing. I held the dark screen up to him and said, “It’s dead.”
He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. After a moment, he asked, “What’s going on with you? And what was that phone call earlier about?”
His words brought back memories of Gu Yu’s rejection, and the scene replayed vividly in my mind. My nose stung, and I felt on the verge of crying.
Seeing my reaction, Chen Qiao Luo panicked. “Zhu Yun Hao, what’s wrong? Talk to me! Don’t cry, okay?”
“Chen Qiao Luo, I…” The words caught in my throat as a dull ache spread from my chest, making it hard to breathe. Sniffling, I finally managed to say, “Gu Yu rejected me.”
“Gu Yu?” he repeated, stunned. Then, as if piecing something together, he looked at me in disbelief and asked, “Don’t tell me you confessed to him?”
“Yes, I did. I stupidly ran up to him, confessed, and got rejected.” I bit my lip, determined not to cry.
Instead of comforting me, Chen Qiao Luo laughed. “Zhu Yun Hao, it’s just a confession. So what if it got rejected? It’s no big deal. I told you ages ago—Gu Yu and you were never going to happen. Think about it: he’s a ‘model student’ type, the kind who plays by all the rules. How could he possibly accept people like us, who couldn’t care less about them?”
“You’re still laughing!” I glared at him angrily. “You’re the one who’s lazy and aimless, not me. Don’t lump me in with you!”
“Yes, yes, it has nothing to do with you. Our dear Zhu Yun Hao is kind, gentle, generous, and adorable—the perfect girl,” he said with a teasing grin.
I was about to bask in his exaggerated praise when he added, with uncharacteristic seriousness, “But, Yun Hao, Gu Yu isn’t someone who belongs in our world. For your own sake, it’s better if you don’t get close to him anymore.”
His sudden change in tone and the earnest look in his eyes froze me in place.
After a long pause, he broke into his usual playful smile and said, “Alright, let’s go. To celebrate your heartbreak, drinks are on me tonight. Let’s drink till we drop!”
“Hey, Chen Qiao Luo, do you even hear yourself? What kind of ‘celebration’ is that—”
Before I could finish, he grabbed my hand and pulled me along.
The best thing about heartbreak, I realized, is that it gives you an excuse to let loose.
I used a public phone to call my dad, letting him know I’d be out late, and then followed Chen Qiao Luo to “Old Times Blues,” a quiet bar.
This bar was where his mother, He Pei, worked as a singer. Shortly after I met him, he had brought me here.
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