Chapter 4: Ji Xian's Expression Was Utterly Grim

Ji Xian was followed by three or four boys. One of them, upon seeing Qiao Zhen, looked at her with utter disdain.

“Well, well, Qiao Zhen—why aren’t you coming over to eat with our Young Master Ji?”

The mocking words fell like a slap.

Qiao Zhen’s hand froze mid-air, her face turning pale. She recognized this second-generation rich kid—Yu Wenjian.

He was notorious for his lack of discipline and poor character, having gotten into Beijing University only because his family donated a few buildings.

Back in their first year of high school, for no reason at all, Yu Wenjian had sent her a pile of luxury goods. After Qiao Zhen politely refused, Yu Wenjian immediately lost his composure, badmouthing her to Ji Xian, mocking her ignorance of brands, and sneering at her humble background as if she was unworthy of being among them.

In her previous life, Yu Wenjian had worn the same arrogant expression.

Qiao Zhen’s breath stilled, a ringing in her ears. Back then, she used to trail behind Ji Xian and his friends during lunch, always responsible for bringing their spoons and chopsticks—just to be a little closer to him.

It was all tacitly approved by Ji Xian; she only joined in when he nodded his consent, never insisting or pushing herself upon them.

Countless girls at school were vying for Ji Xian’s attention, all wanting to eat with him or join him at the campus store. Ji Xian rejected them firmly—but never once rejected Qiao Zhen.

This subtle distinction led her to believe, foolishly, that her efforts might one day melt his heart.

How ridiculous.

She had willingly ignited a flame for Ji Xian, hoping to warm him, but he never noticed.

No—how could anyone not feel the warmth of a fire burning right next to them? Qiao Zhen’s eyes involuntarily grew moist, her vision blurring.

Ji Xian simply assumed she would never leave him, that her flame would never go out—so he never cared about her feelings at all.

Meanwhile, another boy behind Ji Xian noticed her.

He spoke in a lazy tone, “Come on over. Without you, there’s no one to fetch our chopsticks.”

All this time, Ji Xian hadn’t said a word, taking it for granted that she’d join them. He never countered his friends’ ridicule, never defended her—neither now, nor in her past life.

Beside her, Qin Yichi sat rigid, eyes filled with vigilance and displeasure. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant hand, making it hard to breathe. Under the table, his fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, trying to restrain himself.

The two groups of boys were never on good terms; now the atmosphere grew tense, the air between them electric.

Qiao Zhen was dazed, her fingertips curling as she forced down the bitterness rising in her chest.

She took a deep breath, looked at Ji Xian, and spoke with calm resolve:

“From now on, I won’t be joining you anymore.”

Never again.

Fortunately, dreams of her past life had spared her from taking the long way around, helping her give up early.

Now fully awake, she wanted to stay far from these people.

Qiao Zhen’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for both tables to hear. The crowd was stunned, faces full of disbelief.

Almost everyone at Beijing University knew of the beautiful junior in the Art Department—Qiao Zhen—who had chased Ji Xian from high school all the way to college, her feelings unwavering. How could she suddenly change overnight?

Yu Wenjian’s face twitched in disbelief, his voice rising, “What did you just say?!”

Qiao Zhen lowered her gaze, repeating herself, “From now on, I won’t be joining you anymore.”

No sooner had she spoken than Ji Xian’s eyes iced over, his cool gaze unreadable.

His face darkened, his voice cold and commanding, each word a command she was not allowed to refuse:

“Qiao Zhen, come here.”

But Qiao Zhen’s lashes trembled; she remained seated, showing no intention of moving. She shook her head, silently refusing.

Ji Xian’s rich friends were utterly dumbfounded, exchanging bewildered glances.

No one had expected Qiao Zhen to truly refuse.

Had she lost her mind? Was this some new tactic of hers?

Ji Xian’s face was severe, his eyes narrowed, fixed on Qiao Zhen.

After a long moment, he walked away without expression, never glancing at her again, as if nothing had happened.

When they were finally gone, Qiao Zhen could breathe again.

But her appetite was gone; their presence had ruined her lunch.

It was hard to imagine how she had managed to follow Ji Xian for seven years in her past life, how she’d endured a relationship with him.

Seven years of mockery and belittlement. Seven years of cold violence.

Seven years.

The pain and anguish of her former life surged through her in that moment, flooding every inch of her being until even breathing became difficult.

Qiao Zhen hung her head in silence, poking at her bowl with her chopsticks.

Sensing the stifled mood, one of the boys eating with her tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Chi-ge, do you know this pretty girl?”

“Know her? Of course,” Qin Yichi replied with a faint smile, his tone earnest. “Let me introduce her properly—this is Qiao Zhen. Qiao as in the tree, Zhen as in pearl.”

“She’s my—” He deliberately drew out the last word.

Qiao Zhen’s eyelid twitched, her heart tightening for some reason.

Everyone around the table perked up, eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation.

Qin Yichi paused, then added,

“My childhood sweetheart.”

The girl he’d grown up with.

The boys all made teasing noises, their faces a mix of envy and resignation.

Damn—why couldn’t they have such an adorable and pretty childhood friend?

Qin Yichi ignored their ribbing, just curving his lips slightly.

His roommate, Niu Yifeng, patted his chest enthusiastically. “Qiao-mei, if you’re Chi-ge’s childhood sweetheart, then by rounding up, you’re our childhood sweetheart too!”

His warmth was almost overwhelming.

Qiao Zhen’s mind froze, her fair cheeks full of question marks, her voice sweet and uncertain, “Uh…?”

Is that how rounding up works?

The boys all chimed in, “Qiao Tree—that’s such a nice name, hahaha!”

Qin Yichi tapped his finger on the table, correcting him word by word, “Not Qiao Tree—it’s Qiao Zhen. Zhen as in pearl.”

The other boy stuffed his mouth with food, suddenly realizing, “Oh, oh, sorry, Qiao Pearl!”

“…”

Qiao Zhen choked a little, hurriedly waving her hand, “It’s—It’s fine.”

By the meal’s end, Qiao Zhen couldn’t help but smile, feeling inwardly that Qin Yichi’s group had such a wonderful atmosphere.

It was as if a gentle spring breeze surrounded her, putting her at ease and allowing her to be herself.

His friends were genuine and warm.

Unlike Ji Xian’s crowd, who were always looking down on her, criticizing and nitpicking at every turn.

And she could only tread carefully, pretending not to understand their sarcastic jabs.

Qiao Zhen lowered her head, her nose stinging as her eyes grew hot.

Only now, with the contrast, did she realize—

She had been so, so tired before.

Outside, the wind howled, golden ginkgo leaves rustling as the sky darkened with gathering clouds.

Ji Xian’s mood was as bleak as the weather.

No one dared speak at the table, fearing to provoke him.

Ji Xian walked at the front of the crowd, his expression cold and distant.

Behind him, Yu Wenjian’s veins bulged in anger as he spat, “Well, well, that Qiao Zhen—so fickle! Now she’s clinging to Qin Yichi?!”

Ji Xian halted abruptly, a storm raging in his eyes, sharpness flashing across his face, which grew even darker.

The next moment, thunder cracked through the sky, lightning slashing the air like a sword.

A torrential rain began to fall.