He’s Here

They had lunch in the school canteen. Everywhere Wen Qiao went, there were people pointing fingers at her behind her back. Somehow, those people never seemed to tire of mocking her about the love letter she wrote.

“‘Coming down to Earth, you ought to see the sun. To walk on the street, with your beloved.’ Wow, that’s Hai Zi’s poem! You’re quoting the classics!”

“‘You’re the refreshing breeze and bright moon on the mountain in February, illuminating my gloomy life that has no end in sight.’ Wow, with your literary talent, it’d be a waste not to enter into writing competitions!”

The mockery was mixed with odd laughter brimming with malicious intent. Over this past year, all thanks to Zhuang Yan, mockery accompanied her everywhere she went in this school.

By now, she had grown used to it.

Lu Youyou slammed down her lunch tray heavily and howled at those people with gritted teeth. “F*ck! Are you guys done or not! Aren’t you bored already?!”

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Those people roared with laughter as they dispersed.

Wen Qiao tugged at Lu Youyou’s hand. “Let’s eat. Wouldn’t you spite yourself to death by getting angry at those people?”

But Lu Youyou was so furious that she slammed the table. “Xu Lu is trashy and Zhuang Yan even more so. Even if he doesn’t like you, fine. But why did he have to trample on your genuine feelings for him? Despicable!”

Wen Qiao stroked Lu Youyou’s head. “Alright, alright, I’ve let it all go. From now onwards it’s a brand new life. Let’s not waste our energy over the unworthy, hm?”

Lu Youyou was so mad that she slammed the table again.

In order to distract her, Wen Qiao said, “Youyou, if someone tries to sound you out about me and ask you if I’m dating a man called Fu Nanli, just say you’re aware but aren’t too sure about the details, okay?”

Psssscht! Lu Youyou, who had just drank a mouthful of soup, spat it out with a sputtering sound. Thankfully Wen Qiao dodged in time, for the soup ended up splattering all over her seat.

Wen Qiao hurriedly reached for her tissues and helped Lu Youyou wipe her mouth. The latter grabbed her hand and said, “Fu Nanli? I’ve heard of him. The sole inheritor of the Fu Corporation, right? Moreover he’s renowned for being the most good-looking hunk in the airline industry. You and him…”

“It’s a long story, I also have no idea how to explain it to you. In any case, just reply as I said if anyone tries to sound you out.”

After lunch, Lu Youyou pestered her all the way to the convenience store entrance. With a cup of bubble tea in each of their hands, Wen Qiao took a sip, then gave a simplified recount of what had happened to her over the past two days.

Of course, she revealed nothing about the fact that she was reborn, only that there seemed to be a voice in her head telling her to ‘stay by Fu Nanli’s side, or else she would die’.

Lu Youyou’s eyes sparkled as she bit on the chewy milk tea pearl. “This is what they call decreed by fate. I’ve never seen Fu Nanli, but I heard his reputation in the upper class society is exceedingly good. He’s aloof, enigmatic, and doesn’t fool around despite having the looks and the money. The socialites in Harbor City are all secretly vying for him, competing to become Mrs. Fu. I never imagined you would be the one to end up with this good deal.”

Looking vexed, Wen Qiao said, “The day his memories come back to him, will be the day my reputation is ruined.”

Lu Youyou patted her on her shoulders. “Perhaps by then, Young Master Fu would have fallen for you? Don’t panic.”

At 1:30pm, audiences were scattered in the mini-hall with a round stage and a capacity of two hundred people.

There were only twelve students at Nine Middle School who qualified for the interview. Several professors from the Central Conservatory of Music were seated in the second row, while the staff set up the stage.

Standing at the side of the round stage, Wen Qiao saw the presentably-dressed Wen Jianmin, Zhong Hui and Wen Xuan enter the hall and sit down in the third row. Clearly, her biological father was here to root for Xu Lu.

As she didn’t want her mother—who was busy with work—to go through all that trouble, Wen Qiao didn’t tell her about the performance. This was why no one came to watch her perform.

As the domed lights slowly dimmed, a teacher shouted out her name from behind, “Wen Qiao, you’re number 12, the last performer.”

Wen Qiao was about to turn around, when she saw the back door of the hall open. Into the hall entered a familiar, tall and broad figure…