Chapter 22 i seem to have seen it somewhere 😖

A sigh of relief escaped Pei Xingyan’s lips; he had almost convinced himself that Shen Zhishu’s target was not the milk tea, but rather, him.

While he was not so conceited as to believe his charm could captivate anyone, this woman’s attention felt overtly excessive.

Not only had she enlisted an expert based on a single word from him, but she also clung to him, demanding what she called a ‘thank-you gift’ yet what he perceived as a reward.

Moreover, there was indeed some truth to what Fan Jian had said that day: Shen Zhishu frequently conducted dormitory inspections, but invariably, she would depart in a rush immediately after checking his room.

It was as if her sole purpose was merely to catch a glimpse of him.

“I’ll remember…” he murmured in response.

‘There wouldn’t be a next time anyway. What did it matter if he remembered Shen Zhishu’s preferences or not?’

“Mm-hmm.” Shen Zhishu’s lips rested on the straw as she nodded happily, much like a little girl, utterly devoid of any adult demeanor or the dignified aura befitting her status.

“Teacher, do you really like milk tea that much?” Pei Xingyan inquired.

“Why do you never learn?” The previously cheerful Shen Zhishu suddenly flared in anger, tapping his head with a firm rap. She admonished him, “I’ve told you not to call me that. Doesn’t it sound too old-fashioned?”

Pei Xingyan sheepishly pulled his neck back, inwardly grumbling, ‘She’s clearly an old woman, yet she refuses to admit her age.’

Yet, his tongue proved quick and slippery. “Then I suppose I can only call you ‘older sister’… but that doesn’t quite fit, does it?”

“Why doesn’t it fit?” Shen Zhishu’s eyes widened slightly in exasperation. “I’m only twenty-six this year. By age, I’m merely seven years your senior. Isn’t ‘older sister’ precisely the right address?”

Pei Xingyan pursed his lips. ‘These days, a five-year age gap makes you practically from different eras. Twenty-six and still wants to be called ‘older sister’? If she’s not an auntie, it’s an affront to common sense!’ he thought to himself.

As he muttered these thoughts inwardly, he suddenly realized something was amiss.

“How do you know my age?” His brow furrowed, his gaze now as suspicious as hers had been moments before.

Knowing his age was already too much, but what made it truly egregious was that there had been an irregularity in Pei Xingyan’s schooling process when he was young; he had started school a year earlier than his peers. Consequently, most people had no way of knowing his precise age.

Yet Shen Zhishu not only stated it accurately but did so with such a casual, everyday tone.

At this point, he couldn’t help but be suspicious.

“?” Shen Zhishu’s eyes sparkled with amusement. A faint, almost mocking ‘hmph’ escaped her as she curved her lips into a smile. She declared, “Do you know how many forms you’ve filled out since enrolling? I specifically looked through them, ‘Student Pei’ who’s a year younger than his classmates.”

She nonchalantly resumed sipping her milk tea, indistinguishable from the chattering ordinary girls around them. No one could possibly connect this girl, who would narrow her eyes and shiver with delight after a sweet drink, to the ice-faced, outstanding youth depicted on the photo wall.

Pei Xingyan, therefore, couldn’t resist taking a few more glances.

This movement was, naturally, captured by Shen Zhishu.

Suddenly, she leaned closer, the curve of her lips rising even higher, her eyes twinkling as she blinked. “What are you looking at? Are you looking at me?”

“Don’t, don’t get so close…” When dealing with people with whom he had no vested interest, Pei Xingyan always maintained a somewhat goofy demeanor, and teasing words flowed effortlessly from him. “If someone saw us this close and misunderstood, it could affect your future, Teacher, and then I’d have to commit suicide as an apology.”

Shen Zhishu shook her head. “There’s no impact. We aren’t strictly a teacher-student relationship, so even if we were seen, nothing would come of it. Besides, we’re just sitting together, having a cup of milk tea… Why do you say that? Do you have some strange thoughts?”

She smiled cunningly, a hint of something indecipherable lurking within her mirth.

However, her eyes were suddenly caught by something sparkling. Following her gaze, she noticed a red string tied around the back of Pei Xingyan’s hand, with a peanut-sized piece of gold that stood out conspicuously.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant; her smile vanished, yet she leaned in even closer.

Her face was almost pressed against the back of Pei Xingyan’s hand. Before he could utter a single word, she asked coldly, “What is this thing?”

Pei Xingyan paused, then glanced down, realizing she was referring to the gold piece.

Though he couldn’t fathom why she cared about it, based purely on intuition, Pei Xingyan knew he couldn’t tell the truth.

It was a strange yet consistently useful sensation, akin to a hunter sensing the presence of prey, or prey sensing the hunter’s breath—an instinct bordering on a primal survival mechanism.

He feigned nonchalance, extending his hand towards her. “This is something my parents left for me. It’s not worth much.”

“Why haven’t I seen you wear it before?” Shen Zhishu’s concern was clearly excessive, her tone growing somewhat aggressive.

“I don’t need to wear it every day, do I? And I hardly need to discuss such minor matters with you,” Pei Xingyan offered a false smile. “Right?”

Shen Zhishu paused, then settled back into her seat, staring at the red string in a daze.

She gently shook her head, yet uttered no words, merely shaking it.

She was denying something, but unwilling to articulate it.

“Actually, I feel a strange sense of familiarity with you,” Pei Xingyan said, taking a sip of milk tea. The cloyingly sweet sensation nearly made him gag. He smacked his lips, pushing the drink aside, and continued, “It feels as though I’ve seen you somewhere before…”

Shen Zhishu’s expression began to grow intricate. She bit her lip, her head swaying up, down, left, and right, as if acknowledging something, yet simultaneously denying it.

Ultimately, she offered no reply, only posing another question: “Do you think we’ve met before?”

Pei Xingyan shook his head; he had no recollection whatsoever.

He then witnessed Shen Zhishu deflate like a punctured balloon. She slumped into her chair, her body curling inwards, shrinking smaller and smaller, her head almost retreating into her stomach.

A fleeting shadow of sorrow crossed her face, only to vanish swiftly.

It was an ineffable grief, akin to a child realizing they have grown too old to nestle in their parents’ arms, or an elder facing their twilight years, no longer able to dance with the vitality of youth.

It was a profound helplessness, an inescapable realization of watching cherished things fade irrevocably into the setting sun.

Silently, she continued to sip from the drink in her hand, her grip on the plastic cup so tight that her fingers pressed indentations into its sides.

She spoke no further word until the sweet drink was entirely consumed.

Yet her gaze remained fixed on Pei Xingyan, meticulously scrutinizing him, her eyes tracing and retracing every detail with an intensity surpassing that of a student desperately trying to memorize a biological anatomy chart before an exam.

Only when it was time for her to depart did laughter finally reappear on her face. Waving to Pei Xingyan, she called out, “Thank you for the milk tea! Next time, don’t forget I want—”

“Full sugar, iced Mango Pomelo Sago,” Pei Xingyan completed her preference for her.

Shen Zhishu laughed heartily, waving to him from amidst the bustling crowd as she gradually receded into the distance.

Once again, Pei Xingyan experienced a flash of déjà vu; it felt as though he had witnessed this scene somewhere before.

‘But where exactly? And when?’

He still couldn’t recall.