He Already Knew I Was Trying to Break Up

The original Sang Jiuning had come from an ordinary family background.

She had been a fine arts major who had spent four years in college devoted to painting and design.

After finally graduating and securing a job she had truly wanted, before she could even step into the workforce and start her life as a busy working adult, she had transmigrated overnight—without any warning—into this melodramatic novel she had never even finished reading.

To make matters worse, the original owner’s major was English.

That subject had been her Achilles’ heel in her past life—something she had always avoided, a natural weakness she could never master no matter how hard she tried.

She could paint with ease, but English was a complete mystery.

Her talents, preferences, and areas of expertise were all completely misaligned.

The start of her transmigration was nothing short of a total disaster.

Before she could fully pull her thoughts away from the fortune of her past life and the misfortune of this one, another realization struck her with chilling clarity.

This morning, when she had reached for her phone after waking up, she had clearly seen the messages Wen Zhaoci had sent in the early hours.

He had sent a soft, tender “good night” in the dead of night—gentle and affectionate on the screen, yet it made her heart clench with unease.

Not only that, but he had also sent an invitation ahead of time: since she had no classes this afternoon, he wanted to take her to the library to study together.

The nightmares of confinement, abandonment, and cold rejection still lingered vividly in her mind, yet reality offered the complete opposite—the male lead’s gentle, affectionate invitation right in her face.

The jarring contrast made Sang Jiuning’s entire body go rigid.

Any lingering drowsiness evaporated instantly, and she snapped fully awake.

A thin layer of cold sweat even broke out on her back.

She was now consumed by a single thought: she had to get away from Wen Zhaoci—as fast as possible, and cut ties as cleanly as she could.

The fate she had seen in her dreams was far too terrifying.

She suspected that in the original novel, the male and female leads were locked in an obsessive, tangled relationship, never letting each other go.

After last night’s nightmare, she wanted even less to do with the male lead than before.

She was already seated in the last row of the classroom—a secluded spot far from the podium, well out of the teacher’s line of sight.

Carefully, Sang Jiuning hunched down, pulled her phone from her desk drawer, her fingers slightly tense.

She unlocked the screen, hesitated for a moment, then went straight to the Baidu search bar.

In the dark input field, she typed, word by word: [How to break up gracefully with a college boyfriend you just started dating.]

The cursor blinked, and the search results appeared.

Countless answers popped up instantly—long posts and short comments, a dizzying variety of advice.

Some suggested the cold-shoulder approach, gradually creating distance.

Others advised easing out with polite excuses about incompatibility.

A few advocated being straightforward to avoid wasting each other’s time.

There were even tips on how to avoid lingering attachments and prevent future complications.

Sang Jiuning leaned forward slightly, hiding her phone under her textbook, and quickly scrolled through the results.

Her eyes were glued to every piece of advice, her brows furrowed as she rapidly calculated her next steps.

Wen Zhaoci came from an exceptional family.

He had a deep, reserved personality—appearing cool and aloof to outsiders, but once he set his mind on something, he would never let go easily.

She had been the one to throw herself at him, and now she was trying to pull away.

He wouldn’t let her go without a fight.

She couldn’t be too blunt, or she might provoke him—those nightmare images still haunted her.

She also couldn’t drag things out, leaving loose threads that would only create more trouble down the road.

If the name Weng Zhicheng ever came up, she would meet a disastrous end.

Her fingers curled slightly as she stared at the various breakup scripts on the screen, mentally crafting her own words, her heartbeat quickening involuntarily.

She quickly memorized the cold-shoulder method from the web page, then opened her phone’s notepad and carefully wrote out her escape plan:

Cold-shoulder distance-building: minimize contact, deliberately keep space in daily interactions, reply to messages as little as possible, and never reply quickly if you can help it.

The cold-breakup plan officially began now.

Wen Zhaoci’s invitation to the library this afternoon would be her first test.

She would not only delay her reply but also decline outright.

Through this rejection, she would quietly widen the gap between them, draw clear boundaries, and gradually withdraw until she could sever this absurd relationship entirely.

Up on the podium, the English teacher continued to drone on, weaving words and grammar together.

The classroom buzzed with the soft scratch of pens on paper and the rustle of pages turning.

Everything seemed ordinary and noisy, as if her terrifying nightmares and her frantic scheming had no place in this world.

Finally, the long, grueling class ended.

The bell rang, and students packed up their things and filed out.

Sang Jiuning followed the crowd out of the building and hurried back to the girls’ dormitory.

The moment she stepped inside, she didn’t even sit down.

She climbed straight up to her bunk, curled up behind her bed curtain, cutting herself off from the outside light with a clear “do not disturb” vibe.

She couldn’t even be bothered to go down for lunch, so she texted her roommate Tang Tongtong and asked her to bring something back.

Huddled in the small, quiet space behind the curtain, a sliver of safety returned.

Sang Jiuning took a deep breath, pushing down the lingering fear and unease, and opened WeChat.

She tapped on her chat with Wen Zhaoci.

Staring at the gentle “good night” message from the early hours, her fingers paused.

Images of being abandoned in the mountains and locked in a room flashed through her mind, making her heart tighten sharply.

Without further hesitation, she typed out the distancing words she had prepared and sent them:

[I’ve been too busy lately. No time.]

Within seconds, his reply came—almost immediately.

Z.C: [It took you so long to reply. What have you been so busy with?]

His tone was flat, revealing nothing.

But that calmness only made Sang Jiuning more uneasy.

Wen Zhaoci’s nature seemed cool and gentle on the surface, but beneath that lay a deep, controlling streak.

He wouldn’t miss even the slightest abnormality.

She quickly crafted an excuse, making it as plausible as possible to avoid any holes:

[Just got out of class and back to the dorm. Busy with studying, work, and classes—my schedule is packed.]

At that moment, Wen Zhaoci was in the university’s computer lab.

A pen rested between his fingers, and several computers hummed quietly around him.

The atmosphere was cool and still.

When his phone vibrated, he glanced down at the screen.

The moment he read Sang Jiuning’s message, his usually calm brow furrowed slightly.

His fingers hovered over the screen as he stared at the words with a heavy gaze.

Wen Zhaoci tapped the desk lightly, his eyes darkening.

He didn’t think the girl was just throwing a tantrum or that he had accidentally upset her—this looked like she was trying to pull away, maybe even the prelude to a breakup.

Got what she wanted and lost interest. A little liar, indeed.

He thought for a moment, then sent a reply.

Z.C: [Didn’t you say you wanted to see each other whenever you wanted? I want to see you now.]

Puffed-up Little Chinchilla: [Busy. No time.]

Z.C: [If you have time to chat with me, you’re not that busy. I’ll wait for you outside your dorm in fifteen minutes.]

Puffed-up Little Chinchilla: [Can’t. I have to go out soon.]