I Tried to Keep Distance From My Boyfriend, But He Was Already Waiting at My Door

Z.C: [I have your class schedule. You don’t have class this afternoon. Be good, I’ll see you soon.]

Sang Jiuning: Be good, my a—

Puffed-up Little Chinchilla: [No, I have my part-time shift at the bubble tea shop this afternoon.]

Z.C: [Mm, I’ll go with you. See you soon.]

Sang Jiuning: …

There was no excuse to refuse.

She sighed, then slowly climbed down from the bunk.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated—an incoming call.

Ala chacha yoo bibi labibi…

Sang Jiuning: … The “Onion Song” ringtone.

She glanced at the screen—it was the original owner’s father calling.

The original owner, much like herself, came from a single-parent family.

Her own parents had divorced when she was eight.

Both had since started new families, and she had been passed back and forth like a ball.

With her grandparents living in the countryside, she spent one month with her father and the next with her mother—until high school, when she started boarding and no longer had to shuttle between the two.

Her parents sent a fixed monthly allowance, and she went back to her grandparents’ place during breaks.

The original owner’s family was simple: her father, grandfather, grandmother, uncle, aunt, and younger cousin.

Everyone in the family, except for the kids, was a teacher.

Since the original owner had grown up without a mother, the family had always doted on her.

It had been over a month since she transmigrated, and she had never actively reached out to the original owner’s family.

She pressed the green answer button, putting on the coquettish tone the original owner usually used: “Hello, Daddy, did you miss me?”

A stern, serious voice came from the other end: “How have you been lately?”

Her father, Sang Tingyan, was exactly as his name suggested—strict and serious.

But Sang Jiuning could hear the concern beneath the sternness.

She tried her best to imitate the original owner’s speech: “Dad, I’m doing well. My studies are going smoothly too. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s good,” her father said, pausing briefly as if weighing his next words.

“I’ve had some changes at work recently. After I finish this graduating class, I’m moving to a private high school. I just got paid—I’ll transfer 5,000 yuan to you on WeChat.”

Sang Jiuning’s heart tightened.

After the original owner started college, she had constantly asked for money from home.

Right before Sang Jiuning transmigrated, the original owner had just asked for 10,000 yuan, and her father had transferred it without hesitation.

Now, barely over a month later, he was sending another 5,000.

In reality, 3,000 yuan a month was more than enough for living expenses.

The original owner’s credit card had a 50,000-yuan limit, and she had racked up 36,000 in debt.

With fewer classes in the first two years, a part-time job could easily pay it off.

Her father’s concern touched her deeply.

She replied softly, “Dad, you don’t need to send me money anymore. I found a part-time job. Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. Please take care of yourself too, and give my love to Grandpa and Grandma.”

Sang Tingyan paused for a long moment, a full ten seconds, before finally saying, “Mm, Dad understands. And if you ever need anything, just tell me. Don’t ever shortchange yourself.”

There was a trace of gentleness in his voice, almost imperceptible.

She really was growing up—his little sweetheart.

In the past, she would call and say she missed him, but she never told him to take care of himself.

After hanging up, two WeChat messages popped up on her screen.

One was a transfer of 5,000 yuan.

The other was a text: [Take the money. Dad can support you. No need for part-time jobs—buy yourself something nice.]

Sang Jiuning stood there, a swirl of complex emotions rising in her chest.

Before she transmigrated, no one had ever cared for her like this.

She only received a fixed allowance at fixed times each month.

Her grandparents on both sides had passed away shortly after she finished high school.

Even though she had only transmigrated into this world, she was slowly beginning to feel the warmth of family here.

She decided then—from now on, she would be the real Sang Jiuning.

She would not disappoint the people who cared about her.

Her nose tingled with emotion.

She immediately declined the 5,000-yuan transfer and quickly typed back: [Thank you, Dad. I won’t take it. I can take care of myself!]

During that time, she had received two WeChat messages from Wen Zhaoci.

Z.C: [I’m at the bottom of your dorm building.]

Z.C: [Come down.]

Sang Jiuning checked the time—it had already been over fifteen minutes.

She decided to be a little difficult and make Wen Zhaoci wait another fifteen minutes.

So she took her time, opening a few short videos to scroll through.

But just as she tapped on one, Tang Tongtong and the other two roommates walked in.

Tang Tongtong burst through the door, all excited: “Ningning! You’re still here! I saw Senior Wen downstairs!”

She wiggled her eyebrows, clearly itching for gossip.

Beside her, Qin Ying chimed in: “Yeah, yeah! His looks are just way too striking—so many people were secretly staring at him. You and Senior Wen are moving fast, huh? Already so clingy?”

Their teasing made Sang Jiuning’s cheeks burn, but she tried to save face: “He was just… passing by. He needed to talk to me about something. Oh, by the way, where’s my lunch?”

She said this while surreptitiously turning off her phone screen, not wanting them to see Wen Zhaoci’s messages.

“Oh, your lunch?” Tang Tongtong crossed her arms with a knowing grin. “It’s with Senior Wen. He said he’d have lunch with you.”

Sang Jiuning: … Stuck together again.

She had planned to go down, come back up, eat lunch, rest a bit, and head to her part-time job at two.

“I sent the lunch money to your phone!” Sang Jiuning said, avoiding their eyes as she slung her small bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

“I don’t have class this afternoon, so I’m going to my shift at the bubble tea shop!”

“Wait—Senior Wen is going with you to your shift?!” Tang Tongtong’s voice shot up an octave.

“Oh my god! Wen Zhaoci! That legendary cold, unapproachable academic god who only cares about studying and research—he’s actually going to work a bubble tea shift with you? Ningning, what kind of sorcery is this?! Teach us!”

Sang Jiuning was caught between laughter and tears from their pestering.

She tried to change the subject: “Oh, stop it, you guys! He’s not coming. I need to get ready and head out.”

As she spoke, she picked up the small mirror on her desk, checked her reflection, fixed her hair, and surreptitiously reapplied a bit of lipstick.

Deep down, even though she had planned to “make him wait a little,” she still felt a bit nervous about keeping Wen Zhaoci waiting for so long.

It’s fine. If he gets mad, I’ll just break up with him!

After Sang Jiuning left, Tang Tongtong and Qin Ying’s curiosity and gossip-hunger showed no sign of dying down.

Qin Ying suddenly leaned closer to Tang Tongtong and whispered, “Tongtong, do you think they’ve kissed yet? That head-rub photo from last time—I saved it.”

Tang Tongtong’s eyes lit up, and she lowered her voice in reply: “I’ll bet five packs of spicy sticks they haven’t! You saw how red Sang Jiuning’s face got—like a boiled shrimp. She’s definitely still an innocent little flower. But the way Senior Wen looks at her… tsk tsk. I’d say within three days, there’s gonna be something explosive!”

She then turned to Su Qingyan, who had been silent since they got back, and patted her shoulder.

“Yanyan, what’s with you? You’ve been quiet since we came in. Speaking of which—that Weng Zhicheng from the Finance Department has been chasing you for so long. You still haven’t made things official with him?”

Su Qingyan snapped out of her daze, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her shirt, her gaze evasive.

She had been thinking about Wen Zhaoci ever since she saw him downstairs earlier—her heart had been beating strangely fast, even her fingertips feeling warm.

She forced a faint smile and avoided Tang Tongtong’s probing gaze.

“He and I are just friends. Besides, we’re only in the second semester of freshman year. There’s no rush to date.”