The Untamed Memory and a Calculated Strategy

“Chen… Brother Chen?!”

Jiang Chen’s hand froze mid-air.

He watched Zhou Yi’s expression, as if she were facing a formidable enemy, and a smile almost escaped his lips.

“There was something on your head just now,” he said nonchalantly, his gaze sweeping over her already tousled hair, now even more disheveled after her frantic attempts to smooth it.

“Oh, my mistake. It was just that stubborn cowlick of yours, sticking up like an antenna. My OCD kicked in.”

His excuse was fabricated on the spot, yet delivered with perfect ease.

It was as if that slightly intimate gesture had genuinely been nothing more than a roommate unable to tolerate a rebellious cowlick on her head.

Zhou Yi’s heart was still pounding wildly in her chest. She instinctively raised a hand, fumbling haphazardly at the top of her head.

“Ah? …Oh, oh, alright,” she stammered incoherently.

The warm sensation of his palm still seemed to linger on her scalp, a memory of the instant she froze, followed by a surge of panic.

Jiang Chen slowly withdrew his hand, his expression unchanged, and settled back into his seat, reopening his book.

‘Her reaction just now… it was truly a bit exaggerated.’

‘She might as well have written “I’m panicking” and “I’m stunned” directly on her face.’

‘What was the big deal? It was just a head pat. Was it really necessary to react like that?’

‘Yet… seeing her darting eyes, clearly flustered but trying to feign composure, his hand had moved without his command, yearning to ruffle that hair which looked so soft.’

‘And he… had indeed failed to control his own hand.’

However, the moment his fingertips brushed her hair, a memory fragment unexpectedly slammed into his mind.

She had wrinkled her nose, hands on her hips, glaring at him indignantly, her mouth babbling, “Another head pat and I’m charging a fee, okay?” Yet, the tips of her ears were subtly pale, clearly betraying her emotions.

And he, at the time, had been too busy laughing, finding her feigned fierceness utterly amusing. His hand, far from retracting, had cheekily reached out again…

He paused in the act of turning the page.

He was absolutely, unequivocally certain that in the current timeline, he had never once performed a ‘head pat of affection’ on Zhou Yi.

Between boys, it was mostly shoves and arm-around-the-shoulder gestures. But a ‘head pat of affection’… that was an act laden with excessive intimacy and doting fondness, definitely not something he would typically do.

Yet, this ‘memory’ felt so incredibly real. So real that he could recall the sensation of his fingertips weaving through her soft hair, vividly remember the glint in her eyes when she feigned anger, and even capture that fleeting, ineffable flutter in his own heart at the time.

His gaze, slipping through the gap in the book’s pages, subtly landed on the person beside him, still rigid with tension.

A corner of his heart was suddenly brushed by a tender, bittersweet emotion.

‘He felt a slight urge to laugh at her clumsy attempts to conceal, and a touch of helplessness at her excessive nervousness. But more than anything… it was a desire to pull her out of that “I’m doomed, I’m exposed” panic.’

‘However, now was not the time for a confrontation.’

‘She was clearly not ready.’

‘And she would need more time to untangle the threads behind all of this.’

‘So, for now, he would let her bury her head in the sand a little longer.’

****

On Sunday morning, the four-person team gathered at the school gate, preparing to head to the thirty-year-old coffee shop located beneath Lin Wei’s apartment.

Zhou Yi was still enveloped in her usual ‘human duvet’ attire, her mask pulled up tightly, leaving only her eyes visible, darting about curiously.

As she listened to Lin Wei enthusiastically recount the coffee shop’s history and its owner’s eccentricities, another thought began to brew in Zhou Yi’s mind.

“Um…” She cleared her throat, her voice muffled and hoarse through the mask.

“If a whole group of us just barges in under the guise of a project, won’t the owner, due to Lin Wei’s connection, only show us a ‘filtered version’ of the shop? The data and reactions we observe might not be truly authentic.”

Lin Wei’s smile noticeably stiffened.

Seeing this, Zhou Yi quickly tried to amend her statement: “Lin Wei, your preliminary report is incredibly thorough, and all the basic information is complete. However, since we’re responsible for the business model and promotion, this part really needs a genuine user perspective. We might only get a true grasp if we act as ordinary customers ourselves.”

After speaking, she instinctively glanced at Jiang Chen from the corner of her eye.

Jiang Chen was already looking at her. A flicker of approval crossed his deep-set eyes before he nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “This way, the information we gather will be more authentic.”

Han Yan, arms crossed, pondered for a moment before nodding. “Alright,” he conceded. “Then we’ll go in separate groups, posing as regular customers.”

He swiftly decided on the pairings. “Jiang Chen and Zhou Yi will be a team,” he announced. “They need to collaborate on building the business model, so observing together will allow for immediate discussion.”

The slight awkwardness on Lin Wei’s face was instantly replaced by eagerness. She looked at Han Yan expectantly. “Brother Yan,” she proposed, “why don’t we team up? I can lead the way and tell you about some of the details I’ve learned…”

“No need,” Han Yan interjected directly. “You’re too familiar with the owner. If both of you appear together, it’ll be too obvious, and the owner might unconsciously act differently from usual. That would compromise the objectivity of our observations. I’ll be more efficient working alone.”

He turned to Lin Wei, whose expression had begun to sour. “You can leverage your familiarity to chat with the owner,” he instructed, “and subtly inquire about the difference in experience between new and regular customers. That’s crucial information too.”

Lin Wei felt as though a wad of cotton had been thrown in her face, stuck in her throat—she couldn’t swallow it, nor could she spit it out.

The opportunity she had hoped for, to be alone with Han Yan, had just been casually dismissed.

Gazing at Han Yan’s impassive profile, then at Zhou Yi, who had silently shifted closer to Jiang Chen, a wave of grievance mixed with resentful bitterness surged through her.

“…Alright,” she finally managed, forcing a barely discernible smile.

“So that’s settled,” Han Yan said, seemingly oblivious to the awkward atmosphere. He glanced at his phone. “We’ll meet at three PM at the convenience store across from the cafe to briefly synchronize our initial impressions. Remember, once inside, act like ordinary customers. Be natural.”

With that, the four parted ways.

On the way to the coffee shop, Zhou Yi deliberately lagged half a step behind Jiang Chen, shrinking into her oversized jacket. She stared so intently at the cracks in the sidewalk tiles that it seemed she could discern patterns within them.

Jiang Chen, walking ahead, watched the shadow trailing him obediently. In the depths of his eyes, a subtle, sly smile quietly spread.

Ever since he had settled on that particular conjecture in his heart, the urge to tease her would surface now and then, like spring grass pushing through the soil.

He suddenly slowed his pace, almost drawing level with Zhou Yi. Startled, she immediately scuttled sideways a small step, like a crab.

Jiang Chen seemed entirely oblivious to her subtle movement. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, speaking in a tone one might use to discuss an academic problem.

“I was just thinking,” he began, his voice tinged with a perfectly measured hint of perplexity. “Two guys, on a beautiful weekend, heading to a coffee shop together and staying for most of the day. Doesn’t that combination seem a bit… odd?”

“Huh?” Zhou Yi, who had been mentally crafting a persona for a ‘random passerby,’ was momentarily stunned by the sudden question. She instinctively lifted her eyes through the gap between her hat brim and mask, staring blankly at Jiang Chen’s profile.