I Said We Should Keep Distance, But He Took My Hand Like It Was Normal

Even as she said that, Su Qingyan couldn’t help the image of Wen Zhaoci standing downstairs from her dormitory from surfacing in her mind.

His hair lifted gently in the breeze, sunlight spilling across the sharp planes of his profile, softening even his usually cool, distant gaze.

She knew she shouldn’t be thinking this way.
Wen Zhaoci was Sang Jiuning’s boyfriend.
But the traitorous flutter in her heart was like a stone cast into a still lake, sending ripples spreading outward in ceaseless rings.

Qin Ying teased her from the side:
“Just friends? In one week, Weng Zhicheng brings you breakfast three times, dinner, saves you a seat at the library, brings you an umbrella when it rains—if that’s just a ‘friend,’ then the rest of us are practically plastic sisters!”

Tang Tongtong chimed in, nodding:
“Exactly, Yanyan.
Senior Weng is handsome, comes from a good family, and he’s so attentive to you.
What’s there to hesitate about?”

Su Qingyan lowered her gaze, her long lashes casting a shadow beneath her eyes, and said softly:
“You can’t force matters of the heart.”

Ever since she’d seen Sang Jiuning and Wen Zhaoci together in the cafeteria that day, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

That cool, moonlit youth—like a dream forever out of reach.

She had always believed that someone like Wen Zhaoci would never lose his heart to anyone.
Yet the way he looked at Sang Jiuning was so tender it seemed to melt.

“What’s there to force?
If you like him, be with him.
If you don’t, just tell him clearly.
Don’t string him along,” Tang Tongtong said bluntly.

Su Qingyan didn’t reply.
She simply turned her gaze toward the window.
The figure below had already disappeared, but the nameless ache in her heart refused to subside.

Meanwhile, Sang Jiuning had just stepped out of her dormitory building.

She glanced around and spotted Wen Zhaoci leaning against a camphor tree not far away, a black laptop bag in hand.

He wore a simple white T-shirt and black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket, standing quietly beneath the tree.

The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, dappling him with shifting light and shadow.
His profile was clean-cut, nose high-bridged, lips pressed into a thin line.
Even just standing there casually, he exuded an aura of cool detachment that drew the eye.

Sure enough, quite a few girls were pretending to pass by, sneaking photos of him with their phones, whispering among themselves.

When he saw her come out, a flicker of brightness passed through his usually placid eyes—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

Sang Jiuning felt a twinge of guilt.
She took a deep breath and tried to sound composed:
“Have you been waiting long?
Where’s my food?”

She deliberately kept her tone flat, as if unconcerned.

‘Say you’ve been waiting a long time.
Complain a little.
Your time is so precious—you should be in the lab—waiting for me is a total waste.’

Wen Zhaoci lifted his gaze to her, his eyes lingering a moment on her faintly flushed cheeks, then pausing briefly on her carefully reapplied lipstick.
A trace of amusement flickered, almost imperceptible, in the depths of his eyes, but his expression quickly turned unreadable again.

He shook his head.
“Not long.
Your food wasn’t good, so I gave it away.
I’ll take you to eat something else.”

After all, he’d noticed other boys waiting for their girlfriends.
From what he’d observed, most waited about twenty to thirty minutes.
He’d waited twenty-six—well within the normal range.
It hadn’t felt long at all.

The faint guilt Sang Jiuning had felt over making him wait nearly half an hour instantly evaporated.

Instead, it was replaced by her renewed resolve to “make trouble.”

She walked up to him, tilted her chin up slightly, and said with forced calm:
“Don’t wait for me anymore.
I’ve been really busy lately.”

Wen Zhaoci raised an eyebrow, his gaze deepening as he looked at her, but he didn’t call out her little act.
Instead, he simply reached out and naturally took her bag from her shoulder, replying flatly:
“It’s fine.”

Then his tone softened into something almost indulgent:
“Not long.
Waiting for you is always worth it.
Come on, let’s go to the milk tea shop.”

Sang Jiuning obediently fell into step beside him as they headed to Cafeteria No. 2, which was a bit pricier than No. 1.

The milk tea shop was located on the food street just outside the school, run by a third-year graduate student who’d been operating it for three years.
Most of the staff were A University students working part-time.

They walked there, and Sang Jiuning felt as though she was being stared at the entire way.

Those faint, probing glances pricked at her like tiny needles, making her uncomfortable.

She snuck a peek at Wen Zhaoci beside her, but he seemed completely oblivious to the surrounding attention.
His pace was unhurried, his profile as unruffled as ever, as though all the noise and bustle around him had nothing to do with him.

Sang Jiuning felt a pang of irritation.
‘This guy—couldn’t he at least act a little bothered?’

Even a frown would have been nice!
Then she’d have more ammunition for her “making trouble” campaign.

“Hey, Wen Zhaoci,” she couldn’t help blurting out, her voice sulky.
“Don’t you think… walking together like this, we’re pretty conspicuous?”

Wen Zhaoci paused mid-step and turned to look at her.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves into his eyes, like shards of scattered stars.

“Hm?”
He gave a single, questioning syllable.
“Are we?”

Sang Jiuning was struck speechless for a moment, nearly choking on air.

‘Are we not?
We’re practically being gawked at like monkeys in a zoo!’

She pouted and muttered under her breath:
“How can you not notice?
I feel so uncomfortable.”

Wen Zhaoci caught sight of her puffed-up cheeks, and the corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly.
He slowed his pace to walk beside her, lowering his voice in a soothing tone:
“You’ll get used to it.
Or… what would you like me to do?”

His gentle tone caught her off guard, and her heart missed a beat.

She quickly looked away, pretending to admire the street scenery, while inwardly grumbling:
‘Here he goes again—always using that tone that makes it impossible to refuse.’

‘No, Sang Jiuning, stay strong!
Break up!
Yes, break up!’

She took a deep breath, turned back to him, and forced a cold expression onto her face:
“I want you to stop doing this from now on.
Keep your distance from me.
We… we’ve only just gotten together, after all.
Being too clingy isn’t good.”

Wen Zhaoci watched her deliberately frosty little face, the amusement in his eyes deepening.
But he didn’t call her out—he simply nodded and said, with mock seriousness:
“Alright, I’ll listen to you.
So how much distance would you like?
One meter?
Two?”

His earnestness nearly made her crack.
Biting back a smile, she kept her expression stern and said:
“At most… at most once a week!”

“Alright,” Wen Zhaoci agreed without hesitation.

Then he naturally took her hand in his and continued walking forward.

Sang Jiuning was still a little dazed.
‘He agreed just like that?’

She hadn’t even noticed that her hand was already nestled securely in his palm.