Chapter 2: He Pulled Her Into His Arms

Blushing?

Qiao Zhen’s eyes slowly widened, her cheeks growing even hotter. Dreaming of scenes from their past life together—how could she not be embarrassed? The dream was only fragments of her previous memories, most of it hazy and unclear. Yet—

The wedding night, every detail—each movement, every word, every breath—was etched perfectly in her mind.

Utterly mortified, she covered her face, the tips of her ears burning so red they might drip blood, and mumbled honestly, “I had a nightmare.”

Qin Yichi lounged lazily against the seatback of the bus, his tone careless, “What nightmare?”

Qiao Zhen swallowed nervously and whispered, “Qin Yichi, I dreamed you married someone else.”

As fate would have it, that “someone else” was her!

At her words, Qin Yichi paused, silent for a moment. He fixed his gaze on her, then spoke, each word carefully pronounced:

“Impossible.

I won’t marry anyone else.”

His tone was unshakably certain, with a seriousness she rarely saw.

Qiao Zhen breathed a sigh of relief, flashing him an understanding grin. “So, you don’t believe in marriage? Makes sense.”

After she spoke, Qin Yichi’s expression turned complicated. He lowered his eyes and said nothing more.

The bus arrived at its stop: the main gate of Capital University.

Students returning after the National Day break crowded the entrance, dragging suitcases and bags, eager to bring every bit of home-cooked food back to campus.

Qin Yichi stepped off first. Qiao Zhen shouldered her pink backpack, following a little distance behind.

The torrential rain from the night before had left a wide pool of black, muddy water at the bus stop, littered with floating bits of plastic trash.

Qiao Zhen hesitated, glancing down regretfully at her clean white sneakers.

At that moment, a long-fingered hand stretched out to her.

“Come.”

Qin Yichi stood just beyond the puddle, reaching out as if this was nothing more than a casual gesture.

After only a brief hesitation, Qiao Zhen took his hand.

As a child, she’d ridden on his shoulders, called him Pigsy, even stolen his blue-and-black striped boxers...

His hand was warm. With a gentle tug, Qiao Zhen used his help to leap to dry ground, nearly landing in his arms.

A unique, fresh scent surrounded him—like wild grass after a spring rain, clean and pleasant.

Once Qiao Zhen regained her footing, Qin Yichi let go and strode ahead toward the university gate.

The lingering warmth of the boy’s hand remained on her skin.

Staring at his tall, slender figure, Qiao Zhen’s lips acted before her brain, her voice soft and sweet: “Qin Yichi, wait up for me.”

At her words, Qin Yichi’s heel paused. He turned, eyebrow arched, as if waiting for her.

She hurried to his side, and together they walked into the campus.

At the north gate, the chubby security guard greeted them with a wide grin and a teasing “Well, well, well” look.

Qin Yichi slowed his pace, his lashes trembling ever so slightly. After a long silence, he spoke, his tone light:

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll get jealous?”

Qiao Zhen froze, lowering her head.

“He” referred to Ji Xian.

All her life, she’d gone to and from school with Qin Yichi, always walking side by side, even in college.

Until one day, Ji Xian gave her a cold smile: “You seem pretty close with that Qin Yichi.”

The words bristled with unspoken disapproval.

Afraid of making him unhappy, Qiao Zhen kept her distance from Qin Yichi at school, pretending not to know him, terrified of being misunderstood.

She’d offered Ji Xian her sincere heart, hoping to warm him, but in her dream of their past life, she’d only ended up bruised and bitter.

With a heavy heart, Qiao Zhen kicked at a stone by the roadside, looking like a rabbit with drooping ears, lost and dejected.

A sharp ache clenched her chest—like countless silver needles stabbing at her heart, painful and raw.

It hurt so much...

Just then, around the corner, a cold and distant figure appeared, stepping straight into her line of sight.

Qiao Zhen’s heart stopped. She froze in place.

He was strikingly handsome, features sharp and pale, his eyes a translucent amber, like crystal holding a galaxy of stars—too beautiful to be real.

Ji Xian.

Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect family—president of the student council at Capital University, the unattainable dream of countless girls.

He was also the one she had once loved most at first sight, the person she’d wanted to see over and over every day.

But now—

All she felt was her scalp prickling, her heart stabbed with pain, cold sweat breaking out all over as if she’d been plunged into an ice bath.

She didn’t greet him as she once would have, nor did she smile. Instead, she kept her head down, pretending not to see him.

Ji Xian’s gaze also landed on her and Qin Yichi.

He passed by, expression indifferent, as though none of this mattered to him.

Not until he had walked away did Qiao Zhen finally move. She stood stiffly, every inch of her body aching with sorrow. Her vision blurred, her eyes rimmed red.

Memories from her past life flooded her mind, a cacophony of voices:

First, Ji Xian’s icy voice over the phone: “Qiao Zhen, I don’t agree with you becoming a singer.”

Ji Xian’s mother, smiling but sharp: “Zhenzhen, Auntie speaks plainly. In our family, we care about proper matches. A pheasant can never become a phoenix, right?”

Then, the ridicule from Ji Xian’s friends: “No way, does she really think she’s Cinderella?”

“Who even knows where she’s from? All her clothes are cheap knockoffs—”

And more, impatient, mocking, sarcastic, cutting—every word from that past life merging into a relentless storm that threatened to rip Qiao Zhen’s mind apart.

Enough...

Please, just stop!

She pressed her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut, barely able to breathe for the pain.

Her entire body weakened, swaying violently before tipping backward.

In the next instant, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the searing heat of a young man’s presence enveloping her.

Qin Yichi had caught her, pulling her gently but firmly into his arms, his gaze burning with intensity.

“Headache?”

His eyes were deep and unreadable. He couldn’t help but reach out and rub her head softly, as if soothing a frightened rabbit, again and again.

A low, husky voice drifted down from above, carrying a strange magic, caressing her ears.

Backlit by the sun, half his face hidden in shadow, his features were sharp and wild.

Qiao Zhen blinked, took a deep breath, and slowly emerged from the chaos in her mind.

She gently pulled away from his embrace, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine.”

Perhaps it was his comforting touch, but the pain gradually faded, a sense of safety filling the emptiness inside her.

This time, Qiao Zhen didn’t look back. She felt no regret—only quietly followed Qin Yichi forward.

As if, deep down, she had made a decision.

Behind them, Ji Xian’s footsteps suddenly stopped.

He turned, watching the two as they walked away. Frost settled in his eyes, and his face darkened instantly.