Chapter 37: The Ideal Type—Beautiful and Sweet-Voiced

Qiao Zhen didn’t think twice. She immediately lowered her head and took the lemon candy into her mouth. The sugary tartness swept away much of the bitterness in an instant. At last, she let out a long breath and whispered a soft “thank you.”

The game began. Everyone gathered around the sofa, sitting in a circle with a bottle of soda spinning at the center. In the first round, the bottle landed on Zhang Yu. Without hesitation, he chose “dare,” drew a card, and his face instantly stiffened as he read it aloud, voice trembling:

“Please sing the complete version of ‘Learn to Meow.’”

He adjusted his glasses, glanced at the ominously green bitter melon juice, then took a deep breath, as if marching to his doom, and picked up the microphone:

“Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow…”

His face was devoid of emotion, as if he’d lost all hope, looking every bit like he was about to face the guillotine. At that moment, he perfectly mirrored Squidward from the cartoons, looking so miserable he was on the verge of tears as he sang.

The room erupted in thunderous laughter.

For the second round, the bottle slowly came to a stop, the mouth pointing right at Qin Yichi.

“Truth,” he said.

He casually picked a card, glanced at it, and placed it in the center of the table. Qiao Zhen, along with everyone else, leaned over to see what it said:

[What’s your ideal type?]

The group started to jeer and tease, “Oh~ starting off spicy, aren’t we!”

“Yichi, you can’t say a motorcycle this time!”

Qiao Zhen’s heart pounded uncontrollably, her fingers clutching the hem of her dress as she strained to listen.

Then she caught herself—why was she so anxious about this, when she had no reason to be?

In the next moment, Qin Yichi’s voice, low and mellow as aged wine, floated over, tinged with a gentle affection:

“I don’t have an ideal type. As long as I like her, everything about her becomes my ideal.”

Qiao Zhen memorized every word.

As long as you like her, she’s your ideal type…

She sat on the sofa, absentmindedly sipping her orange juice in small, careful sips.

But the others weren’t about to let him off so easily.

Zhang Yu protested, “Yichi, that’s not an answer! You said nothing at all.”

“Exactly! That’s just beating around the bush. Come on, just give us two words! Like me, I go for the stunning beauties.”

Niu Yifeng shoved the microphone right into Qin Yichi’s face, as if he could answer for him if only he got close enough.

Qiao Zhen’s expression remained calm, eyes steady, as if none of this concerned her in the slightest.

But secretly, she strained her ears to catch every word.

This time, Qin Yichi’s voice came through the microphone, growing louder and clearer:

“My ideal type, then—”

Out of the corner of her eye, Qiao Zhen thought she saw Qin Yichi glance at her, ever so faintly.

With the microphone in hand, his lips curved into a slight smile, and he pronounced each word deliberately:

“Kind and cute, beautiful with a sweet voice.”

Every boy in the room looked at him in shock, then all their gazes turned to Qiao Zhen, their “WOW” full of knowing implication.

Scandalous! Exciting!

It was as if he’d nearly spelled out someone’s ID number.

But Qin Yichi shot them a warning look, signaling them not to make a fuss or startle her, and the room fell silent.

Hearing his words, Qiao Zhen’s hand trembled so abruptly that she almost spilled her juice, her mind thrown into chaos:

Am I kind? Am I cute? Am I pretty enough? Is my voice sweet enough…?

No! Why was she even trying to fit herself to that description?

Qiao Zhen lowered her head to hide her unease, quietly sipping her juice and pretending to be an observer, an outsider watching the show.

But, as luck would have it, the next spin landed on her.

“…Well, that’s convenient.”

“Truth,” she said. She drew a card, her cheeks slowly burning.

[Is there someone you like right now? (PS: the kind of like where you want to be in a relationship)]

Like, the kind of like where you want to be lovers…

Qiao Zhen instinctively looked at Qin Yichi, but the moment her eyes met his deep, dark ones, she quickly looked away as if shocked.

She pressed her lips together, touching her nose awkwardly, her gaze darting about. “I… don’t think so…?”

Zhang Yu raised his brows. “Oh? Really?”

Qiao Zhen kept her face serious, thinking for a long time.

But she truly didn’t know what her own heart wanted.

Uncertain, she decided to wait and see.

After a long while, with nothing clearer in mind, Qiao Zhen looked up, almost in tears, and answered honestly:

“Mm… I guess not.”

She even raised her hand, swearing with utmost sincerity.

Liking someone or not—there are no hard boundaries.

The others didn’t tease her further. Instead, they looked at Qin Yichi with exaggerated “regret,” as if to say: “Come on, brother, you’ll have to keep trying!”

The lighting in the KTV was dim, half of Qin Yichi’s face blurred in shadow.

He bit into a star-shaped cookie, lowering his eyes, his expression somber and unreadable, lost in thought.

In the fourth round, a boy drew a dare:

[Show your browser search and history records.]

“Aaaahhhhh!!!”

He let out a piercing shriek.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned off his device, grabbed a cup of the dark, bitter melon juice, and downed it in one gulp.

Revealing his search history would be as good as running naked through the streets!

Afterward, he choked so hard his whole face turned red, gulping down a bottle of mineral water.

His face twisted in agony, eyes streaming with tears. “Brothers, I… I did it!”

Over.

The wild dares included but were not limited to: [Find a random passerby and, crying, say “Long time no see” to them.] [Stand at the restroom door and greet people with a smile, saying “Welcome!”]

After several rounds, quite a few boys had chugged the bitter melon juice, putting on masks of pain as they downed bottle after bottle of cold water.

The next round, the bottle slowly came to a stop in front of Qin Yichi.

“Dare.”

He looked up at Zhang Yu, eyes shadowed and deep.

Zhang Yu adjusted his glasses and signaled a secret “OK,” as if to say, “I know, I know.”

Qin Yichi’s eyes were dark and fathomless as he reached out with his slender, jointed fingers and confidently picked the card at the very bottom.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

Qiao Zhen leaned in too, wide-eyed like a curious little animal, reading the card:

[Choose anyone present and hold their face, looking into their eyes for a full minute.]

Face… holding…?

Her misty eyes grew round with surprise.

Qin Yichi’s gaze swept over everyone in the room before settling, unwavering, on her.

???

An alarm rang in Qiao Zhen’s heart, a bad premonition welling up as her fingertips trembled—hopeful, yet afraid.

Her heart skipped a beat. She held her breath and gave a subtle shake of her head.

No…

No, please don’t pick her…

But, inevitably, Qin Yichi leaned closer, his eyes full of meaning, his voice low and magnetic, tinged with seriousness as he asked,

“Qiao Zhen, may I?”