Chapter 85: Only You Remain Steadfast

After Jo Zhen finished speaking, she realized her reaction had been far too intense—too much, in fact, like a thief who loudly proclaims his innocence.

In other words—she had just given herself away.

She cleared her throat and pretended to be calm, taking a sip of mung bean soup before strategically lowering her head to focus on her meal.

Qin Yichi’s lips curved into a faint, ambiguous smile, his tone lazy and unhurried. “Oh?”

He leaned in slowly, propping his chin on one hand. His deep, obsidian eyes seemed to see straight through her.

“Really, you don’t remember a thing?”

Jo Zhen took another sip of soup and nodded, her voice sweet and clear. “Mhm, I totally blacked out after I got drunk. Thank you for taking care of me~”

She did her best to maintain her composure.

But her hand, gripping the spoon, was trembling ever so slightly, betraying her utterly.

Qin Yichi’s gaze landed squarely on her fingertips. His eyes were deep and unreadable, his brows arching slightly as a low, muffled chuckle rumbled from his chest.

Jo Zhen felt like she was about to be exposed at any moment. Deciding to take the initiative, she tossed the question back at him, testing the waters: “So... I didn’t do anything too outrageous last night, did I?”

She blinked her beautiful eyes, face full of innocent sincerity.

It was just that she’d hogged his bed, his shirt, his body wash, just that she’d hugged him and stolen a kiss or two, right?

That was all normal, wasn’t it? Not too much, right? Ha ha...

Qin Yichi, dipping a dumpling into vinegar, fixed his gaze on her. “You want to know?”

Jo Zhen braced herself and nodded.

Whatever he said, she’d just deny it. She’d blame it on being drunk, on being silly, on not knowing what she was doing.

But in the next moment, Qin Yichi took out his phone. “As it happens, I recorded everything. Want to hear it?”

Jo Zhen’s eyes widened in shock.

Seriously, what kind of person does this? Who records everything like this?

Finishing her last sip of soup, she jumped up. “Uh—no need... I-I found my key, I should get home right away.”

Her cheeks flushed red; she wanted nothing more than to escape.

If she stayed any longer, she thought her heart might give out.

She quickly gathered her things, slung her bag over her shoulder, and changed her shoes.

Suddenly, Qin Yichi caught her by the wrist from behind. “Jo Zhen.”

Startled, she met his dark eyes. “Hm?”

They were standing close—so close that Qin Yichi’s usual laid-back demeanor vanished. His tone was earnest. “Next week is my race. You’ll be there, right?”

Jo Zhen snapped back to herself and nodded without hesitation, flashing him a brilliant smile. “Of course I’ll be there~”

He’d been there for her so many times; of course she wanted to cheer him on.

She wanted to see him shine on the winner’s podium, to see his future bright and his career flourishing.

At her words, Qin Yichi reached out and ruffled her hair, his eyes serious, his voice steady. “Good. You have to come.”

...

Jo Zhen dashed back to her empty apartment and tumbled into her bedroom, heart pounding as she hurried to unlock her phone.

Her dorm group chat, “Crazy Weekday” (4), had exploded—99+ messages!

She’d been tagged countless times.

Yun Yue: [Jojo, how are you? Are you okay? @Pearl]

Chen Meixiang: [You little brat, sleeping so soundly?! @Pearl]

Sheng Lulu: [I’m so anxious, so anxious, so anxious! I’m not even the main character, why am I freaking out like this?]

Chen Meixiang: [Oh no, that beast didn’t really do anything to you, did he? My poor little Jojo...(crying emoji)]

Between tagging her, Chen Meixiang had come up with a string of nicknames for Qin Yichi, including but not limited to:

Moto Guy, Rain Guy, Discount Guy, Raffle Guy, Helpful Guy, On-the-Way Guy, Secretly-Delighted Guy, Boy-Next-Door Guy...

Sitting cross-legged on her little bed, Jo Zhen gave a rough account of what had happened the previous night.

Even her fingertips shook slightly as she typed.

There was nervousness, astonishment, shyness, delight... a flood of emotions overwhelmed her heart.

Sheng Lulu was the first to react, sending a voice message: “Wow, you get wild when you’re drunk, huh? That was a serious move! And even after all that he still insisted on sleeping on the floor—maybe he’s not up to it?”

Jo Zhen listened and replied meekly: [Actually, I think he’s... definitely up to it.]

Memories from their past life—of those ambiguous moments—flooded her mind. In those situations, Qin Yichi had always been confident, energetic, and full of vitality... Even when he tried to restrain himself, she’d felt like she was about to ascend to heaven.

Jo Zhen covered her burning face.

So embarrassing.

At that moment, Yun Yue typed seriously: [Honestly, I think a man like that is reliable—someone you can entrust your life to.]

[If a man takes advantage of you while you’re drunk, keeps teasing and flirting with you, he doesn’t respect you at all. You can basically write him off.]

Yun Yue’s words earned unanimous agreement from the girls.

Chen Meixiang: [@Pearl, Jojo, you have no idea. When other girls went on stage to sing, Moto Guy didn’t even look up, but when you stepped on stage, his eyes lit up.]

The eyes of a lover are the eighth ocean.

[He looked so certain—certain that he only had eyes for you~]

The wisdom of the crowd is always sharp.

Those who are involved can’t see as clearly as outsiders. Qin Yichi’s feelings were already burning bright, like a blazing flame—so obvious that even with just one meeting, the other three could sense it in every little detail.

Maybe some playboys can fake it, but every little gesture of Qin Yichi’s—the tenderness in his gaze, his blatant favoritism—was almost impossible to pretend.

In the bedroom, Jo Zhen put down her phone and stared up at the blank white ceiling, exhaling and inhaling, trying to calm her racing heart.

Her mind was filled with images of Qin Yichi: his lazy, unruly look, his defiant independence, his serious focus, his crooked, teasing smile...

Jo Zhen clutched her quilt tight, her heart beating faster and faster, a faint ache rising in her nose—a small, helpless pang.

She... she really, truly liked him.

So much, so much, she couldn’t hold it in any longer, couldn’t pretend anymore.

She wanted to be close to him every moment, to hug him every moment... These feelings grew wild and rampant like vines, entwining her heart.

The room was silent.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she finally took a deep breath, picked up her phone, and sent a message:

[What do you think...]

[If I confessed to him, would I succeed?]