Volume One, Chapter Nine: In Her Heart, She Always Felt Indebted to Him.

The meal ended on a sour note.

After Xu Zhi left, Chen Jing pursed her lips in displeasure. "She really has no manners."

Liang Muzhi felt a wave of irritation. He had just managed to coax Xu Zhi into a better mood. Frowning, he said to Chen Jing, "If you hadn’t dredged up the past, she wouldn’t have gotten upset."

Chen Jing looked at him in disbelief. "You’re blaming me? I was only standing up for you. Look at you, so clueless, suffering so much, and you don’t even hold her accountable. You still treat her as a friend."

"Are you done yet?" His tone hardened. "I told you, she’s my best friend."

Seeing that he was truly angry, Chen Jing reluctantly compromised. "Fine, I’ll drop it, alright? Let’s just eat."

But Liang Muzhi had lost his appetite.

Chen Jing was very different from Xu Zhi—she was enthusiastic, bold, and frank, sharing his love for fun. She wasn’t the first girl to pursue him, but she was the hardest for him to resist. She confessed to him right after they first met; she never beat around the bush.

She also couldn't hold back her words, and her bluntness had ruined this meal. But since he had chosen her, he could only indulge her. He sighed inwardly, realizing he would have to go and coax Xu Zhi again.

Xu Zhi returned to campus feeling worse than she had the day she found out Liang Muzhi had a girlfriend. It wasn’t just simple dejection anymore—there was anger, too.

Liang Muzhi didn’t trust her. Just a few words from Chen Jing, and he started doubting that she was the one who leaked the news.

That afternoon, she went to the library to study but kept checking her phone. Liang Muzhi hadn’t sent a message or called—he was probably still with Chen Jing. Her eyes drifted to a newly added contact.

Liang Jinmo’s profile picture was pitch black. She clicked into the chat, where the only message was the system notification: "I’ve accepted your friend request. Now we can start chatting."

She knew she should apologize to him. She also wanted to confirm whether he’d told the Liang family about Liang Muzhi’s fight. But swallowing her pride took courage.

She dawdled until evening before finally sending Liang Jinmo her first message on WeChat: Are you there?

There was no response for a long while.

Xu Zhi: About what happened at lunch, I need to apologize. I lost control of my emotions and shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.

Still no response. She sent a sticker of a puppy apologizing.

She noticed WeChat had updated its stickers, so she tried sending a “little pig bowing” and a “kitten apologizing.”

This finally elicited a reaction.

Liang Jinmo: Stop.

Liang Jinmo: Where do you get all these weird stickers?

Xu Zhi’s eyes lit up and she quickly replied: They come with WeChat, just update it and you’ll have them. I’ve also saved a bunch of fun stickers—do you want them? I can send you some.

Liang Jinmo: No.

Having finally engaged him in conversation, Xu Zhi wasn’t sure if she was too excited or just too quick, but her finger slipped and she accidentally sent one of her recently saved stickers. When she saw what she had sent, her heart sank.

It was a sticker Yang Xue had shared with her two days ago: Jerry the mouse and another mouse holding hands, both faces alight with excitement, with the caption, “Sisters going to the brothel together.”

She hurried to recall the message.

Liang Jinmo: ...

Liang Jinmo: You two have quite the lively social life.

Xu Zhi felt wronged and quickly replied: No, it’s just a sticker! I’ve never been to a place like that.

The typing indicator appeared on his end. Xu Zhi reread the entire chat from the beginning.

Maybe it was the distance of a screen, but Liang Jinmo felt different from usual—almost… less intimidating.

She made another discovery: he never used punctuation at the end of his messages.

When she checked again, the typing indicator had disappeared, but not a single word had come through.

So what had he been typing all that time? It was hard to picture someone like him hesitating over a WeChat message, writing and rewriting.

Her fingers moved as she took the initiative: You’re not angry anymore, are you?

This time, he replied quickly: I’m not angry. I’m used to it.

Xu Zhi didn’t quite understand, so she asked: Used to what?

Liang Jinmo: The way you talk to me.

Xu Zhi froze.

She thought back to their past interactions. They hadn’t spoken much at all—had she ever been so rude to him before? Surely not...

Her phone buzzed again with another message from Liang Jinmo: You’re all the same.

She understood then. He’d long since grown accustomed to the cold looks from the Liang family, even from Liang Muzhi’s friends. Now she, too, had been lumped in with them.

She spent all her time with Liang Muzhi, and when they were little, she’d even helped bully him… She truly had no words left to defend herself.

The conversation ended there. Liang Jinmo didn’t send any more messages, and Xu Zhi couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Under these circumstances, it was impossible to ask whether he’d been the one to spread the news about Liang Muzhi’s fight.

In truth, they rarely interacted. Not having his forgiveness wouldn’t really affect her life. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the faint sense of guilt she felt toward him—if it hadn’t been for him that night, she would have had nowhere to go. Along with everything from the past, there was always a subtle debt resting on her heart.

His final words on WeChat left her feeling heavy. Even lying in bed that night, she couldn’t help but wonder—how could he say something like that? It wasn’t as if she’d never been kind to him.

She recalled an old memory.

When they were children, she would go to the Liang house almost every day to play with Liang Muzhi, but she rarely saw Liang Jinmo.

Liang Jinmo was never welcome in his own home, so he always stayed in his room on the second floor, seldom coming out.

More often, for reasons unknown, he would be locked in the attic by Fu Wanwen.

That attic had never been furnished. There was no light, no window—when the door was shut, it was pitch-black, damp, and cold.

Xu Zhi was timid by nature; she couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be locked in a place like that. She knew she would never be able to stand it—she would be terrified.

One year, on Liang Muzhi’s birthday, Liang Jinmo was once again locked in the attic.

The house was bustling that day—after all, it was the young master’s birthday, and many classmates from school had come. Xu Zhi was among them.

A pack of elementary school students made a noisy commotion, but Xu Zhi felt absent-minded the whole time. While Liang Muzhi and the boys played video games, she slipped upstairs to the attic.

The latch on the door was bolted. She hesitated for a moment before reaching out to it.

It had been a month since she’d torn up Liang Jinmo’s test papers. That incident had weighed on her for weeks. She couldn’t imagine how he, the victim, must have felt—he must have hated her...

Even so, she unbolted the door.

It was a world apart from the floors below.

The music and laughter of children felt distant and faint. Xu Zhi stood at the attic door; inside, there was nothing but darkness.

She pushed the door open a little further and finally saw Liang Jinmo in the corner.

He was sitting with his knees drawn up, perched carelessly on the rough concrete floor, his eyes fixed on her in silence.

Meeting his gaze, Xu Zhi felt a flicker of fear. She had never seen such an expression in any other child’s eyes—cold, sharp, like the glint of a blade.

She mustered her courage and walked over, crouching down in front of him. Then, fishing in her pocket, she pulled out a small object and pressed a button.

Suddenly, a beam of light illuminated Liang Jinmo’s world.