The man’s movement of pulling the plane tickets out of the hidden compartment was far too smooth. Xie Jinghe immediately pieced it together. He fell silent for two seconds, bit his lower lip, and glared up at the man, questioning him: “You knew all along, didn’t you? Or rather—”

“Did you have them put it in there?”

With that, Xie Jinghe turned his head and looked directly at the staff members behind the camera, mimicking the man’s cold, stern face. Unfortunately, his expression lacked lethality; instead, it made the hearts of several accompanying crew members melt, and they couldn’t help pointing their fingers at the true culprit.

Shi Linchuan.

Xie Jinghe’s gaze followed the direction of their fingers back to the man’s face, putting on a very angry expression. “I knew it! You have a track record of this! Every time I’m happy, you intentionally do things to give me a heart attack!”

As he spoke, the fluffy pom-poms on his collar seemed to puff up in tandem.

It looked like he was truly furious.

Just as the words left his mouth, Xie Jinghe suddenly turned on his heel and ran.

The doctor had said his bone hairline fracture was very minor. Combined with the fact that he was in his prime with peak physical function, he would be completely back to normal in two or three weeks after removing the cast. Shi Linchuan had simply exaggerated the timeline on purpose just to scare him.

“…”

Seeing this scene, Shi Linchuan froze for a second.

Just for a single second.

Immediately after, he retracted his gaze and stared calmly at the plane tickets in his hand.

Compared to his previous repeated acts of being a jerk, the single action of taking out the plane tickets was minor. Yet for some reason, Xie Jinghe’s reaction this time was unusually intense.

Still, this was bound to happen sooner or later.

There was nothing to be surprised about.

However, in the next second—

Swoosh!

Thwack!

The high-definition camera faithfully recorded the scene:

In the man’s blind spot, a snowball roughly the size of a fist suddenly cut through the air, hitting his chin with swift precision. Snow particles splattered across half his face, with most of the debris falling onto his black padded jacket, making it stand out vividly.

The block was extremely desolate, with no other pedestrians on the road.

The sky was very dark, leaving only the streetlights emitting a soft, warm yellow glow that illuminated the snow-covered street. Meanwhile, the attacker—dressed entirely in white and standing dozen or so meters away—instantly packed a few more snowballs, hurling them at the man as if venting his rage.

Not a single shot missed.

Shi Linchuan had a tall stature, making him far too obvious a target.

After taking several hits in a row, he hurriedly stuffed the plane tickets and wallet into his pocket, stooped down, and gathered snow right off the ground to make a snowball, launching a counterattack at Xie Jinghe.

However, Shi Linchuan’s injuries were mainly in his upper body muscles, so his accuracy and power were no match for Xie Jinghe, who moved like a human gorilla. Taking several more hits, he inexplicably felt like he was losing the battle, so he bolted after him, intending to discipline Xie Jinghe up close.

The two gave chase for a while.

In the end, Shi Linchuan’s superior skills prevailed, successfully cornering Xie Jinghe against a wall.

Xie Jinghe squatted in the corner, both hands bright red from the cold, glaring at the man in front of him with a mixture of anger and sadness. The sight left Shi Linchuan somewhat speechlessly amused.

He really hadn’t expected that a single action could make the guy this furious.

Among all the rotten things he had done, this didn’t even make the list.

“It’s not fair. You cheated.”

Facing Xie Jinghe’s sudden accusation, Shi Linchuan merely shook his head to brush off the residual snow on his hair. Then he heard him say incoherently, “You ganged up with the show crew to hide the return plane tickets in the wallet in advance… I was the only one fully devoted to dating you. This isn’t fair at all!”

“You lied to me again.”

Xie Jinghe spoke with absolute certainty.

Shi Linchuan was explicitly clear about his scum nature and freely admitted to his terrible deeds, but he wasn’t about to take the blame for just anything. So, he also squatted down, facing Xie Jinghe directly like they were in a court of law.

The two were very close, their knees just a few centimeters from brushing against each other.

Resting his face on one hand, he tilted his head and asked, “Does this count as lying? And where does ‘unfair’ come into this? I promised to take you out on a date—which part of that didn’t I do? You were very happy the entire time.”

“The production team booked the plane tickets long ago, and you knew it, too.”

“I merely put them in the wallet.”

“Even if I didn’t put them in the wallet, the production team would have handed them to us shortly anyway. Is there any difference?”

Shi Linchuan gave a rare, lengthy explanation, but Xie Jinghe just stared at him in silence without saying a word. At a certain moment, he raised his hand to cover his eyes. His breathing was visibly hitched, his gasps particularly pronounced.

Half a month later, Xie Jinghe was crying again.

He covered his eyes with the hand that bore scratches on the palm, then took a few deep breaths, falteringly arguing with Shi Linchuan, “Of course there’s a difference! Because you knew all along that the return tickets were inside the wallet. You knew they were right there, so you were different from me…”

“You were lying to me.”

Xie Jinghe’s words were a jumbled mess, completely nonsensical.

Yet Shi Linchuan effortlessly understood that Xie Jinghe was accusing him of holding back from start to finish. Unable to refute it, he could only slip his fingertips under Xie Jinghe’s palm, gently wiping away the wetness under his eyes.

There was nothing to explain.

It was just that Xie Jinghe’s tears were far too hot, nearly scalding his fingertips.

This corner was somewhat dim. The camera operator and accompanying crew members were standing a bit further away from the two. Shi Linchuan squeezed his eyes shut tight, suddenly turned off the audio recording equipment clipped to their collars, and spoke with difficulty: “I just…”

“I’m just not used to it.”

As he spoke, he gently pulled down the hand covering Xie Jinghe’s eyes. The palm and knuckles were icy cold, and the scratch was wet from the slightly salty liquid.

Xie Jinghe lowered his gaze, his eyelashes clumping together, refusing to look at him.

It was better that he didn’t look.

Even without a mirror in front of him, Shi Linchuan knew his expression was definitely not pleasant. Unable to fully control his expression, he first bit the tip of his tongue hard, then leaned into Xie Jinghe’s ear—as if sharing an unspeakable secret—and whispered in an extremely soft voice,

“I don’t want to be too happy.”

Xie Jinghe suddenly snapped his eyes up, his face covered in tears.

Shi Linchuan shifted his gaze away awkwardly.

The weather in Duodan was far too cold.

If he wasn’t careful, the water on the man’s face opposite him might freeze into ice shortly. So Shi Linchuan took a quiet breath, forcing himself to bring his gaze back to Xie Jinghe’s face, wiping away his tears one by one.

His hands and Xie Jinghe’s face were both freezing cold.

Only their breaths remained warm.

During this, Xie Jinghe silently leaned his upper body forward, resting his forehead against the man’s.

Shi Linchuan couldn’t help moving his head, rubbing against him twice, as if doing so would allow him to steal a fraction of candor from the other’s brain.

He stole it.

He entered Xie Jinghe’s mind freely, coming and going as he pleased.

Yet Shi Linchuan remained lost for words for a long time before continuing, “I always feel that if I’m too happy, bad things will happen afterward, which makes me feel like it’s very dangerous…”

He said he wasn’t used to it.

He said it felt very dangerous.

Yet after listening for a long while, Xie Jinghe only heard two words.

Given the man’s evasive attitude, he didn’t want to speak it aloud either.

Time felt as though a century had passed.

Shi Linchuan suddenly heard Xie Jinghe ask softly,

“Linchuan, to you…”

“Am I a dangerous element?”

It was very quiet in the corner.

Hearing this, Shi Linchuan let out a helpless laugh. Perhaps because the weather was too cold, he closed his eyes tightly, clearly hearing his teeth chattering slightly as he spoke, “Xie Jinghe, do you have no self-awareness at all? How are you merely a dangerous element?”

“You… you’re practically a terrorist!”

Xie Jinghe instantly burst into laughter through his tears, which soon began streaming down like rain again.

At this moment, he confirmed two facts.

Shi Linchuan loved him very much.

And Shi Linchuan’s love for him was agonizingly painful.

The snow picked up again, nearly turning the two of them into snowmen.

That same evening, the two boarded a flight back home to get a divorce.