The Lover

Summer, evening, a gentle breeze...

On the school's sports field, the scent of grass and soil mingled with the lingering warmth of the day, creating a peculiar yet nostalgic fragrance. Back during his days at Sunan University, Liu Muye would often catch this smell after playing basketball with his roommates and passing by the field at night. At the time, it had seemed utterly ordinary.

But now, two or three years after graduation, returning to campus and breathing in that once-familiar yet now-distant aroma left Liu Muye feeling strangely disoriented.

On this night after military training ended, the breeze brushed against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The resentment he’d been carrying seemed to fade slightly.

Nangong Ye looked down at Liu Muye, who was sitting on the grass, and asked, "What are you smelling?"

Liu Muye kept his eyes shut. "You don’t smell it?"

"Smell what?" Nangong Ye frowned, mimicking Liu Muye by closing his eyes and taking a couple of sniffs. "There’s nothing."

"You seriously don’t smell it at all?" Liu Muye opened his eyes and tilted his head up to look at Nangong Ye standing over him. "The air is filled with this vibrant, youthful energy—can’t you sense it?"

He gestured with his hands, spreading and closing his fingers as if trying to physically convey the feeling.

But Nangong Ye, the young master he was, clearly couldn’t grasp the sentimental attachment a (former) ordinary office worker might have toward campus life. He shook his head blankly.

Liu Muye rolled his eyes. "Forget it. Someone like you will never understand."

Nangong Ye pursed his lips, not bothering to respond. In his eyes, Liu Muye was just an oddball.

"What are you two doing?" Shangguan Yurou approached with Han Juyou in tow.

Nangong Ye pointed at Liu Muye on the ground. "Wild Young Master here says he’s ‘sensing the essence of youth.’"

"You call him ‘Wild Young Master,’ and he calls you ‘Ye Young Master’—what’s with these weird nicknames?" Shangguan Yurou’s focus was, as usual, a little offbeat.

Nangong Ye shrugged. "We agreed on it."

"Oh? So you two have little pet names now?" Han Juyou smirked teasingly before looking down at Liu Muye. "And this ‘essence of youth’ you’re sensing—is it just an excuse to sit on the ground and peek up girls’ skirts?"

"Why do you always assume the worst of me?" Liu Muye crossed his arms and glared up at her. "Everyone’s wearing camouflage pants—where exactly would I see a skirt?"

"Who knows?" Han Juyou arched a brow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Maybe you’ve got some… unusual preferences."

"...I’m not even going to dignify that with a response."

Knowing he couldn’t win the argument, Liu Muye turned his head away, directing his gaze to the other side of the field.

Watching him get riled up, Han Juyou’s smile only grew brighter.

She didn’t quite understand why, but seeing Liu Muye flustered in front of her was endlessly entertaining.

---

That evening, instead of training, the drill instructor brought out a speaker and organized a singing competition between their platoon and others. The songs they’d practiced during the day were now being belted out across the field—whoever sang the loudest and drowned out the others earned bragging rights.

The activity was meant to foster teamwork and collective pride.

A noble idea, but reality had other plans.

When the singing started, aside from a few enthusiastic classes, most of the noise came from the speakers.

Seeing the lack of participation, the instructor asked if anyone wanted to step up and perform.

Talent shows during military training were practically a national tradition, a fixed routine every year. And with the rise of short videos, a standout performance could even go viral online.

This was usually when the try-hards would seize their moment—four years of preferential dating rights hung in the balance.

But for Finance Class 1, where Liu Muye was, every student who took the stage ended up flopping. In novels, this was when the female lead, spurred by a spat with the male lead, would step up and stun everyone with a rendition of Beyond’s Lover, instantly earning her the title of Freshman Campus Belle.

This time, however, Nangong Ye and Shangguan Yurou weren’t bickering at all. In fact, neither was even paying attention to the singing—they were too busy stealing glances at each other.

Every time their eyes met, they’d flinch and look away in a fluster.

Liu Muye observed them silently, thinking, This isn’t right. You two haven’t even gone through any drama yet—how are you already exchanging longing looks? This makes no sense! Shangguan Yurou, you’re supposed to go up and sing! If you don’t… am I supposed to do it instead?

"Hey."

Han Juyou nudged his arm with her elbow.

"What?" Liu Muye frowned, snapping out of his thoughts.

With a sly grin, she said, "Why don’t you go up and sing something?"

Liu Muye shot back, "Why don’t you?"

"I’m tone-deaf," she replied.

"Same here," he parroted her words back at her.

Han Juyou shook her head. "I don’t believe you. Prove it."

"Nice try, but reverse psychology doesn’t work on me." Liu Muye stood up. "I’m done with this."

With the female lead’s performance scene derailed, Liu Muye had no interest in sticking around. He turned to leave.

Han Juyou discreetly stuck out her foot.

"Whoa—!"

Liu Muye stumbled forward, barely catching himself after a few unsteady steps.

The next second, a phone was thrust in front of his face.

The instructor beamed at him. "Young Master Liu, what song would you like to sing?"

The entire platoon’s eyes were now locked onto him. There was no backing out now—if he didn’t perform, he’d never hear the end of it.

"Me?"

Baffled, Liu Muye turned back to see Han Juyou sitting primly with her knees tucked, blinking up at him with an angelic expression—as if she had no idea what had just happened.

Of course. The most wicked villainess in my story, scheming to humiliate me in public. That acting, that cunning—utterly despicable.

Liu Muye cursed inwardly.

No choice now—he’d have to tough it out.

If the female lead wasn’t going to sing Lover, then he’d do it himself.

Taking the instructor’s phone, he searched for the instrumental track of Beyond’s Lover. The portable speaker at his feet soon played the opening notes.

Without a mic, his free hand felt awkward, so he shoved it into his pocket.

Nervous, he closed his eyes…

And suddenly, he was back at Sunan University, during his own military training singing competition years ago.

At that time, many talented people showcased their skills, and though he longed to stand up and sing a song himself, fear of embarrassment held him back from taking that first step.

It became his lifelong regret.

Later, he poured that regret into his novel, letting the female protagonist steal the spotlight in his stead.

Time turned its wheel, and now, it was his turn to make amends.

As the prelude faded, Liu Muye began to sing softly:

"I hope you haven’t shed tears for me again in the dark,

I don’t want to leave your heart empty..."

...