Shen Mengjie looked at the slightly surprised Long Aotian, a smug smile curling at the corners of her lips.
Seeing the amusement on her face, even someone as slow as Long Aotian caught on. "So it was you who texted me using Han Xiaojing's phone?"
"Obviously. If I’d reached out to you directly, would you have agreed to meet?" Shen Mengjie was self-aware enough to know the answer.
Though their interactions had been brief, under Han Xiaojing’s influence, she’d occasionally found herself observing Long Aotian.
She could tell he carried himself with a thoughtfulness beyond his years, exuding a maturity that set him apart from his peers.
There was something intangible about his presence—something that left a deep impression, independent of mere looks.
Since he’d mentioned the KTV and the claypot soup, he must have noticed something but chose not to expose her in front of Huang Fei.
People like him had strong moral principles. No doubt he’d look down on someone like her.
"Did you tell Huang Fei everything?"
Watching Long Aotian’s stern expression, Shen Mengjie couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Don’t be so serious. It’s not like I’ve done anything unforgivable."
"They’re drawn to my looks and my body. I enjoy the thrill of being pursued. That hardly qualifies as a crime, does it?"
As she spoke, she blinked playfully at him.
In some ways, she wasn’t wrong.
If you weren’t tempted by someone’s allure, you wouldn’t fall into the hunter’s trap.
"Do you really find this amusing?" Long Aotian couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Not everyone would condone Shen Mengjie’s behavior.
Self-respect and recklessness were two extremes.
At the very least, some people would never understand how someone could spend the afternoon drinking and flirting with one person at a KTV, only to casually share dinner with another by evening.
And the fact that she was only eighteen or nineteen, yet so effortlessly moved between men...
"Why wouldn’t it be amusing?" Shen Mengjie shrugged. "I think it’s plenty fun. I enjoy every bit of it."
"I know you’ll scoff at this." Check latest chapters at 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝕟𝕖𝕥
"First of all, I’ve never deliberately seduced anyone. Second, if they’re drawn to me for shallow reasons, that’s not my fault. Sometimes, I’m just as helpless."
"If they approach me with ulterior motives, why shouldn’t I enjoy the game?"
"Isn’t your roommate Huang Fei exactly that kind of person?"
"At the start of freshman year, when he barely knew anyone in class, did he even know my preferences? Did he understand anything about me? He pursued me without knowing a thing—did he really expect some kind of pure romance?"
Long Aotian shook his head. "Telling me all this is pointless. I don’t understand your perspective, and I don’t care what you do."
Maybe Shen Mengjie had a point, but from Long Aotian’s standpoint, it was all just clever rhetoric—twisting logic to suit her narrative.
The pursuit of beauty was human nature, and there was nothing inherently wrong with that.
Attractiveness—whether in looks or charm—triggered dopamine, creating a natural high that made people feel good.
Shen Mengjie, for all her flaws, undeniably possessed that kind of allure.
And because of it, she drew admirers.
Exceptional people could afford to be picky—that was only natural when you were exceptional yourself.
But no matter how exceptional, everyone’s ultimate destination was the same: finding the right person, settling in the right place, sharing three meals a day, four seasons a year...
But if you treated it all as a game, flitting between men just for the thrill of it, that allure became tainted.
When desire clouded judgment, everything turned hollow.
That was Shen Mengjie’s reality. To her, it was all just a game—win or lose, it didn’t matter, because none of it was real. She was only in it for the fun.
As for her so-called helplessness, maybe it was genuine.
But there were countless ways to avoid that helplessness. She simply let things unfold, turning them into excuses later.
Long Aotian couldn’t judge right or wrong, but he had his own thoughts about her claims of helplessness.
Hearing this, Shen Mengjie suddenly laughed. "Of course it’s not pointless. I told you all this because I think you’re interesting..."
"Honestly, don’t you find me even a little bit intriguing?"
"Not at all. I think you’re boring." Long Aotian turned to leave.
"I could become more interesting, you know." Shen Mengjie teased, testing his limits.
"I’m not interested—in you."
"Han Xiaojing likes you."
"I have a girlfriend."
Shen Mengjie’s eyes flickered, but she kept her playful tone. "Then she’s going to be heartbroken for a while."
For some reason, at those words, Long Aotian’s mind flashed to Hu Yuying—standing on her tiptoes, holding out a bowl of homemade porridge with a bright smile.
"She always says she’s the luckiest person in the world. But the truth is, I’m the lucky one—to have her."
Watching Long Aotian walk away, Shen Mengjie was left with only his parting words echoing in her mind.
"The luckiest person in the world?"
Maybe that was the biggest difference between them.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, her interest in him deepened.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Shen Mengjie pulled it out, her eyes curving into a smile as she read the message. "They really are all chasing me."
It was from Huang Fei, asking for answers—for the truth.
Back in the dorm, Huang Fei stared at Shen Mengjie’s reply, bitterness twisting his lips.
He’d expected her to explain.
He’d made his feelings obvious—surely she knew he liked her.
Yet she’d admitted it all so casually.
Now, he didn’t know what to do or say.
At least she hadn’t lied to him.
But that only made it harder.
His mind was a mess. He couldn’t even bring himself to wonder—had she been with someone else before meeting him today?
Did she treat them the same way she treated him?
What did he even mean to her?
Was he backup plan number one? Two? Or...
He picked up his phone, scrolling through their chat history. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating before finally flipping the phone facedown on the bed.
He lit his last cigarette.
He needed time to think.