ACMS 69

Extra: If They Had Met in College 3

Amid the indescribably awkward atmosphere, Wu Huilan took the initiative and said to the old man, “Dad, didn’t you say you were going to play chess with a friend? What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by and thought I’d stop in for a look,” Old Mr. Shen made up an excuse. “What about you two? Didn’t you say you weren’t coming?”

“We were just passing by too,” Wu Huilan nudged Shen Zhenghe with her elbow. “Right? Just passing by.”

“Y-yeah, yeah!” Shen Zhenghe echoed.

Though that was what they said, everyone knew full well why they were really here.

Wu Huilan turned to Qiao Le and asked gently, “You’re Hechuan’s friend, right? We’re his parents—hope we didn’t scare you.”

Qiao Le had already noticed that Shen Zhenghe looked somewhat like Shen Hechuan, so when he saw him with Wu Huilan, he guessed their relationship.

But hadn’t Shen Hechuan said he lived alone? Why had his grandfather—and now his parents—shown up?

Qiao Le was stunned by the situation, but when Wu Huilan greeted him, he quickly snapped out of it. “Not at all. Hello, Uncle, Auntie. I’m Qiao Le, a freshman, and Hechuan-senior’s junior.”

“Qiao Le, what a cheerful name,” Wu Huilan smiled. “Is it okay if I call you Lele?”

“Of course! My family and friends all call me that—it feels warm and familiar.” Qiao Le returned to his sociable self and welcomed them in. “Please, come in.”

They entered the apartment together. Shen Hechuan came out from the study, greeted the three of them one by one, and asked, “You all came together?”

From his tone, he didn’t sound surprised at all. Clearly, the arrival of these “unexpected guests” was fully anticipated.

“Not at all.” Grandpa waved his hand. “I said we shouldn’t come, but your parents insisted. Since they were coming, how could I not?”

Wu Huilan: “…”

Shen Hechuan: “…”

That was a huge pot thrown over their heads.

“Well, since we’re all here, take a seat,” Shen Hechuan said. “Stay for lunch before you go.”

“We don’t mind, but…” Shen Zhenghe glanced at Qiao Le, “will we be interrupting anything?”

Interrupting?

That question carried some implications. Thinking back to Grandpa’s earlier “little friend” comment, Qiao Le couldn’t help but feel there was something he didn’t know.

Still, he didn’t dwell on it and immediately responded, “Of course not—the more, the merrier.”

And if you looked at it from another angle… wasn’t this kind of like “meeting the parents”?

With that, the three who had never intended to leave in the first place happily stayed and went to put down their bags and canes.

Shen Hechuan gently tugged Qiao Le aside and asked in a low voice, “Did they scare you?”

Also whispering, Qiao Le replied, “Not really. Just caught off guard.”

“They’ll leave after lunch,” Shen Hechuan reassured him. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Qiao Le waved it off. “Small stuff.”

Seeing that he really did look calm and wasn’t just pretending, Shen Hechuan relaxed.

Once Chef Mo found out the elders had come, she brewed some tea and brought it out.

Qiao Le saw the three of them seated on the sofa and took the initiative to chat. He’d always been socially gifted—whether with eighty-year-olds or eight-year-olds, he could hold a conversation. Even though it was his first time meeting Wu Huilan and the others, there was no awkwardness at all.

When he heard Grandpa liked Chinese chess, he said he knew a bit himself and asked if he could play a round.

The old man was delighted to hear someone so young liked chess and immediately asked Shen Hechuan to bring out the board and pieces.

What surprised him even more was how good Qiao Le actually was—quick-witted, composed, and strategic in every move.

Unfortunately, they only managed one game before it was time for lunch.

Still wanting more, Grandpa asked where Qiao Le had learned to play. As he put away the pieces, Qiao Le replied, “At the entrance of our neighborhood. Lots of grandpas like playing there. I watched and picked up a bit.”

“That’s more than just ‘a bit’!” Grandpa laughed. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders—smart kid.”

Wu Huilan, who’d been watching their game, nodded. “That’s right. Lele is amazing, keeping up with Grandpa this long.”

Shen Zhenghe added with a smile, “Told you, this kid looks sharp.”

Wu Huilan chimed in, “And is sharp.”

Compliments from the elders poured down like free confetti. Even someone as socially confident as Qiao Le felt a little shy. After they all headed to the dining room, he tugged at Shen Hechuan and asked, “Senior, was I amazing?”

Shen Hechuan gave him a thumbs up. “Very.”

Qiao Le beamed.

After lunch, Wu Huilan and the others headed home. Chef Mo and Chef Zhang didn’t stay either, tactfully leaving the space to the two young men.

With their departure, the once lively apartment fell quiet again.

Qiao Le received his official student council admission notice, instructing him to report to the office on Monday and start arranging his schedule.

“You guys work on weekends too?” he asked.

“Sometimes.”

Shen Hechuan asked if he wanted to watch a movie. Qiao Le replied, “Sure.”

They went to the home theater, spending quite a while browsing through shelves of DVDs. Eventually, they picked an old film—Love Letter.

Shen Hechuan dimmed the lights. The only illumination came from the huge screen.

Qiao Le sat on the sofa. When Shen Hechuan sat beside him, the cushions sank slightly under his weight.

The movie began.

Love Letter had a melancholy, dreamlike tone. The visuals were beautiful, the emotions delicate, the cinematography romantic—though the story itself was far from perfect.

The male lead’s absence, and the second female lead’s delayed realization, left a lingering sense of regret.

Throughout the film, neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t Qiao Le’s first time watching it. He had watched it before on someone’s recommendation, but back then it hadn’t struck him deeply—he’d just thought both characters were bad at communication.

Now watching it again, with Shen Hechuan sitting next to him, he seemed to grasp the film’s emotional core a little more clearly.

In the dim room, he glanced at Shen Hechuan out of the corner of his eye.

Shen Hechuan sat relaxed, his gaze fixed on the screen. Light from the projection flickered across his face, highlighting his sharp features and strong nose, making his already defined profile even more striking.

So handsome, Qiao Le thought. Too bad I’m not an art major—I’d totally draw him.

“What are you staring at?”

Shen Hechuan suddenly spoke, turning to him. “Is the movie not good?”

“It is,” Qiao Le said. “But you’re good-looking too, so I’m watching both.”

“…” Shen Hechuan was silent for a moment, then chuckled. “Are you this straightforward with everyone?”

Qiao Le considered it. “Not really—it depends on the situation.”

By now, the movie had reached its final scene.

The students handed the male lead’s childhood sketches to the second female lead. Seeing the familiar yet distant image of herself, she froze—those light, delicate drawings seemed to carry all of the boy’s quiet affection.

All that unspoken love suddenly transcended time and even death, laid bare before her.

Caught off guard, she reached for her pockets—only to find there was nowhere to keep them.

Qiao Le felt a stir in his chest. He asked Shen Hechuan, “Do you think… if they’d confessed when they were younger, the ending would’ve been better?”

“Not necessarily,” Shen Hechuan said. He didn’t think the current ending was bad. At least the main female lead had found peace, and the second female lead was moving on. Pain and regret—time would heal them all.
:

But—

He met Qiao Le’s gaze and said with meaning, “Of course, if they had confessed, there would’ve been fewer regrets. We should learn from their experience.”

Fewer regrets. Learn from experience.

Qiao Le mulled over his words, then boldly locked eyes with him and asked, “Senior, what do you mean by that? Are you hinting at something?”

Shen Hechuan said, “Of course not.”

Did I misunderstand?

Qiao Le frowned slightly. “Then what do you mean?”

“It’s not a hint.” Shen Hechuan said plainly, “It’s a direct statement.”

Qiao Le froze. “Huh?”

Shen Hechuan didn’t dodge anymore. Looking at him, he said, “I don’t know how to draw, and I’m not good at beating around the bush, so I’ll ask directly—Qiao Le, I like you. What about you?”

Qiao Le, I like you.

What about you?

Even though he’d already suspected Shen Hechuan’s feelings, Qiao Le was still overwhelmed by this blunt confession.

While he was still stunned, Shen Hechuan leaned in slightly, one hand braced beside him, and asked again, “What about you? Do you like me?”

They were very close now. Qiao Le could see every single eyelash on Shen Hechuan’s face.

The movie ended, and the room was plunged into darkness.

At the same time, something soft pressed against his lips. Qiao Le realized only a moment later what it was.

Warm, soft, and slightly wet.

So this is what a kiss feels like.

He felt a little dazed, thinking, I didn’t even answer yet, and he already made a move.

But kissing… felt kind of nice.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Shen Hechuan’s neck.

After a while, the two separated slightly, and Shen Hechuan’s voice came in the dark: “You still haven’t answered me, Lele.”

Qiao Le feigned ignorance. “Answer what?”

“I like you.” Shen Hechuan repeated. “What about you?”

“Me?” Qiao Le smiled slightly. “Of course I do.”

That day, Qiao Le stayed at Shen Hechuan’s place until late. As a newly coupled pair, they were clingy and reluctant to part. Shen Hechuan drove him to the entrance of his neighborhood, and the two ended up chatting in the car for another half hour before finally separating.

—

On Monday afternoon, after class, Qiao Le went to report to the student council.

He had already helped out during the freshman welcome, so many people recognized him. Especially since Judy had jokingly declared she was adding him to her “harem” back then, everyone immediately started gossiping when he walked in.

As for that “harem” comment—Judy had long since given up on it, especially with Shen Hechuan standing right there. How could she dare to fight her own boss over a guy?

So she knocked on the table and declared, “Stop talking nonsense! Heaven knows, I really have no interest in the freshman!”

Someone asked, “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“Of course it sounds familiar,” Pei Wenjing fanned the flames. “That’s exactly what President Shen said when we were praising Qiao Le’s looks!”

Qiao Le looked curious. “Said what?”

Imitating Shen Hechuan, Pei Wenjing replied expressionlessly, “I have no interest in freshmen.”

Qiao Le raised an eyebrow and looked at Shen Hechuan. “President’s really that cold?”

“Super cold,” Pei Wenjing added.

Shen Hechuan: “…”

Can’t you shut up for once?