Professor Xie, isn't this a case of forcing customers to buy products that don't match the

Shang Song had just finished showering and drying his hair when he heard a series of regular knocks on the door.

Before taking a shower, he packed his bag for work the next day and realized he was out of disinfectant wipes. He casually placed an order on the app, and the estimated delivery time was around now.

He shuffled to the door in his slippers and picked up his phone from the coffee table.

"Coming!" Shang Song replied, tapping WeChat on the screen to see if Chen Yu had arrived. Without any warning, he turned the doorknob and opened the door.

"Thanks……"

The word "thank you" had barely left my lips when the rest of the words froze on my tongue.

Time seemed to stand still.

Shang Song stared blankly at the person outside the door, his mind a complete blank, his heart pounding wildly in his chest for no apparent reason.

It is Xie Jing.

He wore dark suit trousers, a smoky-colored shirt with the top two buttons undone, and a dark gray cashmere coat over it.

He looks much the same as he did six months ago, still incredibly handsome, yet somehow everything about him seems different.

He had no expression, just stood quietly, his gaze calmly fixed on Shang Song's face, which froze instantly.

Shang Song had just finished taking a shower.

Her hair was a bit longer than it had been six months ago, her face had a faint blush from the steam of the hot water, she was wearing loose dark blue pajamas that revealed half of her delicate collarbone, and her eyes were slightly wide with surprise.

"...Professor Xie?" A few seconds later, Shang Song finally snapped out of his shock. He instinctively gripped his phone, his voice filled with bewilderment: "You...what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," Xie Jing said, his voice still deep and steady as Shang Song remembered.

Shang Song was even more bewildered.

What could possibly be going on between them?

Ancient book restoration? Philology?

Don't be ridiculous! That was all an act he put on to get closer to her; the whole thing has been going on for half a year now.

Work?

Xie Jing is a professor at S University, while he is an employee of a game company; they are completely unrelated.

personal friendship?

Did they have a personal relationship?

They never ate together, never watched a movie together, never held hands, and he never even rode in that supposedly bulletproof car.

While Shang Song was ranting wildly in his mind, Xie Jing's gaze simply fell silently on Shang Song's forehead.

There, everything was clean and tidy, and the skin was very white, glowing with a luminous sheen under the light.

But just an hour earlier, he had witnessed another man almost kiss him there.

"...Is there something urgent?" Shang Song forced a polite, distant smile. "It's so late..."

Xie Jing suddenly took half a step forward.

He was already much taller than Shang Song, and with just that half step, his towering figure instantly filled the doorway, blocking out most of the already dim light in the corridor. In an instant, the oppressive feeling became tangible.

Shang Song was speaking halfway through when the silent approach caused him to instinctively step back, his back gently pressing against the entryway cabinet.

"I disagree." Xie Jing looked down at Shang Song, who was leaning slightly forward, her upper body unconsciously tilting back as she leaned against the entryway cabinet, looking lost.

"..." Shang Song was completely dumbfounded, blinking blankly, "...What? You disagree with what?"

Xie Jing shifted his gaze from his face to the room.

His gaze calmly swept over the warm yellow light, the casually placed beanbag chair, and the lush green ivy on the balcony before finally refocusing on Shang Song's face.

"Your current relationship," he uttered slowly, with an undeniable air, reiterating, "I do not approve."

Shang Song was stunned, and it took him several seconds to process Xie Jing's meaning.

He almost laughed in anger.

"Professor Xie," he took a deep breath, trying to maintain the last shred of politeness, but his tone had turned cold, "I think we made it very clear six months ago that we broke up! My affairs, whether romantic relationships or anything else, are none of your business. On what grounds, and by what right, do you disagree?!"

"Standpoint? On what grounds?" Xie Jing repeated, his voice even lower than before. He moved closer again, completely compressing the already small distance between them.

He leaned down slightly, his deep, ocean-like eyes fixed on Shang Song, seeing her panic clearly. "I thought I had made myself clear enough."

"I don't like seeing you with other people." He spoke slowly, each word striking Shang Song's heart with heavy emphasis: "No."

Shang Song's heart sank heavily as if struck by a hammer. The night wind seemed to howl through the corridor and surge into the small entryway, while a chill rushed up his spine.

The Xie Jing in front of him was so unfamiliar that it made his scalp tingle.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His gaze swept quickly across the empty corridor behind Xie Jing, then fell back on the extremely handsome, yet extremely cold, face in front of him.

The Xie Jing of tonight was completely different from the Professor Xie he remembered—cold and aloof, but at least adhering to basic social etiquette and maintaining distance.

His ex-boyfriend, whom he had broken up with six months ago, showed up at his door late at night. This was too terrifying. He couldn't stand there with him, at least not in this enclosed apartment.

He didn't want to be thrown over the shoulder again.

"Professor Xie," he tried to sound less flustered, "I think there might be some misunderstanding between us. Talking here isn't a solution, and it's disturbing the neighbors. How about this: there's a 24-hour convenience store downstairs, and a coffee shop across the street; they should still be open at this hour. Shall we go there, sit down, and talk it over?"

This was the best solution he could think of at the moment.

Leave the private sphere and enter the public space.

There is surveillance, people, and basic social rules in place.

"You are a respectable person."

Shang Song emphasized the word "decent," as if reminding, or perhaps pleading, for the last line of defense: "We...should at least resolve this in a decent way, right?"

A glint seemed to flash in Xie Jing's deep, ocean-like eyes.

But that light was cold and mocking.

Decent?

Unfortunately, decorum is a constraint on gentlemen, and it is only useful to gentlemen.

From the moment he stepped out of the car and knocked on the door, he had no intention of remaining a gentleman.

Xie Jing neither agreed nor disagreed with Shang Song's suggestion, but he straightened up and took a small step back.

Shang Song's tense nerves suddenly relaxed.

It seems the other party is still willing to communicate and isn't here to attack him.

He turned around, grabbed a coat from the rack next to the entryway cabinet, haphazardly put it over his pajamas, zipped it up, picked up the keys from the cabinet, stuffed his phone into the coat pocket, and walked quickly toward the door with his head down.

Xie Jing watched his series of actions in silence, without stopping him, and even stepped aside to move aside from the door frame.

Shang Song walked past him hurriedly with his head down, closing the door behind him.

He didn't even glance at Xie Jing, but walked straight to the elevator and pressed the down button.

His eyes were fixed on the changing floor numbers as the elevator doors opened.

He stepped inside, and only when he looked up did he see Xie Jing following him in at a leisurely pace, standing beside him.

The man's tall figure cast a shadow under the elevator lights, almost completely enveloping him.

As the elevator descended, no one spoke; only the faint hum of the mechanical operation could be heard.

We've arrived at the first floor, the door opens.

Shang Song practically rushed out, quickly crossing the empty and quiet first-floor lobby.

As long as you go outside, onto a street with streetlights and passing cars, or into that brightly lit coffee shop... everything will be fine.

The glass doors slid open automatically to both sides, letting in the chilly night air.

Then, Shang Song abruptly stopped in his tracks.

The color drained from his face the moment he saw what was outside the door.