The setting for Gu Ximian’s pheromones, to put it simply, was that they had no fixed scent. Instead, anyone who smelled them would perceive their own favorite fragrance.
What the young Zhuang Chi was thinking when she came up with this setting is lost to time. Perhaps she thought it sounded cool and flashy—or perhaps she simply couldn’t think of a suitable pheromone scent for someone like Gu Ximian, so she gave up thinking about it altogether.
In any case, she definitely hadn’t considered things like scientific plausibility. And on closer inspection, Zhuang Chi thought, it seemed to present some wonderfully weird problems. For example, if someone’s favorite scent was curry, would Gu Ximian’s pheromones smell like curry to them?
…It was hard to say which party would be more uncomfortable in that situation. One could only pray this would never happen to anyone around Gu Ximian. Please, for everyone’s sake.
She started thinking about these strange things again while walking, but Zhuang Chi felt she wasn’t entirely to blame. At least half the fault lay with Gu Ximian’s sudden attack just a moment ago. See? Now neither of them knew what to talk about, and they had fallen into complete silence, hadn’t they?
…Flowers. Zhuang Chi recalled their earlier conversation, her lips tightening slightly. Although it seemed like she was just bluffing… it didn’t feel entirely like that. For a “Zhuang Chi who likes flowers,” Gu Ximian’s pheromones would undoubtedly be floral-scented, but no matter how you looked at it, this was by no means a matter of “what a coincidence.” Why would Gu Ximian…
It wasn’t impossible to explain it away as simple small talk, but from Zhuang Chi’s perspective as the creator, someone like Gu Ximian probably wouldn’t choose a topic related to her own pheromones for small talk with a stranger she had just met—
—Speaking of which, Zhuang Chi froze. This was the second time Gu Ximian had done something so out of character, wasn’t it?
The last time was in the infirmary, when Gu Ximian suddenly offered to pay her back for her help, even saying something like “anything is fine.”
…This was probably an anomaly only she could detect. After all, if the person standing here were just a regular freshman unfortunately caught up in the incident, someone who had just met Gu Ximian wouldn’t be able to notice that her actions were “out of character” and would thus be easily deceived.
These actions of Gu Ximian’s, Zhuang Chi thought vaguely, was she… testing her?
She didn’t really want to use that word, but she couldn’t find a more suitable adjective at the moment. According to this theory, because Gu Ximian didn’t know what kind of person she was, she used the “anything is fine” suggestion as a test to see what kind of request she would make under such seemingly lenient conditions. Zhuang Chi might have luckily passed the first test, and now, Gu Ximian was telling her the scent of her pheromones—that probably wasn’t the main point. The important part was the subsequent “don’t tell anyone else.”
If Zhuang Chi spread the word, then when Gu Ximian heard rumors about her “pheromones smelling like flowers,” she would know it was her who spread them. Such a rumor wouldn’t have much of an impact on Gu Ximian anyway, since her pheromones didn’t smell like flowers to others, and she could deny it with confidence. And if Zhuang Chi didn’t say anything… that was fine too. After all, Gu Ximian’s statement wasn’t a complete lie, and she would have had almost no chance to discover the truth behind it.
A somewhat roundabout trust test. But it was clearly useless now. In fact, following this line of thought seemed to give her some insight into Gu Ximian’s thinking. For example—if Gu Ximian thought Zhuang Chi was completely untrustworthy, or someone who didn’t matter at all, then there would have been no need to conduct such a test.
…It was as if their roles in the test had been reversed. Zhuang Chi lowered her eyes, a little stiffly, unsure of what to do. For now, she put on a stern face to avoid revealing her emotions.
There was also the possibility that she was just being overly self-conscious… Zhuang Chi thought uneasily. Gu Ximian seemed a little interested in her… Wow, just thinking about it made her feel like one of those people who makes eye contact with someone once and immediately assumes they have a crush on them…!
Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, Zhuang Chi looked ahead. They had been walking for nearly twenty minutes since leaving the infirmary, and now they could finally see a gathering of people in the distance. It seemed to be the registration point set up in the campus courtyard. She breathed a small sigh of relief and, mustering her courage, turned to look at Gu Ximian, who had been silent the whole way. She asked a question to which she already knew the answer, “Is that the registration area over there?”
Gu Ximian paused for a moment, then nodded smoothly, looking in that direction. “It looks like there are quite a lot of people.”
Zhuang Chi wasn’t too concerned about the crowd. What she cared about now was that the two of them had finally reached a point where they had to part ways. She had to pretend that the thought had just occurred to her, saying, “Oh, then we’ll have to split up to get in line, right?”
After all, they weren’t in the same department. Zhuang Chi’s mental abacus was clacking away, just waiting for Gu Ximian to nod and say goodbye. But Gu Ximian pondered for a long moment, then suddenly raised an eyebrow slightly. “What if we’re in the same department?”
“…”
Fine, that made sense. Zhuang Chi barely managed to twist her face into an expression of “Oh, so that’s a possibility,” and replied with feigned realization, “Wow, you’re right. So, which department are you in? I’m in the Electrical and Information Engineering department.”
But of course, they were not in the same department. Gu Ximian was in the Faculty of Arts. Zhuang Chi remembered this very clearly. Back when she was young and ignorant, she thought the Faculty of Arts sounded very impressive and profound, so she made that the setting. But when it came time for her own studies, she gradually realized that the Faculty of Arts in her imagination and the reality were two completely different things, and she ended up studying science herself.
…To be honest, Zhuang Chi had basically no skills that could be called “acting.” Just saying those two sentences made her feel like she was about to break. She silently thought that her expression must be very stiff and her line delivery completely wooden. Please, just let Gu Ximian think she was nervous and let her go quickly.
“The Electrical Engineering department,” Gu Ximian repeated slowly, and the gaze she cast at Zhuang Chi was leisurely. She paused thoughtfully for a long moment, then her eyes flickered, and she curved them into a happy smile. “What a coincidence, I’m a student in the Electrical Engineering department too.”
“……….”
Huh? Huh?
A completely unexpected answer! It caught Zhuang Chi completely off guard. A thousand words were stuck in her throat, and all she could do was stand there, stunned. Gu Ximian, as if oblivious, had already looked around and then pointed to the queue behind the Electrical Engineering department sign, saying cheerfully, “Then let’s go over there.”
Zhuang Chi, in her state of utter chaos, had no room to object. She remained in a state of shock and confusion as she stood in line with Gu Ximian at the very end. The attention they drew only increased in such a crowded place. As soon as Zhuang Chi got in line, she heard the not-so-hushed whispers of students passing by: “Oh, that must be her! I heard she beat up Ling Jing’s hawk! So awesome!”
…The rumor seems to have taken a strange turn! Zhuang Chi was bewildered and whipped her head around, wanting to explain that she hadn’t beaten up Ling Jing’s hawk at all. But her movement startled the two students, who let out a yelp, grabbed hands, and scurried away, leaving Zhuang Chi behind, speechless and unable to voice her grievance.
“It seems Ling Jing’s reputation at school isn’t very good,” Gu Ximian, who had watched the whole thing, let the corners of her lips curve up slightly before schooling her expression as if considering Zhuang Chi’s feelings. She analyzed with what sounded like great seriousness, “There’s probably room for it to be exaggerated even further. What do you think the final version of the rumor will be?”
“…I hope it doesn’t get exaggerated any further.”
After saying this with a sense of resignation, Zhuang Chi looked at Gu Ximian, who was trying hard to suppress her laughter. She blinked languidly and muttered in a low voice, “…You look pretty happy about it.”
“Is it that obvious?” Gu Ximian blinked and thought for a moment. “Then… thank you?”
“…” She was surprisingly frank, which made it hard to know how to respond. Zhuang Chi pouted in defeat and said with a sigh, “…You’re welcome.”
This interlude made Zhuang Chi miss her chance to question “when did Gu Ximian become a student of the Electrical Engineering department”—though with her outside information, she couldn’t have asked directly anyway. In short, the matter was hastily brushed aside, and the two of them queued up one after the other. Although the gazes from their surroundings were very palpable, perhaps because there were two of them, at least no one approached them directly.
The two chatted from time to time, and before they knew it, it was their turn. Zhuang Chi handed over the required materials for registration, and after the process was complete, she received her student card and was told her dorm location. With that, her registration was done. She stepped aside and looked at Gu Ximian, who was in line behind her. Was it to be expected? Gu Ximian didn’t have any materials. She simply followed her out of the queue and bowed her head slightly. “Sorry, I’m not actually in the Electrical Engineering department.”
It took a great deal of effort for Zhuang Chi not to let “I knew it” show on her face. She did her best to look surprised as she listened to Gu Ximian continue, “I was just thinking that your right hand was injured, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to sign during registration, so I made up an excuse to come with you. But it looks like it’s fine now, so I’m a little relieved.”
“Then let’s leave it at that for now,” Gu Ximian concluded on her own before Zhuang Chi could speak, pointing towards the dormitories. “Your dorm should be over there. There will be many student volunteers along the way, so you’re unlikely to get lost. Go back and get some rest. We’ll be in touch later.”
The whole speech was crisp and efficient. Zhuang Chi listened in a daze, and just as she unconsciously let out a sound of agreement, she saw Gu Ximian give her a friendly smile, then turn and walk towards the Faculty of Arts’ queue, looking for all the world like she was going to register by herself. Zhuang Chi could almost feel a large portion of the vague, ever-present gazes from the crowd break off and follow Gu Ximian as she became a solitary figure.
…How should she put it? Zhuang Chi thought. Freedom had come a little suddenly.
And she didn’t know if it was because it was too sudden or something else, but she felt… hmm…
Gu Ximian walked to the end of the Faculty of Arts’ queue without a sideways glance. This line was also very long, and it looked like it would take a while. The surrounding stares were annoying, but it was something she was used to. She just had to ignore them. An Chen had said to contact him when she came to register, but she decided against it. Being alone might invite people to strike up a conversation, which was unavoidable. She would see what happened when it happened—
—Although she was genuinely thinking this, it seemed her preparations were temporarily unnecessary. Gu Ximian lowered her eyelids, hiding the unreadable emotion in her eyes, but she didn’t hide the slight curve of her lips as she turned to look at the hesitant figure not far away.
“Ah,” The moment their eyes met, her whole body stiffened. It seemed she hadn’t figured out her words yet. When Zhuang Chi spoke, her words weren’t very fluent, and her gaze darted around, a little lost. “I… I just thought, since you accompanied me to register, it seems… a bit… not right for me to just leave you here alone and walk away.”
“Of course, if you say you’re fine registering by yourself, then I’ll leave right now,” Gu Ximian saw Zhuang Chi’s fingers curl tightly, and she raised a hand to touch the back of her neck, looking uncomfortable. “…I don’t mean to be clingy.”
Yes, she knew. Gu Ximian blinked slowly, taking in all of Zhuang Chi’s easily discernible conflict and hesitation. Zhuang Chi had no intention of clinging to her; she was more aware of that than anyone. After all, until just a moment ago, this person had been constantly thinking about how to get away from her.
Even so, she still stopped for a reason as trivial as “not wanting to owe a favor,” which in Gu Ximian’s eyes was insignificant. It was a little interesting.
“How could I think that,” Gu Ximian smiled gently, her eyes clear and deep. “I’m very happy that you’re willing to stay with me.”
