Precognitive Dream

Ye Mian guardedly pulled back her phone, raising her head as if at the end of her patience, right as she was about to speak.

Someone called out her name from behind.

"Ye Mian."

Ye Mian froze!

She slowly turned around.

At this hour, the campus of Wancheng University was still lively. Students dressed in vibrant clothes bustled about, radiating youthful energy, while the campus streetlamps cast a distant, glowing reflection on the asphalt pavement.

Jiang Chen stood nearby, the light illuminating his features with absolute clarity.

His sudden appearance clashed with the bustling nighttime atmosphere of the campus, making Ye Mian momentarily wonder if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Ye Mian blinked, and a sudden sense of guilt welled up inside her.

Heaven and earth as her witness, the scene just now really did look like she was trying to add someone on WeChat.

At this thought, she abruptly took a step back, putting some distance between herself and Fu Ziheng.

Then, she watched helplessly as Jiang Chen strode over.

Fu Ziheng remained clueless. He glanced back at the man in formal attire, then looked at Ye Mian, and comprehension dawned on him.

"Oh, another competitor, huh? How come he's from off-campus? Senior, does he have your WeChat? Oh, right, weren't you just about to add my WeChat and give me money? Why don't you add me first?"

The way he spoke made him look exactly like a wronged little puppy.

The naive college boy's mindset was straightforward; hearing people say they had never seen Ye Mian with a boyfriend, he seemed to buy into it completely.

The April night was as deep as a pool of black ink. Hearing this, Jiang Chen let out a barely perceptible scoff from his nose and leisurely withdrew his gaze.

Though Ye Mian stood straight, her hands unconsciously curled into fists, and her heart leaped straight to her throat.

She screamed frantically in her mind: *Ancestor, please stop talking already.*

Yet Fu Ziheng added with a sickeningly sweet, manipulative tone: "Senior, say something!"

Ye Mian: "..."

Say something?

If curse words could be bleeped out, the entire campus of Wancheng University would be filled with her beeps.

Yet what could she do?

Nothing good ever came from running into this massive trouble.

The flower-scented night breeze brushed past Ye Mian's ears, and with a flushed face, she scolded Fu Ziheng, "Shut your trap already, this is my boyfriend."

Then, she looked in panic at Jiang Chen and issued a frantic triple denial: "It's not true, I didn't, he's talking nonsense."

Fu Ziheng widened his eyes. "Senior, how can you change your tune so fast? Which part of what I said was wrong? A boyfriend? Boyfriends can be replaced, right?"

Jiang Chen’s pale grey eyes gazed calmly at the chattering young man.

He didn't say a word for a long time.

Ye Mian's heart dropped. She quickly hurried closer to Jiang Chen, catching the comforting scent of ebony wood radiating from him.

She shook her head furiously—this was a frame-up! A vicious, malicious frame-up!

Before she could speak, however, Jiang Chen raised a hand and pulled her behind him.

Meeting Fu Ziheng's eyes, Jiang Chen asked with icy calm, "Want to add her on WeChat? Discuss that after I'm dead."

Fu Ziheng looked genuinely surprised upon hearing this.

Finally, he dropped his manipulative act, and the smile vanished from his face.

"So serious? No fun at all."

Perhaps truly having no ulterior motives, he waved at Ye Mian and said pitifully, "Senior, I won't bother you anymore then, I'm heading out."

Ye Mian let out a sigh of relief, not even bothering to check whether he actually left. The brat's green-tea routine was far too clumsy; she had seen right through it all.

The night in Wancheng still held the moonlight, soft as if veiled in a layer of mist.

Jiang Chen lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Ye Mian's somewhat dazed and flustered expression.

He gently raised a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Ye Mian's ear and asked softly, "Adding WeChat?"

*Here it comes. Here it comes.*

*He misunderstood.*

*He's here to settle accounts.*

Ye Mian held her breath, her expression stiffening slightly. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself to explain.

"No, the thing is..."

Jiang Chen lowered his gaze, gave a faint smile, and stroked her soft hair. "If something like this happens again, tell me, alright?"

Huh?

So he hadn't misunderstood?

Ye Mian's eyes curved into crescent moons, the corners of her lips turning up in a soft smile. Seeing him in the flesh made her truly realize he was back, and she reached out to hook her fingers around his wrist.

"When did you get back? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just arrived. Wanted to give you a surprise."

Ye Mian blinked. *Well, it certainly was a huge surprise.*

"Are we heading back now, or going to Half-Mountain Island for tea?"

Ye Mian didn't even have to think. "Half-Mountain Island. I left a lipstick there last time."

Jiang Chen lowered his gaze to look into the young woman's eyes. His gaze was clear and gentle, as if it held all the moonlight of Wancheng.

"Alright."

In the night of Wancheng.

The black Bentley sped rapidly along the overpass. Ye Mian sat beside Jiang Chen, replying to messages from Qin Feifei.

Jiang Chen closed his eyes to rest, looking somewhat fatigued.

Recalling the young man's manipulative act just moments ago, he hadn't felt threatened in the slightest.

In a grey world, having seen all sorts of people, characters like that no longer stirred his emotions.

However.

The young woman's appearance today reminded him of the past—of those destitute, barren, and bitter years of their youth.

Back in the days when he could barely afford a meal, the young woman had also loved shoving money at him.

More than once or twice, either.

Terribly afraid that he would go hungry.

Every time she gazed at him, the sympathy and pity in her eyes threatened to drown him.

No one who is genuinely in love would ever want to be pitied by the girl they adore.

Yet he could never quite fathom that kind of pity.

His fingertips grazed his wristwatch, and as he frowned, the corners of his mouth slowly straightened into a thin line.

Did this young woman have a penchant for handing out money to people who looked miserable?

Tsk.

Quite a bizarre quirk.

The car drove swiftly, yet the road was smooth and the suspension was remarkably good. Having been exhausted for months, suddenly returning to a familiar place made Jiang Chen feel drowsy.

He reached out to catch the young woman's fingertips, and a moment later, said softly, "Trouble you, little Ye Mian. Wake me when we arrive."

Ye Mian looked up, murmured a soft "okay," and clasped his hand in return.

Inside the car, only the screen of the center console emitted a faint glow. His profile was swallowed by the shadows, making it indistinct, save for the glint of light catching the edge of his glasses.

Over the past few days, he had been endlessly plagued by the same dream—a dream filled with shifting silhouettes, muffled voices whose words he couldn't make out, and hazy imagery.

Between his fingers lingered the lingering warmth of the young woman's palm.

This time, he finally managed to catch a single sentence clearly.

"Jiang Chen, don't."

Uttered in the young woman's uniquely gentle tone, trembling with desperate, tearful strain.

The car came to a halt in the Half-Mountain Island villa district. Ye Mian reached out to pinch Jiang Chen's cheek before he slowly opened his eyes.

Ye Mian found it curious; Jiang Chen's self-discipline was terrifyingly strict, and his vigilance was so high that she had never once had to be the one to wake him up.

Today was truly an exception.

Jiang Chen leisurely removed his glasses, wiped them clean, and put them back on. Looking into the young woman's eyes, he said softly, "Check the trunk. I brought you something."

Ye Mian nodded in pleasant surprise and pushed open the car door.

The streetlamp stretched her shadow out long.

The radio station in the car, which had been broadcasting the weather forecast, seemed to have switched segments and was now reciting horoscopes.

"Scorpios, please take note... frequent dreaming..."

"A miraculous prophetic dream is no mere dream—it is your sixth sense."