A Fateful Rendezvous

The early autumn weather on the university campus was vibrant under the golden sun, but the atmosphere of the freshman welcoming festival was even hotter. Amidst the bustling crowd at the club recruitment area, Thư Miên—a girl with newly cut hair, a gentle face, and a sweet, gummy smile—stood with her close roommates, Tiểu Giao Tử and Cống Y.

Miên Miên’s eyes involuntarily stopped at a group of people nearby. It was Đàm Tự Trạch.

“Yes, he is indeed as dazzling as ever,” Miên Miên whispered, clutching a card tightly as if trying to maintain her last bit of composure.

“Miên Miên, his Adam’s apple is so big,” Tiểu Giao Tử flipped a scented pouch, inadvertently repeating a detail Miên Miên had long noticed.

“I heard that boys with big Adam’s apples are very strong in that regard,” Cống Y exclaimed mischievously.

“Cống Y, do you want to be an emperor? Don’t scare my Thư Miên, you’re the only one who talks so much!” Tiểu Giao Tử glared at her friend.

Miên Miên remained silent, her face flushed. In her eyes, Tự Trạch was a perfect “White Moonlight” (Bạch Nguyệt Quang): serene, aloof, yet possessing alluring peach blossom eyes that made people dizzy. She knew he was the target of countless girls, and her position, as someone who went to the same high school but was never close, could only be that of a secret admirer from afar.

While Miên Miên was lost in her thoughts, Tự Trạch had already recognized her.

“A Trạch, why do you keep looking at that girl?” his friend asked. “Someone called her Tô Tô just now.”

“It seems so. That’s strange. Why do I feel like I’ve met this girl somewhere before?” Tự Trạch replied distractedly, his gaze still fixed on Miên Miên.

“She’s your ex-girlfriend’s friend! It turns out she changed her hairstyle so much I almost didn’t recognize her. Wait a minute, my ex-girlfriend and I broke up more than a year ago.”

“With your personality, you’ve probably forgotten who your ex-girlfriend was. What was my ex-girlfriend’s name? Forgotten,” his friend teased. “Then what’s that girl’s name?”

“Thư Miên.” Tự Trạch blurted out.

His friend fell silent. “You still remember the name of a girl you’re not close with, who wasn’t even in your class. I think spring hasn’t even arrived yet. Why do I feel like you’re getting a little… excited?”

Tự Trạch snapped: “Get lost! Get lost! Can’t you be nicer to your elders?”

Despite his outwardly cold demeanor, Tự Trạch’s unintentional recall of Miên Miên’s name was like a seed planted, awaiting a fateful opportunity to sprout.

The destiny between Miên Miên and Tự Trạch didn’t just stop at stolen glances on campus. It began to be woven from strange coincidences, or rather, subtle proactivity from one side.

After military training ended, Miên Miên was dog-sitting for a client. Ironically, it turned out to be Gâu Gâu, Đàm Tự Trạch’s beloved dog, who lived in the same neighborhood as her.

As Miên Miên was walking Gâu Gâu, Tự Trạch suddenly appeared. Caught off guard, Miên Miên stumbled and accidentally slammed into his firm chest.

“Oh my god! His chest is really hard,” Miên Miên was dizzy, almost bursting into tears from the impact.

“I’m sorry,” Tự Trạch frowned slightly, but his voice was still calm. “Wasn’t it me who was touched? Why are you blushing? Don’t cry. I’m truly sorry, I did it on purpose.”

Miên Miên, about to explain, heard him say “on purpose,” and became even more flustered, stammering: “I’m not crying, it just hurt a bit from the collision. Just physiological tears…”

Tự Trạch reached out and gently touched her forehead. “It doesn’t hurt anymore now.” He then removed the dog’s collar, handing her a jacket. “Gâu Gâu isn’t your dog, is he? I just finished walking him. You take him home. I’ll leave first.”

“If you don’t help me hold this, how can I button up?” He gently pulled his collar, revealing the button that had popped off from the impact. “Or would you, fellow student Thư Miên, like to help me button up?”

Miên Miên felt like she was about to explode. Tự Trạch not only remembered her name but used it in such an ambiguous situation. She rushed away, leaving Tự Trạch behind with a cryptic smile. In her mind, only one question echoed: “Wait, what am I thinking? A male student with a big Adam’s apple is strong in all aspects…”

A few days later, as Miên Miên was preparing to head back to the dorm, Tự Trạch appeared again. He firmly insisted on giving her a ride back on his old scooter because it was getting late.

“It’s getting dark, if something happens to you, won’t I be responsible? What do you think?” Tự Trạch said, his tone both teasing and serious.

Faced with his irresistible “tyranny,” Miên Miên had no choice but to agree. He handed her a cute helmet.

As the scooter set off, Tự Trạch tilted his head and asked: “Can you hold on like that? I mean, hold my waist.”

In that moment, Miên Miên felt like she was living a dream. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth from the broad back in front of her.

The story of Tự Trạch giving Miên Miên a ride was quickly photographed and posted on the school forum. The post spread like wildfire, labeling her his “rumored girlfriend.”

Her roommates grilled her. Miên Miên explained they were just high school classmates, not close.

“Then why is he so kind? Specifically giving you a ride home… on a scooter too?” Giao Dao pressed.

Cống Y and Giao Dao exchanged looks, declaring: “This proves even more that he likes you, doesn’t it? Otherwise, why would someone so difficult to befriend take the initiative to drive you back?” They urged her: “Such a good opportunity, do you want to try to win him over? I have a feeling you can do it.”

Miên Miên remained self-conscious: “No way. How could he possibly like me?” She didn’t know that the more she avoided him, the more actively Tự Trạch would pursue her.

The story entered a tense phase when Tự Trạch publicly breached Miên Miên’s defenses with possession and subtle jealousy.

At a birthday party, Miên Miên accidentally ran into Tự Trạch again. And naturally, she bumped into him.

“Why do you bump into my chest every time we meet?” Tự Trạch laughed, his voice full of innuendo. “Watch where you’re going next time. It’s not good to bump into other people’s chests.”

Miên Miên understood his underlying message: “Is it okay to bump into my chest?”

Immediately after, when Miên Miên went to the restroom, a drunk man blocked her way and harassed her.

“Little sister, all alone? Don’t go. Come talk to big brother for a bit, have a drink, won’t you?”

Fear surged in Miên Miên, and just then, a strong hand grabbed the drunk man’s collar, pulling him away. It was Đàm Tự Trạch.

Tự Trạch, his face darkened, grabbed the man. “What are you doing? Are you managing me?”

The drunk man stammered: “I’m sorry, I was wrong. Tell your boyfriend to let go of me quickly.”

Tự Trạch let go, his voice tight, his eyes sharp as a knife looking at the drunk man: “Boyfriend? Deserved. Should I make him kneel and apologize a few times?”

After chasing the man away, Tự Trạch turned to Miên Miên, who was still trembling. “Why are you laughing? Or is it his funny side? I didn’t expect you to be quite brave, cute, and sharp. Quite lovable too.”

Miên Miên hastily denied it. “You compliment other girls for being lovable. Isn’t your girlfriend angry?”

Tự Trạch shrugged: “I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have a rumored girlfriend.” He casually brought up the forum post, admitting he had seen it, and deliberately using that title. “Of course, I’m waiting for my rumored girlfriend.”

Miên Miên was completely bewildered. It was as if he had pushed her into a silent, undeniable relationship, making her lower her head and blush.

The most public display of jealousy occurred when Tự Trạch’s roommate, Diệp Phong, suggested adding Miên Miên on We Chat.

“Everyone has added me, but you haven’t. Do you have a problem with me?” Tự Trạch said, his face looking “scorched.”

Miên Miên had to add him. Immediately after, Tự Trạch instantly liked her latest post.

One night, Tự Trạch messaged her, calling her “Tiểu Tổ Tông” (Little Ancestor). He asked for her class schedule, lying that it was for a friend. She innocently sent it, unaware that the friend was himself.

The next day, Miên Miên went to her 8 a.m. specialized class. Tự Trạch, who was known to hate obligations, appeared. He calmly sat down right next to her, explaining: “I came specifically to attend class with my girlfriend.”

Throughout the class, he constantly teased her, pulling her closer: “Look, look at what? Look at how pretty you are? Very pretty. Especially when your face is red.” When another male student tried to ask for her We Chat, Tự Trạch blocked him, declaring: “I came to class with her.”

The climax of coincidences happened at the Press Club meeting, where Miên Miên was a member of the propaganda department. Tự Trạch, who had previously said he hated extracurricular activities, showed up.

“Didn’t the club recruitment end last Friday? How can you still join?” Miên Miên asked.

“Come here, I got in through the back door,” Tự Trạch said. “I wish I had known earlier; I would have only joined the percussion club.”

Miên Miên, who played the drums, had joined the propaganda department because she believed Tự Trạch wouldn’t join the performance department.

He looked straight into her eyes, giving her a knowing smile: “I was free, so I joined. Of course, the most important thing is to meet someone by chance.”

Miên Miên was utterly defeated. Every action, every coincidence, led to one conclusion: Đàm Tự Trạch had actively entered her life, and she was the “someone” he wanted to meet.

After the club meeting, Tự Trạch and Miên Miên walked back to the dorm together. He reached out and gently poked her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Miên Miên was embarrassed.

“What am I doing to you? Don’t you know?” Tự Trạch laughed. “If not, you can poke my face too.”

Miên Miên, gathering all her courage, gently touched his head.

“Miên Miên, your face is too red,” Tự Trạch noted.

“I am naturally prone to blushing. Đàm Tự Trạch, your ears are red too.” Miên Miên noticed; it was the first time she had seen him look shy.

Tự Trạch quietly admitted: “Mhm, my ears are red because I’m shy. After all, it’s our first time poking a girl’s face, and my first time having a girl touch my head.” He had never done that with any other girl.

The emotions had ripened, and Tự Trạch no longer needed any subtle hints.

When they reached her dorm building, he turned to her, his face more serious than ever, his voice low: “So, I’m going to class with you today. Next time, will you go to the movies with me?“

“Yes.” Miên Miên replied, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz but resolute.

In that moment, the status of “rumored girlfriend” was officially lifted. Thư Miên’s silent love, through Đàm Tự Trạch’s proactive and “tyrannical” pursuit, had finally found its destination, not with flowery confessions, but with a decisive invitation to a date: “Then let’s go.”