In the third year of our online relationship, Liam thought I was too clingy, so he threw me over to his roommate. As a result, all my messages were replied to by his roommate. My birthday presents were picked out by his roommate. I was completely oblivious, eagerly looking forward to our promised three-year meetup. When we finally met in person, my "boyfriend" was tall and gorgeous. He loved holding hands and blushed easily. I couldn't stop looking at him; I was beyond satisfied. The only thing was, he didn't talk much, and he guarded against the men around me like they were thieves. I laughed at him for overreacting, saying I wasn't exactly some hot commodity. Until one day, a flashy young guy blocked our path. His eyes were dark and brooding, staring intensely at the person beside me. "Nolan, where the f*** did you get a girlfriend?" 1 I realized something was different about Liam. In the past, when Liam and I chatted, even though he didn't say much, every sentence felt alive. But over the last year, I noticed his texts had become a bit stiff. Sometimes he even typed word by word, disjointed and formal. It felt a bit... I thought about it, it felt a bit like a robot executing a command. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling. I tentatively asked: "Do you... not like me anymore?" The reply came back very quickly, rushed and urgent. "No!" "I like you!" Before I could reply, he explained, the typing indicator flashing for a long time. "I was very busy today. Basketball game. It's not that I didn't want to reply." I shook my head, smiling as I replied: "Okay, baby. I misunderstood you. My bad." But you couldn't really blame me for overthinking. Online relationships just lack that sense of security. I hummed a little tune, suddenly remembering something. So, I sent a few happy puppy emojis, followed by: "Do you still remember our promise? We get to meet in a few days!" The other side started typing again. Typing, typing... I waited patiently at first, but finally, my patience ran out: "What do you mean? If you want to break up, just say it. If you don't want to meet, just block me." Liam seemed to panic, instantly popping up with a message: "Yes, let's meet!" I smiled triumphantly. That's more like it. Immediately after, he transferred me a thousand dollars. I was confused: "?" "Buy." He replied quickly, then added two more words: "Buy a plane ticket." Speaking of which, apart from talking less, the other big change in Liam over the past year was that he loved sending me money. He used to send me money before, but it was usually on special holidays or my birthday. But over the last year, his transfers were almost relentless, day or night. Sometimes, I'd just send him a random photo I took. If there was even a single flower in it. He would spot it with his sharp eyes and transfer a few hundred bucks: "Buy flowers. Pretty." It gave me the impression that he was so clumsy he couldn't think of any other way to please me besides money. I didn't accept his money. I just sent him a photo. I said happily: "I just got approved to do an exchange year at Columbia! Liam, I can come find you at your school. Are you happy?" I love looking at the ocean, so back then we agreed that our first meeting would be in a coastal city. The university I attended and Liam's university, Columbia, were two of the top universities in the country, one on the West Coast, one on the East Coast. The two schools had a long history of academic exchange, and students with excellent GPAs could apply for an exchange program lasting from six months to a year. It took Liam a long time to reply. So long that I was almost falling asleep holding my phone. When I finally received his message, it was just one simple word. "Happy." 2 As soon as I arrived in New York, my mom's phone call chased me down. "I've set up a meeting for you. Just treat it as making a new friend. Also, remember to go visit the old lady. Don't be rude." I hadn't dared to tell my mom that I was dating a guy online. Therefore, she constantly reminded me that once I got to New York, I absolutely had to go visit the family we had a verbal engagement arrangement with. I figured this was a good opportunity to clear things up face-to-face, so I didn't refuse. Besides, I heard the other family's last name was also Hayes. Because of Liam (whose last name was Hayes), I had a certain fondness for that name. However, I waited at the agreed-upon coffee shop from afternoon until evening, and the other party never showed up. But, I suppose this was somewhat expected. My mom told me that the Hayes family lived in our hometown when I was five, and only moved to New York later. I heard that in recent years, through some distant relatives, they had latched onto the incredibly powerful Wright family in New York, and their status was no longer what it used to be. Naturally, they would look down on people from a small town like ours. They were probably afraid we would cling to them. My mom is a hot-tempered chatterbox, and I'm a mild-tempered chatterbox. The two of us spent half an hour on the phone complaining about the guy named Hayes. My dad finally chimed in slowly from the other end: "Honey, don't use bad words in front of the baby. You'll teach her bad habits." I laughed. Suddenly remembering something, I picked up my phone and took a picture of the sky. Opening the chat with Liam, I tossed the photo over and quickly typed a few words. "I'm here! Countdown to meeting: 1 day!" 3 Meanwhile, downstairs at the computer science dorm at Columbia University. A group of guys was walking back from the basketball court. Someone gasped in surprise. "Hey, isn't that the Wright family's car? Nolan Wright? What is he doing at school?" Liam, wearing simple grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, holding a basketball, looked over at the sound. A low-profile, luxury black sedan was parked not far away, the car door wide open. From his angle, he could only see a distinct, pale hand gripping the car door so tightly that the veins bulged. Liam knew that was a kind of extreme fear and disgust at stepping into a crowd. Nolan... Liam frowned. He couldn't think of any necessity for Nolan to come to school again, considering he had failed the last time. His friend, Ben, was also confused: "Isn't he terrified of seeing people? Last year, he came to our dorm saying he wanted to overcome it. He ended up being our roommate for exactly two days before the rich boy couldn't take it anymore." "It's late at night, and they drove him all the way here. Are they expecting you to play nanny for him again, Liam...?" Ben said carelessly, suddenly catching Liam's expression. He quickly backpedaled: "Ugh! So what if he's the only son of the richest man in the city? He can't even speak clearly. How is he going to run the Wright Corporation in the future?" "No wonder the old lady of the Wright family values you so much, Liam. When she kicks the bucket, even that grandson of hers will probably have to rely on you." Liam didn't say anything. He withdrew his gaze from the car and walked away indifferently. Inside the car, Nolan pressed his lips together. His handsome, aristocratic face was pale, his jade-like skin beaded with sweat. His hand still gripped the door frame tightly. It took him a long while to ask in a low voice: "Will she... find it weird... that I'm not normal?" Mr. Cole, the grey-haired butler, heard this, and a trace of heartache flashed in his eyes. But he didn't dare to confidently reassure him like he used to: "Our young master is handsome and smart. Who would dare find you weird?" Because when Nolan was little, he had a playmate who acted very fond of him to his face. But behind his back, the boy called Nolan a little idiot. And little Nolan had heard it while hiding outside the door. From then on, he never made friends with anyone again. Thankfully, for the past few years, Young Master Liam had been around. He didn't know what method Young Master Liam had used, but over the last year, Nolan had become much more vibrant. He often held his phone, sometimes smiling as if no one else was around, and now he was proactively asking to come to school for classes. It was precisely because of this that the Wright family had heavily skewed their resources toward the Hayes family in recent years, elevating the Hayes family's status as well. As for this "she," Mr. Cole couldn't figure out who it was, so he just assumed Nolan was talking nonsense. So, he changed the subject: "How about we go home first, and we can try again another..." Nolan looked out the window, his features striking. He shook his head, saying firmly: "Must meet." 4 The Marxist Philosophy lecture at Columbia was always packed. By the time I rushed in holding my textbook, there were only a few scattered empty seats left. My eyes quickly swept across the room and landed on a specific spot. In the last row by the window, on the very edge, a person sat completely alone. The seats surrounding him were clearly all empty, but it was as if a quarantine line had been drawn around him. No one dared to step half a pace closer. The guy in the seat had a very straight back, his posture so proper it was almost rigid. He wore a simple white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a stretch of pale wrist. It was very noisy all around, but he kept his head down, his eyes lowered. His long eyelashes cast a small shadow under his eyes. He was so quiet it was like someone had pressed the pause button on him. I took a deep breath, almost instantly certain. I walked toward him. A shy guy stopped me: "Classmate, you... you can sit here with me. That seat... he doesn't let anyone sit next to him." Probably hearing our conversation, Liam jerked his head up. The moment our eyes met, his entire body stiffened. His light brown pupils flickered with subtle anxiety. I gently shook my head and whispered, "Thank you, but I'm looking for him." I sat down right next to him without a care in the world. The noisy classroom fell silent for a second. I didn't care. I tilted my head to look at him, softening my voice: "Liam?" He couldn't speak for a long time. Finally, he just gave a soft "Mhm." His voice was very low, a bit raspy. I happily hooked my pinky finger around his and whispered, "I knew it was you. I recognized you instantly. Aren't I super amazing?" Liam didn't speak, but the tips of his ears turned a visible, rapid red, spreading from his earlobes all the way down his cheeks. I was stunned. Afraid he might actually explode from blushing, I quickly let go of his hand. But the next second, he looked at me in shock, his wet eyes looking like an abandoned puppy. So, I stuffed my hand back into his and asked casually, "By the way, what's your real name?" He suddenly went completely stiff, unable to speak. I smiled: "Isn't Liam a fake name? You said you'd tell me your real name when we met." When chatting with Liam, neither of us used our real names. At first, it was because I was being quirky and insisted on using screen names. Later, it just became a habit. Hearing my words, he pressed his lips together, his expression suddenly very serious. "Nolan. My name is Nolan." I shook his finger, smiling brightly: "Hello, Nolan. It's very nice to meet you." 5 Liam, no, I should say Nolan's situation, was worse than I imagined. When I was matched with Liam, the system showed our compatibility was as high as 98%. His tags were "withdrawn," "cold," and "fearful." When we first started chatting, I knew Nolan was sick. It was a kind of illness without an official name. Because he had suffered stress-induced trauma as a child, he was terrified of face-to-face communication and afraid of crowds. He couldn't live normally in reality, couldn't speak normally, couldn't make friends normally. That's why he hid himself on the internet. Actually, at first, I only felt a bit of sympathy for him. Like seeing a cat curled up in a corner on a rainy day, my instinct was to hold an umbrella over it. But no one expected that as I held that umbrella, we would become each other's shelter. We clicked in unexpected ways. It was a soul-level connection. We read the same books, watched the same movies, listened to the same quiet music. He could always accurately catch every unspoken emotion of mine. My roommate, Maya, once leaned on my desk, staring at me in the mirror, completely baffled. "Do you really need to online date? With your looks, if you just stood there, you'd look like someone with eighty boyfriends." I thought about it, but the words that came out of my mouth sounded like a total hopeless romantic: "He's different." Everyone in my family is good-looking, so from a young age, I've had an almost immune-level dullness towards physical appearance. Because of this, in my eyes, cookie-cutter good looks were far less precious than an interesting, profound soul. Nolan was smart. Exceptionally smart. During my senior year of high school, the academic pressure was too much. He practically became my half-teacher. No matter how tricky the problem, he could always strip it down to its core through the screen, using the most concise language to explain it clearly and thoroughly. I still remember back then, to help me overcome my weak subjects, he typed out tens of thousands of words of problem analysis, character by character. I looked down. Nolan was holding my hand, holding it very tightly. I smiled and signaled him to relax a bit: "Be good, I'm not going to run away." He pressed his lips together, switched to his other hand, and held on even tighter. I hovered around Nolan, chattering away. I don't speak like other people; I like to add a lot of vivid descriptions. Like someone stepping on my shoe when I got off the train. Someone else might just say it in one sentence, but I could talk about it for ten minutes. Having talked too much, I unconsciously swallowed to soothe my dry throat. The next second, a pale, long-fingered hand holding an open cup of water appeared in front of me. The cup was sparkling clean. My eyes lit up. I took it and drank a few big gulps. The water was neither hot nor cold, the temperature was perfect, and it even had a faint, sweet scent of licorice. "Baby, you are too thoughtful!" I looked at him teasingly: "Thanks, boyfriend?" The tips of Nolan's ears turned red again. He said haltingly: "You... you're welcome." I smiled and smoothed Nolan's black hair. It was soft like silk, feeling amazing. It didn't matter. You just didn't like to talk. I have a lot to say. I'll do the talking. 6 "I heard that Nolan kid is back at school again." "Get close to him. Keep a close eye on him. If that kid goes home and speaks even one extra word, the Wright family will credit it to you." "Did you hear me? Liam..." Liam let out a scoff and hung up the phone. Ben walked in. Seeing Liam's bad expression, he racked his brain for something fun. His eyes lit up: "Did you hear? The computer science department got an exchange student. Holy shit, she is stunning." "She walked past the basketball court this afternoon. Someone took a picture and posted it on the confession wall. A lot of people are shipping you two." "Let me check, the comments are all spamming..." "'Help! These two clearly don't know each other, but I've already imagined a 100k-word college romance novel!'" "'Nothing else to say, just based on those two faces, I'm shipping it out of respect!'" Liam didn't even look up, his eyes focused on the game on his computer. Ben scratched his head: "I forgot, you have that online girlfriend coming. When are you two meeting up?" Liam still didn't look up: "Used for entertainment when I'm bored. What kind of girlfriend is she?" "Besides, with her looks..." He thought back, forgetting why he even started it in the first place. It was just that during an accidental video call, he caught a glimpse of the other person's face. A round, chubby face, two small eyes. She definitely couldn't be called pretty. At the time, he could have just ghosted her. But he saw Nolan. His online girlfriend and Nolan. One who wished he could send messages 24/7 to get a reply, and one who wished he didn't have to open his mouth 24/7. He threw the annoying person to the other annoying person. A chatterbox and a mute. A faint, cold smirk curled the corners of Liam's lips. What a perfect match. He had warned Nolan. Chatting with her was fine, but meeting her was out of the question, to save him the trouble of having to clean up the mess later. After all, she was just a fake standing in for him. Nolan wouldn't have the guts to meet her in person. The next day, Liam and his crew were at the basketball court. A girl walked toward them. The afternoon sun fell on her, making her skin look almost glowing white. Her features were clear and stunning, her figure tall and straight. There was no one this pretty at Columbia. This must be the transfer student Ben mentioned. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he smiled silently. Ben really did understand his taste. Accustomed to being the center of attention, he was always the one being approached. For the first time in his life, he took the initiative to walk up to someone: "Hey, I'm Liam. Want to be friends?" 7 I froze for a second and looked up at him. The person in front of me was incredibly striking. Sharp brow bone, eyes tilting up at the corners, a careless arrogance in his gaze. If Nolan's good looks were like porcelain jade—fragile and cold. Then the person in front of me was more like an unsheathed sword—flashy and arrogant. His name was Liam too? What a coincidence... Nolan probably didn't expect that the random name he chose would end up belonging to someone else at his college. I snapped back to reality and smoothly handled the approach: "Hi, I'm Chloe. Nice to meet you, friend." Remembering Nolan was still waiting for me, I nodded after finishing my sentence and headed toward the campus exit. Behind me, Ben and the crowd hooted and hollered: "Ooh, she's shy! She ran away!" "Liam, I gotta say, you've got some charm. There's no girl you can't get!" Liam had his hands in his pockets, smiling as if he were used to it. Nolan still couldn't adapt to school. He only stayed for one day before returning to the Wright family estate. I had a few classes today, and his car was waiting at the school gate early. "You didn't have to come so early." I got in the car, my hands couldn't help but squish his cheeks: "Waiting outside so long must be boring." He sat there obediently, unmoving, letting me touch him all over: "Not boring. Not seeing you is boring." I pouted, not expecting this little dummy to be so good at sweet talk. The car drove into a residential complex not far from Columbia. Nolan pulled me into an apartment. I turned around and looked at him in confusion. "For you." He produced a property deed from out of nowhere: "For school." I hurriedly waved my hands: "No, no, no, I can't take this." This apartment had to be worth at least a few million. How could I accept it? I spoke quickly: "I'll just live in the school dorms, it's more convenient." I had seen the dorms at Columbia. Standard four-person rooms, loft beds with desks underneath, not too small. "Plus, I'm only staying for half a year or a year. I'm not going to stay here permanently..." Before I could finish, Nolan's eyes darkened. I gasped: "Anyway, who gives an apartment the first time they meet? No way. Even a boyfriend can't do that." "Dorms are bad." He paused, as if searching for a reason to convince me, and continued: "The bathrooms aren't as big as the ones at home." ...I couldn't argue with that. Nolan didn't push any harder. He just stood there, looking down at me with his eyes lowered. His long eyelashes hid most of his expression. He looked quiet and wronged, like an abandoned large breed dog. I was powerless against him. I pressed my index finger to my nose and pointed at him, huffing: "Then we have a deal. I'll stay here temporarily, but you're not allowed to shove the deed at me." Nolan pressed his lips together, the corners of his mouth curving up slightly.
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