"Xie Qiao? What's wrong?"
Wang Yan sat down beside her and asked with concerned curiosity.
When Xie Qiao saw that it was Wang Yan, she quickly turned her head away again and covered her face with one hand.
"I'm fine. I just want to cry for a bit. Go away, Wang Yan. I'll be fine after I cry for a while." Xie Qiao sobbed, her words coming out in broken fragments.
"Who are you trying to fool? You're practically about to pass out from crying, and you're saying you're fine?"
Wang Yan took an orange from the large plastic bag and started peeling it. "Let me guess. Did Little Boat reject your confession?"
"N-no..."
"How insincere. You're still saying no." Wang Yan shook his head with a laugh. "It obviously didn't go well. Did he tell you he'd always seen you as a little sister?"
"How did you know?"
"Childhood friends are always like that. If you were older and he confessed to you, you'd tell him you saw him as a little brother." Wang Yan smiled. "Basically, you're too familiar with each other. Neither of you can make a move."
"Nonsense. Plenty of childhood friends end up together."
"Are you seriously arguing with me over this? Other people die too—does that mean you have to go die as well? What kind of logic is that? Everyone's circumstances are different, so naturally the outcomes differ. You don't even understand that basic dialectic?"
"Go away! I don't need you to comfort me. The more you talk, the more I want to cry. Boohoo..."
Xie Qiao's tears burst forth like a broken dam. She looked at Wang Yan through watery eyes, bubbles forming at her nose.
It was often like this. When you cried alone, you could still suppress it somewhat.