A social phobic can also fall in love.

“Out with it, are you two still tangled up together?” Zhou Wen sat across from Yan Tingmo, arms crossed, staring at him.

Yan Tingmo didn’t know how the conversation had gotten to this point, but he still maintained some composure. “We’re not. I only just found out today that he works part-time at the café.”

Zhou Wen narrowed his eyes. “You don’t still like him, do you?”

“…Huh?”

Like him? Yan Tingmo wasn’t sure. He refused Qi Xing’s closeness, his advances, and everything else about him. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to reject his confessions.

To put it bluntly, he didn’t like him enough.

He couldn’t distinguish between liking someone and merely having good feelings toward them. In his view, having good feelings was liking, liking meant marriage, and only marriage justified intimacy. This was the deeply rooted belief instilled in him by his parents.

Qi Xing had wanted to be close to him, but Yan Tingmo instinctively rejected him due to his immature outlook. After rejecting him, he broke up with Qi Xing over some online gossip. Yet, he cried out of frustration and grief when Qi Xing later stood up for him. So, maybe there was some liking. He didn’t want to overthink it—he was used to avoiding anything that exceeded his understanding.

“I don’t know.” he suddenly got up and climbed onto his bed. “I want to sleep now.”

“Sleep? It’s not even dark yet,” Zhang Miao, who hadn’t spoken earlier, frowned, glancing out the window.

Yan Tingmo ignored him. If he said he wanted to sleep, then sleep he would.

Zhou Wen and Zhang Miao exchanged a helpless shrug. They could protect him unconditionally, but they wouldn’t pry into his privacy without reason.

Yan Tingmo hadn’t planned to sleep, but as he lay there, he ended up dozing off. When he woke up, the sky was dark, and his three roommates were huddled together playing games.

Cough, cough… He leaned over the edge of the bed, coughing lightly.

“You’re awake?” He Shiyang, hearing the cough, looked up. “We brought you dinner. Come eat.”

Yan Tingmo buried his face in his blanket for a moment and whispered, “Thank you.”

“What’s there to thank?” He Shiyang said casually. “We’re just helping each other out.”

Yan Tingmo didn’t argue but instead pulled out his phone to transfer money to him.

He had been troubling them a lot lately; eating another free meal didn’t feel right.

He believed in fairness. Only after paying did he feel comfortable eating.

He Shiyang knew he was stubborn and wouldn’t change his mind. Accepting the money, he thought to himself that he’d just buy him dinner again next time.

As summer gave way to November, fiery sunshine turned into chilly winds. Leaves changed to yellow, red, and brown, painting nature in vivid colors.

Yan Tingmo’s wardrobe shifted from T-shirts to light sweatshirts. The weather forecast predicted overcast skies, so he didn’t bother bringing an umbrella as he headed to class.

His breakup with Qi Xing had long since become old news. No one was looking at him anymore, but few were willing to talk to him either.

He had grown used to this dynamic with his classmates. Still, small incidents would occasionally leave him feeling disheartened.

For instance, one day, a classmate won an award for a painting and handed out chocolates to everyone in celebration. When it came to Yan Tingmo’s turn, the classmate skipped him entirely, handing the chocolate to the next person instead.

Everyone had chocolate except him. He became the class clown, a joke in everyone’s eyes, and a fool in his own.

He felt embarrassed and upset. He couldn’t tell if it was missing out on the chocolate or the class’s exclusion that hurt more.

Maybe both. Yan Tingmo knew his classmates didn’t like him. He’d always been self-aware—avoiding group discussions, skipping activities, never intentionally causing trouble. But he couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong or why he was the one they disliked and excluded.

His classmates acted as though it was perfectly normal for him to go without chocolate.

Of course, they weren’t close to him.

That was their excuse: We’re not close.

He showed no reaction, claiming he didn’t like chocolate anyway. But outside the classroom, he broke down, crying quietly in the bathroom. Afterward, he wiped his tears, appearing as unshakable as ever.

Later that night, he slipped out to buy a box of chocolates, peeling one open and chewing it slowly.

It’s just okay, he thought. Not even that great.

The next day, he found an expensive box of chocolates on his desk. He asked around, but no one claimed it.

Feeling a stroke of luck, he opened the box and found a note inside with neat handwriting:

“When you do something right, no one remembers. When you do something wrong, even breathing is a mistake. But in my eyes, you’re always right.”

The handwriting was all too familiar. He had to admit that Qi Xing had beautiful penmanship.

“Can I have one?” His deskmate, a sweet-looking girl, asked straightforwardly, no pretense in her tone.

Yan Tingmo glanced at the heart-shaped box. By his count, there were probably eight pieces. If he gave her one, he’d have seven left.

One chocolate for a bit of goodwill—it seemed like a good deal.

But instead, he heard himself say, “No.”

The girl froze, her approachable demeanor replaced by hostility. “Do you know why everyone hates you?”

Yan Tingmo was stunned and scared.

“It’s because you’re selfish, aloof, and arrogant. You think you’re so great just because of your grades, don’t you? You refuse to join group activities, acting all cool. But really, you’re just fake and pretentious.”

Her words froze him. He looked at her, too overwhelmed to respond.

She continued, “You wouldn’t even give me a piece of chocolate. Isn’t that selfish? Everyone has been kind to you, but you treat us like air.”

Yan Tingmo clutched the chocolates tightly, his eyes turning red. Trembling, he tried to defend himself. “I’m not…”

“Don’t talk to me.” She turned her nose up at him. “I wouldn’t eat your dirty chocolate anyway.”

It’s clean, Yan Tingmo thought. My chocolate is clean. It’s your hearts that are dirty.

When they excluded him, no one questioned it. It was taken as natural. But when the roles reversed, he became the villain.

He returned to his dorm upset. The next day was Saturday, and his roommates had all gone home, leaving him alone.

Being alone wasn’t all bad, he thought—just a little lonely and quiet.

Later, Zhou Wen noticed the chocolates.

“Can’t you give me one?” he teased.

“Not casually,” Yan Tingmo replied, hugging the box protectively. These are mine.

Eventually, Zhou Wen left, leaving him alone. That night, he finally texted Qi Xing:

“Thank you.”