The deal was over.
Li Hanyan kept reminding himself of that.
He told himself it shouldn't matter anymore—who XinYue talked to, who she laughed with, where she stood after school. He had tried to go back to normal. Tried to focus on practice, on classes, on the quiet order he usually lived in.
But something was off.
It started small.
XinYue and Lin Jue weren't inseparable anymore. No obvious closeness. No pretending. Just brief conversations, casual smiles. The kind that meant there was no tension left.
That should've been a relief.
Instead, it made Li Hanyan restless.
After school, he saw them near the basketball court. XinYue was listening, arms folded loosely, expression relaxed. Lin Jue said something low, and she laughed—not the kind that drew attention, just a soft sound, familiar.
Li Hanyan stopped walking.
He stood there longer than he meant to.
He didn't feel angry.
That was the problem.
It was something quieter—like being slowly pushed out of balance without noticing.
Before he could stop himself, he walked over.
"XinYue."
She turned. Looked surprised—but not uncomfortable.
"Are you heading out?" he asked.
His voice sounded normal. He made sure of it.
"Yeah," she said. "Just finished."
Lin Jue noticed the shift immediately. He stepped back, giving space without being asked.
"I'll see you later," he said easily, like he understood more than he let on.
When Lin Jue left, the space felt different. Emptier. Louder.
Li Hanyan didn't look at XinYue right away. He watched the court instead, the painted lines, the scuffed floor.
"You don't have to do that anymore," he said finally.
"Do what?" she asked.
"Pretend," he replied. "For anyone."
She studied him for a moment. "I'm not pretending."
He nodded, but the words came out before he could filter them.
"You don't need him now."
Silence.
XinYue tilted her head slightly. "Is that what this is about?"
He realized then—too late—that he'd crossed a line. Not loudly. Not obviously.
But enough.
He looked away. "I just thought you should know."
"Know what?" she asked softly.
That he'd been watching?
That he cared too much?
That seeing her comfortable with someone else unsettled him in ways he didn't understand?
He didn't say any of it.
Instead, he let out a quiet breath and shook his head.
"You're bad at hiding things," she said, not accusing. Just observant.
A short laugh escaped him—low, tired. "Yeah. Guess I am."
She didn't push. Didn't tease. Didn't ask questions he wasn't ready to answer.
They started walking together, side by side, the way they had lately—like friends who were learning the edges of something new.
Li Hanyan didn't feel better.
But he felt seen.
And that unsettled him more than jealousy ever had.