As soon as An Ting stepped out of the dormitory, she spotted a boy standing under a tree for shade. His sharply defined profile drew plenty of glances from passing girls—but once they realized he was waiting outside the girls' dorm, most of them sighed in regret and moved on.
"Director, have you been waiting long?" An Ting walked over and casually patted his shoulder. "You look especially handsome today."
Sun Yiling looked up, clearly surprised.
He didn't remember being that close to her.
Today, he had only sent a reminder in the station group chat about the recording schedule. This junior—someone he found vaguely familiar—had replied and asked him to wait for her. He couldn't even recall when they'd interacted before, but he'd agreed anyway.
An Ting, on the other hand, was naturally outgoing. Years of running photoshoots had thickened her skin, and in her mind, all good-looking people automatically counted as friends.
She glanced around, spotted a shared electric scooter, and brightened. "Let's go, let's go! There's a scooter!"
Sun Yiling followed behind, completely confused. "Where are we going?"
"To the TV station, obviously," An Ting said. "The sun's blazing. You don't seriously expect us to get sunburned together, do you?"
Sun Yiling flicked the car keys in his hand. "I drove."
An Ting's eyes instantly lit up. "Perfect timing! I was just thinking I didn't even pay the deposit for that scooter."
Sun Yiling didn't know how to respond. Sometimes, excessive enthusiasm really was stressful.
He silently led her to his ride.
Thanks to Song Qian's luxurious standards and the original owner's memories, An Ting subconsciously assumed Sun Yiling—another rich second-generation heir—would also be driving something flashy. She followed him like a loyal puppy, already imagining herself cruising through campus in a sports car.
Sure, it would be a bit ostentatious for school grounds—but the person sitting inside wouldn't mind.
After all, Song Qian still parked his Maserati in the teachers' lot every day. In his early years, he even scratched other teachers' cars and ended up paying compensation daily.
Half an hour later, An Ting was sitting on a motorcycle worth maybe three or four thousand yuan.
She fell silent.
Even the most low-key rich kid couldn't possibly be this low-key, right? If he liked motorcycles, shouldn't it at least be worth tens—or hundreds—of thousands?
Unable to hold it in, she asked, "Director, look at Song Qian. He hogs the teachers' parking spot every day. Haven't you ever thought of getting a car like that?"
"The campus is small," Sun Yiling replied calmly. "A motorcycle is enough."
Hearing Song Qian's name jogged his memory. He suddenly recalled why this junior seemed familiar.
He knew Song Qian through family connections. His father had mixed feelings about that young master—gratitude for the donated building, annoyance over his flamboyant behavior, which he believed corrupted the campus atmosphere.
He had also heard that Song Qian had a girlfriend.
Wasn't it… the girl sitting behind him?
Sun Yiling's grip tightened.
It really didn't look good for someone else's girlfriend to be riding his motorcycle—especially when that someone was Song Qian. He didn't care about rumors himself, but he didn't want her to be misunderstood.
After all, he didn't even want to deal with Song Qian, let alone cause trouble for his girlfriend.
With that thought, he suddenly stopped the bike.
He turned around and said seriously, "You should get off. It's not appropriate for us to ride together."
An Ting: "???"
She never imagined she'd be kicked off mid-ride in her life. Nor did she expect the director of a modern university TV station to still be mentally stuck in the Qing Dynasty.
She swung her long legs down and stared at him in despair. "Director, I didn't touch your waist or pinch your thigh. Is this really how you treat your staff?"
Sun Yiling hesitated, clearly wanting to explain—but stopped himself.
An Ting wiped away imaginary tears. "Can you really bear to watch a pale, fragile girl like me walk all the way there under this scorching sun?"
After her dramatic performance, Sun Yiling was completely flustered. He couldn't exactly admit he was worried about her boyfriend's reaction. In the end, he sighed.
"…I was wrong."
An Ting instantly brightened. "Then hurry up and drive! I can feel the UV rays attacking my skin!"
Seeing the pure, open smile in her eyes, Sun Yiling felt he had been overthinking things. The person involved was so straightforward—he was the one tangled in unnecessary worries.
He restarted the motorcycle and headed toward the TV station.
An Ting chatted nonstop along the way and even had him stop halfway so she could buy ice cream.
She wasn't the original owner, after all. That girl was frugal and rarely bought snacks like ice cream or milk tea. An Ting, however, believed in treating herself well—and she was confident she'd earn it back.
Sun Yiling glanced at the ice cream shoved toward him helplessly. "I'm driving. I can't eat that."
An Ting happily finished hers. When they arrived, she shoved the half-melted remainder into his hand and ran into the building without looking back.
She'd asked him to come along because she wasn't familiar with the TV station. Even with the original owner's memories, everything was hazy—she rarely showed up before. If Sun Yiling hadn't messaged her, she probably would've grabbed a random name from the group chat.
C University was generous. The TV station occupied half a floor, with soundproofed offices so well designed that even department meetings couldn't be overheard.
While An Ting was still getting oriented, Sun Yiling pulled her into the recording studio and handed her a script. "Read it a few times. We'll check for issues once recording starts."
Recording wasn't new to An Ting. She'd done plenty of video work in her previous life and even handled voiceovers herself. Professional level or not, school assignments were easy.
She had just finished a few read-throughs when the door burst open and a short-haired girl rushed in, lighting up when she saw An Ting.
"Sorry—could you help me with something?"
"What kind of help?"
"It's my duty today, but the water dispenser ran out. The delivery guy dropped the bottle downstairs and left. I can't carry it myself."
Reciting lines was boring anyway, so An Ting happily followed her.
"I'm Li Qin, from the production department," the girl said. "What's your name?"
"An Ting. Ting as in quiet."
Li Qin clapped. "Oh! I know you—you're Song Qian's girlfriend, right?"
An Ting blinked. "Am I that famous?"
"It's not you—it's Song Qian. His car steals the spotlight in front of the teaching building every day." Li Qin looked her over curiously. "Everyone says his girlfriend is beautiful. They weren't lying!"
An Ting touched her face shyly. "Oh, really? Thank you."
"You're nothing like the rumors," Li Qin said.
"They're just rumors." An Ting picked up the water bottle with ease and headed upstairs. "I only believe the ones praising my looks."
Li Qin stared, stunned. "Isn't it heavy? You make it look effortless."
"I've carried worse."
Li Qin misunderstood. She'd heard the common gossip—that Song Qian's girlfriend was beautiful but poor, constantly working part-time jobs.
Her heart ached. Such a pretty girl, hardened by life… while she herself couldn't even lift a water bottle.
"Doesn't Song Qian feel bad?" Li Qin blurted out.
An Ting was momentarily confused—then realized what she meant.
"The more money you borrow while dating," An Ting said seriously, spouting nonsense with conviction, "the more justified the other person feels after breaking up. I like him for who he is, not his money."
Li Qin frowned. "Song Qian doesn't seem like the type to argue over money after a breakup, though."
Who knows? He might even want his five-million breakup fee back.
An Ting smiled faintly and said nothing.
That silence only fueled Li Qin's imagination.
"Actually," An Ting added, "we've already broken up."
Li Qin nearly jumped. "What?! Why?"
"Our personalities didn't match," An Ting said lightly. "After spending enough time together, we naturally separated."
Li Qin felt regret—but also relief. Maybe it was for the best.
"Don't be sad," she said awkwardly. "There will be better people."
An Ting smiled, touched.
Internally, she sighed.
Better, maybe. But someone willing to casually hand over five million? That'd be hard to find.
They'd only gone down one floor when they ran into Sun Yiling around the corner.
He'd clearly overheard everything. He glanced at An Ting with a complicated expression. "I'll carry it."
She handed him the bottle without hesitation. He nearly lost his balance.
Li Qin laughed. "Director, you're really weak."
"I just wasn't prepared," Sun Yiling muttered.
"Wow, first time I've ever heard you explain yourself," Li Qin teased.
Sun Yiling silently carried the bottle to the fourth floor and changed it himself.
Li Qin returned to editing. An Ting wandered around the studio, poking at equipment.
Not long after, Sun Yiling returned, hesitating. "There's something I should tell you."
"Mm?"
"The school pays for the promotional video voice-over. Three thousand yuan total. Since you recorded the most narration, you'll get two thousand."
An Ting was stunned. "That much?"
In her day, clubs couldn't even get a hundred yuan approved for costumes.
"The school takes this very seriously," Sun Yiling explained.
"Who would turn down money?" An Ting smiled. "When will it be paid?"
"…As soon as you finish recording today."
She understood instantly.
Official approval took ages. This was coming from Director Sun's personal account.
An Ting felt warmth spread through her chest.
There really are more good people than bad in this world.
Li Qin was right.
Someone as outstanding as her was bound to meet another—
generous—sucker someday