Elite Doting Marriage: Crafty Husband, Aloof Cute Wife

Chapter 507: Old Classmates

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

Upon hearing what Xuxu had said, he was beyond flabbergasted. What had he missed out on?

Did he missed the chance to hug her to sleep tonight?

“Wen Xuxu, get off my back now.” Without warning, he loosened his grip.

Luckily, Xuxu was nimble, and she grabbed hold of his neck in time. It prevented her from sliding down his back otherwise her buttocks would have suffered from the fall.

When her feet landed to the ground, she glared at Yan Rusheng with a frown. “Yan Rusheng, are you insane? Are you trying to make me fall to my death?”

Yan Rusheng flashed her a disapproving look. “Dumb woman, I really wanted to make you fall to your death.”

She had thought of forgiving him and didn’t inform him in advance.

He spun around and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He gloomily strode forward with a few heavy footsteps.

Xuxu watched him walk away, and she couldn’t suppress her laughter. His behavior somehow tickled her insides, making her grin from ear to ear.

She trailed after him, and although both of them were walking at the same pace, the distance between them became farther apart.

They had walked like that countless times before, in the same exact way.

She used to try her best to chase after him. When she was young, she had a silly thought, if she could finally catch up with him, they would be together.

And so, she decided to run after him—tried her best time after time. When she slowed down to her usual pace, a huge sum of distance would separate them in no time.

Repeatedly she’s run after him, and whenever she’d catch up with him, but he would just shake her off and continued on for several reasons.

Until such time that Fang Jiayin appeared who often trailed behind him like a shadow.

He would hold Fang Jiayin’s hand as they walk together. It was then she finally understood the principles of love.

If one half of the couple didn’t cooperate in a relationship, it won’t work out no matter how hard the other half tries.

“Ah Sheng!” yelled Xuxu at the towering figure ahead of her as she snapped out of her daze. She began moving on her feet to chase after him, wanting to hold his hands as they walked together.

“Xuxu?”

An unfamiliar voice belonging to a man called her. Feeling puzzled, she halted her footsteps and turned around to where the voice came from.

There was a stall right beside where she was standing. It still had its lights on. Soon, she recognized that it belonged to her past English teacher.

A lanky bespectacled man came out from the stall. He was wearing a pair of thick shoes as he rushed forward to greet her with a smile.

“Are you Wen Xuxu?” the man asked with apprehension. He surveyed her from head to toe.

“Yup, I am.” Xuxu sized him up as well. “You must be Zhao Zheng.”

The English teacher’s son.

When he realized that Xuxu still remembered him, Zhao Zheng seemed visibly emotional. “Yes! I didn’t expect you to remember me.”

Xuxu smiled. “We are old classmates, why wouldn’t I?”

Zhao Zheng heard her, and he stretched his hand to scratch the back of his head. He appeared to be simple and honest. “What are you doing here so late in the night?”

Xuxu pointed at the fried vermicelli stall ahead. “I missed the food here, so I came over.”

“Oh.” Zhao Zheng nodded and suddenly, he sorrowfully sighed. “Xuxu, I didn’t expect you to marry Yan Rusheng.”

Xuxu smiled weakly and didn’t respond. In fact, she had no idea how to respond to his statement.

In reality, when old classmates meet each other years later, they would usually chat about each other’s marriage or relationship status or ask about each other’s career progress. Other than these few common topics, it would end up like now—awkward and silent.

“Aren’t you the top student who scored the best at English in our class?”

Yan Rusheng’s voice, with a tinge of sarcasm layering over it, preceded his presence.

Xuxu recalled how Yan Rusheng had previously mocked Zhao Zheng for his poor writing style. His love letter was of amateur-level as if it was an elementary school essay.

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