My Boyfriend is the Heartthrob, and I’m Just a Passerby.

The moment he realized what it was, Ye Jishu froze on the spot.

Even though Yan Mei had done this, when he noticed Ye Jishu’s gaze, he turned his face to the side, hiding it against the steering wheel—not letting him see his expression.

Ye Jishu: “…”

In his vision, there were still writhing tentacles and pulsating eyeballs—a scene terrifying enough to make anyone uneasy.

Yet, strangely, a peculiar itch crept into his heart.

Ignoring the fear, his hand instinctively reached toward Yan Mei’s arm.

I want to see…

I really want to see.

Ye Jishu had played plenty of games before and knew that scenes like this sometimes unfolded between the protagonist and their lover—an argument, a moment of vulnerability.

What he hadn’t expected was that one day, reality would make him the protagonist.

All the firm, self-righteous words he’d once believed in had vanished.

Ye Jishu had to admit—he wanted to see Yan Mei’s expression at this moment.

Sensing the hand reaching toward him, Yan Mei flinched slightly but didn’t move away.

He allowed Ye Jishu to easily grasp his fingers.

“…What’s wrong?” Ye Jishu asked.

“Was it something I said?”

His voice was patient, gentle.

But Yan Mei didn’t respond. He simply turned his hand over and tightly clasped Ye Jishu’s within his palm—as if nothing was wrong, as if he didn’t care.

No matter what, Ye Jishu couldn’t make him move his arm away. He couldn’t see the disheveled, vulnerable expression on Yan Mei’s face.

He let Yan Mei hold his hand for a while.

His knuckles ached, and the sticky sensation—like rainwater—made him uncomfortable.

So Ye Jishu tried to pull his hand away.

But he couldn’t.

Yan Mei was gripping him too tightly.

Not only that, but he even pressed their intertwined hands against his cheek.

A cold, damp sensation spread from his fingertips.

Ye Jishu froze, instinctively holding still, afraid to move.

“Don’t… be like this.”

His attempt at comfort was clumsy.

“…You’re about to cry.”

After a moment, Yan Mei spoke, his voice muffled and filled with grievance.

“But since you’ve already said we should break up—”

“Then what’s the point of seeing this now? No matter what, you won’t take back your words. Unless we don’t break up, nothing you say matters.”

Ye Jishu: “…”

He didn’t look away, but he also couldn’t give Yan Mei the answer he wanted.

Because—even if his heart wavered, his decision to break up hadn’t changed.

Yan Mei had agreed to date him on that rainy night—probably just out of curiosity.

Before that, they had been like parallel lines, never intersecting.

Even though they went to the same school, they had never even brushed past each other in the hallways.

Ye Jishu only knew about Yan Mei because of the confessions.

He would see them sometimes—those boys and girls, their faces filled with hope.

Even though he never paid much attention, their expectant expressions had somehow remained in his memory.

“I like you, Yan Mei…”

“From the moment you first spoke to me, I already liked you…”

“Do you remember? The first time we talked…”

“Seeing you makes my heart race.”

Confessions always started the same way.

Back then, Ye Jishu often played games in the shade of a tree during summer.

His legs would sometimes cramp, and the doctor had told him he needed more calcium. Sunbathing could help, so he had temporarily abandoned his dorm room for the outdoors.

The school had many benches.

Most of the time, no one sat on them. Hidden among the shrubs, they were quiet, secluded—perfect for being alone.

Out of habit, Ye Jishu always kept his phone on silent in public.

So no one noticed he was there.

He was going through his daily quests when a voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Yan Mei, sorry for calling you here so suddenly.”

He hadn’t intended to listen.

But his focus wavered because of that name.

[Yan Mei.]

[Him again…]

His game could run on auto-mode.

For some reason, he tapped pause.

Lifting his head from the screen, he looked toward the source of the voice.

Yan Mei stood with his back to him.

And the boy confessed to him—his eyes were bright with hope.

“Because I like you…”

“I can’t hold back anymore. No matter what, I had to tell you.”

Ah, here it was again.

Ye Jishu had overheard this scene countless times.

He already knew how it would end.

Yan Mei would say, “I don’t like you.”

He always did.

It was predictable, without suspense.

So Ye Jishu withdrew his gaze, ready to unpause his game.

But then—

Yan Mei suddenly let out a sharp “Tch.”

His tone was ice-cold.

Even Ye Jishu, who barely cared about these things, felt his fingers pause over his phone screen.

Because—as far as he remembered, Yan Mei always rejected people politely.

Even when he didn’t like someone, he would still refuse gracefully.

If Ye Jishu had to describe him, then—Yan Mei was like the “prince” of the school.

No matter where he went, he was surrounded by admirers.

Ye Jishu had played romance games before.

Sure, the term sounded cliché and old-fashioned.

But at this moment, he couldn’t find a more accurate description.

Yet that “prince” was now laughing coldly.

“Where did you even get the idea that I would like you?”

Yan Mei’s voice dripped with mockery and disdain.

“I’m so tired of pretending.”

“I’ve already said it—I have no interest in ‘love.'”

“Liking someone… or love itself… is cheap and pathetic.”

It was complete and utter dismissal.

Even Ye Jishu, a passerby, could tell Yan Mei meant every word.

He truly believed it.

Completely and wholeheartedly.

It was just an insignificant moment.

A chance encounter.

But it had only been one day between that moment and the day Yan Mei had agreed to date him.

Ye Jishu was just a passerby.

Even if he was self-absorbed, he wouldn’t be deluded enough to think he could change Yan Mei’s entire outlook.

[Cheap. Pathetic.]

[Pathetic.]

Ye Jishu stared at Yan Mei, his mind buzzing.

The chaotic thoughts in his head—were even messier than the nightmare-inducing tentacles and eyeballs from earlier.

[What is this?]

Even his fear had been completely drowned out.

Instead, a heavy, suffocating feeling settled in his chest—one he had never experienced before.

Suddenly, he turned his head toward the car window, staring at his own reflection in the glass.

The reflective glass once again mirrored his eyes, and he suddenly calmed down.

“Have we arrived?” Ye Jishu asked. “I want to see the gift.”

He didn’t want to be the cheap, worthless existence in Yan Mei’s words. Rather than waiting to be discarded after being worn out, it was better to be the one to make the decision first.

It had always been this way.

What should this be called? Risk avoidance, perhaps.

Ye Jishu pondered uncertainly.

Since this was his first relationship, and the other party was Yan Mei, he didn’t want to let himself appear miserable…

Those extinguished eyes after a rejected confession—

He refused to let himself experience that in front of Yan Mei.

A moment later, he heard the sound of the locked car door unlocking.

In the reflective window, Ye Jishu could see Yan Mei lifting his head from the steering wheel. His face was blurred, but his eyes remained fixed on him, unwavering and unreadable.

They entered the arcade.

The layout was exactly the same as their first date a few months ago.

Yet, what was eerily strange was that despite the silence inside, the place was packed with people.

[What exactly is going on?]

These people had no faces—

No flesh, just a mass of black mist with shifting, indistinct edges.

If Ye Jishu’s memory was correct, when he and Yan Mei first walked in months ago, the positioning of the people had been identical.

[He actually recreated the entire scene.]

Even the suffocating summer heat that enveloped them was exactly the same.

It was as if time had been rewound.

For a moment, he was pulled back into the nervousness of that day.

He stood still in place.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Yan Mei follow him inside. Just as he was about to speak, the other had already stepped ahead of him.

At the very front near the entrance was the token machine.

Several people stood in line, waiting to scan their accounts to withdraw tokens.

“I’ll get the tokens,” Yan Mei said.

“…”

Ye Jishu.

Some parts of the scene hadn’t been fully restored.

Because back then, Yan Mei had stood frozen in place, and Ye Jishu had been the one to get the tokens.

Yan Mei waited for a few minutes before reaching the machine.

He withdrew a hundred tokens and placed them in a small blue bottle.

[Exactly like what I did back then…]

While Ye Jishu was still in a daze, Yan Mei returned to him.

“It was my fault.” He lowered his eyes and said quietly, “Back then, I should have been the one to line up instead of making you do it alone.”

Then, he reached out.

Ye Jishu’s hand was taken and led to the coin pusher machine.

The machine operated monotonously.

It was a simple game: drop a token in and wait for it to land, pushing other tokens off the platform.

Ye Jishu had played this game back then simply out of habit, just to use up some tokens first.

Yan Mei now followed the exact same routine.

At some point, he also let Ye Jishu play.

Soon, they were down to half of their tokens.

Then, Yan Mei led him to the rhythm game area. Here, inserting tokens allowed you to play a piano-based music game.

Back then, Yan Mei had simply sat on a chair, unmoving.

It wasn’t until Ye Jishu finished a round alone that he finally stopped watching his profile in silence and slowly joined in.

But this time, he actively inserted tokens and started playing.

And Ye Jishu became the one sitting on the chair, not participating.

Yan Mei, seemingly oblivious to Ye Jishu’s lack of enthusiasm, waited until the game ended before speaking.

“I’ll behave from now on,” he said. “If Jishu wants me to play, I’ll play… I won’t just sit there saying nothing anymore.”

Then, he pushed his chair back, straightened up, and pulled Ye Jishu’s hand, urging him to get up.

“This game is over,” he said. “Jishu, do you want a drink? Are you tired? Do you still like fruit tea the most?”

Ye Jishu didn’t respond.

The smile on Yan Mei’s lips only lasted for a few seconds before trembling and fading away.

He lowered his gaze, hiding his expression in the shadows.

When he looked up again, the usual smile he always wore was back.

“Then let’s keep going,” he said.

Next was the shooting game.

Then bowling, the fishing machine…

Finally, they reached the claw machine.

Yan Mei stared at the stuffed toys inside the transparent case.

Inside, a pile of plush octopuses was stacked together.

All of them were pink and purple, with blue edges.

Ye Jishu knew that the blue was the other side of the octopuses.

The pink-purple side had a smiling face.

But if you flipped the plush inside out, it turned blue.

And the smile changed into a frown—tears dripping down.

Suddenly, he reached out and took the game tokens from Yan Mei’s hand.

Yan Mei was slightly surprised, momentarily frozen, but didn’t stop him.

“Jishu,” he called out.

This was the first time since entering the arcade that Ye Jishu had actively wanted to play a game.

Hearing his voice, Ye Jishu didn’t respond. He simply, expressionless, inserted two tokens into the machine.

The claw descended for the first time.

He deliberately chose a plush octopus at the very edge, away from the pile, closest to the exit.

The claw loosened midway.

The octopus dropped.

Now, it was in an even harder position to grab.

Ye Jishu inserted another two tokens.

Again, he aimed for the same plush octopus, but it slipped from the claw once more.

From the moment Ye Jishu started playing, Yan Mei had remained silent.

For some reason, after the second drop, Ye Jishu turned his head to glance at him.

Then, he turned back.

Inserted another two tokens.

This time, he chose a different octopus.

The claw descended. Grasped.

Within seconds, it picked up the plush octopus.

Despite wobbling slightly in mid-air, the claw held firm this time.

The octopus successfully reached the exit.

It fell into the prize chute.

And then, it landed in the collection bin below.

Ye Jishu bent down, picked up the plush, and handed it to Yan Mei, who was standing silently beside him.

“It’s not your fault, stop apologizing,” Ye Jishu said. “If it doesn’t work, we can just choose another one. Instead—”

“No.” Yan Mei abruptly interrupted him.

The humanoid figures formed by the surrounding black mist twisted.

Tentacles swayed from the ground, tearing up the floor as they emerged, slamming against the surrounding arcade machines with loud bangs.

“No.”

“You can’t.”

Yan Mei said, “Even if that’s the case, I only like you, Jishu.”

He stared unblinkingly at Ye Jishu.

The ground trembled, the ceiling collapsed. In an instant, the once normal scene was reduced to ruins.

Yet, amidst the crumbling world, the spot where Ye Jishu and Yan Mei stood remained intact.

The claw machine beside them shook.

At the same time, all the small octopus plush inside the machine trembled and tumbled out of the exit one after another.

Soon, a pile of plush toys stacked up around them.

Unlike the smiling faces they had when inside the claw machine, every single octopus had now turned inside out, revealing their blue, crying expressions.

“Why don’t you understand?” Yan Mei’s voice trembled as he lowered his head, his bangs covering his eyes. “It can’t be anyone else. Because I really, truly like you. From that moment on, I decided—I will only ever love you in this lifetime.”

Ye Jishu’s eyes widened.

He hadn’t expected Yan Mei to say something like that at this moment—his words disordered, his tone chaotic.

As if a single response from Ye Jishu could sentence him to death.

Rather than the terrifying monster he had seemed moments ago, he now looked like a man on the verge of collapse.

“Don’t leave, okay?” Yan Mei pleaded. “If I did something wrong before, I’m sorry… I’ve already corrected myself. I thought about it. For humans, first experiences are important. And during our first date, I was indeed observing you instead of treating it seriously. Maybe that’s when you started having a bad impression of me. That’s why… the gift I mentioned… I wanted to redo everything, and then give it to you…” 

Would this make things better?

Yan Mei must have thought so. He believed he had made a mistake somewhere, and that was why he was desperately trying to make amends.

[He clearly has the power to trap me here, so why does he insist on asking for my consent…]

Just seeing his true form had driven Professor Chen into madness.

His roommates, Wen Yuhe…

After encountering Yan Mei, their survival depended entirely on his whims.

Not to mention Lin Lin and Wei Yangze…

When they saw Yan Mei, they couldn’t even muster the strength to stop him.

Ye Jishu vaguely sensed that Yan Mei was far more terrifying than he had imagined.

Far above all living beings.

Perhaps, the entire world was shaped by his will—

He should have been an untouchable, lawless existence, so powerful that calling him an “eldritch god” would not have been an exaggeration.

Yet, such a being was now standing before him, covering his face with both hands, drowning in an uncontrollable storm of emotions.

He couldn’t even bring himself to forcibly restrain Ye Jishu or stop him from leaving.

All he could do was keep him in this dark, confined space, a world that only belonged to the two of them.

The possessive tentacles winding around Ye Jishu’s ankles—

Though they restricted his movement, he had a feeling that if he told Yan Mei to let go, he would obey, just like those fallen plush octopuses.

Facing this monstrous being, his fear gradually faded.

Instead, another unfamiliar, indescribable emotion surged up, overtaking his thoughts as his understanding of reality shattered.

Rather than being forced to accept a new worldview, facing an unfamiliar monster, the sight of Yan Mei lowering his eyes felt… more important.

Ye Jishu suddenly realized something.

[I really can’t stand seeing Yan Mei sad.]

Why?

It had been this way for a long time.

If their relationship had been just a coincidence, if he had only agreed to be in it because he didn’t know how to reject Yan Mei’s seemingly insincere confession, then all he had to do was remain cold and indifferent, refuse to go on dates, and keep his distance.

That would have been the easiest way.

But Ye Jishu hadn’t done that.

He hated trouble.

Yet every time Yan Mei excitedly suggested a place for them to go, he always said, “Okay.”

He hated socializing the most.

For leisure, he preferred staying in his dorm playing games.

But despite that, he had gone to so many places with Yan Mei.

[Doing anything that consumes energy is annoying.]

[But when I’m with Yan Mei, it never feels that way.]

He had stayed up all night playing games, ruining his usual schedule, just because he thought Yan Mei might overthink things if he was left alone.

Before, he would have never imagined himself doing something like that.

Why?

He asked himself again and again.

In his gaze, Yan Mei still stood there, unmoving, keeping the same posture—

As if unwilling to accept reality, afraid to hear Ye Jishu say “break up” again.

The ground around them continued to tremble, tentacles writhed, creating an eerie, surreal scene—yet Ye Jishu no longer felt any fear.

Rather than running away, what he wanted most right now was to see the expression hidden behind Yan Mei’s lowered gaze.

[I…]

[I like him.]

Ye Jishu suddenly realized another truth.

[I like…]

When did it start?

Was it under the shade of the trees, when he heard someone call Yan Mei’s name over and over, watching him from afar?

Or was it months ago, at the entrance ceremony, when Yan Mei took the stage as the freshman representative?

[He’s so confident.]

Ye Jishu had been zoning out, watching him absentmindedly.

Since the ceremony was important, he had forced himself to stay for a while. But as soon as the math department’s supervising professor left, he slipped away from the crowd, leaning against a door in an inconspicuous spot, playing on his phone.

It wasn’t until he heard Yan Mei’s voice that he looked up, catching sight of him on stage.

[He’s really… captivating.]

That thought had surfaced on its own.

Unconsciously, he had even stopped playing his game.

By the time Yan Mei finished his speech and stepped down from the stage, Ye Jishu had only then looked back at his phone—

Realizing in horror that his game character had been dead for a long time.

Damn it.

He had been on a winning streak too. That match even had a cash prize.

The ceremony concluded.

He heard the murmurs of the people around him.

“So good-looking, that guy named Yan Mei…”

“My heart is beating so fast.”

“Everyone couldn’t help but keep staring.”

“Feels like he must come from a really good family. How nice—definitely the heartthrob.”

Ye Jishu lowered his head and resumed his winning streak in the game.

Because of his earlier distraction, he ended up spending the entire afternoon alone in the now-empty auditorium. It wasn’t until the security guard came to lock the doors that he realized he was still there, the only remaining student.

Why did he forget?

This was actually the first time Ye Jishu had truly seen Yan Mei.

It wasn’t under the shade of the trees, nor on the staircase, nor in the humid downpour of that rainy night when the confession happened.

And yet, even after this, he still had to think for a moment before belatedly realizing, “So that was Yan Mei.”

Even though the name [Yan Mei] had long been ingrained in his mind.

Pretending not to care, deceiving even himself countless times.

Ye Jishu found himself staring, dazed, at the shadow of Yan Mei, flickering like a wavering ember in the collapsing arcade.

[I like Yan Mei.]

So that’s how it is.

All those abnormal feelings finally had an explanation.

I like Yan Mei. I’ve always liked Yan Mei.

Even though he had heard Yan Mei’s thoughts on “liking” long ago, he still let this relationship continue.

Was this feeling supposed to be enlightenment?

But in his mind, that sentence from Yan Mei surfaced again—

“Liking… is really pathetic, isn’t it?”

If he were to express his feelings, would it be the same?

But if that were the case, then why was Yan Mei acting like this now?

Confusion swelled in Ye Jishu’s chest.

He had never formed deep emotional connections with others, so he found many things hard to understand.

The joy of realizing his feelings was suddenly doused like a bucket of cold water.

Amidst the chaos of his thoughts, his hand instinctively reached into his jacket—

And suddenly, his fingers brushed against something soft.

The unexpected sensation interrupted his train of thought.

Oh, right.

Since that’s the case, I should give this first.

He lifted his head and looked at Yan Mei once again.

“Yan Mei, actually, I also prepared a gift for you.”

As soon as the words fell, the person before him suddenly froze.

Yan Mei lowered his hands, and his dark eyes stared intently in Ye Jishu’s direction.

“I won’t let Jishu leave.”

His voice was thick, weighted—

Like seaweed from the ocean depths, clinging tighter the more one struggled.

“It’s not because of this…”

A flicker of light appeared in Yan Mei’s eyes.

It seemed that the extreme emotions from before had been dispelled by just a few words from Ye Jishu.

Still, he restrained himself and asked in a low voice:

“Then… because of what?”

“It’s…”

Before the sentence could be completed—

Something suddenly changed.

Ye Jishu’s vision blurred.

Yan Mei’s expression twisted in an instant, his eyes darkening like a looming storm.

“What… dares to—”

The rest of his words were lost.

Because in the next second, Ye Jishu’s body abruptly lost balance.

He fell toward the ground, barely catching himself with his hands.

The gift that had been tucked inside his jacket flew out from the force of the fall.

Without thinking, he immediately reached forward in an attempt to grab it.

Luckily, someone was quicker—

The gift was caught before it hit the floor.

A familiar, anxious voice came from right in front of him.

“Are—are you okay? I—I was really worried about you, I didn’t want you to get hurt…”

Ye Jishu looked up—
And met a face that was about to burst into tears.

His roommate’s face was nearly unrecognizable, dripping with inky black liquid.

It was as if his body had suffered severe damage, the flesh warping and rotting away—

Yet despite that, the worry in his eyes was unmistakably genuine.

“I finally got him to waver for just a moment. Then I pulled Jishu out, just like they said…”

[They?]

Ye Jishu was suddenly stunned.

His gaze fell upon the floor—

Too white.

So white that it was unnatural.

This was definitely not anywhere he recognized.

In just a single moment of disorientation, he had been pulled away from Yan Mei’s side—

And brought here.

The abrupt shift in setting made him dizzy for a moment.

Once he adjusted, he lifted his head, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Lin Lin stood awkwardly to the side, his face still smeared with blood that he hadn’t wiped clean.

In his hands—he carefully, almost reverently, held the gift Ye Jishu had just lost.

On the other side stood Wei Yangze.

And in front of them—

A woman he had never seen before.

Lin Lin called her “Captain.”

“Jishu, I know this is sudden and reckless,” the woman crouched down, helping him up, speaking without hesitation—

“That night when you first crossed paths with him—would you be willing to erase everything from the root?”