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

Ye Jishu flipped over his phone.

Almost immediately, the screen was flooded with new notifications.

【I’m going to win the modeling competition】

【I’m going to win the modeling competition】

【I’m going to win the modeling competition】
…

What was this?

Was the forum glitching?

He tapped one of the messages, and his phone instantly redirected him to the forum interface.

A vivid, glaring red filled his vision.

The forum had a color-coding system.
Red indicated posts that had been locked or deleted.

Normally, any deleted post would vanish completely within ten minutes. But now, the entire forum homepage was filled with identical posts—just this one deleted record.

The post date:

【June 13, 2019】

It had been five years since then.

The forum was acting up again.

Ye Jishu still remembered what had happened a few weeks ago.

As the semester drew to a close, students had to register for next semester’s general courses. Normally, the process would take an hour, but it ended up dragging on for an entire day due to system errors. Just when he finally managed to select his courses, they were all wiped the next day. The school’s explanation was that the system was undergoing maintenance and upgrades, and they’d have to reschedule.

…This campus network was a little absurd.

Normally, he wouldn’t have paid any more attention.

But because of what his roommate had said earlier, Ye Jishu hesitated before turning off the push notifications. On a whim, he tapped into the post.

Blood seeped out immediately.

The text began to writhe, twisting as though crying, the teardrop-like characters slowly sliding down the screen.

Ye Jishu stared at it.

Then, the next moment, the screen suddenly flashed.

—It went black.

“…” Ye Jishu.

Darkness enveloped the room again.

The sound of the wind whistling against the hot water room’s windows came from behind him.

Out of power?

No, his phone still had 20% battery.

He tapped his phone a few times. Nothing happened.

Then he pressed and held the power button. Still no response.

Unwilling to give up, he knocked on it again. No luck.

Ah.

The simplest repair method wasn’t working anymore.

When he’d bought this phone, he’d gone for a cheaper option with less storage to save money.

He liked playing games, so he’d downloaded a lot of apps, constantly running his phone at maximum capacity. Though he deleted games as soon as he got bored of them, the residual data had gradually filled up his storage.

His phone had blacked out before, but he hadn’t cared much, thinking he’d deal with it once it broke completely.

Every penny saved was worth it.

But now—

It seemed like the phone had finally reached its limit.

[In the end, I still couldn’t see what was in that post.]

Ye Jishu wasn’t particularly curious, so the thought only flashed through his mind briefly before he dismissed it.

Closing his eyes tightly, he could feel his eyeballs twitching behind his lids.

A few seconds later, he reopened them and could faintly make out the blurry outlines of the room.

At least this way, he wouldn’t bump into the sink while walking.

He carefully stepped around the two unconscious people lying on the ground, turned the corner, and quickly exited the hot water room at the end of the corridor.

Looking up at the elevator, it was completely off, as usual. No floor numbers lit up.

It was dark and lifeless, emitting a damp, oppressive stillness.

With his phone out of commission, there was no way to contact anyone.

Thankfully, the dormitory supervisor lived on the first floor.

He had no choice but to knock on their door.

The first priority was to inform them about the unconscious students and then figure out where his roommate had gone.

The counselor had mentioned that Professor Chen wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow.

But thinking about it now, that was probably just an excuse. If the professor had taken his thesis, they were likely avoiding him.

While mulling it over, Ye Jishu descended the stairs to the first floor.

The supervisor’s door was locked.

Inside, he could hear the sounds of a variety show playing.

However, no one responded when he knocked forcefully.

He knocked harder again. Still, no one came.

Could they not hear him?

[The variety show’s volume is probably too loud.]

[If only the door could open on its own, so I could talk to them face-to-face.]

At this thought, Ye Jishu paused.

Doors don’t open by themselves.

But the supervisor’s room had a window.

Because of the building’s age, it was only secured with a simple padlock.

His gaze slowly dropped to the decorative pin on his jacket, and he froze.

Was he really going to do this?

A few seconds later.

He raised his hand, removed the pin, and approached the window.

The metal slid into the lock, producing a crisp click.

[What am I even doing?]

His hands kept moving, but his mind was filled with doubts.

[If my roommate wants to look for the professor, he can. Professor Chen likely isn’t on campus, and no one knows his home address. Chances are, he won’t find anything and will just come back to the dorm. There’s no need for me to do anything unnecessary.]

[Besides, I don’t even know the unconscious students in the hot water room. If they don’t return to their dorm soon, their roommates will definitely notice and contact the supervisor to resolve it. I should just go back to my room and sleep. Why am I even here?]

All along.

Ye Jishu has always been like this.

Even in his tiny math department, where students were few and far between, he rarely spoke to others unless it was for polite inquiries. Despite having completed a semester, his classmates’ faces were just a blurry memory.

Most people had only a faint impression of him, and he didn’t interact with them much either.

He watched as others joined clubs, made friends in college, and went out to have fun.

He watched as others gathered in the cafeteria, chatting about the latest gossip.

…

So, what should someone as indifferent as him be called?

Ye Jishu didn’t know.

Whenever he used game character archetypes to make sense of things, it usually became easier to understand. But he couldn’t find a role that suited him.

Until one day.

By chance, he encountered Yan Mei, who was being followed by someone in the hallway.

As usual, Ye Jishu was playing games in the corner of the stairwell.

Yan Mei passed by him.

He glanced briefly at Ye Jishu, then looked away.

At the time, they didn’t know each other.

Ye Jishu didn’t remember his name as Yan Mei. His only impression was that he was “someone extremely good-looking.”

But because of that face, Ye Jishu’s attention momentarily drifted from his game.

The two walked farther and farther away.

Through the corner of the wall, Ye Jishu heard the sound of a conversation from not far away.

It seemed Yan Mei had stopped in his tracks.

The other person, of course, wouldn’t let the opportunity slip and immediately spoke with eagerness, their tone sticky and cloying.

“When’s your birthday?”

“…June, I guess.”

June.

Ye Jishu heard it too.

“Really? That’s so lucky; our birthdays are so close… Does that mean we’re fated? By the way, do you have time soon? I found a restaurant that’s perfect for us. If you’d like to go, I can make a reservation right away…”

Although Yan Mei didn’t respond, the person making the suggestion didn’t seem discouraged. He continued with a lovestruck tone, painting a picture of what their dining experience would be like together.

Even without looking at his expression, Ye Jishu could sense the almost overflowing fervor and infatuation in his tone.

What kind of passion is this?

He had never sensed such intensity from anyone—an almost mad love where one might be willing to die for another.

[I really am just a bystander, aren’t I?]

The thought suddenly emerged in Ye Jishu’s mind.

[Only a bystander would be unnoticed by others, irrelevant to the vibrant university life, the romances, and the passionate entanglements of people like him.]

Suddenly, he had an epiphany.

Yes.

That’s exactly the type of person he was.

What had once been an unclear self-definition now gained stark clarity, all thanks to his encounter with [that Yan Mei.]

Because he was just a bystander, being ignored was normal.

And because he was just a bystander, the abnormal emotions others had—their passion and obsession—were what was normal.

All the subtle unease, the lingering sense of falseness about his environment, and the heavy negativity that he couldn’t explain—all of it dissipated at that moment.

Thank you.

He silently expressed his gratitude to Yan Mei.

Afterward, Ye Jishu stopped paying attention to Yan Mei or the people trailing after him. He put away his phone and left the staircase.

Since then, the realization that he was merely the “ex-boyfriend” character in a novel reinforced his understanding.

Ye Jishu stopped overthinking his surroundings.

After all, this was just a campus “heartthrob” story. Why waste mental energy? It was easier to view everything as part of the setting.

But now, that peaceful, bystander life seemed to have suddenly vanished.

When did things change?

It seemed…

It started the day Yan Mei [noticed him.]

That was when everything shifted.

His life.

Click.

The lock was opened.

Ye Jishu’s wandering thoughts were interrupted as he absentmindedly removed the lock, feeling its weight press into his palm.

He was about to push the window open, but his movement froze abruptly.

[I’m picking this lock… only to look for my roommate and ensure those two unconscious students don’t face any issues.]

[This event has nothing to do with the protagonist shou.]

[This is not something a bystander should be doing.]

The thought struck his mind like a jolt.

Ye Jishu’s hand trembled.

The window he had been about to open let out a creaking sound, closing in protest before him.

In that moment, what he felt wasn’t relief from Yan Mei’s influence but a strange sense of fear and loss of control.

[No.]

[No.]

Somehow, continuing down this path felt like it would lead to irreversible consequences.

If things kept going like this, it would upend all his understanding and lead to catastrophic outcomes.

Ye Jishu placed the pin back into his jacket pocket.

His fingers brushed against something hard.

Instinctively, he felt around and realized it was the charm he had bought earlier that day at the aquarium.

Cold, wooden to the touch.

Even in the stifling atmosphere, it remained icily piercing.

He could still feel Yan Mei’s gaze falling on him back then.

Though it had seemed gentle at the time, now it felt like a suffocating shackle—lifeless and oppressive, emanating from those dark, deep eyes.

“We’ll be together forever.”

“This is the curse you planted yourself.”

And yet, even so…

As Yan Mei said, promises of forever, declarations of love—they were easy to say but just as easily taken back.

Even now, he liked him, but his feelings could change quickly.

[First, deal with the issue of the roommate.]

[After that, ensure the novel plot unfolds correctly, leading Yan Mei to end up with someone else]

Even though Ye Jishu resolved himself to this, the lingering sense of dread clung to him like a shadow.

The dormitory hallway was deathly silent.

The sound of heavy rain echoed in his ears, then suddenly roared loudly.

It wasn’t thunder.

It was the sound of his racing heart.

If that doesn’t work…

If it really doesn’t work…

[Even if it means diverging from the plot, I absolutely have to break up.]