All the Troublesome Characters I've Romanced Are Back for Me

Chapter 9

Why on earth was there a bench here?

Lin Zhe stared at the out-of-place wooden seat that had suddenly appeared behind the grove beside the flagstone path and muttered to himself.

Zhao Ge said nothing; she simply lowered her head a fraction, patted the empty space beside her, and invited him to sit.

Ink-black hair slipped like silk to her waist. As she lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, the profile she revealed was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Just sitting there, she radiated a gentle grace sharp enough to take your breath away.

The moment Lin Zhe settled onto the plank, her voice reached his ear: “A little closer.”

He shuffled sideways until only a finger’s width remained between them.

For some reason, simply being near her made the sticky midsummer air feel cool.

Zhao Ge kept her head down. Eyes the colour of winter ice flickered with indecision; her pale lips parted, then closed again, the words she wanted to say caught somewhere inside.

Same as ever—nothing on the surface, but a storm of second thoughts beneath. He could never decide whether she was just shy or painstakingly precise.

At last, as if a celestial debate in her head had ended in surrender, she let out the tiniest sigh.

“I’d planned... every line I’d say when we met again, every scene,” she murmured. “But the moment I see you, my mind turns to chaos.”

Her voice was soft, almost musical, nothing like the frosty tone she’d used the day they’d truly parted.

She laced her fingers in her lap and balanced on the balls of her feet, waiting for his answer. Below the hem of her skirt, black stockings sheathed slender calves curved as if sculpted by a god.

Lin Zhe tilted his head to the sky, then spoke their first words since reuniting:

“Long time no see, Senior.”

A simple greeting, yet it brushed her heart like a willow trailing across water.

“Mm.”

She tapped her heel against the paving stone. “Why didn’t you pick up? Are you angry that I didn’t recognise you?”

Lin Zhe hesitated. “No. That number... isn’t in use any more.”

He had seen her missed calls; there had just been too many, and he hadn’t known how to face them.

“I see...”

Suddenly she leant closer, one hand braced on the bench. “My new book—did you read it?”

Her eyes sparkled like a cub that’s found honey.

Of course he had. He followed every instalment of the million-selling serial *Love Execution Handbook*. Next month would bring the final chapter of the final volume. Lin Zhe was Senior Zhao Ge’s number-one fan, battling her haters on the forums whenever he had a spare minute.

Still, the current arc was brutal—more knife than sugar. Even he suspected a happy ending was impossible. Her debut had been saccharine enough to rot teeth; this one cut deep.

“It was great,” he answered simply.

She inched nearer, almost nestling against his shoulder; a strand of her hair tickled the back of his hand in the breeze.

“What kind of ending do you want?”

“I want the protagonist to choose—no more running. A real full stop.”

At that, Zhao Ge drew back, thoughtful. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the paper bag beside her. She smoothed her skirt, stood, and smiled down at him.

“Then look forward to the final volume.”

With that she walked away, leaving Lin Zhe blinking on the bench.

Gone—just like that?

Typical Senior. Even back in high school she’d vanish without warning, retreating into her own world.

He pulled out his phone—crap. Thirty seconds of break time left. No way was he letting the whole platoon squat because he was late. That torture was hell on book-smart freshmen with zero muscle.

He sprinted back to the field; the others exhaled in visible relief.

The instructor stalked over, boots thudding, checked his watch, and barked at Third Company still sprawled on the grass:

“Break’s over! On your feet! Squat position—ten minutes!”

The freshmen gaped. “But you said if Lin Zhe got back before the whistle we wouldn’t have to!”

“Lin’s here, so why the punishment?”

The protests rippled through every squad.

The instructor clasped his hands behind his back. “Three seconds. Every second you stay on the ground adds another minute.”

“Three...”

“Two...”

Before the instructor even reached one, every freshman in Third Company snapped upright with a rustle of camouflage.

“Not bad. From this moment on—ten minutes in the squat position!”

They saw it now: whether Lin Zhe made it back in time or not, they were always going to squat.

Brutal...

Barely three minutes in, a girl wilted sideways and sat on the ground.

A cold, merciless voice cut through the heat: “You may switch legs to support yourself. If one person collapses, everyone gains an extra minute.”

The girl who’d been ready to quit scrambled back into a perfect squat.

No one wanted to cost the whole company more pain. That, after all, was the point of military training: to teach these loose, unruly freshmen about collective responsibility, pride, and belonging.

Lin Zhe was fine; he’d always been fit.

Yang Zhen beside him, however, was swaying, swapping legs every few seconds.

Lin Zhe leaned closer. “If it gets bad, you can lean on me for a bit.”

The whisper had the opposite effect: it sparked some stubborn fire in Yang Zhen. He clenched his teeth, straightened his back, and locked into the regulation squat.

Then, just as quietly, he shot back: “A real man never says ‘I can’t.’”