Quick Travel: Destiny for Thirty Lifetimes

As soon as the get out of class was over, Lian Qingyang left the three of them and quickly returned to the dormitory. The three of them were already used to it, but Feng Beixiao sighed as he watched Lian Qingyang's running back: "I thought he was going to bed so early last night and that he was going to adjust his sleep schedule."

Lu Qijing threw his book to him, stretched himself, and said, "Isn't there an event for his game? We're still busy for more than half a month. You have to put your idea of ​​treating me to a meal aside for now. Please help me take the book back. I'm going to the gym to work out."

Feng Beixiao took the book and responded. Halfway through the journey, he suddenly turned to look at Song Zechen, who was sitting next to him with a cold expression, frowning and fiddling with his phone. He couldn't help but wonder, "Don't you have something to do recently? Aren't you going to be busy?"

Song Zechen put the locked screen of his phone into his trouser pocket, tilted his head slightly to look at him, and replied: "Fortunately, it can be done on the phone. The weather is getting colder, and those who don't have classes don't want to go out."

Song Zechen had been learning computer practical skills with several senior students, and also had to take economic management courses. There were fewer classes during his freshman year, and he was not seen during the day except for attending classes together. But Song Zechen went out for a while yesterday, so he can finish it on his mobile phone today?

Feng Beixiao didn't know what he was busy with. Since Song Zechen said so, he nodded and went back to the dormitory with him.

When the two arrived at the dormitory, Lian Qingyang was idle and fighting monsters. Someone in the group said that no boss had appeared today, so they asked Lian Qingyang to log in and try. Last night's boss was the one that Lian Qingyang had killed after two hours of idle time.

Lian Qingyang, staring down at his phone, let the computer screen flash with all sorts of fancy special effects. Hearing movement at the door, he spoke without looking up, "Xiaoxiao, shall we go out for lunch? Did you go to that new restaurant?"

Feng Beixiao placed Lu Qijing's book on the table. Hearing this, he walked over to Lian Qingyang, leaning against the ladder to watch the vibrant colors of his game screen. "That place is just okay, but I know a delicious place. I was thinking of taking you there when I treat you guys, but it's a bit far from our school, only a 20-minute taxi ride away. As for lunch today, let's go to the cafeteria. Ze Chen is here too, so the four of us can sit at the table."

Lian Qingyang then looked up and shifted his gaze to the person who had been silent the whole time. Song Zechen was leaning sideways against his desk, fiddling with the small objects on the desk with his slender and powerful fingers. Those were all gifts from Lian Qingyang for him, small, exquisite and pleasing to the eye.

Lian Qingyang's mind was not on those little gadgets. Compared to those inanimate objects, he felt that the fingers that pinched the objects with a slight force were as smooth and delicate as works of art, which fascinated him.

"What are you daydreaming about?" A hand, inferior to the works of art, waved in front of Lian Qingyang. Seeing that his attention was on him, Feng Beixiao repeated what he had just missed, "Let's go to the Dongyuan Canteen to eat. The clay pot tofu there is especially authentic!"

Feng Beixiao is not a very authentic northerner, but he particularly likes northern cuisine.

Lian Qingyang had no objection. He fixed his gaze on Song Zechen again, as if he had finally found a topic to talk about. "Zechen, do you want to go to Dongyuan to eat with us?"

Song Zechen looked up in surprise, exchanged glances with Lian Qingyang for a moment, and nodded in agreement: "Sure, we're passing by the teaching building, so we can put the textbooks for the afternoon class in the classroom first."

Seeing that neither of them had any objections, Feng Beixiao clapped his hands, sat back in his seat, and took out his phone to send a message to Lu Qijing: "Then I'll have Lu Zi go directly to the second floor of the East Garden Canteen to wait. We have to go early, otherwise it will be crowded if we catch someone getting out of class."

*

All the afternoon's non-professional classes were held in the large classroom. The tightly closed doors and windows kept out the cold outside, and a thin layer of condensation formed on the glass windows, dividing the interior and exterior worlds into two. The air conditioner, on warm air, hummed hoarsely and muffledly. The teacher's slow, drawn-out voice, combined with the stagnant airflow, created a drowsy atmosphere, causing even those who were trying to pay attention to doze off.

Lian Qingyang covered his mouth and yawned, then turned his head to the right. Lu Qijing was supporting his head with his hand, staring at the blackboard seriously. Feng Beixiao was leaning back in his chair, tilting his head slightly, staring at the podium with half-closed eyelids.

He looked at the person on his left again. Song Zechen was writing something in a notebook with his head down. His hand with long, slender fingers and distinct joints held the pen and wrote beautiful characters smoothly. The veins on the back of his hand were clearly visible, which made Lian Qingyang mesmerized.

Song Zechen seemed to be aware of his gaze. He loosened the pen and flexed his knuckles, twisting his five fingers almost to pieces. Seeing Lian Qingyang's gaze following his hand, he raised his eyebrows, as if he had found something interesting in this dull class. His hand gradually moved upwards, carrying Lian Qingyang's gaze, which was obsessed with his hand, over the coat covering his body. His knuckles brushed across his Adam's apple, the back of his hand stroked his chin, and finally the tip of his index finger lightly touched his lips.

Lian Qingyang suddenly came back to his senses, as if he was burned by the scene that was enough to catch fire. He hastily shifted his gaze and fixed it on the teacher's hands that were writing on the blackboard.

His brain, which was already groggy due to the enclosed indoor environment where the air could not circulate normally, was even more short-circuited at this moment. Lian Qingyang shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up, forcing himself to shift his attention to the course content and to finish the remaining half of the class.

As soon as the bell rang, the students in the audience, who were as quiet as an empty space, were instantly pulled out of their half-sleep state. The classroom door opened, and a cool breeze rushed in, making those who had just woken up shiver violently. They walked out of the door against the cold wind and ran towards the dormitory where they could sleep peacefully.

The four of them walked slowly in the crowd, passed the podium and walked to the door with the teacher who had just packed up his things, then said goodbye and went straight to the dormitory.

"I've ordered a meal from a hot-soup mutton restaurant outside the school. It should be delivered to the dormitory soon." Song Zechen put his hands in the pockets of his coat and walked gracefully, like an Oppa from a Korean drama, handling the meal with ease.

Feng Beixiao's tired expression suddenly brightened, and even his pace quickened. His voice was filled with joy. "Then let's go a little faster. Ze Chen is really thoughtful. I was planning to go back and make some instant noodles, but it feels like the temperature has dropped again tonight. It's been snowing lightly before, and I don't know when it will snow heavily."

Lian Qingyang had only taken a few steps when he felt a chill on his face. He paused, looked up at the sky, which had already turned dark. He caught a glimpse of the bright white patches in the streetlights and murmured, "It's raining."

Lu Qijing, who was walking beside him, didn't hear clearly and turned to ask him, "What?"

Two voices sounded simultaneously: "It's snowing."

Lian Qingyang turned his head to look at the person walking on the other side of him when he heard the voice, and his gaze met Song Zechen's deep eyes.

Song Zechen's hands, which were inserted in his coat pockets, dropped to his sides without him noticing. In the bustling crowd watching the snow, he quietly pulled out Lian Qingyang's hand, which was tucked in his sleeve. His dry and warm fingers touched Lian Qingyang's cold fingertips, trying to bring him some warmth.