Agreed to Just Once - Chapter 8: A Love Letter

Chapter 8 A Love Letter

The elective course was held once a week. Although it was considered an easy class, it had the highest attendance.

Jiang Yinian sat silently in a large multimedia lecture hall alongside students from three other classes in the same major, blending in effortlessly.

With so many people and the elective teacher’s mild temperament, classroom discipline was far from strict.

When about three-quarters of the class had passed, Jiang Yinian received a notebook passed to him by an unfamiliar student sitting behind him.

Someone asked me to give this to you.

Jiang Yinian looked back at the female student in confusion. Who gave it?

The girl shook her head, indicating she didn’t know. It was passed from the back. They said it’s for you. I didn’t notice who gave it.

Jiang Yinian turned back and quietly stared at the notebook that had just been handed to him. He flipped through it casually and found a light pink envelope tucked inside.

The envelope was sealed with a heart-shaped sticker, and the handwriting on it was delicate and unfamiliar, addressed to Jiang Yinian. His name was written with particular neatness.

Jiang Yinian frowned slightly. This was a familiar sight—just over a month ago, he had received an identical envelope, with the same style and handwriting.

Back then, he hadn’t known what was inside and had opened it, only to find it was a love letter. However, the sender hadn’t signed it, so to this day, he still didn’t know who had written it.

Now that the sender was using the same tactic again, he decided not to open it this time.

Just as Jiang Yinian was about to close the notebook, Qin Tu, the class monitor who happened to be sitting beside him that day, turned around. His gaze inadvertently swept over the envelope tucked inside the notebook, and he teased, Got another love letter, huh?

As luck would have it, Qin Tu had also witnessed the last time Jiang Yinian received a love letter, hence the another in his remark.

Jiang Yinian closed the notebook anyway and blatantly lied, No.

Although it was most likely a love letter, he hadn’t opened it and couldn’t be sure. Remembering the content of the previous letter, he felt no goodwill toward the sender.

No one likes being secretly observed or having their preferences recorded. If it were a friend, it might be harmless, but from someone unfamiliar, such behavior was downright impolite.

Qin Tu studied Jiang Yinian’s expression, leaned a bit closer, and lowered his voice to ask again, Don’t lie to me. It definitely is. I saw it. Do you know who sent it?

Jiang Yinian paused, then shook his head. Not at the moment.

The sender had written a letter, left handwriting evidence, and passed it to him in class. If he really wanted to get to the bottom of it, it wouldn’t be impossible.

But he found it too troublesome. Moreover, considering the possibility that the sender might be deliberately trying to make him investigate, he was even less inclined to pursue it.

Qin Tu seemed to be holding back information, but seeing that Jiang Yinian showed no intention of pressing further, he softly uttered a name: It’s Wu Xue.

A look of surprise crossed Jiang Yinian’s face. Wu Xue was a male student in their class—usually quiet and hardly noticeable.

The handwriting on the envelope was delicate, and he had always assumed it was from a girl. He had never considered it could be from a guy. He restrained himself from scanning the classroom for Wu Xue.

Qin Tu, unusually persistent, pressed on, What do you think of him?

What else could it be? Jiang Yinian recalled his past interactions with Wu Xue in class—they weren’t even on nodding terms. I’m not familiar with him.

Qin Tu wasn’t surprised but looked at Jiang Yinian and slowly asked, Then do you like boy

Jiang Yinian looked up, startled that Qin Tu would ask such a personal question. He and Qin Tu were barely acquaintances, certainly not close enough to discuss sexual orientation.

So he just shook his head without speaking.

I see.

Qin Tu smiled somewhat awkwardly and retreated to his own seat.

For the rest of the class, they didn’t speak again.

As the elective course was ending, Jiang Yinian packed the notebook he’d received during class along with his textbook into his backpack.

Perhaps he should have thrown it away, but he was worried the letter might contain details like his favorite foods or music—just like last time. Letting others see it would be worse, so he decided to leave first and figure out how to handle it later.

He wasn’t He Wenshuo.

Now that he knew who wrote the letter, he would confront them directly—just not today. He genuinely had things to do and needed to return early.

Jiang Yinian cycled home at top speed, went straight to his room, and rummaged through his clothes. From the corner of his wardrobe, he pulled out a high school uniform, slightly faded from washing but still wearable.

Then he retrieved a wig from a drawer. Unlike the bright, fashionable wigs He Wenshuo bought, this was a standard, blunt-cut black wig for girls.

Jiang Yinian swiftly changed clothes, put on the wig, and messaged He Wenshuo while taking the elevator downstairs.

Jiang Yinian: [I’m visiting my aunt today. Don’t come looking for me later—I’m not home.]

But the moment he sent the message, He Wenshuo called.

He Wenshuo spoke hurriedly: Niannian, wait two minutes! I’m at the crossroad—just two minutes from the neighborhood. I’ll go with you, wait for me!

Jiang Yinian: …

Jiang Yinian: Fine. Cycle slowly. I’ll wait at the neighborhood entrance.

He Wenshuo: Don’t worry, I’m always steady on the bike.He Wenshuo pedaled furiously back to the neighborhood within his promised time, parked his bike, and just caught Jiang Yinian’s arriving taxi.

They took the taxi to the hospital and, as they had many times before, headed straight for the psychiatric inpatient building.

Even though he knew the way, Jiang Yinian habitually checked the directional signs while making scattered conversation with He Wenshuo: I told you I could come alone. You didn’t need to rush here to accompany me.

He Wenshuo kept one hand in his pocket: I know, but I’ve always come with you.

That was true, but how could he let Jiang Yinian visit someone at a psychiatric hospital alone? Rather than anxiously waiting at home, he preferred to hurry and accompany him.

Jiang Yinian showed his ID and brought He Wenshuo into the inpatient building.

His aunt was currently receiving treatment here. She was his mother’s only younger sister. A few years ago, after her only daughter—his cousin—died unexpectedly in a car accident, his aunt suffered such a severe blow that she couldn’t accept the cruel reality and later developed serious mental health issues.

She persistently believed her daughter was still alive, refused treatment, and fought wits with doctors and nurses every day to resist.

As a last resort, someone suggested having someone impersonate his aunt’s deceased daughter to visit her monthly, comforting her and encouraging her to cooperate with treatment.

Jiang Yinian had always resembled his cousin the most since childhood, so the role unquestionably fell to him. Now, on a fixed day each month, he would dress up as his cousin and come to visit his aunt.

The psychiatric ward was never quiet; even walking through the hallway, one could hear shouts from unknown rooms.

He Wenshuo stayed closely by Jiang Yinian’s side the entire time, doing his best to avoid any potential risks in the surroundings.

Jiang Yinian visited his aunt through the ward door. This private hospital was designed this way to maximize the safety of visitors and minimize stimulation for the patients.

The middle-aged woman in the room instantly brightened up the moment she saw Jiang Yinian appear. She smoothed her hair and stood excitedly by the door.

Jiang Yinian smiled at his aunt, pulled out his phone, typed a line of large text, and turned the screen toward the room.

Mom, I came to see you.

The woman’s eyes shone with even greater joy. She stood by the door, asking vaguely about recent updates—whether studies were tiring, if he was eating well, if he had made new friends.

Jiang Yinian typed on his phone, responding one by one.

Studies aren’t too tiring, I eat well every day, and I get along great with my classmates.

A look of relief spread across the woman’s face in the room, her gentle expression making her seem no different from any normal mother at that moment.

Jiang Yinian continued typing.

You need to eat well and take your medicine too. Listen to the doctors and follow the treatment properly. I hope to bring you home soon.

The woman in the room nodded repeatedly, vaguely promising that she would definitely cooperate with the doctors’ treatment.

The brief visit ended. After leaving the hospital, Jiang Yinian and He Wenshuo walked side by side on the sidewalk. He shook the wig off his head and stuffed it directly into his pocket. Do I still look like a high school student?

His aunt’s condition had remained stagnant without significant improvement. To be honest, as he grew older day by day, he occasionally worried whether his aunt’s condition might worsen when he could no longer impersonate his cousin.

He Wenshuo: You do. You still look exactly the same as back then. I can’t even fit into my high school clothes anymore.

Jiang Yinian’s face seemed almost unchanged over the years. With the wig removed and wearing a school uniform, he looked exactly like he did in high school—though not entirely, since he’d actually become better looking than he was back then.

Jiang Yinian focused on the wrong part of what was said: Are you saying I haven’t grown any taller over the years?

He Wenshuo spread his hands innocently: I didn’t say that. I think you’re perfect just as you are.

Jiang Yinian searched for something to say: I don’t think it’s good. Among the men in our family, I’m the shortest.

He Wenshuo had seen the four-generation family photo at Jiang Yinian’s home: But in your family, only you turned out the most good-looking.

However, Jiang Yinian pressed his lips together. As a guy, being too handsome only brought unnecessary trouble.

Having just left the hospital, even their usual casual conversation carried a certain heaviness in the air.

He Wenshuo brought up a topic that might lighten the mood: Let’s go get something to eat.

Jiang Yinian asked instinctively: What to eat?

He Wenshuo listed options fluently: Barbecue, hot pot, stir-fry, prawns, meat pies, secret-recipe fish… pick one.

Jiang Yinian: Hot pot.

He Wenshuo pulled Jiang Yinian to turn around: Hot pot’s this way.