Chapter 23 What to Do When Your Best Friend Is Angry? Just Cheer Them Up!

Ever since the two of them made up, Lu Er would often drop a message to Song Jingmo just to chat casually.

Although Song Jingmo couldn’t always reply instantly, he didn’t leave messages unread for an entire day either.

Most likely, it was because of the trending news.

Lu Er thought Song Jingmo, being absorbed in academics, wouldn’t know anything about entertainment gossip.

Back in school, the whole campus had gone crazy when the campus belle Ai Shishi almost died after taking sleeping pills for her boyfriend—but Song Jingmo had been completely unaware.

Moreover, apart from WeChat and QQ, Song Jingmo didn’t have social apps like Weibo, Douyin, or Xiaohongshu on his phone at all.

Unexpectedly, after six years, Song Jingmo had caught wind of gossip.

Coincidentally, it was gossip about him.

Putting himself in Song Jingmo’s shoes, if Jingmo were getting married and hadn’t told him, Lu Er would definitely be angry—and probably call to scold him.

Compared to that, Song Jingmo just ignoring him was already pretty good.

So what do you do when your best friend is angry?

Cheer them up, of course.

Just after finishing surgery, Song Jingmo took out his phone and saw Lu Er’s messages:

“The marriage news on the trending list is fake. Li Xinghua bought the press release for publicity.”

“Don’t ignore me because of this… sad face emoji…”

Song Jingmo tightened his grip on the phone. The usually carefree person had actually taken the initiative to explain.

A faint, almost unnoticed sense of pleasure brushed across Song Jingmo’s heart.

He reread the messages several times, and his lips curled slightly into a smile.

A trace of warmth, like spring snow melting, appeared as his long fingers tapped the screen:

“The photos were taken beautifully.”

He deliberately phrased it vaguely to test Lu Er’s reaction.

Sure enough, his phone buzzed repeatedly as Lu Er sent message after message:

“What’s beautiful about them? They’re all Photoshopped.”

“You didn’t see how thick her foundation was—she could literally paint a wall with it.”

“Her looks are only two parts beauty, eight parts makeup, and she’s still not as good-looking as you.”

“She’s so annoying, calling the flight attendant every ten minutes—such a troublemaker.”

“I’m telling you, you should never date someone with a princess complex.”

Through the screen, Song Jingmo could almost picture Lu Er flaring up while hurriedly trying to argue.

The small smile in his eyes spread, fine lines forming at the corners. The lingering heaviness in his chest dissolved completely.

He leisurely read Lu Er’s complaints and, once satisfied, replied calmly:

“I was talking about the Louvre, not your photos together.”

Song Jingmo chuckled softly, then took a sip of coffee.

Today, the coffee tasted richer than usual.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows across Song Jingmo’s sharp profile.

The bitterness brought on by the trending news had long vanished, replaced by a sweet warmth that came from being soothed by someone.

Lu Er froze the moment he read the message, embarrassed and wishing he could disappear into a hole.

When would he stop being so narcissistic? Song Jingmo couldn’t possibly care about photos in trending news.

After chatting for a while, Lu Er seriously promised that if he ever liked someone, he would tell Song Jingmo immediately.

In turn, he made Song Jingmo promise that if he ever liked someone, he would tell him immediately as well.

After a brief pause, Song Jingmo replied:

“I’ll never like anyone else in this lifetime.”

Lu Er froze, feeling a strange sensation, but still comforted him against his conscience:

“You’ll definitely meet someone you like.”

Song Jingmo didn’t respond.

Lu Er lay in bed, replaying that sentence over and over.

Hearing Song Jingmo say he wouldn’t like anyone else, he felt a secret kind of joy.

If Song Jingmo had no one else he liked, could they keep being each other’s best friends forever?

No one could come between them, and no one could take away Song Jingmo’s attention and care.

Realizing this dark, selfish thought, Lu Er felt ashamed.

Song Jingmo was so wholeheartedly good to him, yet he felt envious deep down.

He thought all sorts of messy thoughts until dawn, finally drifting off to sleep in a daze.

After half a month of work, Lu Er hurriedly packed and headed home.

He bought a night flight and even took a photo of the ticket to send to Song Jingmo.

Sure enough, Song Jingmo replied shortly after:

“Want me to pick you up?”

Lu Er had been waiting for that message, skipping all pretense:

“Yes, and bring some food too—I haven’t eaten properly in half a month.”

Song Jingmo smiled at his phone and replied with a simple: “Okay.”

The next morning at 5:30 a.m., Song Jingmo drove to the airport, deliberately taking a detour to buy Lu Er’s favorite pan-fried buns and soy milk.

At 7:00 a.m., the flight landed on time.

As soon as he stepped off the plane, Lu Er told Bai Zhi:

“You go ahead, someone’s picking me up.”

Then he sprinted toward the exit.

From a distance, he saw Song Jingmo in a gray trench coat and black boots, exuding an exceptional aura.

He looked more eye-catching than a celebrity street-style shot, attracting several sneaky photos from passersby.

Lu Er, wrapped in a thick down jacket with a mask and cap, confidently threw himself into Song Jingmo’s arms without hesitation.

Song Jingmo was momentarily stunned by the sudden hug but then smiled faintly.

After a moment, his right hand landed on Lu Er’s shoulder:

“Where’s your luggage?”

“I was in a hurry to get off the plane; Bai Zhi will take it back.”

“Okay, the food’s in the car.”

Once in the car, Lu Er opened the breakfast bag, inhaled the familiar aroma, and took a satisfied sniff.

“Domestic breakfasts are still the best. The food in Paris was hardly edible.”

Watching Lu Er eat ravenously, Song Jingmo couldn’t help but warn him:

“Eat slowly, don’t choke.”

Lu Er complained between bites:

“These past two weeks were miserable—bad food, bad sleep, and having to deal with that annoying Li Xinghua.”

Realizing he might have said too much, he paused cautiously and looked at Song Jingmo, unsure whether to continue.

“What about her?” Song Jingmo asked calmly, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Nothing much, just annoying,” Lu Er replied, then asked, “How’s your half month?”

“Same as usual,” Song Jingmo answered concisely.

A brief silence fell in the car, broken only by the sound of Lu Er chewing.

After a while, Song Jingmo asked:

“She likes you?”

Lu Er nearly choked on his bun, quickly drinking some soy milk to wash it down:

“No way. She just wanted to ride my popularity. You don’t know, last year she…”

Thinking Song Jingmo would hate gossip, he was surprised when Jingmo pressed:

“What happened last year?”

“She drank from my water cup and posted pictures on Weibo for publicity.” Talking about it made Lu Er angry. “Oh right, I brought you a gift; it’s in the suitcase.”

“Are you going back to the villa or your dorm near school?”