Chapter Twenty-Two: Love in the Sky

Japanese cinemas are generally divided into two types. One is the small cinema, which usually has very few seats, so for just 5,000 yen—about 200 RMB—you can book the entire theater. During this time, no other patrons will disturb you. You can invite your closest and dearest to join you, and have the theater “play exclusively for you” the film you most want to see. It’s said that many young couples like to come here, using the private screening not only to watch their favorite movies but also to formally propose or confess their feelings—romantic and economical, all in one.

Of course, Liu Mengchao and Gui Yanye hadn’t reached the stage of proposing yet. When it came to Gui Yanye’s situation, Liu Mengchao knew it well.

Androphobia—a condition that isn’t truly a disease, but manifests as an extreme, unconditional fear of men. Even if the sufferer knows the fear is irrational, they can’t suppress it. Those with androphobia become very tense and unnatural when interacting with men; it’s not simply “shyness,” but far more intense, often resulting in blushing, unclear speech, and even refusal to talk to men.

In Liu Mengchao’s view, the resistance shown when interacting with boys isn’t so much a fear of romantic contact, as it is a fear of contact with men in general.

Ignore those obscure psychological theories. To use the simplest analogy—it’s like someone who doesn’t like eating fish. Because octopus has the word “fish” in its name, they avoid it, too. But once they learn that octopus isn’t actually a fish, perhaps they’ll eat more of it than anyone else.

That’s exactly what Liu Mengchao intended—to subtly and gradually show Gui Yanye that contact with a boyfriend is entirely different from contact with other men. Just like the core principle of NLP: only a person can change themselves, and the way to do so is to change their relevant values.

Gui Yanye, however, had no idea what complicated thoughts Liu Mengchao was contemplating beside her. She was simply happy to walk side by side with him, “We’re almost there…”

As soon as she spoke, her cheeks flushed unconsciously.

Gui Yanye was absolutely right; they hadn’t walked far before they saw the cinema. Liu Mengchao noticed that Japanese cinemas seemed smaller compared to those in China.

“We’re here…”

Gui Yanye gazed at the cinema before her, feeling a pang of regret—if only she could walk a little farther with Liu Mengchao.

As she spoke, she led Liu Mengchao inside. He noticed Gui Yanye’s face reddening. “What movie are we watching?”

“It’s Sky of Love…”

Gui Yanye glanced down at her ticket to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake, then looked up at Liu Mengchao. “We’re in Theater 12.”

Theater 12?

As soon as Liu Mengchao entered Theater 12, he understood why Gui Yanye’s cheeks were flushed.

The entire theater was booked for couples.

Watching Gui Yanye, who shyly hurried inside, Liu Mengchao couldn’t help but smile. A girl in love is always especially charming.

“We’re… sixth row, farthest left.”

The sixth row, farthest left, was the most secluded corner in the theater. Liu Mengchao realized their seats matched exactly where they sat in their classroom—always in the corner, unnoticed unless someone deliberately looked.

The couple’s theater had sofas specially prepared for pairs. Liu Mengchao sat down immediately, relaxing against the backrest, fingers interlaced in front of him.

Compared to Liu Mengchao’s ease, Gui Yanye seemed much less comfortable. She first glanced cautiously around, and, seeing no one was watching, sat at the far end of the sofa, her face red. Though she longed to sit closer to Liu Mengchao, for some reason, she always felt an aversion to intimate contact with men.

As the two sat quietly on the sofa, the film Sky of Love finally began.

Sky of Love is considered a typical Japanese romance. The heroine, once wounded, and the hero, who always loves her.

But the ending is not happy—the hero, suffering from a terminal illness, dies before the heroine.

Liu Mengchao noticed that as the movie played, soft sobs from those moved by the story began to sound around him.

“Liu Mengchao…”

Gui Yanye was clearly affected by the film; her eyes were completely red.

“Mm…”

Liu Mengchao nodded silently.

“Will you leave me one day, too…”

Gui Yanye looked carefully at Liu Mengchao, her mind involuntarily recalling last night’s events. She had suddenly received a call from a stranger.

The voice on the phone was one she’d heard before.

Hua Weiwei.

The girl rumored to have had a relationship with Liu Mengchao. But contrary to her expectations, the call wasn’t a protest against her dating Liu Mengchao, but a blessing and an explanation.

“I never started anything with Liu Mengchao. It’s just that Zhang Qingqing liked him, so she deliberately spread those rumors to try to create a rift between you two.”

A rift…?

Gui Yanye secretly turned her face, stealing a glance at Liu Mengchao’s profile. Even just one more second, quietly at his side, watching him, she could feel happiness.

But…

Blushing, Gui Yanye looked at the big screen.

Haruma Miura, playing Hiroki Sakurai, affectionately messed up the hair of the girl he liked in the library. She wished she could do that—she wished she could be kissed by someone she loved.

Gui Yanye took a deep breath: Be brave, Yanye! She told herself, just as Hua Weiwei had said, to courageously take the hand of the boy she liked.

Her slender hand trembled as it moved toward Liu Mengchao, so carefully, as if afraid one wrong move would anger him.

“Yanye…” At this moment, Liu Mengchao suddenly spoke.

“Ah?!”

Gui Yanye quickly withdrew her hand, looking anxiously at Liu Mengchao. Had he disliked her action?

“Yanye…” Liu Mengchao turned, smiling at her. “When do you think a girl can hold a boy’s hand?”

“When?” Gui Yanye lowered her head, murmuring, “Maybe… when dating…?”

Liu Mengchao shook his head.

“It’s when the boy becomes her boyfriend. What do you think?”

“Mm!” Gui Yanye nodded enthusiastically.

“Then, on our next date, let’s hold hands.” Liu Mengchao spoke casually. He knew, for Gui Yanye’s androphobia, it couldn’t be rushed.

Instead, first making a promise to hold hands, then through everyday conversation, planting the idea and preparing Gui Yanye subconsciously…

When the time comes, holding hands—the simplest act between lovers—will become the most powerful weapon to break Gui Yanye’s fear.

This is what someone skilled in psychology should do, not force a girl to do what she fears. Everything should be as gentle as spring rain, nourishing quietly.

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Time for New Year’s dinner… Hope you’ll keep reading